Evil People Have Their Own Evil Mothers [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 33: Resentful Intimacy

Chapter 33: Resentful Intimacy

Xu Jiu rubbed his ear and retorted:

“Does it guarantee death?”

Cao Weidong let out a sigh through his lips.

If a sentence contained the word “death,” then Xu Jiu could only hear that single word.

Though Cao Weidong had expressed his dark, damp desires as plainly as possible, Xu Jiu couldn’t see “me,” couldn’t see “you,” and couldn’t see “fuck.”

He only saw “death.”

“I want to tie you up here like a dog, press you into the walls, grind you against the floor, fuck you raw, fuck you through, fuck you rotten.”

Cao Weidong had no choice but to elaborate on his malice further, this time making every effort to speak clearly and explicitly.

Leaving Xu Jiu no room to play dumb.

Xu Jiu stared at Cao Weidong, blinked, then slowly turned his head away. His sharp teeth nibbled his lower lip as he muttered softly: “Damn, how vulgar…”

Xu Jiu immediately covered both ears with his hands, rubbing them vigorously as if trying to erase all the filthy words he’d just heard.

His gaze shifted sideways stealthily. “Are you for real?”

“Mm.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Yes,” Cao Weidong answered.

After a moment’s hesitation, Xu Jiu asked: “Can we not do it?”

The man who’d been humming affirmations all along chose silence.

Having reached this point, Xu Jiu understood he couldn’t escape. Steeling himself, he emphasized his question:

“So does it guarantee death?”

Xu Jiu took a breath, rubbing his reddened, burning ears that had been subjected to such vulgar language, and whispered: “You’ve said all that – if you don’t fuck me to death, wouldn’t that make you a liar?”

Cao Weidong sighed again.

He beckoned Xu Jiu over, palm suspended mid-air and curling inward. Xu Jiu naturally leaned in to listen.

Cao Weidong pinched Xu Jiu’s chin, lifting it slightly. His thumb stroked the pointed chin, playing with it in his hand.

Things had reached this point – the arrow was already on the bowstring.

Even if Xu Jiu asked whether the sun rose from the west, Cao Weidong would claim it did with his eyes closed.

Only after rubbing until it reddened and the person in his hands trembled violently did Cao Weidong release his grip and move to caress the ear, pinching the earlobe and giving it a gentle squeeze as he whispered:

“It guarantees death. May we continue now?”

“Really? Pinky swear.” Xu Jiu extended his little finger.

“Mm.” Cao Weidong linked fingers with him.

Xu Jiu was a man too, and naturally understood that at times like these, men wouldn’t even argue if you said 1+1=2, as long as they could touch and have their way.

Xu Jiu licked the corner of his mouth and chuckled:

“Then go buy me a pack of cigarettes. I want to smoke.”

Cao Weidong remained silent, neither refusing nor agreeing. He was waiting for Xu Jiu to offer more enticing terms.

Xu Jiu frowned. “If you refuse me, I won’t satisfy you.”

Cao Weidong caught the hidden meaning and asked quietly: “Smoking will satisfy me?”

It wasn’t that Xu Jiu hadn’t asked to smoke before – his nicotine addiction was severe – but Cao Weidong would rather gag him with rope than let him smoke.

Right now, Xu Jiu felt like fire was burning inside him. He stood on tiptoe and planted another kiss on Cao Weidong’s cheek, deliberately pitching his voice in an affected, coquettish whine:

“Go buy them for me. After you do, I’ll listen to whatever you say.”

One addicted to sex, the other to nicotine – both their cravings had been stirred up now, like being roasted over flames.

At this moment, neither of them was thinking clearly, their actions driven purely by instinct.

Cao Weidong said nothing, grabbed his keys, and hurried out.

Xu Jiu shouted after him, “Don’t get me the cheap ones!”

But whether intentionally or not, Cao Weidong didn’t fully close the door when he left, leaving a narrow gap.

The sound of footsteps gradually faded, accompanied by the faint crunch of bricks and stones underfoot.

Xu Jiu approached the door and peered through the crack.

Beyond it lay an impenetrable darkness, like the abyss of hell or a suffocating swamp. Peering through the slit was utterly futile—how could it be so dark? How could there be not a single glimmer of light?

