The Companion Player Doesn’t Want a Shura Field [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 18

The two men tumbled across the floor, knocking over the lamp by Qi Ming’s bed. The glass shade shattered into pieces.

“Ha, Bian He, what the hell are you doing on Hyung’s bed in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”

Cui Yuxuan’s voice was laced with malice, dropping an octave lower than his usual singing voice. This was immediately followed by the dull thud of a fist hitting flesh.

Pinned beneath him once more, Bian He shielded his face with his arms, passively enduring the assault. In the dim light, his eyes were exceptionally hollow, as if he still had not processed the scene he had just witnessed.

“You brat, you’re quite the actor. Sleeping in the same room as Hyung, you must have been craving him every night, right? Do I need to thank you for holding back until today?”

In the face of these insults, Bian He remained eerily silent, which only served to fan the flames of Cui Yuxuan’s rage. His eyes were bloodshot, looking as though he had downed a bottle of hot sauce; Qi Ming had never seen him like this.

Just then, the man on the floor caught a glimpse of Qi Ming on the bed. He reached out, grabbing a handful of the red bangs on Cui Yuxuan’s forehead to fight back.

“Ah, you’re asking what I’m doing? Are you deaf? Didn’t you overhear it yourself?”

Qi Ming was surprised. Aside from when they were on stage, this was the first time he had heard Bian He speak so much. His voice even carried a hint of a laugh, which was an unnervingly bizarre sound.

“Who’s the one crouching at our door every night at midnight? Cui Yuxuan, you are the pervert!”

Hearing this, Cui Yuxuan’s face froze in shock, his fist stalling for a second. He hurriedly looked up at Qi Ming, panicking as he tried to explain himself.

But Bian He did not give him the chance, landing a punch squarely on his jaw. A “click” echoed through the air, and a long trail of blood trickled from the corner of Cui Yuxuan’s mouth.

“Bian He! You actually, you dared to hit my face!!”

“What of it? I am hitting exactly what I intended to hit!”

They were like two beasts out of control, tearing at each other in the disheveled room, and crimson liquid stained the white plush carpet.

Qi Ming stared at the mess before him, expressionless. Then, he stood up and stepped onto the floor with bare feet.

A soft gasp of pain was drowned out by the chaos, yet it acted like a pause button. Both men froze simultaneously and looked toward Qi Ming.

Moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, spilling over the bridge of his foot. A jagged shard of the transparent glass shade had pierced his fair skin, and a dark patch of blood had already begun to bloom around it.

It looked like a broken red plum blossom fallen upon the snow.

Qi Ming endured the pain and took a step forward. The blood was squeezed out, slowly seeping into the fibers of the carpet, staining the eyes of the other two red.

The color drained from Cui Yuxuan’s face instantly. He did not even notice his knees hitting the floor hard. He stared fixedly at the stinging red on Qi Ming’s foot, and his voice trembled uncontrollably.

“Hyung, your foot…”

Bian He, who had been shoved aside, was a half-beat slower than Cui Yuxuan. In his hand, he was still clutching the red hair he had just torn from the other man’s head. He stared blankly at the bloodstain, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he clutched his head, murmuring through sobs.

“Ugh, I am sorry, Qi Ming-hyung. I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry…”

For an idol who needs the stage, an injury like this, if it did not heal perfectly, could be a fatal blow.

Qi Ming lifted his leg, pulling away from Cui Yuxuan’s reaching hand.

“Both of you, right now, pick up every single shard on the floor, then get out and do five hundred push-ups. No, Bian He does six hundred.”

When these words dropped, the air itself seemed to solidify.

They had known Qi Ming for years, from their trainee days to their debut. They had seen him frown at stage mistakes and sigh helplessly at prying journalists. But in the end, he was always smiling.

The leader had long eyelashes; when he smiled, they would droop slightly. The beauty mark at the corner of his eye was perfectly placed, sitting right on the curve of his smile like a petal blown onto green water by a spring breeze.

They had never heard Qi Ming speak in such a tone. It was not a reprimand between a leader and his members; it was filled with true rage, and a suppressed tremble could be heard in his voice.

Qi Ming leaned against the wall to stand straighter. His eyes, usually full of warmth, were now as cold as tempered ice. His gaze swept over the two of them, landing precisely on their bleeding mouths and torn clothes.

“Tell me, what is the second rule of the Team Code we established on the day of our debut?”

Bian He’s throat moved, but before he could speak, Cui Yuxuan beat him to it.

“Never let personal grievances affect the team’s performance.”

“And did you achieve that?”

His voice became very soft, yet it made their chests tighten painfully.

“…No.”

Bian He did not dare look into Qi Ming’s sharp eyes. He lowered his head, staring at the bleeding foot, and replied in a low voice.

“I am sorry, Hyung. I failed to do it.”

Gritting his teeth, Cui Yuxuan struggled to control his body, kneeling perfectly straight.

“Cui Yuxuan, last Monday after the music show ended, during the backstage interview, what were you and Kim Woo-sung doing?”

