The Abused Villain is Always Obsessed with Me - Chapter 30

His pupils constricted to pinpricks, and his heart pounded uncontrollably, as if trying to burst through his chest and pierce through flesh and bone.

Feng Hechi gently patted his cheek, his touch light and tender, but his words were sharp and cutting.

“You like me?”

“You like the man who shattered your original family and treats you like a servant, ordering you around at whim?”

“You like the man who looks at you with cold disdain, who finds you repulsive and tiresome?”

The man chuckled softly, his melodious voice striking Lu Cang’s eardrums like a heavy hammer.

“Lu Cang, you’re truly fascinating.”

With that, Feng Hechi withdrew his hand, took a step back, and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, piercing gaze.

“Or perhaps you think I’ve started treating you differently?”

The figure that had stood motionless as a statue suddenly flinched, then began to tremble violently.

Feng Hechi scoffed, his tone dripping with mockery.

“Like a stray dog on the street—when you’re in a good mood, it’s only natural to tease it a little, right? Look, even the stray dog seems happy.”

“Is that so?” Lu Cang suddenly spoke.

He tilted his head slightly, trying to catch Feng Hechi’s gaze, hoping to see some flicker of something different. But all he found was endless mockery and contempt.

His voice was barely a whisper: “To you, I’m just a stray dog.”

A snort escaped Feng Hechi’s nostrils. “Stray dogs don’t need me to provide them with food and shelter.”

“To me, you’re nothing at all.”

Lu Cang stared blankly at him, a strangled, barely audible sound squeezing from his throat—something that could barely be called a laugh.

“I see.”

So, rescuing him from the river, nursing him through his fever, keeping him alive—it had all been nothing more than a casual act of charity when Feng Hechi was in a good mood.

It was Lu Cang himself who had been deluding himself.

The burning flame in his chest extinguished, replaced by an endless, icy resentment.

If that was the case, why hadn’t Feng Hechi just left him to die in the first place?

Why hadn’t he let him perish alone and quietly in the river?

Why hadn’t he let him slit his own throat with the knife?

Why waste so much time interacting with him, squandering his precious time on someone who meant nothing to him?

To Feng Hechi, Lu Cang was nothing at all.

I hate him so much.

I hate him so much.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

He hated the casual smile that slipped from Feng Hechi’s lips, hated the tenderness that seeped through his fingers, hated the occasional flicker of emotion in his eyes when they met Lu Cang’s gaze.

If you can’t give a stray dog a home, don’t even glance at him as you pass by.

Let him get used to it.

“I hate you,” Lu Cang murmured, his pupils unwavering as he stared intently into Feng Hechi’s eyes, taking a step closer.

Detected value increase. Current target’s hatred value: 91%

The mechanical voice chimed in unison with the youth’s hoarse, ethereal whisper.

Though this progress was expected, Feng Hechi’s brow furrowed slightly as he observed Lu Cang’s expression, his gaze flickering with unease.

“I hate you,” Lu Cang repeated, now standing directly before Feng Hechi.

Detected value increase. Current target’s hatred value: 94%

“I hate you.”

He reached out, gripping Feng Hechi’s collar tightly.

Detected value increase. Current target’s hatred value: 97%

Their eyes locked. Feng Hechi clearly saw the bloodshot, crimson eyes, glaring like those of a hellish demon, swirling with bottomless despair.

“Feng Hechi, I hate you.”

Detected value increase. Current target’s hatred value: 100%

The next moment, a series of beeping alerts sounded.

Ding—Target’s hatred value has reached the required threshold.

Ding—Mission time limit met.

Congratulations, Host, for completing the mission! You will be extracted from the mission world in five minutes. Please prepare accordingly.

Feng Hechi’s expression froze. When he regained his composure, he seized Lu Cang’s wrist and flung off the hand gripping his collar.

Lu Cang stumbled backward two steps, his body as light as a sheet of paper, easily tossed aside.

I can’t disappear in front of him.

With this thought, Feng Hechi retreated two steps, cast one last glance at Lu Cang, then turned and strode out the door.

