Qi Ji froze completely at those words.
The man raised a brow slightly. “If you need help, I can do it anytime.”
As he spoke, he extended his arm toward Qi Ji.
The recliner was right at the edge of the tub, the two of them so close that one reach could touch him.
The man’s movement was actually slow, giving Qi Ji plenty of time to react—but still, in the tub, Qi Ji was startled. He slapped the reaching hand hard.
“Smack!” The sound was sharp and crisp.
One slap wasn’t enough. Qi Ji followed with both hands, striking several more times until the obnoxious hand recoiled, then stopped, fuming.
His movements were fast and forceful, looking exactly like a frightened kitten furiously batting at a hand that got too close.
Even after driving the hand away, Qi Ji caught the low, deep chuckle that followed. His ears twitched involuntarily; the sound made his eardrums tingle.
He didn’t understand—by his experience, such a hard slap would leave red marks, maybe even swelling. Why was the man laughing?
This person was strange.
Qi Ji grew even more alert.
Though the man withdrew his hand and didn’t advance, Qi Ji kept watching him like a cat whose fur had been ruffled—tense, ready to bite if approached. This time, the man really did step back a few paces. Once Qi Ji felt safe from immediate threat, the man finally said, “If you can handle it, do it yourself.”
Qi Ji ignored him, silently deciding that if the man came any closer, he’d strike again.
The man didn’t provoke him further. “The water in the tub is circulating. Press the largest button on the wall panel and it will clean itself automatically. Each button is labeled, so you can use it however you like. The cabinet with bathing supplies is on your right; the bathrobe is on the bottom shelf—brand new, ready to wear.”
Qi Ji wanted to ignore him, but couldn’t dismiss the low, magnetic voice entirely. His body hurt, yet he understood the man meant well, so he absorbed a bit of the instructions.
Then the man added, “Don’t soak too long. If you pass out in the water, I’ll still have to help you.”
Qi Ji frowned, glancing up—but the man didn’t linger. He simply turned and left the bathroom.
The door shut behind him. On the tub’s screen, a clear message read: [Room locked, requires internal access to open].
The icy water against his fevered body didn’t clear his muddled thoughts. Qi Ji stayed tense for a long time, only loosening slightly once he confirmed the bathroom was indeed a secure, enclosed space.
He settled into the recliner, water lapping gently around him, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen. The flowing water slightly reduced his body temperature, offering a small measure of relief.
Looking down at himself, he noticed the thin robe he’d been wearing was soaked, clinging to his body, fully transparent. The network of bruises, marks from golden restraints and fine chains across his wrists, chest, abdomen, and thighs, were all visible.
The larger injuries had already been carefully treated; smaller cuts had been sealed with something like gel. Whether due to numbness or some special property of the water, Qi Ji felt no sharp pain upon immersion.
The injuries on his body hurt less than the fire burning in his head.
That fire still raged, though Qi Ji instinctively avoided thinking about it. He lingered in the recliner, unmoving, postponing action.
Steam slowly rose, settling around his gaunt jaw. After a long while, he realized the water was steaming.
The bath wasn’t cold as he had thought—it was hot, at a perfectly comfortable temperature. His own fever had made the water feel icy, tricking him into believing he was taking a cold bath.
Qi Ji finally lifted his eyes to the tub control panel the man had mentioned but which he had avoided.
He stared at the rows of buttons for a moment, rubbing his eyes. The burning, sticky sensation in his chest persisted, growing stronger over time.
Lowering his gaze through the clear water, he saw his legs, bare and marked with purples and reds, rippling with the movement of the water. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his gaze fell between his legs.
Over an hour passed before the recliner sensed his weight was gone.
With a faint “splash,” a pale figure emerged from the tub. A boy, wrapped in a bathrobe, struggled to stand, steadying himself against the anti-slip tiles.
His face was ghostly pale, lips colorless, yet his dark, warm eyes still retained some life. Wet light-brown hair clung to his cheeks, making him appear pitiful, like a drenched kitten.