Being called by his full name in such a cold voice made Cui Yuxuan’s eyes redden. He knelt on the floor, that eye-catching red highlight on his forehead now matted with sweat and blood, looking like a fire that had been forcibly extinguished halfway.

“We, we…”

He could not quite remember.

“You were glaring at each other. It was caught on camera and posted on Twitter. Many fans are starting to suspect internal discord.”

During that time, the solo fans of Cui Yuxuan and Kim Woo-sung were fighting viciously, which had nearly driven Yin Zhao mad. He had wanted to haul them both in for punishment immediately, but Qi Ming had stopped him.

Thinking back, Cui Yuxuan remembered. At the time, Qi Ming was giving the interview. Kim Woo-sung was standing nearby, using his discarded jacket as cover to secretly touch the back of Qi Ming’s hand. Cui Yuxuan had caught him in the act. He had habitually glared back with ferocity, forgetting they were in front of the cameras.

As expected, no matter what it is, if you hide it for too long, the truth eventually leaks out. This applies to fake teammate relationships, and even more so to carefully guarded secret crushes.

So, Qi Ming had known all along.

Did Yin Zhao not come to settle the score because of what Hyung did? Cui Yuxuan was suddenly filled with regret.

Looking at their bowed heads, Qi Ming closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the anger seemed to have burned out, leaving only a weary redness.

“If you do not want to perform on stage anymore, then neither of you go.”

“No!” “That is not it!”

Seeing that expression on his face, Cui Yuxuan and Bian He spoke at the same time, their voices mirroring each other’s panic.

“I was wrong, Hyung. Do not be sad. I was really wrong, really…”

As he spoke, Cui Yuxuan shuffled forward on his knees, wanting to hug Qi Ming’s legs, but he was stopped by an outstretched hand.

By some strange impulse, he looked down and realized a glass shard was only a centimeter away from his knee. If he had moved any further, it would have buried itself deep in his flesh. Cui Yuxuan froze, his pupils trembling.

“Get out,” Qi Ming said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

He turned around, struggling to move to the edge of the bed using his hands and one leg, leaving the two of them with a silent view of his back. The moonlight leaking in from the window traced a bright line along Qi Ming’s shoulder, highlighting the slight slump of his frame.

He reached out and pulled the curtains shut tight.

The moment the room went dark, Qi Ming’s shoulders sank a bit further; it was a movement so small it was almost invisible, yet it felt like a massive boulder crushing their hearts. Their hearts ached, and they could not breathe; they did not want to see Qi Ming like this.

Finally, Cui Yuxuan was the first to stand. When he ran out of the room, he collided with Kim Woo-sung, who was standing silently outside the door. They locked eyes but said nothing, running together toward the villa’s landline to call their manager, Yin Zhao.

Inside the room, there was a deathly silence.

“Do you have anything else to say?”

Qi Ming did not turn around. He stared into the pitch-black curtains and spoke suddenly.

“…Yes.”

His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness again. Bian He could vaguely see the outline of the man’s silhouette, but he could not see his own expression. The darkness was like layers of a cocoon, wrapping him tightly inside.

Bian He finally spoke the words he had buried deep in his heart for so long.

“Hyung, I think, I love you.”

“…”

“Do you like men?”

“I do not know. I have only ever liked you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I have not thought about it. No, if I had to say, I would hope that before Hyung rejects me, you could listen to me sing Crush on the Hawthorn Tree one more time.”

That was the song Qi Ming had once mentioned he loved listening to.

“I am not a tea-plucking girl,” Qi Ming replied oddly after a long silence.

“But I have a crush on you,” Bian He answered quickly this time.

Whenever he saw Qi Ming smiling at others, a stinging sourness would always tingle on the tip of his tongue, as if he had an unripe hawthorn in his mouth. It made his heart ache with sourness, yet he could not bear to throw it away; he had to swallow it, skin, pit, and all, to be satisfied.

Why does Hyung have to be so gentle to everyone?

See? Even after doing such an outrageous thing to him, the person he ended up hurting was himself.

“I do not like listening to it anymore.”

So Hyung had such a heartless side too. It was nice that he was the only one who got to see it.

“Good, then I will not sing it,” Bian He said hoarsely.

“I do not want to see you.”

“Good, then I will immediately disappear.”

As the words fell, the door was gently closed. The “click” was like a needle, piercing the last bit of fake composure on Bian He’s face.

He stood frozen against the door for two seconds. His shoulders maintained the tension of having pushed the door shut, but then all his strength was drained away. He slid down the door into a kneeling position.

When his knees hit the floor, Bian He did not make a sound. He simply curled up his body and pressed his forehead against the floor.

He suddenly really wanted that bucket hat. No one wanted to look into his eyes anymore.

“Regardless of spring, autumn, winter, or summer, this heart is left only for you.”

But you said you do not want it. What should I do?

Bian He shrank into a ball, as if trying to bury himself in the earth.