The Vicious Cannon Fodder Despised by Everyone Really Doesn't Want to Go Viral - Chapter 36

When Zhou Ming left, he politely closed the door behind him. The brief compression of air drew the pale gold gauze curtains toward the gap in the window; they fluttered slightly before drifting slowly back to the floor.

Faint sunlight filtered through, casting pillars of light onto the wooden floor covered by a wool rug. The interior was dominated by shades of pale cream and gray, accented by dark green plants, creating a surprisingly cozy atmosphere.

Mu Sui looked up at the goldfish swimming in a glass bowl on the desk. He nonchalantly adjusted his cuff, his jade cufflink flashing with a cold luster in the sunlight, perfectly complementing his eyes, which appeared nearly amber under the light.

His wheelchair stopped in front of a semi-circular leather sofa. On the marble coffee table before him sat two cups of coffee. Mu Sui leaned back in his wheelchair, his long fingers lightly tapping the armrest. Outside the window, the greenery swayed in the wind, and the reflections on the glass shifted behind him.

A woman dressed in a beige suit emerged from the inner room. Upon meeting Mu Sui’s gaze, a gentle yet professional smile appeared on her face.

“Mr. Mu,” she said warmly as she sat on the single sofa opposite him. “It has been a long time. I noticed your reservation was quite rushed. Is there something special you wish to discuss this time?”

Mu Sui lifted his eyelids, his gaze as calm as still water. He appeared as cold and elegant as ever, but Chen Zhilan keenly caught a flicker of weariness in the depths of his eyes.

And interest.

She rarely saw such an emotion in Mu Sui.

“I booked this time because it was the only time you were available, Doctor Chen,” Mu Sui said flatly.

Chen Zhilan gave a soft laugh, slowly twirling her pen between her fingers. Her tone was steady. “This is why I always enjoy chatting with you. You never use your status to bully others or make things difficult for me. That is a rare quality.”

Mu Sui’s brow twitched slightly, seemingly surprised by this evaluation.

“However,” Chen Zhilan added appropriately, her tone carrying a hint of teasing, “it is precisely because of this that every time I speak with you, I must focus entirely, fearing I might miss some detail worth investigating.”

Mu Sui was in no hurry to speak. He withdrew his fingers from the armrest and folded them over his knees. His muscles seemed to relax all at once. The warm, fuzzy light fell upon him, plating him in a soft glow, as if all his cold gloom had melted away in that instant.

“Then I should cooperate well today,” Mu Sui said neutrally.

“Your state today has already piqued my interest,” Chen Zhilan replied calmly. She pushed the coffee cup closer to Mu Sui. “What story have you prepared to tell me?”

Mu Sui looked down at the coffee. The emotions in his eyes rippled like the liquid, only to return to stillness a moment later. He reached out and hooked his finger through the handle of the cup, pausing for a moment, but he did not pick it up.

His gaze passed over Chen Zhilan’s shoulder and rested on the abstract oil painting behind her, as if silently recalling something.

“I stood up,” Mu Sui spoke in a low, heavy voice mixed with a hint of playfulness. “While sleepwalking.”

Chen Zhilan’s finger slid across the page of her notebook as she processed his words. No trace of surprise showed on her face.

“Have you had similar experiences before?” she asked.

“I do not know,” Mu Sui said. “Perhaps I have, perhaps not.”

Zhou Ming could not be by his side twenty four hours a day. Such situations might have happened countless times in his dreams. Because no one had ever caught him, Mu Sui had never noticed.

“By sleepwalking, do you mean you clearly remember your actions in the dream, or did you learn of this from someone else’s account?”

Mu Sui pursed his lips. The movement was slight, like a faint, imperceptible smile that quickly vanished under her calm expression. He took a sip of coffee, placed the cup back on the table, and returned his hands to his knees with his fingertips touching.

“I do not remember my actions while sleepwalking,” he said in a thin, low voice. “When I woke up, I was sleeping in someone else’s bed. He said I walked over there myself.”