He left without a word.

Lu Cang stood frozen in place, showing no intention of chasing after him. He remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the empty stairwell beyond the door.

Soon, the sound of footsteps in the stairwell faded away. The motion-sensor light overhead flickered twice before finally going out.

Silence returned.

Lu Cang stood at the boundary of light and shadow, the light behind him casting his entire face into darkness.

After a long moment, he tilted his head slightly upward, closed his eyes, and a single, faintly shimmering tear slid down his cheek, vanishing in an instant.

Outside the residential complex, Feng Hechi stood under a streetlight, glancing at his watch.

Less than a minute remained before he would leave this mission world. He lowered his head, suddenly realizing he had forgotten to bring the suitcase in his haste.

Though he couldn’t take it with him, it would have at least made his departure seem more realistic.

With this thought, Feng Hechi mentally summoned the System.

“You mentioned earlier that the original owner would return after I left. When exactly will that happen?”

The original owner’s consciousness will return to this body the moment you depart from this world.

Feng Hechi frowned. If the returning original owner had no memory of this period, he had no way of knowing what would happen next.

Countdown initiated: 10, 9, 8…

The mission was already complete, so Feng Hechi shouldn’t need to worry about these things anymore. He exhaled deeply, trying to focus his mind.

Yet the image of those crimson eyes from their final encounter flashed before him.

Overflowing with despair and sorrow, etched with pain.

Feng Hechi’s heart clenched suddenly. He instinctively turned to look back toward his home, but at that moment, the countdown reached zero. A white light flashed before his eyes, and the surrounding scenery blurred instantly.

When his vision cleared again, he found himself in a familiar setting:

The penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows, an office desk.

Feng Hechi’s eyes widened as his gaze swept across the room. Even the famous paintings hanging on the walls were identical to those in his real-world office.

“This is…”

This is a rest area generated by the System based on your real-world environment. You can rest here before deciding whether to proceed to the next world.

Feng Hechi’s brow twitched. “Why generate it like this?”

According to big data analysis, people feel more comfortable in familiar environments, leading to better rest.

Feng Hechi sighed and walked over to the leather chair, settling into it.

Looking around, he had to admit the place was indeed an exact replica of his office.

Though he still couldn’t understand why the System had chosen his office as the template instead of his home, which would have been a far more suitable place for rest.

The chair swiveled a full circle, facing the window. Feng Hechi gazed down through the floor-to-ceiling glass, the scene below appearing hazy as if viewed through a layer of mist. It seemed only the office had been generated.

Suddenly remembering something, Feng Hechi spoke.

“Can you monitor the subsequent developments in the worlds I’ve experienced?”

Do you mean you wish to observe the current state of those worlds after your departure?

Feng Hechi nodded, then paused. “But I only just left that world. There shouldn’t be any significant developments yet…”

This space exists independently of the mission worlds. Relative to the first world, you have already been gone for a considerable time.

Feng Hechi froze.

“Then…” His voice faltered, a rare hint of hesitation creeping in. “What happened to Lu Cang afterward?”

The boy’s final gaze had left an indelible mark on him—a tidal wave of profound despair and resentment threatening to engulf anyone who dared to look.

He couldn’t help but imagine what followed.

The System paused for a few seconds before its voice resumed.

Monitoring complete. Displaying results now.

Lu Cang stood motionless by the door.

After an indeterminate amount of time, his frozen gaze shifted slightly, glancing at another object near the door:

Feng Hechi’s suitcase.

Wasn’t he supposed to be leaving? Why didn’t he take it?

Or was Feng Hechi so eager to leave him that he forgot his luggage?

Lu Cang’s expression was blank and lifeless, as if all emotion had been drained from him. He slowly raised his hand to grasp the doorknob.

But then, footsteps echoed in the stairwell again.

Lu Cang froze in place.

The footsteps grew louder as they ascended, each step quickening Lu Cang’s heartbeat.

When a familiar figure appeared outside the door, Lu Cang’s eyes widened instantly, staring in disbelief.