The room was now clear of steam. Qi Ji moved toward the door. After figuring out how to open the self-locking bathroom door, he pushed it open—and immediately saw the man standing outside.
Qi Ji instinctively stiffened his back.
The man towered nearly a head above him, looking down from this angle with everything in plain view.
Qi Ji’s new, oversized bathrobe was the man’s size, far too large. His slim shoulders couldn’t fill it, leaving pale, smooth skin exposed. His collarbones were striking, impossible to look away from.
The man noticed another detail.
Qi Ji’s skin, normally pale, now seemed almost unnaturally white, with none of the slight flush from a warm bath. The icy mist emanating from the man only heightened the chill. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened slightly.
Neither spoke. Qi Ji stepped back instinctively, increasing the distance, still wary.
After studying him for a moment, the man shifted aside. “Come on, it’s stuffy in here.”
He said it calmly, ignoring the luxurious ventilation system in the bathroom.
Qi Ji still didn’t move, maintaining his cautious watch. He felt safer in the enclosed bathroom than venturing out.
After a tense standoff—or, more accurately, Qi Ji’s stubborn refusal—the man eventually turned and left, just as he had inside the bathroom.
Footsteps receded, disappearing around the corner. Yet at the bathroom door, no one lingered.
Silence held for a long while. The boy, on guard, refused to risk moving.
Only after carefully confirming the hallway was clear did he suddenly sprint out, like wind.
Qi Ji headed in the opposite direction, determined to leave this unfamiliar place as soon as possible.
He traced along one wall, groping forward like solving a maze, seeking the final exit.
But the villa was enormous, its rooms countless. Qi Ji ran for a long time; his breathing grew labored, dizziness dragged at his steps, yet he still hadn’t found the exit.
The hallway lights were motion-sensitive, lighting automatically, so he didn’t need to navigate blindly—but his body no longer had the strength to endure the exertion.
In the vast, silent villa, the only sound was his own rapid breathing.
“Huff… huff…”
Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Qi Ji leaned against the wall to catch his breath. His chest heaved violently, and the pale color of his face was tinged with an unnatural flush.
Suddenly, a cool breeze brushed across his skin.
Wind.
Following the airflow, Qi Ji groped his way into a spacious empty room. It appeared to be a guest room, with a large bed inside. Beside it stood a massive floor-to-ceiling window, half open, letting in gusts of cool night air.
He walked over and pushed the window wider, peering out, only to realize that he wasn’t on the first floor at all.
Outside the window was a balcony with ornate railings. Beyond that, it dropped directly to the outdoors. Looking up, he could see the night sky.
No moon. No stars.
Using the room’s light, Qi Ji leaned over the railing for a quick glance. Below was dark and indistinct—yet it didn’t seem too high.
Under normal circumstances, with his 20/20 vision, this would be easy. But now, his whole body felt woozy and unsteady, leaving him to rely on instinct and judgment.
Rubbing his eyes, he examined the ground below more carefully. It seemed to be a lawn, which could serve as a soft landing.
Without hesitation, he lifted his leg, ready to climb over the railing and jump.
Before his right leg fully cleared, however, a hand grabbed his arm. Before he could react, a powerful force from behind yanked him back.
Qi Ji reacted instinctively, throwing a punch toward the source of resistance to push it away.
The other person seemed to anticipate this. With a slight tilt of the head, the punch sailed harmlessly past.
Missing once, and trying to retract his arm was too late. The punch grazed past the ear, striking nothing, yet before Qi Ji could recover, the hand gripped his slender wrist.
His loose, oversized bathrobe had sleeves long enough to cover his fingertips. Although his palm was exposed due to the punch, the wrist remained partially covered. The grasp didn’t directly touch his skin, sparing him extra pain despite his heightened sensitivity.
Still, Qi Ji’s attack was effortlessly neutralized. The man even reversed control, seizing command of Qi Ji’s movements.