Chen Zhilan’s brow moved. She closed the notebook in her hand and leaned forward, her gaze locking onto Mu Sui with focus, trying to capture more information that had not been expressed in words.

“In someone else’s bed,” she repeated in a peaceful tone that subtly prodded for more. “You trust him very much?”

Mu Sui lowered his head as if pondering the question, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on his knee.

“You seem to have never mentioned this person’s existence before,” Chen Zhilan continued. “It sounds like your relationship with him is quite intimate.”

Hearing this, Mu Sui suddenly let out a short laugh.

“He is my…” He paused, as if weighing his words.

A few seconds later, he finally spoke, breathing out two words lightly.

His tone was as calm as if he were describing the weather, but Chen Zhilan fell into a rare state of deep thought.

The wall clock ticked away, the faint sound exceptionally clear in the silence. The wind howled outside, and the plants trembled as the light and shadows shifted, yet no one paid them any mind.

Mu Sui’s gaze rested once more on the goldfish in the tank. The shimmering light rippled in the water, and the beautiful tail fin brushed away circles of waves. Under the flowing sunlight, it looked like radiant gold leaf.

“He is too abrupt, too uncontrollable, so… he also appears exceptionally special.”

Chen Zhilan breathed a sigh of relief and said easily, “Then are you willing to talk to me about this special person?”

Lin Zhiyu pinched the bridge of his nose, his mind filled with a mess of thoughts.

He had finally managed to drive that ambiguous “see you tomorrow” out of his head last night. But this morning, sitting in the dressing room, the thought popped up again without warning.

It would be a lie to say he did not care, but no matter how much he racked his brain, he could not find an answer. Mu Sui was a complex man who was hard to read. Saying “see you tomorrow” might not have been literal; perhaps he was just teasing him, or perhaps he just had a whim to inspect the progress of the investment project.

He felt that he, fretting over those three short words, was worse than an impulsive teenager going through puberty.

Despite mocking his own thoughts several times in the dressing room, Lin Zhiyu still could not help but look around cautiously when he arrived at the filming site. It was as if he expected that familiar figure to suddenly appear the moment he turned around.

However, he waited for nothing.

Lin Zhiyu touched his chest through his complex costume, feeling his heart rate grow a bit erratic.

Today was the final scene for the Nightmare Ghost.

Xie Zhuoyu finally breaks through the illusion array and enters Suyu City. Suppressing his inner irritation and anger, he deals with Shen Xiuming. Finally, having uncovered the truth, Xie Zhuoyu prepares to kill Shen Xiuming personally. However, the latter controls the Nightmare Ghost to take the fatal blow for him before escaping in the chaos.

Because both the Nightmare Ghost and Shen Xiuming were played by him at this point, a stunt double played Shen Xiuming in the first part of the scene to ensure both characters could appear simultaneously.

The sunlight was piercing, and smoke curled through the air. Lin Zhiyu stood in the center of the site in tattered clothes, his gaze a mix of confusion and a trace of painful clarity.

The difficulty of this scene lay in the layers of emotional progression. Within just five minutes, he had to vividly portray pain, anger, and despair, leading to final liberation.

After Zhao Jinyu shouted “Action,” Lin Zhiyu cast aside his chaotic thoughts and quickly entered the zone.

The camera slowly zoomed in. Lin Zhiyu stood in the center of the smoke filled ruins. His pain filled eyes appeared particularly deep in the sunlight. His mask lay dropped on the ground, and his torn robes fluttered in the wind. The sound of his breathing was clearly audible in the silent area.

Xie Zhuoyu’s long face was still stained with blood, and the faint morning light plated his sword with a bright golden edge. He lowered his eyes, his brow furrowed, appearing to be struggling to control his emotions.

“Shameless villain!”

