Why Do All the Villains Look at Me Like This? - Chapter 122

“!!!”

Meng Xuexiao’s eyes widened as if he had heard something utterly unimaginable.

In that instant, everything seemed to fall into place—the transformation between Yao Huai and Chu Sinian, and why “Chu Sinian” had been able to create a Little Robot that so closely resembled the Enforcer.

At their core, they were all the same being.

The connection between Yao Huai and these bosses had been so subtle that, had Meng Xuexiao tried to uncover it himself, he might never have succeeded in his lifetime.

Yet this truth had been bluntly revealed by the seemingly ruthless Silver-Haired Man.

How could someone who had impersonated “Chu Sinian,” meticulously planned every step, and led the Federation and Empire’s Pro-War Factions into a trap—all while keeping Meng Xuexiao under the Federation’s protection—possibly act with such impulsiveness?

The only explanation was that Yao Huai had panicked.

Was it because “he seemed to like Chu Sinian quite a bit” that he was so desperate to distance himself from him?

This was almost too…

Like a grade schooler who had failed a test, frantically trying to destroy the evidence before their parents returned home.

Meng Xuexiao no longer felt panicked or anxious.

He continued, following Yao Huai’s lead, “So, I should just take Chu Sinian and run far away?”

Yao Huai’s lips curled into a faint smile, as if pleased that his plan was working. But the next moment, his expression darkened abruptly.

At that moment, he no longer knew if he was playing both the good cop and the bad cop, acting out two roles within himself. “Are you sure? Chu Sinian is just an ordinary human. Do you really think he can protect you from me?”

“Then who should I choose? The Chu Sinian who has become you?”

“Or should I call him… one of the characters you created after reclaiming your clones?”

This was the first time Meng Xuexiao had spoken so bluntly and directly to Yao Huai.

Even Meng Xuexiao himself was surprised at how smoothly the words came out.

Yao Huai reflexively wanted to deny it, to argue, but the words circled in his throat before being swallowed back down.

At that moment, Yao Huai was in a state of utter confusion. For the first time, he felt as if he had lost control of the situation.

His voice deepened.

“You know everything.”

He licked his lips. The earlier impulsiveness and confusion vanished like a mirage, and his pupils began to focus again, radiating an intensely sharp, icy light.

At that moment, even the walls of the Starship began to vibrate violently.

“If that’s how it is, then there’s no other way.”

“I originally wanted to resolve this in a way you’d prefer—a more peaceful approach.”

Yao Huai reached out to seize Meng Xuexiao, his movements so swift and forceful that the wind generated by his arm easily cracked the Starship’s walls.

The word “abandon” had never existed in his vocabulary.

What belonged to him, he would take.

Even though he had previously suppressed parts of his true nature for Meng Xuexiao’s sake, and even attempted to live a life more akin to humans, possession and plunder were etched into his very core.

He would never allow Meng Xuexiao any possibility of leaving him.

Even if his true nature were exposed, even if the “Chu Sinian” facade lost its value, even if he had nothing left to hold Meng Xuexiao.

The moment Yao Huai lunged for Meng Xuexiao, he locked down the surrounding space to prevent any other “ants” from interfering. Yet he also knew Meng Xuexiao wasn’t one to simply await his fate.

Meng Xuexiao might attack him, using that small knife hidden beneath his waistband.

Though ordinary people might overlook the tiny weapon, Yao Huai saw it clearly.

This hadn’t been there when they parted on the rooftop. Did Meng Xuexiao get it from the Federation after boarding the Starship?

Well, if Meng Xuexiao is truly enraged enough to stab me, let him.

Yao Huai didn’t even flinch.

Then his palm brushed against something soft.

Yao Huai frowned slightly. Is this knife really that poorly made? It doesn’t even feel like metal; it’s more like skin.

His gaze finally shifted from Meng Xuexiao to his own hand. What he touched wasn’t a cold blade, but the warm waist of the young man.

At the same moment, Meng Xuexiao slowly exhaled.

His gamble had paid off.

Yao Huai had done nothing but touch him.

If Yao Huai hadn’t blurted out those self-revealing words in his moment of desperation, Meng Xuexiao wouldn’t have dared to take such a risk.

After all, this was Yao Huai—the same Yao Huai who had constantly threatened to brainwash him.

Even though Meng Xuexiao now understood that Yao Huai was equivalent to “Chu Sinian,” and “Chu Sinian” had behaved impeccably lately, a sliver of uncertainty still lingered.

“Thud.”

The sound of something heavy crashing to the ground.

Meng Xuexiao tilted his head and realized that what had fallen wasn’t an object, but a person’s knee.

The man was already severely injured, and Yao Huai’s earlier oppressive aura had forced him to his knees. Now, the bandages on his body were rapidly staining crimson.

Meng Xuexiao quickly glanced at the others, and as expected, their conditions were no better.

This starship was specifically designed to transport the wounded. Earlier, Yao Huai’s sudden appearance had subjected them to the violent jolts of the ship’s emergency separation.

