The Transmigration Guide to Seducing Men - Chapter 4

The ride up to the twentieth floor, with all the stops, took only about a minute—maybe less. Qi Liang didn’t know; he only felt that it was an incredibly long time. When he stepped out of the elevator, his face bore an unusual flush, as if something unspeakable had happened inside.

Yan Songwei snatched the items from Qi Liang’s hands and immediately began lecturing him: “You get dizzy after just a few steps? You really are a road idiot.”

Qi Liang gave an embarrassed smile: “Thanks to Mr. Yan…”

Unexpectedly, Yan Songwei immediately turned back to look at him: “How can you be so ignorant of the rules? What ‘Mr. Yan’? Call him Brother.”

Qi Liang turned to look at Yan Baizong, opening his mouth, but found he couldn’t quite say it. Yan Songwei grew displeased: “Call him! My brother is your brother.”

“Brother,” Qi Liang whispered like a mosquito. Yan Baizong uttered an “mhm” without much further reaction. Yan Songwei didn’t press him further and carried the things inside.

Qi Liang thought to himself that riding the elevator with Yan Baizong just now had practically made him break into a sweat; even now, his legs were still trembling. Why was he so agitated—was it nervousness or excitement? He couldn’t tell if this was his own reaction or a sort of fated obsession dictated by the novel’s setting. He simply found Yan Baizong captivating.

“To die beneath Baizong is to be a romantic even as a ghost.”

This line suddenly flashed through his mind, making his blood surge. This was the most famous line from Male Version of Pan Jinlian. Yan Baizong, unaware, turned back and asked: “Aren’t you coming in?”

Qi Liang suddenly raised his head to look at him. His dark pupils were misty and bright, shimmering with a watery lust.

A man’s desire is truly a miraculous thing. The darkness and ferocity a frustrated man might expose can sometimes far exceed his own imagination, regardless of logic or right and wrong. As a man himself, he had many opportunities to realize how fierce desire could be—just like those sex offenders who are harmless in their daily lives, yet driven by desire at a certain moment to become beasts.

Men seem more like animals that think with their lower bodies than women. Because he deeply understood this weakness in men, Qi Liang always lacked trust in them. For the same reason, he adored the ascetic Yan Baizong so passionately.

Is there a man in this world who can control his desire? Is there a man who can love only him for a lifetime and never betray him? It seemed that in this era, such feelings were hard for even heterosexuals to find, let alone homosexuals. He had wasted countless years out of a fear of being “choked” by the risks of love, eventually becoming an old virgin.

But now, he had become another person—one whose desires were so grand they couldn’t be suppressed. A spring tide overflowed from his heart and spilled from his eyes.

However, Yan Baizong clearly ignored that gaze. After a brief pause, he pushed the door and went in. Just as Qi Liang was about to follow, Yan Songwei actually pushed the door open and walked out, holding his phone. He shoved it toward Qi Liang: “It’s Qingqing. Tell her I’m with my mom.”

Qi Liang hurriedly took the call. The voice on the other end was so “cloyingly sweet” it made him shiver: “With your mom again? You’re definitely lying to me.”

“Uh, Qingqing, it’s me. Songwei and I are at the hospital.”

“Really at the hospital?” The voice on the other end suddenly changed—it became much coarser and no longer sweet: “Why go to the hospital again? Hasn’t his mom come out yet? Fine, tell Songwei to call me back. I’m hanging up.”

“Checking in every day,” Yan Songwei said with a smile as he took the phone back, a bit of “sweet trouble” on his face. “Women are just narrow-minded, always keeping an eye on me.”

The woman Yan Songwei referred to as Qingqing was named Tan Qingqing. Qi Liang’s current fortune was all thanks to this woman. A poor boy from a lower-class family like him would normally have no chance to meet someone like Yan Songwei. All his friends were ordinary people—neither rich nor noble. But his childhood friend Tan Qingqing, while working as a nightclub girl, met the second Yan son who frequented such places.

They hit it off immediately—a classic idol drama plot of a fallen dancer and a noble scion. Tan Qingqing was smart; she knew this was a hard-won opportunity and held on tight, keeping Yan Songwei firmly in her grasp. When an ordinary, even looked-down-upon woman suddenly finds a treasure, she can’t help but show off. Thus, Yan Songwei was always present at her friend gatherings. Yan Songwei was also willing to serve the beauty, providing rides and paying the bills. One loved money, one loved beauty, and perhaps there was desire and love mixed in between. Qi Liang was the one who, after witnessing this romance, developed wicked thoughts.

He didn’t want to just be a spectator; he also wanted to be like Tan Qingqing—to latch onto a “big money” and change his fate forever.

Yan Songwei’s idea for this marriage had a lot to do with Qi Liang’s instigation. Tan Qingqing was also willing; this silly girl was fooled by her childhood friend’s pure appearance, not knowing that the purer the exterior, the “bitchier” the interior. Furthermore, she was truly desperate. She wouldn’t often meet a rich scion like Yan Songwei who loved her, yet he could easily meet women more beautiful, sexier, and younger than her. She was twenty-two this year; the Yan matriarch didn’t approve of the marriage, and while she could wait, she couldn’t wait forever. She had to marry Yan Songwei as soon as possible to be at peace. She couldn’t miss out on a “good thing” where “one shot” was worth a year of exhausting work.

After the three of them agreed, Qi Liangqin and Yan Songwei got their marriage certificate.

