Chapter 345 Fear

Chapter 345: Fear

Those eyes held the drowsy haze of someone just waking, yet they sharpened in an instant.

Bottomless and deep, they stared straight at Cheng Ge—who was hovering above him in that absurd position—with a hint of not-yet-fully-awake curiosity.

The air froze solid. Cheng Ge went rigid mid-air, unable to move, as a rush of heat surged straight to his head.

A stray strand of hair, like a gentle probe, brushed across Cui Ji's cheek and his thin, slightly pressed lips.

Cui Ji's gaze flickered. It was as if a pebble had been dropped into those fathomless depths, sending out the faintest ripple.

He still didn't move, but the curiosity of just waking slowly hardened into a suffocating scrutiny, like an invisible net trapping Cheng Ge in midair.

Cheng Ge felt like he was suffocating. He instinctively pressed his dry lips together—and that tiny movement seemed to flip a switch.

Cui Ji's gaze snapped to those lips, now moistened and glistening with an unnatural sheen.

Cheng Ge could even see his Adam's apple roll, almost imperceptibly.

The air was no longer just frozen—it was starting to burn, crackling with a dangerous heat.

All the blood in Cheng Ge's body seemed to run cold in that instant, leaving only his heart pounding wildly against his eardrums.

Time stretched on endlessly, each second feeling like slow torture.

Cheng Ge's fingers curled unconsciously, knuckles whitening from the strain.

He tried to break the suffocating silence, forcing out two short, stiff laughs from his parched throat.

"You... you're awake?" The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Stupid! That was the most pathetic, idiotic opening line in the world!

But Cui Ji didn't respond. He just stared at him with those bloodshot eyes.

Deep in his gaze churned an undercurrent Cheng Ge couldn't read—like a long-suppressed volcano waiting for the moment to erupt.

Cheng Ge's heart raced with panic. That look left him no place to hide.

He instinctively shifted, trying to pull his foot back and end this ridiculous position before the other man was fully awake.

But just as he braced himself to pull back—

A scorching hand clamped down on his waist, the force nearly obliterating any chance of escape.

Then another hand seized the back of his head with unyielding force and yanked it down!

"Mmph...!" Every thought came to a screeching halt in that instant.

Cheng Ge's pupils contracted sharply. The whole world seemed to compress into that single point of scorching, soft pressure on his lips.

His mind went completely blank. All he could hear was his own frantic heartbeat and the two of them breathing, chaotic and tangled.

Cui Ji's kiss was utterly without finesse—carrying the dryness of just waking and an unquestionable possessiveness.

As if confirming something, or perhaps just venting an emotion that had been pent up for so long even he hadn't realized.

The arm around his waist was as unyielding as iron, and the hand on the back of his head killed any thought of escape.

Cheng Ge froze. All the blood in his body seemed to rush to their pressed lips, sending waves of numbing dizziness through him.

He should push him away, should resist, but his body felt drained of all strength, limp and impossibly soft.

Time stretched again, but no longer as torture—it was surrender.

After the initial shock and stiffness, Cheng Ge's taut body uncontrollably relaxed for a brief moment.

That single instant of loosening, like silent permission, made the kiss—which had started out rough and plundering—subtly transform.

Cui Ji seemed to sense the man beneath him softening. The pressure at the back of his head eased slightly.

His fingertips unconsciously traced through the hair at Cheng Ge's nape, sending small shivers through him.

The pressure on his lips remained, but it carried less force and more exploration, more lingering friction.

The crackling, dangerous heat in the air gradually gave way to something deeper, more ambiguous, and sticky.

Cheng Ge felt the air being squeezed from his lungs, darkness swimming before his eyes.

His survival instinct finally overpowered that terrifying numbness. His hands, braced against Cui Ji's chest, began to push.

He whimpered indistinctly, trying to fend off that scorching source intent on sucking out his very soul.

Cui Ji's crushing grip loosened slightly.

Like a dying fish finally returned to water, Cheng Ge jerked his head to the side, gasping through lips that had been kissed swollen and red.

His face was flushed, tears beading at the corners of his eyes from the physical response, his chest heaving violently, every breath carrying the scalding, trembling aftermath.