Meng Xuexiao turned his gaze to Yao Huai. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

This was the most conciliatory tone Meng Xuexiao had ever used with Yao Huai, and for a moment, Yao Huai’s expression softened slightly.

But the next instant, Yao Huai noticed the others on the starship, their precarious state. His expression immediately hardened again, and his voice turned rigid.

“If that’s what you want.”

In the blink of an eye, they were no longer on the starship. Judging by their surroundings, they seemed to be on the surface of Chu Sinian’s planet.

“Are you satisfied now?” Yao Huai didn’t look at Meng Xuexiao, but his voice alone revealed that his mood had worsened.

Meng Xuexiao was puzzled. He didn’t think he had done anything to further anger Yao Huai.

As Meng Xuexiao pondered what had gone wrong, Yao Huai suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, nearly causing Meng Xuexiao to stumble. “…Where do you want to go now?”

Meng Xuexiao had initially suggested moving to a different location out of consideration for the people on the starship. Now that they were alone, with not even a bird in sight, there was no need to change locations.

Of course, if Yao Huai had other desires…

Yao Huai’s expression darkened. His lips curled upward, but there was no trace of amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t you just imply—”

“That if I spared them, you would willingly come with me?”

Wait a minute…

Meng Xuexiao felt his thoughts becoming muddled. Between him and Yao Huai… why did it always feel like they were on different wavelengths?

“So, you thought I was making a deal with you just now…?”

Yao Huai didn’t reply, but Meng Xuexiao could tell from his eyes that he was thinking exactly that.

Sigh, ever since Yao Huai revealed that Chu Sinian was his true self, he had been acting strangely.

Meng Xuexiao was truly torn between laughter and tears. “What do you take me for? I’m not as noble as you imagine, making deals like trading my life for the lives of those on the Starship or something…”

Yao Huai’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So, this isn’t a transaction? You’re willingly coming with me?”

For the first time, a hint of hesitation and caution flickered in his silver-white eyes.

This reminded Meng Xuexiao of the time he had eaten with Chu Sinian in the staff cafeteria.

Back then, “Chu Sinian” had said to him, “I hope you can give me a chance—a permanent, irreplaceable opportunity to stay by your side forever.”

The moment those final words were spoken, Chu Sinian’s expression perfectly mirrored that of Yao Huai before him.

Although Meng Xuexiao had known for some time that “Chu Sinian” was Yao Huai, the differences between them had always seemed too vast. But in that instant, he finally managed to merge the two into one.

Moreover,

Previously, “Chu Sinian” had restrained the behavior of the criminals under his command, striving to recreate the living environment of the Federation Military Academy for Meng Xuexiao.

Yao Huai had done the same just now. Despite his anger and volatility stemming from a misunderstanding, he ultimately complied with Meng Xuexiao’s request to change locations, refraining from harming anyone else on the starship.

In that moment, Meng Xuexiao realized with crystal clarity that “Chu Sinian” and Yao Huai were one and the same—the person he had been interacting with all this time.

Though this guy could be a bit self-centered at times, like when “Chu Sinian” had single-handedly planned the Pro-War Faction’s “Elimination Game” strategy, and occasionally a bit extreme, like when he had tried to forcibly keep Meng Xuexiao from escaping, Meng Xuexiao found these flaws surprisingly tolerable.

Perhaps it was thanks to his interactions with those bosses, or perhaps it was this damned, high-risk world, but Meng Xuexiao felt his tolerance threshold had been steadily lowering.

Still, certain things needed to be made clear. Otherwise, some people would be getting off far too easily.

Meng Xuexiao wouldn’t forget the chaos and turmoil he had endured. Many of the problems and troubles he had faced were directly caused by this man’s clones.

“When did I ever say I came with you willingly?” Meng Xuexiao tilted his chin, and as expected, Yao Huai’s lips tightened once more.

The man, towering a head taller, lowered his gaze to meet Meng Xuexiao’s. Cascading silver-white hair shimmered with a metallic, icy light, and a storm began to brew anew in his eyes.

To Yao Huai, the slender Meng Xuexiao seemed as helpless as a child, utterly incapable of resistance.

But before Yao Huai could react, Meng Xuexiao continued, “I remember promising you back then.”

“I still need time to consider.”

“So you’re still on probation.”

Yao Huai visibly stiffened at this, tilting his head sharply toward Meng Xuexiao.

But this was precisely what Yao Huai had said when he was pretending to be “Chu Sinian”…

The corners of Meng Xuexiao’s lips curled upward. “What’s the matter? Aren’t Chu Sinian and Yao Huai both you?”

“You can’t possibly want to deny your own words, can you?”

“You said you understood and were willing to wait for my decision.”

With each word Meng Xuexiao spoke, the storm in Yao Huai’s eyes subsided a fraction, and a faint smile rippled across his silvery-white irises. “I won’t go back on my word,” he murmured.

“I’ll keep waiting, forever and always.”

Time held no meaning for Yao Huai. He could wait indefinitely, employing every conceivable method to win Meng Xuexiao’s heart. If one approach failed, he would try another, and another, and another.

One day, he would finally achieve his desire.