The Scum Gong Refuses the Crematorium [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 18.2

Everyone at the hotel was experiencing a perfect night, except for Song Liguang. Having lost all his work, he was forced to hide at home, afraid to step out for fear of being caught by the media. Watching the news reports on Yanjing TV describing how lively the Drunken Dream Jianghu celebration was, his eyes overflowed with venom.

Originally, all of this should have been his!

Especially when the host introduced the lead actor, Meng Nanqiao, Song Liguang ground his teeth in resentment. He knew this man. A piece of “cheap goods” who relied on letting customers take advantage of him at a bar to sell wine—how did he deserve this achievement?

If Sheng Yan hadn’t silenced him completely, the moment Meng Nanqiao’s past lack of self-respect was exposed, he wouldn’t be “viral”—he’d be loathed by every household. If not, Song Liguang would write his own name backward.

Unfortunately, he was now a “useless person” who could only watch others succeed while he could do nothing.

[System 766: Does the Host wish to abandon the mission in this world?]

Abandoning the mission was equivalent to failure. And mission failure could lead to being erased.

Song Liguang’s pupils dilated. He didn’t want to die. He had fought so hard for this opportunity to travel through arbitrary worlds and achieve eternal life—why should he die!

He thought back to his original world, where he had finally won the Best Actor trophy after years of struggling, only to be struck and killed by a car driven by a washed-up actor whose role he had stolen and whose face he had ruined.

If the system hadn’t given him a chance at rebirth, he wouldn’t be enjoying this “carefree” life now. This easy life where he didn’t have to work hard or grovel like a mangy dog to please wealthy women—where he only had to play the roles the system gave him and conquer targets to gain fame, fortune, and immortality. How could he give that up?

He couldn’t! Since Heaven had given him the system and a chance at rebirth, he must still have a chance!

“I won’t abandon the mission.”

Song Liguang’s pride collapsed instantly. “If it’s just begging Sheng Yan for mercy, then I’ll go.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t done such things before. No big deal. He still had the system, he was still alive, and as long as there is life, there is hope. One day, he would take back everything he lost!

Song Liguang made up his mind, and the system stopped trying to persuade him, allowing him to exit through the villa’s basement.

Why didn’t he use the front door? Because ever since he was blacklisted by Sheng Yan and lost his backing, he had become like a rat crossing the street that everyone wanted to hit. Even his family had turned up at his doorstep.

Every day they stood outside his door shouting: “Ah Guang, we saw the news! That CEO Sheng gives you so much money every year, you should take better care of the family! We don’t want much from you, just help the family buy a few buildings so we can live off the rent. We’ll be people with an estate, and you’ll have ‘face’ when you go out, right?”

Face, my ass! Money, money, money—all they knew was to ask for money. Where was he supposed to get money now?!

Not to mention the lawsuit with Sheng Yan over the leaked contract; the moment his scandal broke, all his partners came looking to terminate contracts and demand compensation. Once that money was paid out, what would he have left? If he hadn’t been stubbornly ignoring several compensation claims, he wouldn’t even have a place to live.

Thinking of the life he used to have versus the life he had now, Song Liguang became even more determined to follow this path to the end.

Disguised heavily in a mask and hat, Song Liguang arrived at the hotel where the banquet was being held. He had the system forge an invitation and sneaked inside.

At this point, the banquet had reached its climax. A drunken Guo Hang was on stage with a microphone, delivering a long-winded speech of thanks. He thanked everyone from the crew to the extras and the lead, finally reaching the main point: “Actually, there is only one person I want to thank the most. My good brother, Sheng Yan!”

He pointed in Sheng Yan’s direction. All eyes in the room focused on him.

“If it weren’t for my good brother, Sheng Yan, and his support and encouragement, I, Guo Hang, could never have had today! From now on, he is my ‘reborn parent’! If he tells me to go East, I’ll never go West! Even if he wanted to use my skin to wipe a stool for fun, I, Guo Hang, wouldn’t say a single word of protest!”