His mind was still chaos, everything that had just happened crashing against everything he knew.

He spoke instinctively, his voice broken and hoarse, carrying an uncertainty he hadn't even known he had.

"Cui Ji... I..."

But Cui Ji didn't give him the chance to gather his thoughts. That brief separation was just a momentary illusion in the eye of the storm.

Before Cheng Ge could finish his sentence, the world spun!

By the time he registered what was happening, Cui Ji had flipped him over with clean efficiency, completely reversing their positions.

He had been hovering above moments ago; now he was solidly pinned beneath the other man, sinking into the soft bedding.

Cui Ji's form cast an oppressive shadow, completely covering him.

The next second, those familiar lips descended again with unyielding force, sealing away all his unfinished words.

This kiss was completely different from the earlier one—which had been tinged with confusion and tentative plunder.

It was deeper, more urgent, carrying a desperate, almost frantic possessiveness.

Cui Ji's hands were like the sturdiest shackles, locked tightly around Cheng Ge's body—one hand gripping his waist and back.

The other threaded through Cheng Ge's sweat-dampened hair, gripping the back of his neck, forcing him to take the full depth of this kiss.

The force, the heat—as if he intended to crush the man beneath him completely, to melt him into his very bones, so they'd never be separated again.

Cheng Ge's initial resistance seemed utterly insignificant against such absolute power and overwhelming emotion.

He felt like a small boat cast into a raging sea, with no choice but to rise and fall with the waves, sinking and surfacing.

His physical resistance was rapidly crumbling, while a deeper, instinctive rebellion was being kindled.

Oxygen thinned once more, and his consciousness blurred in the searing vortex.

Before he was completely lost, all Cheng Ge could perceive was Cui Ji's heartbeat, hammering against his chest like a war drum.

And within his own chest, the deafening echo, gradually falling into sync.

This was no longer one man's unraveling, but the start of their shared fall.

Cheng Ge's lashes trembled violently amid that suffocating assault.

The hand gripping Cui Ji's waist eventually turned into a silent, desperate hold.

He responded clumsily, hesitantly, to those scorching lips and tongue, only to draw an even deeper entanglement.

A faint sting bloomed on his lips, and a faint, metallic taste of blood seeped between their tangled lips.

Cheng Ge's brows furrowed involuntarily, his eyes growing mistier, the corners red as if about to bleed.

That flicker of pain made his fingertips instinctively clench, nails nearly digging into the flesh of Cui Ji's lower back.

After what felt like an eternity—a century, even—the force that had nearly drained his soul abruptly vanished.

Cui Ji suddenly released him.

Cheng Ge was like a fish stranded on shore, gasping for life, finally dropped back into the sea at the last second.

He gasped for air, chest heaving, greedily gulping down the air he'd been denied, his vision blackening from lack of oxygen, his mind floating.

Just as he tried to calm his pounding heart, a weight suddenly landed on his shoulder.

A patch of warm skin pressed against his cool collarbone.

Cui Ji pressed his forehead deep into the hollow of Cheng Ge's shoulder, his whole weight bearing down, utterly still.

Then, a damp warmth seeped through the thin fabric, spreading over Cheng Ge's shoulder with a heat that could almost scald.

Cheng Ge opened his mouth, the familiar name hovering on his tongue, but in the end, he couldn't say it.

All his confusion and embarrassment melted away the moment he sensed the man above him was not himself.

He could clearly feel the dejection and helplessness Cui Ji couldn't hide once the fear had faded.

Cheng Ge suddenly remembered the rumors about the Cui family.

He remembered how Cui Ji had lost everyone he loved at a young age, how he'd clawed his way through corpse-strewn battlefields, how he'd crawled out from the piles of the dead, step by step, to where he was now.

That coldness, that ruthless decisiveness—they were just the cold, hard shell he'd built for himself after losing so much.

No one is born a killer; they're all forged in blood and hardship, sharpened into survival instincts.

After a moment's hesitation, Cheng Ge raised his trembling arm and laid it gently on Cui Ji's tense back.

His fingertips, meant to soothe, brushed lightly over the damp skin, scraping twice with the utmost gentleness.

"Next time..." he paused, then promised, "I won't take risks like that again."

