The Abused Villain is Always Obsessed with Me - Chapter 12

Is this child insane?

The moment Feng Hechi saw the knife, his brow twitched violently, and a cold tremor crawled from his tailbone up to the back of his neck.

If he had reacted even a fraction of a second slower, that blade would have already pierced his carotid artery.

He stared at the youth’s face. His eyes were hollow, yet his wrist stubbornly strained downward, struggling against Feng Hechi’s grip. His lips moved mechanically, his voice calm, but the words he spoke were venomous.

“Why isn’t it you who’s dead? Why are you still alive?”

Feng Hechi’s brow furrowed deeper as the youth continued to mouth the words mechanically.

“Even this won’t kill you? You filthy parasite—what’s the point of your clinging to life?”

From birth until arriving in this world, no one had ever cursed Feng Hechi with such venom. Even those who dared to speak so boldly would soon grovel in apology, their words dripping with obsequiousness.

Feng Hechi’s gaze darkened. He tightened his grip on Lu Cang’s hand until it was completely immobilized. The youth’s strength gave out, and his hand went limp, releasing the fruit knife, which clattered to the floor.

Feng Hechi immediately released his grip on Lu Cang’s wrist and shoved him hard on the shoulder. The exhausted boy staggered backward, collapsing to the ground with a dull thud as his head struck the hard floor.

He groaned in pain, instinctively curling into a fetal position, his body limp and lifeless like mud.

Brushing the dust off his clothes, Feng Hechi smoothed out the collar Lu Cang had crumpled. He stood up and looked down at the dazed boy sprawled on the floor.

“Disappointed? I’m still alive.”

The boy’s hand, dangling limply on the ground, twitched slightly. A moment later, the System’s notification chimed in his ear.

Detected numerical increase. Current target’s hatred value: 84.2%

The spot where his shoulder blades had slammed against the ground still throbbed faintly. Feng Hechi frowned, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

As an adult, he couldn’t stoop to retaliating against a child. But the thought of nearly dying because of Lu Cang’s actions still simmered in his mind.

If he died in this mission world, the mission would fail. He wouldn’t be able to return to the real world, and his physical body in reality would be declared dead.

The smug expressions of his stepmother and her son flashed through Feng Hechi’s mind, his gaze turning even colder.

He steadied his breathing before speaking, his voice as icy as if it had been quenched in frost: “Behave yourself.”

“If you dare pull something like this again, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

With that, Feng Hechi turned away, unwilling to look at the youth any longer. But a low, strange laugh suddenly drifted from behind him.

The sound was peculiar, like air hissing from the throat—dry, raspy, devoid of any joy, and filled with sorrow. It seemed forced from the depths of the chest, as if each syllable carried the viscous bubbles of bl00d.

The voice rasped, “Every day of my life now is filled with regret.”

The hoarse voice carried an air of utter despair.

What’s he up to now?

Feng Hechi glanced back to see Lu Cang, who had been slumped on the ground, pushing himself into a half-kneeling position. His upper body leaned forward, his hand reaching out to grasp the fruit knife lying nearby.

Feng Hechi’s brow furrowed again, but this time he was prepared. Given Lu Cang’s age and build, there was no way he could pose any real threat.

Even in the real world, Feng Hechi rarely engaged in strenuous physical activity due to his heart condition.

Out of self-preservation, Feng Hechi’s father had insisted he learn basic combat skills from a young age, provided his heart wasn’t suddenly subjected to intense stress. As long as that condition was met, he could easily handle several opponents in a one-on-one fight.

Moreover, in the mission world, he possessed a healthy body.

As Feng Hechi thought this, he kept a wary eye on Lu Cang, who was kneeling on the ground, ready to react if the man suddenly snapped again.

Lu Cang picked up the knife, turned the blade upward, and gripped the hilt in a reverse grip, his gaze fixed on the reflective edge.