Just before being captured, he could still see the dim moon overhead. It was impossible for it to be as dark as the sealed eyes of the dead.

In that instant, the warehouse felt completely detached from the world, existing outside reality.

A creeping sense of dread made Xu Jiu afraid to keep looking, terrified that a ghostly hand might suddenly reach through the crack and drag him into another realm.

His hand pressed against the door, Xu Jiu worried that leaving it open might make Cao Weidong think he was trying to escape and anger him. Gathering his courage, he slammed the door shut with force, only relaxing when it shuddered violently against the frame.

Turning around, Xu Jiu looked up and noticed the surveillance camera on the ceiling flashing red, its light directly meeting his gaze.

He made a face at the camera, then turned away. But when he spotted Cao Weidong’s decade-old clamshell phone on the table, a chill shot through his body.

There was no way Cao Weidong could use that phone to monitor the camera!

The device felt less like a cold piece of machinery and more like a living entity. Looking closer, it seemed as if it had been torn directly from Cao Weidong’s eyes—a living extension of his consciousness, disguised as a surveillance camera, constantly watching Xu Jiu’s every move.

That was why every time Xu Jiu glanced at the camera, the red light would flash at the exact same moment. Every single time, without exception.

Because Cao Weidong was always like that—he would notice Xu Jiu before Xu Jiu noticed him. Unless, of course, Cao Weidong deliberately chose to ignore him.

But right now, all Xu Jiu could think about was having a cigarette. His mind had shut down from fear, too rattled to process these details.

After making another face at the camera, his only thought was: Cao Weidong had money, yet he didn’t buy him new clothes—instead, he secretly bought a smartphone to spy on him.

So selfish.

Cao Weidong returned shortly after, sweat plastering a strand of hair to his temple. He had clearly run the whole way there and back.

He pulled a pack of Xu Jiu’s usual cigarettes from his pocket, but before he could hand it over, Xu Jiu snatched it.

Before Xu Jiu could tear open the plastic wrap, Cao Weidong’s hand shot out, gripping his throat, lifting him, and then forcing him into a tight embrace. Lowering his head, Cao Weidong crushed his lips against Xu Jiu’s in a kiss full of aggression and dominance.

Xu Jiu was left dazed by this sudden kiss. The moment his lips parted, Cao Weidong seized the opportunity, thrusting in like a thorny vine until Xu Jiu felt his mouth no longer belonged to him—why else would everything inside spiral out of control, becoming Cao Weidong’s plaything?

“Ouch!”

Xu Jiu’s sharp teeth clamped down, biting Cao Weidong’s tongue and leaving a small indentation.

Just as Cao Weidong tasted the pain and tried to pull away, Xu Jiu caught his breath, adjusted his angle, and sank his teeth into Cao Weidong’s lip, tearing at it wildly like a beast.

Soon, the taste of rust-colored blood filled both their mouths, so pungent they furrowed their brows in unison, using their tongues to draw the excess blood back in.

It was impossible to tell whose blood it was, or who was biting whom.

Rather than a kiss, it resembled two irrational beasts from the animal kingdom fighting viciously over a scrap of meat.

A scrap that didn’t even exist—they fought purely for the sake of fighting.

In the end, Cao Weidong surrendered, ceasing his resistance and letting Xu Jiu cling to him, teeth still sinking into his skin.

Cao Weidong held Xu Jiu’s body as pain seeped freely from his torn lips. He had never felt such an intense sensation of being alive.

It was Xu Jiu who gave it to him—Xu Jiu, like crimson lacquer, branding him with vivid, indelible marks.

The bite marks on his wrist remained starkly clear. Less like tattoos and more like searing iron stamps, pressed into his skin by Xu Jiu as exclusive imprints.

Tattoos didn’t hurt much, but branding irons did. What Cao Weidong craved was the pain Xu Jiu brought, not the marks themselves.

“Condoms? Didn’t you buy any?”

Cao Weidong froze, his gaze flickering briefly.

He hadn’t bought any.

Xu Jiu frowned, pouted, and slapped his face, pushing him away. “Then I’m not doing it.”

