Chapter 38: Bus 404 (7)

Gently shielding her damp, dark eyes with his hand, Meng Zimu let out a silent, ragged breath. A suspicious, rosy flush tinted the corners of his eyes, and a thin film of moisture coated his pupils.

Blocked by his slender fingers, Jiang Shengsheng obediently closed her eyes. Her long lashes brushed against his palm, the sensation feeling amplified deep within her heart.

Though she could not see, she could hear.

She heard the crisp snap of bones being crushed, the soft, rhythmic hiss of a serpent’s tongue, and the wet, hollow gulp of the monster swallowing its prey whole.

The dampness against his palm made Meng Zimu freeze for a second. Realizing his wife was crying from fear, his scarlet tongue—excited and sharp—flicked across his lips. His sticky, possessive gaze seemed as though it wanted to devour her whole.

Just like the monster.

His wife, crying in fear, looked so cute and docile. The sight of her needing and being able to rely only on him made his breathing grow heavy. The veins on his temples pulsed, and a rush of pleasure surged through his body.

"...Ha. Ah..."

The dim light vanished in an instant.

Bus 404 drove back into the pitch-black tunnel. Darkness swallowed everyone’s vision; no one dared to breathe loudly, terrified of becoming the next unlucky soul to be buried in the snake's maw.

Having swallowed only one person, the monster’s bottomless stomach was clearly not satisfied. It thrashed its thick, long tail irritably, its serpent tongue probing wildly in all directions.

Hang Qimo narrowed his eyes. The memory of the light that had pierced the darkness moments ago flashed through his mind. His furrowed brows relaxed, and he curled his lips in an imperceptible smile.

He seemed to have found the monster's weakness.

The interior of Bus 404 was cramped. With the behemoth squeezed inside, the passengers were packed tightly, shoulder to shoulder.

Catching a whiff of a stench so foul it was nauseating, a man widened his eyes in terror, holding his breath and refusing to move—the thing was right in front of him!

The horrific reality bathed the man in cold sweat. The beads of moisture rolling down his forehead seeped into his eyes, the stinging, spicy pain radiating through his entire body.

He twitched his fingers, shoved the people around him with a violent burst of strength, and scrambled onto the floor like a madman, crawling away in a panic.

Dizzy and disoriented, the man did not notice that the direction he was crawling was exactly where the monster’s tail was lashing out.

"Don't blame me... don't blame me! I just want to live!!"

The man whispered neurotically.

The crowd he had shoved could not help but make noise.

The snake tongue, flicking in the air, stopped. Its vacant beastly pupils instantly transformed into cruel, cold-blooded vertical slits. The massive snake head reared up, its ribs expanding—the prelude to an attack.

"Hiss—"

Those who had been knocked to the ground waited in utter despair for death to arrive, suppressed sobs escaping their bitten, bleeding lips.

No one wanted to die. They cursed the man who had doomed them with bitter hatred, wishing him a death far more miserable than their own!

"Ah—! Help me! Save me! I can give you money! Any amount you want!"

The man, who had no idea where he was crawling, heard only the sharp whistle of wind by his ears. In the next second, his spine was snapped clean by the powerful, long tail.

Unbearable pain washed over his body. The man curled up on the ground in agony as the long tail above him smashed down onto his waist and abdomen again and again.

Those lost in despair felt a sudden, dizzying flash. They rubbed their tear-filled eyes, only to be forced to shut them again by a sudden, intense glare.

Who turned on the flashlight?

Hearing the commotion, Jiang Shengsheng pulled away the large hand covering her eyes. She squinted at the man holding the flashlight, momentarily forgetting the large hand she had been clutching.

It was Hang Qimo who had turned on the light!

He was holding the [Common Flashlight - Auxiliary Item], which all the players present recognized.

As the darkness receded, everyone saw the snake’s head with its gaping, blood-stained maw. A woman, half of whose head was already inside the stinking, damp mouth, had turned deathly pale; she had stopped resisting, tears streaming down her face.

"Hiss!"

A four-pointed throwing star pierced the air at a speed invisible to the naked eye. It plunged deep into the beast’s pupil, skewered the snake's brain, and slammed heavily into the bus window.

The snapping snake mouth veered to the side from the violent momentum, biting into nothing but air.

The woman, who had escaped death, was dragged backward by her collar by the others who had regained their wits. They watched the man step out from the crowd with a mix of worry and astonishment.

Hang Qimo held the throwing star, which glinted with a cold light, tightly between his slender fingers.

He did not turn around, merely tossing the flashlight backward.

"Ah—" the others in the carriage let out a short gasp, then hurriedly covered their mouths tight, eyes wide.

The flashlight was caught steadily by the man with the bob-cut.

Meng Ze swept a meaningful glance at Hang Qimo with a smile.

The tall, upright man was surrounded by a powerful aura. He glanced at the puddle of flesh and blood left behind by the thrashing tail of the monster in its frenzy, his thin lips pressed into a tight line.

"Move."

His cold, aloof voice matched his entire demeanor, freezing any warmth from those who tried to get close, devoid of even a shred of temperature.

Hearing this, the passengers crowded near the rear door did not dare delay; they scrambled to change positions, clearing a space.

The cold, stoic man kicked out with his long leg, and the snake head, still struggling in agony, was flicked away effortlessly toward the rear door.

The monster wanted to fight back; it lashed its scarlet tongue and hissed, baring its massive mouth as it lunged toward Hang Qimo.

"Careful!"

Seeing this, Jiang Shengsheng tightened her grip on the sleeve she was holding, worried for Hang Qimo.

Dissatisfied that her eyes were on another man—even if that man had no designs on his wife—the smile in Meng Zimu’s eyes grew icy.

His innocent, pure puppy-dog eyes became stained with a damp, gloomy melancholy.

What was so great about Hang Qimo? Wouldn't it be better to just look at him?

Meng Zimu leaned down and slightly parted his lips.

Jiang Shengsheng, still trembling for Hang Qimo, suddenly felt her earlobe licked by something damp and warm.

She tilted her head to look at the youth protecting her, trying to find a trace of suspicion on his face.

Sensing her gaze, Meng Zimu blinked innocently, feigning ignorance: "What's wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere?"

[???!!!]

[Damn it! What did that stinking bug do to my wife! I haven't even licked her yet, why are you licking her!]

[Do you even know how to lick! Back off, my wife’s earlobe belongs to me!]

[Wuwuwu, my blushing wife is so cute, I want to eat her up, hehehe.]

Jiang Shengsheng carefully studied his brows and eyes, then shook her head hesitantly.

Must have been a hallucination...

Little did she know, the moment she lowered her eyelids, the youth’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His damp breath hit the window beside her, condensing into a layer of white mist.

He had caught her tongue tip in his mouth. Meng Zimu greedily recalled the soft, delicious sensation from a moment ago, until a crazed, infatuated smile spilled from the corners of his eyes.

His wife’s earlobe was truly sweet—sweeter than any strawberry mousse he had ever tasted.

He couldn't go any further, or his vigilant wife would find out... what a pity.

Regretfully forcing himself to pull his gaze away from Jiang Shengsheng’s reddened earlobe, Meng Zimu curled his lips. Turning his head, he noticed Meng Ze’s eyes were damp.

Meng Zimu: "What’s wrong with you?"

Meng Ze: "..."

Meng Ze hadn't expected Meng Zimu to be so... devoid of humanity. To take advantage of a young girl in public, and then act as if he were completely oblivious, was beyond the pale.

His chest felt heavy. The suppressed rage and the memory of that fleeting, soft touch intertwined within him. Meng Ze lowered his eyelids, remaining silent.