Seeing his strange expression, Feng Hechi felt a sudden sense of foreboding. He took a step forward, the soft thud of his shoe against the floor breaking the silence. Lu Cang, his eyes still blankly fixed on the blade in his hand, suddenly moved.

He slowly tilted his head back, and in the next instant, the knife’s blade plunged straight toward his own neck!

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as if everything were unfolding in slow motion.

Feng Hechi’s right foot slammed against the ground, propelling him forward in a desperate lunge. He stretched his arms out as far as he could, and for a moment, he felt like he was flying.

A dull thud of flesh colliding with flesh, followed by the sharp crack of bone against the floor, and the crisp metallic clang of the knife hitting the ground.

Feng Hechi’s knees slammed heavily against the floor, and he hissed in pain, immediately feeling a sharp sting in his left hand.

Regaining his composure, he lowered his head to examine his left palm. The blade that had flown out during his attempt to block it had sliced across his hand, leaving a sizable gash that was now bleeding profusely.

He had pinned Lu Cang to the ground with one hand, his injured left hand clamped tightly around Lu Cang’s wrist, pressing it against the floor just inches above his head.

Bl00d streamed down Feng Hechi’s palm, flowed over Lu Cang’s wrist, and pooled into a small puddle on the floor.

The fruit knife Lu Cang had been holding had long since been flung away by the sudden force, skidding across the floor to come to rest a short distance away.

Feng Hechi’s right hand pressed firmly against Lu Cang’s chest, his left knee pinning Lu Cang’s thigh, and his right knee wedged between Lu Cang’s legs.

Even for an adult, this position would be nearly impossible to escape. Lu Cang could only remain pinned, his gaze fixed blankly on Feng Hechi’s face.

“If you can’t kill me, you’ll kill yourself?” Feng Hechi sneered, his left hand still throbbing with pain. He glared coldly at the still-youthful face beneath him.

If Feng Hechi had only suspected Lu Cang’s intentions when the boy first attacked him with the knife, he was now certain.

The person before him was undoubtedly insane.

For a moment, Feng Hechi even wanted to question the System: If he’s already this far gone, what’s the point of nurturing him?

Lu Cang’s gaze slowly slid down Feng Hechi’s face to his left hand. Bl00d trickled down the connected skin, and a warm sensation spread from their wrists. Lu Cang stared blankly at the bloody streak.

He didn’t answer Feng Hechi’s question. His voice was hoarse, as if rasped by sandpaper or parched by three days without water in the desert.

“Why did you stop me?”

Feng Hechi hadn’t expected this to be his first question.

Seeing Feng Hechi’s silence, Lu Cang continued on his own.

“After I die, you can gamble away all of Mom’s compensation money. It doesn’t matter if you lose it all. You can just trick another woman, make her child your slave, and have them serve you for the rest of your life.”

“Why won’t you let me die?”

“Do you want to keep me around to help you pay off your debts?”

Feng Hechi stared into Lu Cang’s eyes, his right palm pressed against the warm skin, feeling the tremors of the heart beneath the bone and muscle. He scoffed, his tone disdainful.

“I don’t need some kid like you to help me pay off my debts.”

Lu Cang’s eyes widened slightly as he fixed his gaze on Feng Hechi’s expression.

This man wasn’t lying. His eyes were filled with disdain and annoyance, but he wasn’t deceiving him.

Feng Hechi took a deep breath, calming his turbulent emotions and lowering his voice.

“You can’t die.”

If the target died before the mission objectives were achieved, the mission in this world would be a complete failure.

“I won’t let you die.”

Until Lu Cang’s stats reached the required threshold, he couldn’t afford any accidents. Feng Hechi would never allow anything to happen to him.

Feng Hechi’s mind had always been cold and rational, capable of instantly suppressing his emotions to find solutions. This was a habit he had cultivated since childhood, and the reason his father had confidently designated him as his successor.

Within seconds, he had swiftly processed these thoughts.