Cui Ji's arms around him tightened further, so hard it nearly suffocated Cheng Ge again.

Cheng Ge didn't struggle; he just silently endured the force that seemed intent on crushing him.

After a long while, only the two's gradually steadying breaths remained in the tent, along with the occasional crackle of the candle.

Cheng Ge's legs had gone numb. He shifted his trapped body and called softly, "Cui Ji..."

"...Mm." The man buried against his shoulder answered in a low, muffled voice, sounding drained and languid from the exertion.

Cheng Ge licked his still-tingling lips, his voice thick with awkward embarrassment.

"Can you... get up first? You're crushing me... I need to pee, I'm about to burst."

The air went dead for a second.

Cui Ji: "..."

Freed at last, Cheng Ge scrambled off the bed without a moment's hesitation.

He stumbled toward the makeshift latrine in the corner of the tent.

After relieving himself, the urgency faded, and reason and shame came flooding back with a vengeance.

Standing by the basin, Cheng Ge raised his hand and slapped his still-burning cheeks.

His mind uncontrollably replayed those chaotic, scorching images, and his heart started racing again despite himself.

He dawdled for a good while before slowly shuffling back to the main part of the tent.

Inside, Cui Ji had already sat back down at the table, still carrying an air of lingering exhaustion.

He sat with his head slightly bowed, his profile softened under the flickering candlelight.

Cheng Ge's gaze swept over and caught sight of a fresh layer of clean white gauze wrapped around his arm, now faintly stained with crimson—no doubt from the earlier struggle, which had reopened an old wound.

Without a word, Cui Ji reached out and pushed the cup of hot water—clearly poured for Cheng Ge—toward him.

Cheng Ge walked over in silence and took the cup.

The warmth of the porcelain against his palm chased away some of the chill from his fingertips, but it did nothing to calm the turmoil and ache in his chest.

He lowered his head and took a sip, the warm liquid sliding down his dry throat.

He looked at the stark red on Cui Ji's arm, hesitating for a moment.

Then finally spoke softly, with a concern he hadn't even realized he felt, "Your wound... do you want me to re-bandage it?"

...

Cheng Ge returned with a wooden box, sat down beside Cui Ji, and reached for the blood-soaked gauze.

His naturally impatient nature surprisingly carried a rare gentleness as he unwound the layers, revealing the ugly wound beneath.

The flesh was torn and rolled back, bloodstained, with a sticky, clumped layer of medicinal powder on top—a clear sign of how carelessly it had been applied.

Cheng Ge pressed his lips together, picked up a soft cloth dampened with clean water, and carefully wiped away the blood around the wound.

The tent was quiet, with only the soft breathing of the two and the faint rustle of cloth against skin.

Cheng Ge's entire focus was on his fingertips, while Cui Ji's gaze never left his downcast eyes.

He watched the shadow cast by Cheng Ge's long lashes beneath his eyes.

Fine beads of sweat dotted his nose, and his lips, slightly swollen, were pursed in concentration.

An indescribable warmth, accompanied by the faint sting of the wound being cleaned, slowly spread through his chest.

When Cheng Ge sprinkled the medicinal powder evenly over the wound, the muscles of Cui Ji's arm instinctively tensed for a moment.

Cheng Ge immediately stopped, looked up, and glanced at him questioningly.

Their eyes suddenly met, and the earlier aggression and storm were gone—only a tenderness remained that threatened to drown him.

Cheng Ge lowered his gaze as if to hide it, and continued his work, picking up the clean gauze and winding it around his arm, layer by layer.

With his movements, a strand of hair inadvertently brushed across Cui Ji's face, like a spark setting the prairie ablaze.

Once the wound was dressed, Cheng Ge did not immediately withdraw his hand.

Through the fresh gauze, his fingertips gently pressed against Cui Ji's wound.

Cui Ji did not move, letting the hand rest on his wound.

Then, Cheng Ge's fingertips slowly moved upward, finally coming to rest on an uneven, old scar.

The scar was years old, its color far deeper than the surrounding skin.

It resembled a twisted, lifeless centipede coiled around his forearm.

Just touching it was enough to imagine how ferocious the weapon that had caused this wound must have been.