Cao Weidong glanced at the area below Xu Jiu’s tailbone and decided it wasn’t suitable either. “Fine.”

Relieved to have an exit strategy, Xu Jiu eagerly agreed.

“Great, great!”

But later that night, when the painkillers wore off, the agony made him regret his refusal. He crawled from the bedside onto Cao Weidong, groping in the dark for his mouth and planting messy kisses while demanding, “The pills? Where are the pills? Pills!”

“Overdose,” Cao Weidong replied, allowing Xu Jiu to carry on unchecked.

“Come on!” Xu Jiu straddled him, having shed his own shirt as a peace offering, and guided Cao Weidong’s hands over his body.

“Go on! Touch anywhere!”

Cao Weidong didn’t hold back. Where Xu Jiu permitted, he touched freely—from hips to waist, abdomen to chest, then neck and finally face.

He covered every allowable area. For the promise of relief, Xu Jiu even opened up forbidden zones, urging Cao Weidon to help himself.

Yet Cao Weidong never crossed the line—until Xu Jiu offered himself freely. Only then did Cao Weidong effortlessly restrain him.

Xu Jiu patted Cao Weidong’s hand, urging impatiently, “Done touching. Where are the pills?”

“Want a cigarette instead?”

Cao Weidong wasn’t worried about Xu Jiu being in severe pain. He guessed the discomfort was bearable—Xu Jiu just had a low tolerance.

So to his reply, he added a title: “Princess Pea.”

Xu Jiu tensed: “What do you mean?”

Cao Weidong got up to turn on the light, grabbing a cigarette case and lighter for Xu Jiu while explaining: “Even lying on twenty layers of mattresses, you’d still lose sleep from the pain of a single pea.”

“Stop being so cryptic.” Xu Jiu clamped his teeth around the offered cigarette, waiting for Cao Weidong to light it. He then held it between two fingers, tilted his head back for a deep inhale, and exhaled slowly with a contented groan.

“Not hurting anymore?” Cao Weidong gripped Xu Jiu’s waist, flipping him over. The belt was in his hand and came off with a couple of tugs.

“Hey, hey, hey—” Xu Jiu panicked, instinctively trying to kick out, only to aggravate the injury on his right foot.

Pain flooded his body like boiling water. This pea was scalded to death by the heat, instantly stiffening into a puppet for Cao Weidong to manipulate.

“I’m in pain.”

“Smoking will make it stop hurting.”

“I’m really in pain.”

“It hurts so much…”

Cao Weidong inserted one finger, testing slowly without rush.

Xu Jiu became like a broken record, endlessly repeating that same refrain of pain.

Cao Weidong could only mirror him, responding again and again with “it doesn’t hurt.”

Xu Jiu’s resolve broke as tears fell. Biting the pillow, he muffled his plea: “Please let me go… I really don’t like men.”

The one who should have been the tormentor was now begging his intended victim.

Cao Weidong replied: “I don’t like it either.”

By now it was two fingers.

Xu Jiu screamed like a pig at slaughter, all raw anguish without any delicacy or softness—completely like a year-end hog. Had his foot not been injured, he would have leaped up to smash everything, requiring ten men to restrain him.

Fortunately, Cao Weidong had broken that foot in advance. Now one hand was enough to pin him down.

“How about a cigarette? It won’t hurt if you smoke.” Cao Weidong’s words carried no comfort—his eyes held only the intent to finish Xu Jiu quickly, lest he become harder to deceive next time.

If one cigarette was enough to trap him this time, it wouldn’t be so easy again.

“Please… don’t go on. It hurts, it really hurts.”

“Keep shouting and I’ll add a third finger.”

Xu Jiu fell silent but kept crying, gritting his teeth and biting the quilt with muffled sobs.

Cao Weidong threatened a third finger for more noise, but added it anyway.

Xu Jiu erupted into frantic curses, accusing Cao Weidong of breaking his word.

The cigarette had long gone out, its ashes scattered across the white sheets, leaving a dark, scorched stain.

Too much refusal had twisted rejection into resistance, defiance, and revulsion—each thrust chipping away at Cao Weidong’s precarious sanity.

Cao Weidong stopped comforting him, even halting his movements.