The stunt double playing Shen Xiuming stumbled back a step, pressing a hand to his chest, though a sinister smile played on his lips. He did not answer, merely scanning the fallen figure of the Nightmare Ghost with his gaze.

Lin Zhiyu spat out a large amount of blood as he collapsed to the ground in a strange, stiff posture. Blood gushed from his chest, soaking his already vibrant red robes until they were an even more piercing sight.

His body twitched imperceptibly, yet his eyes remained fixed on Shen Xiuming, overflowing with deep hatred.

“She is just a tool; I can throw her away whenever I wish,” Shen Xiuming’s voice carried a condescending malice. “Being able to take this sword strike for me means I did not raise her for all these years in vain.”

Lin Zhiyu’s pupils constricted. His emotions intensified along with the heavy rising and falling of his chest and the spreading pain. His lips twitched as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only spat out another mouthful of blood that stained the skin of his jaw.

The camera captured his expression as he neared death. Not far away, a massive array flickered around Shen Xiuming. He looked at Xie Zhuoyu provocatively, a cold smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Xie Zhuoyu rushed forward to break the array, but no matter how he slashed at it, he was repelled each time.

“Shen Xiuming!”

In the next second, Lin Zhiyu used the last of his strength to raise his hand and shake the bells on his wrist. It was like a curse from a vengeful ghost. Shen Xiuming trembled all over, and the array vanished instantly as he disappeared into the ruins.

“The Nightmare Ghost… her obsession does not fade,” Lin Zhiyu looked toward the blue, cloudless sky and tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She cannot escape.”

He lay quietly in the ruins until Yun Qi’s figure appeared before him. Then, he slowly closed his eyes as if all the pain and anger had become things of the past, leaving only endless emptiness and darkness.

Yun Qi scanned his face coldly before looking at the silhouette of Xie Zhuoyu, who was drawing talismans to track the villain. Yun Qi murmured, “It will be over soon, Xie Yunce.”

The camera froze.

The moment Zhao Jinyu shouted “Cut,” everyone on set was dead silent.

Lin Zhiyu sat on the ground gasping for air, a slightly salty, metallic taste still in his mouth. He had been so immersed when biting the blood bag that he had accidentally nicked his tongue.

He stood up with the help of Chen Chen and took the water offered to him, heading straight toward the lounge. However, before he could push the door open, he heard a very familiar voice ring out in his ear.

“Lin Zhiyu.”

Lin Zhiyu’s heart skipped a beat. Startled, he jerked his head up to look.

He really came.

Mu Sui sat at the edge of the filming site. Perhaps because his aura was too unique, making him seem out of place compared to everyone else, Lin Zhiyu locked eyes with him instantly.

Today, he had changed into a dark brown wool coat. The jade on his cufflinks still emitted a cold light.

Mu Sui’s naked gaze swept over Lin Zhiyu’s face without hesitation, tracing the narrow, reddish corners of his eyes before moving to the blood stained corners of his mouth and his fair, fragile neck.

Finally, the gaze slid down inch by inch along his vibrant red Nuo opera costume. It was like a snake sliding over his collarbone, cold scales moving toward his slightly open collar, making Lin Zhiyu tremble uncontrollably.

His gaze was not rushed, yet it felt as if it were peeling away all of Lin Zhiyu’s defenses bit by bit, as if appreciating him, yet also as if hunting him.

Lin Zhiyu’s heart rate accelerated as the silence stretched. It felt as if he were being dismantled second by second. His thoughts grew chaotic, and the only clear thing was that tangible gaze, which seemed intent on branding something deep onto him.

Lin Zhiyu opened his mouth to speak, but the sting on the tip of his tongue interrupted him.

Very quickly, he saw the corners of Mu Sui’s mouth curve slightly. His gaze moved leisurely from the collarbone to the chest, then back to the face.

Then, his lips met and parted as he said, “Truly beautiful.”

His voice was like the cold wind of early morning, yet in an instant, it set a wildfire ablaze through every part of Lin Zhiyu’s body.