Suddenly, a hazy white mist filled his vision, like the static snow on an old television screen.

Through the white fog, Feng Hechi saw a pale-faced woman sitting against a wall in the back garden, her eyes sunken and her wrists so thin they seemed barely covered by skin.

She stared fixedly at the azure sky, then abruptly turned her head to meet Feng Hechi’s gaze, who was standing in the corner.

Her smile was gentle, but immediately afterward, she swallowed the pills hidden in her palm.

A thin trail of bl00d trickled from her bloodless, pale lips, winding down her chin and dripping into the white mist, mingling with the bl00d now sliding down Feng Hechi’s hand.

Feng Hechi blinked, refocusing his gaze on the boy’s face before him.

Damn it, he’s making me remember things from so long ago again.

This kid really knows how to cause trouble.

Lu Cang’s eyes widened slightly as he stared unblinkingly at the man before him.

His glasses had been knocked off during their earlier struggle. Without the barrier of the lenses, Lu Cang saw into the depths of Feng Hechi’s eyes for the first time.

Unobstructed by the glasses, those beautiful eyes were even more striking: phoenix eyes with inner corners that curved inward and outer corners that tilted upward, framed by fine, distinct lashes and pupils as deep and dark as black onyx.

No longer indifferent as usual, nor retaining their customary calm.

Emotions Lu Cang had never seen before surged and churned within those eyes, like the midnight depths of the sea. Pitch-black waters rose in turbulent waves, threatening to swallow passing ships and travelers whole into the abyss.

Lu Cang felt himself being drawn into that dark abyss as well.

Feng Hechi withdrew his hand, pushed himself up from the floor, and saw Lu Cang still frozen in the same position. He leaned down again and extended his right hand.

“Get up.”

Lu Cang stared at him, then slowly reached out and placed his hand in Feng Hechi’s palm. Feng Hechi tightened his grip and pulled Lu Cang to his feet.

Seeing Lu Cang standing upright, Feng Hechi released his hand and turned away, but didn’t take a step.

After a few silent seconds, he spoke without turning around.

“Didn’t you want to get into the best university and leave this place?”

“Before that, just… live properly.”

With those words, he didn’t look back at Lu Cang’s expression, nor did he glance at his still-bleeding left hand. He bent down with his right hand to pick up the fallen fruit knife and returned to his bedroom.

After the door closed, the living room fell into deathly silence once more.

Lu Cang remained standing in the same spot.

He lowered his head and slowly raised his right hand. This was the hand that had wielded the knife against Feng Hechi, had stabbed himself, and had ultimately been gripped by the man’s palm and pulled to safety.

He stared at his palm, as if he could still feel the warmth of their skin-to-skin contact.

The man’s deep voice echoed in his ears:

You can’t die. I won’t let you die.

Didn’t you want to leave this place? Before that, just… live properly.

Lu Cang knew that his existence meant nothing to Feng Hechi.

Feng Hechi controlled the money, the house had been rented by his mother, and there were no legal ties or obligations between them.

Lu Cang left for school early and returned late, leaving Feng Hechi no time to even order him to fetch tea or water.

To Feng Hechi, Lu Cang was utterly useless—a disposable item to be tossed aside like unrecyclable trash.

Perhaps Feng Hechi would find it more convenient if Lu Cang simply vanished. Without him around to hold him back or cause trouble, Feng Hechi could freely pursue other women, gamble, and drink.

Yet Feng Hechi had stopped him.

Even though his left hand had been cut in the process, he hadn’t mentioned it at all.

Judging by the amount of bl00d, the wound would likely leave a scar—a jagged mark across the palm with its long, slender fingers.

Feng Hechi wanted him to live.

Thinking this, Lu Cang slowly lifted his left hand and placed it over his right, tightening his fingers as if trying to grasp the lingering warmth.

He still hated Feng Hechi, he thought.

But he also felt that it was no longer just hatred.