Qi Liangqin finally got his wish, obtaining money he might not have earned in a lifetime of work, and naturally became the third wheel between the two. He had to handle things for Yan Songwei—saying good words, occasionally lying for him—while also monitoring Yan Songwei for Tan Qingqing.

So, just as he entered the ward, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out to look; sure enough, it was a message from Tan Qingqing: “Are you really at the hospital with Songwei?”

He smiled and replied: “Really.”

“Can a phone serve as a meal?” The Yan matriarch suddenly stared at him, her face displeased. “Knowing nothing but playing with your phone all day. Why did you bring him here?” she turned to complain to Yan Songwei. “Look at the person you found.”

Qi Liang hurriedly stuffed the phone into his pocket and began arranging the dining table. On the other side, Yan Baizong had helped the matriarch out of bed. In truth, the old lady had nothing wrong with her; her claim of being “dizzy with anger” was merely to give the couple a show of authority. The old lady sat on one side, Yan Baizong on another, and Qi Liang naturally sat with Yan Songwei, as they were “husband and wife.”

Qi Liang was filled with tension, his heart racing. This was a very important chapter in Male Version of Pan Jinlian—Qi Liangqin’s first official “flirt” with Yan Baizong. He was to lightly rub Yan Baizong’s leg beneath the table.

When he first read it, he particularly liked this part, but now that he had become Qi Liangqin, he felt it was a bit unreasonable—too fast. It seemed the author truly shaped Qi Liangqin as a “wanton” man; he was already flirting with the brother-in-law he had just met. Once the “spring heart” overflows, it truly becomes an unstoppable flood.

Though unreasonable, he couldn’t not do it. Remembering the tearing pain he felt earlier when he considered not following the plot, he realized that following the established story was a rule he had to obey. Since he had transmigrated into a book, he had entered a fixed world with a specific background and character paths. If the protagonist could act as they pleased, the story would change, and the original novel would cease to exist. If the novel didn’t exist, where would this character come from?

Therefore, not following the plot meant the collapse of the story, which meant the novel—and the character—would cease to exist. This meant the disappearance of the character, which was the death of the protagonist.

It seemed he had to follow the plot for at least eighty chapters before he could have freedom.

The novel stated that at this moment, Qi Liangqin had “flirted himself into an erection.” He thought to himself: I’ll just flirt according to the plot; as for whether I get hard, I can’t force that, right? He was too nervous; he likely wouldn’t get hard.

Just as he was thinking this, Yan Songwei suddenly leaned over and asked: “Your face seems a bit red.”

He froze, and Yan Songwei gave him a “mwah” kiss on the cheek. Unexpectedly, Qi Liang was so startled he shoved Yan Songwei away. Yan Songwei hadn’t expected such a large reaction and fell to the floor along with his stool.

The Yan matriarch and Yan Baizong both looked at him in shock. Yan Songwei scrambled up: “What are you doing?!”

“I…” This was indeed his fault. Yan Songwei kissing him wasn’t because of any feelings; it was a standard part of a contract marriage—since they were pretending to be married, they had to act the part in front of family. Yan Songwei and Qi Liangqin often deliberately acted “lovey-dovey” in the novel for the old lady’s benefit.

“Sorry, are you okay? I just spaced out for a moment and was startled.” He hurriedly picked up the stool. Yan Songwei cast a guilty look at his brother and mother; the old lady turned to Yan Baizong with an expression of “look at how disappointing your brother is.”

Yan Baizong wore a very faint smile, likely not wanting to make his mother unhappy, and said: “Old Second, behave yourself while eating.”

Yan Songwei had been bumped by the corner of the stool; it hurt, but he didn’t dare say it. He could only endure it, turning to give Qi Liangqin a fierce glare. Qi Liangqin stood up to ladle soup, but Yan Songwei snatched the ladle: “I’ll do it!”

This was a bit different from the plot. In the plot, he was the one who ladled the soup, and when he handed it to Yan Baizong, their hands touched—the novel specifically described that “electric” feeling of overflowing spring-like passion. He suddenly felt a surge of discomfort and dizziness; he knew this wasn’t his fault, but his action of pushing Yan Songwei had caused a deviation, and he had to endure this bit of punishment.

“Yours,” Yan Songwei said, handing him a bowl of soup.

“Thanks.” Qi Liangqin looked at the layer of oil floating on the soup, wondering if he should still rub Yan Baizong’s leg.

According to the plot, Qi Liangqin rubbing Yan Baizong’s leg felt a bit ambiguous—it wasn’t a very obvious flirt, because a moment ago he was being lovey-dovey with Yan Songwei. Even if he rubbed Yan Baizong’s leg, Yan Baizong might not overthink it.

But now? He had just shoved his husband to the ground. Was he really going to have “shimmering eyes” and “shyly” rub his brother-in-law’s calf in the next moment?

Is this… reasonable? This is practically an enhanced version of Pan Jinlian.

But the feeling of being “worse than death” before leaving the house made his heart skip with fear. He comforted himself: “I am Pan Jinlian, I am Pan Jinlian. If I get through eighty chapters, I’ll be free. The one who is shameless is not me…”

So, he picked up his spoon and took a sip of soup.

The soup was hot, still a bit scalding, very rich and mellow, moistening his tongue. He lowered his head, seemingly savoring the delicious soup. The Yan Baizong opposite saw his white ears turn bright red again, thinking to himself: This person’s ears really do flush easily. Just drinking hot soup can make them turn red.

And just as the flush on his ears spread to his cheeks, he suddenly felt something rub against his calf—trembling, as if it were shivering.