In that moment, Cao Weidong resembled a water-drenched ghost shrouded in dense weeds—a dark, formless entity whose face was torn beyond recognition by resentment, hatred, and envy.

His flesh seemed swollen from long immersion in deep waters, with tangible malice seeping through the weeds like pale, twisted maggots. They stretched infinitely toward Xu Jiu while branching sideways, gradually forming a dense web dense enough to trigger trypophobia.

In the void of the spiderweb, countless eyes were blocked, suffocating and allowing no light to penetrate. Xu Jiu and Cao Weidong were tightly wrapped together, like lifeless specimens sealed in amber. The world had solidified, leaving only the two of them trapped—no escape, no death, just eternal preservation without decay.

Xu Jiu couldn’t see, so he wasn’t afraid. He kept cursing.

Cao Weidong’s hand gripped Xu Jiu’s neck, pressing his face deeper into the pillow, depriving him of his vision and forcing him to rely solely on his ears.

To listen carefully, attentively, to Cao Weidong’s next words.

Do you think I’m not good enough for you? So I don’t deserve to have you.

Cao Weidong’s Resentful energy was heavy, his ghostly tone carrying more than a hint of killing intent. It seemed that if Xu Jiu dared to utter an uncooperative Exactly, Cao Weidong would immediately strangle his fragile life right there on the bed. Then, the corpse would belong entirely to him—to break, shatter, and piece back together fragment by fragment into whatever shape he desired.

Though Xu Jiu couldn’t see, he could hear it clearly.

So without hesitation, Xu Jiu shouted.

Mustering the last breath in his throat, his voice forced its way through the thick pillow filling and stabbed into Cao Weidong’s ears.

Yeah! Worthless trash!

Cao Weidong fell silent for a long time. Xu Jiu felt a drop of cold liquid fall onto his back, making him itch.

Why me? Cao Weidong asked again.

Slowly, Cao Weidong began to realize the impossibility between Xu Jiu and himself.

Why was Xu Jiu’s target him? Why did it have to be him who killed Xu Jiu?

Xu Jiu wasn’t incapable of speaking normally. He wasn’t unaware of avoiding harm. He feared pain, even feared Cao Weidong.

Countless opportunities to escape had come and gone, yet Xu Jiu never tried to seize them. Even that night watching fireworks, after knocking Cao Weidong down, he hadn’t chosen to deliver a final, fatal blow.

But now, here he was, defiantly opposing him again.

For some unrealistic reason, Xu Jiu stayed by Cao Weidong’s side, seeking death.

Cao Weidong had to realize this sooner or later.

Worthless, Xu Jiu cursed again.

Cao Weidong answered irrelevantly, Are you really going to die by my hand in the end?

Xu Jiu’s arrogance deflated significantly. Gritting his teeth, he forced out four words: None of your damn business.

Three fingers later—

Xu Jiu convulsed in agony, like a fish pinned to a cutting board. Countless blades scraped back and forth across his body, leaving not a single patch of unbroken skin or flesh. Then the flat of the blade slammed down, numbing him entirely, pulverizing the flesh and blood beneath his skin into a muddy pulp.

Xu Jiu was in too much pain to speak, as if death were imminent.

Cao Weidong pressed Xu Jiu’s neck, burying his face deeper into the pillow. I don’t like men, and I don’t like you.

Xu Jiu’s palms sank into the bedding, his ten fingers alternately clenching and spreading. Every joint was taut with excruciating pain, as if his bones were about to burst out with that agonizing breath.

In the midst of extreme pain, Xu Jiu retorted defiantly, Well, neither do I, asshole!

Fine.

The two didn’t speak again all night. Cao Weidong didn’t want to talk; Xu Jiu had no chance to.

Xu Jiu drifted in and out of consciousness. Time had long lost meaning in his awareness. All he knew was that every time he opened his eyes, it was Cao Weidong—again and again.

Cao Weidong didn’t treat him as human, pounding him relentlessly like rice cake, until Xu Jiu’s limbs and torso were utterly broken.

Xu Jiu ran a fever on and off for half a month afterward. Cao Weidong stayed by his side, caring for him throughout—fetching medicine when needed, offering cigarettes when desired, and the moment Xu Jiu’s face darkened, Cao Weidong’s apologies would immediately soothe his ears.