The man’s face emerged from the darkness into the light, becoming clearly visible.

He glanced blankly into the room, then frowned when he saw Lu Cang.

“What are you doing here?”

Lu Cang’s heart stopped for a moment, as if frozen solid.

The man glanced at the suitcase by his feet, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes. “Isn’t this my suitcase? Why is it here?”

He looked up at Lu Cang, his tone growing impatient. “You little brat, messing with my things?”

Lu Cang stared at the man as if he were a monster. His lips parted, and he forced out a question with difficulty.

“…Who are you?”

“Huh?” The man’s brow furrowed deeper, his face contorted with irritation. He strode toward Lu Cang in a few quick steps. “Still half-asleep? You’re staying here, eating my food, and you can’t even recognize me?”

It was him.

Lu Cang’s hands began to tremble again.

The man.

He was back.

He wasn’t Feng Hechi, not the familiar man from just minutes ago.

Feng Hechi was gone.

Gone to a place Lu Cang would never see again.

He didn’t know where that place was, but he knew one thing for certain.

He had been completely abandoned.

Under the bewildered gaze of the still-confused man, Lu Cang began to laugh softly.

The laughter grew louder, yet increasingly hoarse, the guttural sounds like bl00d-tinged bubbles, distorted and grotesque.

The muffled voice seemed to drain every ounce of strength, as if he were vomiting up the very flesh and bl00d from his chest cavity.

As he laughed, his eyes locked onto the man before him, their hollow, malevolent gaze forcing the man to instinctively step back, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

“You really think you can just abandon me like that?”

The youth’s voice was strangely hoarse, the rising inflection at the end making it all the more terrifying. The man stared at him in terror, unsure whether to answer.

Lu Cang’s gaze seemed to pierce right through him, as if he were looking at someone else entirely.

Clearly, Lu Cang had no intention of letting him answer. He continued to laugh.

“I won’t let you get away that easily.”

His voice suddenly softened, like a lover’s whispered delirium.

“I’ll find you, no matter how long it takes.”

No matter how far.

The man’s back pressed against the door, his mind reduced to a single thought as he stared blankly at the smiling Lu Cang.

Lu Cang had completely lost his mind.

After you left, the target returned to a normal life, but his personality became increasingly withdrawn and unapproachable. Everyone in his class kept their distance, treating him with a mixture of respect and fear.

Hearing this, Feng Hechi’s thin lips pressed into a tight line, his fingers twitching slightly, though his face remained expressionless.

He completed high school as scheduled and was admitted to a top-tier university with the highest score in the entire school.

This deviated from the original world’s plot.

Feng Hechi froze, then pressed, “And then?”

During university, the target remained gloomy and isolated, refusing to interact with others. The day after graduation, he left a suicide note in his phone’s memo app and jumped to his death from the rooftop.

“What…”

The word caught in Feng Hechi’s throat as his pupils began to tremble violently.

Lu Cang… was dead?

 Host, there’s no need to blame yourself,  the System said calmly, sensing Feng Hechi’s inner turmoil.

This is one of the possible outcomes of completing the mission, an unavoidable consequence.

Just a mission.

Was it really just a mission?

Feng Hechi’s hand clenched into a fist, then slowly relaxed. He spoke in a low voice, his tone more nasal than usual.

“What did Lu Cang write in his suicide note?”

A screen-like image suddenly appeared before him. Feng Hechi blinked, realizing it was a projection from the System.

The camera gradually zoomed in, finally focusing on the lit-up phone screen.

There was only one line of text:

I’ll find you.

A headache.

It felt as if countless ants were gnawing at his brain.

The surroundings were noisy, the din of conversations mingling with music.

Feng Hechi pressed his index finger firmly against his temples, opened his eyes, and surveyed the scene.

The dazzling spotlights hanging from the ceiling cast slanted beams of light, creating stark shadows on the red carpets lining the hall. The grand venue was elegantly decorated, with a massive LED screen dominating the stage.

The Silver Moon Festival Film Awards Ceremony.