As he was rambling on, his eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of a heavily muffled, suspicious figure approaching Sheng Yan. He spoke into the microphone with a tone of confusion: “Wait, who is this person? Why do they look familiar?”

Before he could finish, Song Liguang—seeing he had been spotted—simply threw caution to the wind. He ripped off his hat and mask and walked right up to Sheng Yan.

Sheng Yan, who had been laughing at Guo Hang’s repetitive nonsense, immediately lost his smile. He looked at Song Liguang with a calm face.

It seemed his previous methods were too gentle if the man still hadn’t abandoned the mission and was coming to “conquer” him again. Sheng Yan suppressed the urge to rub his hands and asked Song Liguang without emotion: “What are you doing here?”

Song Liguang’s current state was truly wretched. Once a person who sparkled and was draped in luxury wherever he went, he was now a picture of defeat. Combined with his naturally thin frame, he looked miserable and piteous.

He smiled wretchedly: “I’ve come to beg for your mercy, President Sheng.”

“I was wrong before. I offended you many times. Please, President Sheng, stay your hand and let me go.”

The moment he spoke, many people recognized him as the “Stand-in Star” who had caused such a stir online. Instantly, the hall was filled with whispers. Some people were catching others up on the backstory; some were discussing whether Sheng Yan would let him off today.

None of this affected Sheng Yan. His gaze was as calm as if nothing was happening, as if Song Liguang’s appearance was of no consequence to him.

He tilted his head slightly. “And how do you plan to beg me?”

He believed Song Liguang wasn’t such a fool as to think a few soft words would make him back off. Begging required a method. At the very least, he had to see some sincerity before he could let him go.

Song Liguang clearly understood this. He bit his lip, his gaze scanning the crowded hall before landing on the long table in the center laden with exquisite snacks and drinks.

He took two steps forward to the edge of the table. Lifting a slightly trembling hand, he kept telling himself: To catch the wolf, you must sacrifice the child. He couldn’t get Sheng Yan without a “bitter meat” tactic. Hardening his heart, he grabbed the tablecloth and yanked it hard.

CRASH.

Instantly, wine bottles, glasses, plates, and food shattered and spilled all over the floor. The hall’s flooring became a disgusting mess of scraps and glass shards.

“Ah!!!”

This move startled the other guests. People quickly backed away, creating a wide circle to watch the drama unfold. At the same time, they were confused: “Didn’t Song Liguang say he came to beg? Why did he suddenly flip the table?”

This didn’t look like begging; it looked like looking for trouble. Others shook their heads: “Don’t know. Just watch, he’ll do something.”

The only person who didn’t move was Sheng Yan. He watched Song Liguang’s “madness” with cold detachment from beginning to end.

Song Liguang ignored the gossip. Looking at the mess he had created, he took a deep breath. Under the shocked and confused gazes of everyone, he knelt down without a second thought.

THUD—

It was the sound of kneecaps slamming into glass shards. Blood immediately began to spread from his knees. The sound alone was painful; combined with the fact that these shards were mixed with food and alcohol, seeping into the fresh wounds, the agony must have been unbearable.

Some women in the hall turned their eyes away, unable to look.

Pain! Pain! Pain!

The moment he knelt, Song Liguang’s mind was occupied by nothing but pain. Every sensation, visual, and nerve was seized by it. He raised his forehead, which was contorted and dripping with cold sweat. With a deathly pale face, he looked toward Sheng Yan, hoping to see shock, surprise, or pity.

If he saw that, his “bitter meat” tactic would be half successful.

But there was nothing. No reaction at all.

Sheng Yan didn’t react! He just looked at him quietly, like a heartless god in the heavens. No matter how miserable or tragic the human world was, it couldn’t stir a shred of sympathy in him.

With just that one glance, Song Liguang knew Sheng Yan wouldn’t help him up. He would have to endure more today.

He gritted his teeth, which were chattering from pain. Suppressing his fear, he gathered his courage, slowly lifted one bleeding knee, and moved forward a step. Then, using all his strength, he knelt down again.

