Evil People Have Their Own Evil Mothers [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 21: Dead Friend

Chapter 21: Dead Friend

Xu Jiu couldn’t tell whether Cao Weidong was smiling or not, but he assumed Cao Weidong wouldn’t smile at him, so he concluded there was no smile.

To Xu Jiu, it felt no different from usual – hatred driving his gaze, just like observing those dead specimens Cao Weidong had expressionlessly broken and shattered. Nothing unusual.

Indeed, no difference at all.

Cao Weidong looked at Xu Jiu as if he were prey already caught in a trap.

Just waiting for the right moment to pocket him, replacing the restless anesthetic vials in his clothing pocket.

You want to fuck me?

Xu Jiu lit another cigarette, this time with less curiosity. He’d learned his lesson – no longer letting Cao Weidong’s words manipulate him.

For some reason, this cigarette tasted bitter and left an acidic aftertaste, so he shoved it against Cao Weidong’s lips like giving alms.

Cao Weidong’s mouth, throat, and windpipe were filled with the metallic stench of blood.

Suddenly, Xu Jiu’s presence brought the burnt aroma of nicotine, along with the scalding heat of Xu Jiu’s fingertips.

Cao Weidong complied – when Xu Jiu offered, he accepted, allowing Xu Jiu’s thumb and forefinger to press the cigarette between his blood-stained lips.

Since Xu Jiu hadn’t followed Cao Weidong’s previous instructions, Cao Weidong didn’t answer Xu Jiu’s question either.

The two maintained an equal, tacit understanding while each harboring their own sinister intentions.

Xu Jiu deliberately pressed his hand against the scars on Cao Weidong’s face, opening fresh wounds, watching Cao Weidong close his eyes and frown at this cruelty, cold sweat dripping down.

Cao Weidong usually carried an air of dejection, like moonlight obscured by fog. This was the first time Xu Jiu truly examined this face.

Sweat-dampened strands of hair clung to Cao Weidong’s skin, his complexion pale from prolonged lack of sunlight and malnutrition. New and old wounds layered on his face like highly concentrated watercolors.

Shocking crimson streams flowed from beneath his tall nose bridge, thick nose blood dripping like yogurt, seeping into his mouth and spreading like cotton fibers to stain the cracked lines of his dried lips.

Noticing Xu Jiu’s scanning gaze, Cao Weidong deliberately lowered his eyelids, staring vacantly at some point, indulging Xu Jiu’s transgressive examination.

Soon, Xu Jiu shifted his gaze to his own reflection in a nearby mirror, narcissistically tousling his hair a couple times before nodding in satisfaction.

Had Xu Jiu looked a moment longer, he would have discovered that the seemingly submissive Cao Weidong hidden in the mirror’s corner was actually staring fixedly at Xu Jiu’s reflection.

Like a ghost clinging to Xu Jiu’s back, his gaze transformed into spectral hands gripping Xu Jiu’s beautiful face. While Xu Jiu admired himself, Cao Weidong hid in obscurity, secretly watching Xu Jiu’s self-admiration.

If you fuck me, your entire life will be ruined.

Xu Jiu coughed twice to get Cao Weidong’s attention, his voice raspy from excessive smoking.

But killing me – not necessarily.

Xu Jiu thoughtfully flicked the ash from Cao Weidong’s cigarette.

He brushed aside Cao Weidong’s stray hairs, deliberately tapping his finger against Cao Weidong’s lowered eyelids, forcing those intense eyes fully open. Xu Jiu faced his own reflection in those dark lenses.

Xu Jiu stated bluntly: Let me teach you how to kill me. Once I’m dead, all your suffering will end with my death.

Xu Jiu had made things perfectly clear, stopping just short of exposing the filthy, blood-soaked destined mission between antagonist and protagonist within the Quick Transmigration Bureau.

Mm.

Cao Weidong responded naturally, showing no confusion at Xu Jiu’s abrupt change of topic, his calm demeanor as if they were merely discussing the solution to a practice problem.

Xu Jiu tilted his head back, exposing the red marks he had been hiding on his neck.

While I’m alone now, use more force, put some strength into it, grit your teeth and make up your mind—just strangle me to death quickly and cleanly.

Cao Weidong followed his words with action, his left hand gripping the neck.

His left palm was covered in cigarette ash—dirty and burning hot—and he deliberately rubbed it twice against the neck, immediately drawing a sharp glare from Xu Jiu.

Xu Jiu showed clear disgust, his face souring with displeasure.

My right hand wouldn’t satisfy you, Cao Weidong explained.

Oh.

Xu Jiu continued, All your new and old injuries are because of me. When the time comes, just say you overdid self-defense, blame me for being weak—dying from just one squeeze.

Xu Jiu tilted his head back, surrendering himself to Cao Weidong.

In Xu Jiu’s blind spot as he stared at the ceiling, Cao Weidong let out a short, derisive snort.

Cao Weidong was laughing; to Xu Jiu’s ears, it sounded like mockery.

He immediately looked down at the man, but the trace of a smile had already been wiped from Cao Weidong’s face, leaving Xu Jiu with only that deathly indifferent gaze. The face remained unmoved, even the faint semblance of a smile suggested by the lifted corner of his blood-streaked mouth appeared pale and diluted.

Cao Weidong’s hand loosened its grip and, under Xu Jiu’s watchful eyes, slipped into his pocket, his fingertips tentatively twisting the glass bottle cap twice.

Pop—the cap was unscrewed inside the pocket.

Xu Jiu asked, What is it?

Come closer. Cao Weidong repeated the same phrase.

Xu Jiu shuffled forward a step, drawing nearer.

Cao Weidong’s palm had already touched the cool, silky liquid, which was spreading along his palm lines.

Xu Jiu’s face was right in front of him, his curious, clear eyes wide open and unblinking, waiting for Cao Weidong to reveal the mystery.

Cao Weidong’s hand slowly emerged, and Xu Jiu’s gaze followed its movement.

It was colorless and odorless, clinging to his palm wet and sticky like water, and Xu Jiu remained completely unguarded.

What is it?

Come closer.

Cao Weidong’s voice was like a dry, cold wind drifting through a gloomy cemetery at night, seeping with the damp, rotting stench from beneath the thick soil.

That wisp of wind blew past and returned, circling Xu Jiu’s neck, shrouding his ears, nose, and eyes, leaving only the phrase that had already been imprinted repeatedly in his mind: Come closer.

Come closer.

A little closer.

Xu Jiu was like a bird lured by a single kernel of corn, taking small steps toward that outstretched hand, lowering his head to breathe, searching for the trace of the corn.

If Cao Weidong closed his palm, he could seize Xu Jiu’s face and forcibly grind the layer of wet stickiness into Xu Jiu’s nerves.

Everything would become a full stop, buried deep in the dark pit alongside those dismembered remains, becoming a dead friend entirely at Cao Weidong’s mercy.

Cao Weidong’s hand moved.

Xu Jiu seemed to realize something—he looked up abruptly, unease flashing across his face—