If displeased, Xu Jiu would slap him, and Cao Weidong would silently rub his own hand warm.

When happy, he’d reward Cao Weidong with a kiss, and Cao Weidong’s face would bloom like withered wood greeting spring.

For half a month, Xu Jiu lived like an emperor. But on the sixteenth day, when he woke, everything ended abruptly, as if it had all been a dream.

He closed his eyes, and Cao Weidong kissed his forehead and bid him goodnight.

Xu Jiu spat at him viciously, then fell asleep satisfied.

When Xu Jiu woke again, everything was blindingly white.

It took him a long time to adjust from pitch darkness to the glaring, cold whiteness. He couldn’t speak, his gaze vacant as he stared straight ahead, listening to the mechanical, icy beeping in his ears.

Unable to adapt, Xu Jiu hid under the covers, breathing heavily, closing and opening his eyes repeatedly, hoping it was all just a dream.

But if anything, the whiteness felt less like a dream—the darkness was what truly resembled one.

A terrifying nightmare. Pleasant dreams are hard to remember, but nightmares leave a deep imprint.

Pan Yu burst into the room, his voice booming like a loudspeaker: Holy shit! Xu Jiu!

Xu Jiu’s senses snapped back at Pan Yu’s shout. He blinked, took a deep breath, and finally realized he was in a hospital, not Cao Weidong’s dark little room.

What happened to your leg? Pan Yu leaned in, pointing at Xu Jiu’s foot.

Xu Jiu looked down—it was already in a cast, and it still throbbed beneath the plaster.

Cao Weidong did it, Xu Jiu replied.

Pan Yu let out a long sigh, punching his own palm. Damn it, I knew it was him!

Xu Jiu looked at him like he was an idiot. Was it hard to guess?

Well, I wanted to look for you too! But I just got released on bail today. Damn, Cao Weidong got me locked up for a few days as well.

Oh.

Xu Jiu responded indifferently, lying back and closing his eyes.

Pan Yu’s hair was dyed yellow now. He shook his head and grinned rakishly. Your bro took the fall for you and did time. Aren’t you gonna show some appreciation?

Oh.

Sensing Xu Jiu’s low spirits, Pan Yu grabbed his hand and said fiercely, Damn it, I’ll go beat him to death tomorrow. You coming?

Xu Jiu pulled his hand back and replied wearily, No.

Pan Yu, feeling awkward, left after telling him to rest well.

Xu Jiu remained trapped in darkness, unable to make sense of it.

Why did he give up so suddenly?

What went wrong?

I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me—isn’t that normal?

Xu Jiu’s heart felt hollow, like a corpse cleaned out, leaving only an unrotted shell lying numb on the hospital bed.

He started smoking, one cigarette after another. The smoke stabbed into his lungs, making him cough so violently he crumpled by the bedside, his body convulsing and twisting in pain. Only then did the emptiness in his mind fade, if only barely.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Cao Weidong sat in his warehouse, gazing at the emptiness around him, then at the spot where Xu Jiu had lain.

He stared for a long time before carefully picking up the pillow. Like someone walking along the shore ready to drown, he plunged into it without hesitation.

Only after crushing every last trace of Xu Jiu’s scent into his nose and throat did Cao Weidong finally let go.

Cao Weidong stood up to fetch the cigarette case, which contained a half-smoked, cold cigarette butt left by Xu Jiu. He put on his collar again, then left empty-handed after terminating the lease with the landlord.

The landlord cheerfully shared that the entire area would be demolished after the New Year, with compensation funds soon to be distributed, showing no concern whatsoever about the completely mangled iron door.

Xu Jiu returned home to resume his life as a young master, accompanied by Pan Yu, while the warehouse would soon transform into demolition compensation filling the landlord’s pockets.

After two months of hustling, Cao Weidong ultimately ended up with nothing—not even Xu Jiu, whom he had voluntarily let go.

When Cao Weidong finally left, he deliberately took one last look at the warehouse. Within two days of his departure, the warehouse was demolished until only piles of brick dust remained.

Truly, nothing was left.

Only Xu Jiu remained, forever out of reach.