THUD—

Another sound of bone hitting glass. The shards already in his knees hadn’t fallen out, and this second kneel forced new shards against the old ones, deeper into his flesh.

“Sss—”

This time, it wasn’t just the women. Even some of the men watching for fun felt a phantom pain in their own knees and hissed.

But Song Liguang acted as if he couldn’t feel it. After one knee went down, the other lifted slowly. Then down again.

THUD—

Another thud, accompanied by the crisp sound of glass crushing further. Shaking all over, Song Liguang gritted his teeth and crawled toward Sheng Yan step by step. No one knew how many shards were embedded in his bone; they only saw blood flowing like water, leaving two bright red trails through the mess.

Was it painful? Of course! It was soul-piercingly painful. He felt as if a ball of fire was burning his internal organs. His body was screaming and tearing, desperate to escape this agony.

He wanted to escape, too! It hurt! It hurt so much he was on the verge of fainting. But he didn’t dare. If he didn’t obtain Sheng Yan’s forgiveness today, what awaited him was eternal damnation. He had to crawl forward through the pain, seeking life through death.

One day, for the pain I suffer today, I will make Sheng Yan pay a thousand, ten thousand times over!

Carrying this belief, along with blood and hate, Song Liguang knelt-walked all the way to Sheng Yan’s feet. By now, his face was as white as paper, and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Yet he didn’t cry out once. He looked up at Sheng Yan, who stood before him without having so much as flicked an eyebrow.

He parted his lips, which were bitten and bloody, and asked in a raspy voice: “…Mr. Sheng, are you satisfied with this way of begging?”

Perhaps his expression was too sincere and piteous, or perhaps his current appearance was simply too wretched—the “high and mighty deity” finally seemed to notice this interesting little toy. He leaned his noble body down and pinched Song Liguang’s face with his hand. He stared into those eyes, which were void of emotion, for a long moment.

Despite knowing he likely didn’t look his best, Song Liguang forced a flattering smile at Sheng Yan, hoping to win the deity’s pity.

Finally, as if Heaven had shown mercy, the “god” seemed amused. He uttered three words that sounded like salvation: “Not bad.”

At that moment, Song Liguang burst into tears. It was so hard! It had been so incredibly hard! He had finally made it through this ordeal!

Lu Mingyue had been watching from the side. He believed that with Sheng Yan’s level of calm, he should be able to see that Song Liguang was intentionally acting miserable and definitely had some scheme in mind; he shouldn’t be moved by such a trick.

But when Sheng Yan told Song Liguang “Not bad,” he seriously doubted his own ears. Could it be that Sheng Yan actually has a soft spot for this kind of thing?

His gaze swept over the hall made messy by Song Liguang, and he frowned. It was too dirty. Sheng Yan wouldn’t like it.

He was right.

Even though he had been wearing gloves when he pinched Song Liguang’s face, Sheng Yan found it so disgusting that he washed his hands ten times in the restroom.

A deity? Sheng Yan looked at his long-haired reflection in the mirror and found it laughable. Song Liguang actually saw him as a god. Unfortunately, he was no god.

He was a demon. A demon who specialized in giving people hope only to lead them into despair. The name “Demon Sheng Yan” was not given without reason.

Sheng Yan dried his hands, which were slightly red from scrubbing, and walked out of the restroom. He headed straight for the floor where his room was located, having absolutely no intention of following through on any implied promise to check on Song Liguang after his wounds were treated.

Since the hotel only had four floors and was built like an ancient castle, it had stairs but no elevator. Even someone as wealthy as Sheng Yan had to walk up. And because his room was at the very end of the third floor, he had to cross a long corridor to get there. He didn’t notice that on his path, one of the doors was wide open.

Just as Sheng Yan stepped past, Song Liguang’s long-awaited, hopeful voice rang out from inside: “Mr. Sheng, you came to see me!”

Sheng Yan stopped and turned. He saw Song Liguang sitting by the door, looking pathetic with both legs wrapped in bandages. When the man saw him, his eyes lit up like he was seeing the light itself: “Was Mr. Sheng looking for me?”