His wrist trapped, left hand twisted behind him. The restraint wasn’t brutal, but unyielding. Qi Ji instantly lost his strongest means of attack.
Even in this extreme disadvantage, he didn’t consider giving up. With his dominant hand immobilized, he lifted his leg to strike, determined to push the man back.
His slippers had been discarded; his foot could deliver force directly, unhindered by soft soles. But the situation was far from favorable. The space was too tight, weakening the power of the kick. His body, weakened and fevered, could barely muster a fraction of his normal strength. The moment the leg swung, he sensed it would fail.
Too weak. The kick was low; it might not even touch the man.
Adding to his struggle, the left hand remained twisted behind him. As his leg moved, his torso twisted, the bound arm straining painfully, causing Qi Ji to let out a low hiss of discomfort.
As soon as the sound escaped, the man paused. He abandoned the evasive movement he’d been preparing and instead took the kick head-on.
“Thump.”
Qi Ji’s foot struck something solid.
But his motion was already off, weakened by the prior struggle. He didn’t know what he’d hit—only that it felt impossibly hard, like kicking a wall.
The strike was useless. The man didn’t even flinch; Qi Ji’s leg, meanwhile, throbbed painfully from the impact.
Rushing to retract his leg, Qi Ji struggled to balance on a single hand and foot. The center of gravity shifted, and his left foot grazed a slightly softer surface below.
Softer than before, yet still firm and inexplicably hot—warmer than Qi Ji’s fevered body—burning the sole of his foot.
Before he could process this, the man grunted low and unexpectedly.
The pain and dizziness weighed heavily on Qi Ji, dulling his reflexes. He couldn’t tell what part of the body he’d contacted, only that it seemed a vulnerable point.
Before he could strike again, Qi Ji was completely subdued.
The man grasped his ankle as he tried to withdraw his leg, wrapping the bathrobe around it for grip. Half his body was immobilized, leaving him utterly trapped in the man’s hold.
Even through the bathrobe, the friction pressed mercilessly against his hypersensitive skin. The fire inside him raged, threatening to consume the last remnants of reason.
Qi Ji’s body trembled, nearly melting under the heat, powerless.
A faint sound came—someone’s hoarse “tsk” near his ear.
“Where do you think you’re kicking, hmm?”
Qi Ji couldn’t respond, barely breathing. Somewhere beneath the panic, he caught a faint, familiar, reassuring scent—but his body was on the brink of collapse, and the air wasn’t enough. The comforting scent felt as thin as oxygen, powerless to aid him.
His body and mind had reached the limit. In a daze, he felt as if he were back under blinding light, atop that nightmare platform.
He struggled desperately, limbs restrained, still trying to use whatever he could to resist. But the effort only worsened his pain—skin touched became fire.
“Get off… don’t touch me…”
A strong arm swung across his waist, lifting him as if to carry him. The mix of stifled pain and desperate fear coursed down his spine, tingling to the tips of his toes.
The shock of the imagined electric jolt shattered Qi Ji’s last defenses. He shivered violently, then suddenly gagged.
“Cough…ugh…ugh…!”
The nausea ripped through him, stomach twisting as if it would expel his very soul. Yet there was nothing to vomit. He’d eaten nothing all day; only a few sips of energy drink at the arena.
After a full day without food, dry heaving was excruciating. The emptiness felt like an iron fist squeezing his stomach, forcing bile and gastric juices upward. Every other muscle tensed painfully; his chest heaved, heart pounding, lower abdomen convulsing. He wished he could escape this body, unable to endure the agony any longer.
“Cough…huff…huff…”
Tears blurred his vision. The force restraining him eased, no longer attempting to lift him, loosening its grip.
Deprived of support, Qi Ji collapsed onto a soft surface. He hugged his knees, curling into a tight ball, minimizing contact with the world. Shivering, he sank into a cold, dark void.
Don’t touch… go away…