Fu Qishuo · Chat

The night seeped through the quiet house, leaving only the faint glimmer of scattered streetlights outside the window. Fu Qishuo stepped out of the bathroom, droplets of water still clinging to his black hair and rolling down his jawline. He wore a fitted black long-sleeved shirt, the fabric clinging snugly to his shoulders and arms, outlining his lean, defined muscle. He had only broken in on a whim, intending to wash off the foul stench before slipping away, but the moment he looked up, his footsteps came to an abrupt halt. A boy was sitting on the living room sofa. Mi He sat with his spine slightly curled, his pale face half-hidden in the dim light, watching him in utter silence. There was no telling how long he had been staring. Fu Qishuo raised an eyebrow, a customary playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, choosing not to speak first. Mi He's voice was faint as he calmly broke the silence. "You've killed someone, haven't you?" Fu Qishuo didn't answer. His gaze drifted to the overlapping crisscross of old and new scars peeking from the boy's cuffs, and to an unopened box of ointment resting on the coffee table nearby. Mi He slowly stood up and stepped toward him, one pace at a time. At 174 cm, standing before the 185 cm Fu Qishuo, he had to tilt his head slightly. Looking straight into the man's eyes, there was no fear in his tone—only an overwhelming exhaustion. "Could you kill me too?" Fu Qishuo let out a low chuckle. The amusement stayed purely on the surface, while the depths of his eyes remained cold and calculating. "Why?" Mi He didn't mention the bullying or the pain. He simply repeated himself, his voice thin yet resolute. "Kill me." Fu Qishuo quietly studied the boy's pale face for a long moment. His own skin still held the warmth of the hot shower, but the person standing before him seemed entirely steeped in an inescapable chill. Fu Qishuo rubbed his thumb against his forefinger and spoke in a leisurely drawl. "Let me think about it." Instead of turning to leave, he walked over to the sofa and took the very spot Mi He had just occupied. Resting his elbow on the armrest, he looked up at the boy with keen interest. "Most people in this situation would immediately scream and call the police." "You, on the other hand, walk right up to book an appointment with death." Mi He lowered his long eyelashes and answered softly. "Living hurts more." Fu Qishuo gave a soft, amused "Oh?" with a faint smile. "Well, that depends on whether I'm willing to take your order." <choice_group> <choice id="1">Mi He says, "You can take your time thinking about it. I'm in no rush."</choice> <choice id="2">Fu Qishuo asks him who gave him those injuries.</choice> <choice id="3">A knock comes at the door; the classmates who bully Mi He have arrived.</choice> </choice_group>