He stood up happily from his chair and, swaying, supported himself against the wall as he moved toward Sheng Yan. He reached out a hand, hoping Sheng Yan would give him a pull: “Mr. Sheng, look, my injuries aren’t that heavy. It doesn’t hurt at all. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Don’t touch me.” Sheng Yan watched as the hand came within an inch of him. His skin crawled instantly, and he stepped aside. He hated being touched by the protagonist; it made him feel so disgusted he wanted to vomit and scrape his own skin off.

But Song Liguang acted as if he hadn’t heard, continuing to reach for Sheng Yan. Just as his hand was about to make contact, a figure quickly pulled him aside.

The sensation of “thorns at his back” vanished instantly, and Sheng Yan relaxed completely.

Lu Mingyue stood firmly in front of Sheng Yan, protecting him. He wouldn’t allow Song Liguang to touch him even a little. Like an eagle guarding its chick, he saw Sheng Yan transition from tension to relaxation. Finally, he couldn’t help but speak: “Sheng Yan, throw him away. I’ll give you something better.”

The “him” he referred to was, of course, Song Liguang. He was too dirty, too disgusting. He wasn’t worthy of Sheng Yan. He could tell Sheng Yan loathed the man to the extreme. Just now, seeing Sheng Yan’s distress at nearly being touched had pierced Lu Mingyue’s heart like a knife. He didn’t want Song Liguang to lay a finger on Sheng Yan ever again.

He never wanted to see that look of helplessness on Sheng Yan’s face again. He could give Sheng Yan everything he had. Everything—thousands, ten thousands of times better than Song Liguang.

With someone blocking for him, Sheng Yan’s state returned to normal. He calmed down and looked at the serious, earnest Lu Mingyue. He asked, “What ‘something better’?”

Lu Mingyue felt both angry and amused. He didn’t know if Sheng Yan truly didn’t understand or was just pretending, but he didn’t care anymore. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

It wasn’t an accidental touch. It wasn’t a subtle or hazy ambiguity. It was a real, straightforward, and passionate intimacy.

He handed over his person, his heart, and his everything to him, hoping that this time, he would understand his feelings. A sincerity delivered without any interest, entanglement, or resentment—just simple love.

The kiss lasted a long time. When Lu Mingyue finally let go, his breathing was unstable and his voice was husky: “Do you understand now?”

Sheng Yan touched his reddened lips. The corners of his eyes were flushed pink. He narrowed his eyes at Lu Mingyue: “That’s it?”

If this was the “something better,” it was far from enough for him.

Lu Mingyue froze for a second, then laughed. It was a laugh like the sun and moon shining together, like the vastness of ten thousand miles of rivers—a laugh that could overturn the world.

He kissed Sheng Yan’s forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his long hair, his earlobes, and his neck.

Song Liguang, watching from the side, was dumbfounded. He had never seen such a seductive Sheng Yan. The man leaned against the wall with his neck tilted back, allowing Lu Mingyue to take whatever he wanted. His porcelain-white face was flushed from the heat of the moment, his long hair was disheveled, and the red pendant on his left ear swayed with his every breath.

He looked like a succubus walking the earth, capturing one’s soul with just a casual movement. If he were to smile, the entire world would be in the palm of his hand.

Was this still the Sheng Yan he knew? This was nothing like the Sheng Yan he knew!

Looking at the two people pressed together as if nothing and no one in the world could separate them—a sense of panic surged within Song Liguang. He had nearly shattered his kneecaps just to get a moment of Sheng Yan’s favor, and just like that, Lu Mingyue had intercepted it?!

He looked at the two people in their deep embrace with venomous eyes. To hell with the mission, the system, and the “chasing the wife in a crematorium” trope. If he had a knife in his hand right now, he would plunge the blade into their chests without hesitation and eat them alive before they had even died.

Sheng Yan, his face flushed from the kissing, sensed Song Liguang’s gaze. As Lu Mingyue kissed his ear pendant, he turned his head, his gaze exceptionally sharp: “How much longer do you plan to watch?”

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