Deep crimson velvet seats were fully occupied. On stage, the host held a microphone and read from cue cards, thanking sponsors and advertisers.

A flood of fragmented memories surged through Feng Hechi’s mind. A sudden, sharp headache forced a groan from his lips.

In this world, the original owner of his body had been a renowned A-list celebrity, showered with resources, and adored by millions. Every public appearance sparked a frenzy on Weibo, dominating headlines and igniting fierce online battles.

Yet he was nothing more than a hollow shell—a pretty face devoid of substance.

Wait.

Feng Hechi frowned slightly.

Ever since he’d woken up, he’d detected a faint, elusive scent—something like alcohol.

And it was coming from his own body.

Cold, slightly salty, with a faint, refreshing fragrance.

The scent of sherry.

The System’s voice promptly chimed in.

Host, the world you are currently in differs from ordinary worlds. It is an ABO world.

In a few concise sentences, the System explained the ABO world’s setting to Feng Hechi.

Feng Hechi listened expressionlessly, then raised his hand to touch the area at the back of his neck where the so-called gland was located.

He was an Alpha in this world, and the scent he had been detecting was his own pheromone.

“Brother Feng, are you alright?”

A concerned voice suddenly spoke up beside him.

Feng Hechi glanced sideways at the young man in a formal suit, who was looking at him with slight worry.

It was a fellow actor from the film they were shooting together.

Feng Hechi strained to recall the man’s name but couldn’t place it.

It seemed the original owner of this body had never bothered to remember it.

Feng Hechi steadied himself, waiting for the throbbing at his temples to subside before turning to face the man.

“I’m fine.”

Hearing this, the man visibly relaxed, then turned excitedly toward the stage.

“Brother Feng, they’re about to announce the Best Actor award! Are you nervous?”

Feng Hechi glanced at the stage, puzzled. “Why would I be nervous?”

The man misinterpreted his words and nodded vigorously. “Exactly! The Best Actor award is definitely yours, Brother Feng!”

“……”

Before Feng Hechi could respond, the host’s voice boomed through the microphone, filling the venue.

“Now comes the most thrilling part of the evening! As everyone knows, the Silver Moon Festival awards ceremony is the most prestigious event of the year. Among all the awards, the Best Actor award carries the greatest weight, truly reflecting public support. So, who are this year’s nominees? Let’s take a look!”

The LED screen flickered, the lights dimmed, and the first film clip began to play.

Before announcing the final winner, clips showcasing the nominated actors’ performances were shown. Feng Hechi watched the screen intently as each frame flashed by, revealing the highlights of the nominees’ acting prowess. Every tear and every smile evoked genuine empathy.

Feng Hechi froze, recognizing the familiar face on the screen as a clip from a film starring his predecessor.

Seeing his own face on the screen felt surreal, and Feng Hechi frowned slightly.

His frown deepened as the clip continued.

Compared to the previous actors’ performances, the scene starring his predecessor looked like children playing house. The awkward dialogue and stiff expressions rendered his otherwise striking features dull and laughable.

How could this even be nominated?

Just as this thought crossed Feng Hechi’s mind, he heard the young actor from earlier gushing in his ear, “As expected of Brother Feng! So cool!”

Huh?

Feng Hechi couldn’t help but turn to give the young man a proper look. Seeing the actor’s face flushed with excitement, Feng Hechi realized the young man genuinely possessed more acting talent than his predecessor ever had.

The embarrassing clip soon ended, and the lights came up again. The host picked up the microphone, drawing out the suspense.

“And the winner of this year’s Best Actor Award is—”

A young actor’s flattery pierced through the air like a needle: “Brother Feng, it’s definitely Brother Feng!”

“Lian Yang! Congratulations to him!”

The host announced the name with dramatic flair, leading the applause. A male actor of similar age to Feng Hechi rose from the front row, a smile plastered on his face, and strode onto the stage to accept the award.

No surprise there.

Feng Hechi cast a detached glance at the man beside him. The man’s smile froze, and he awkwardly scratched his head.

“Bad luck, Brother Feng. To be honest, in my heart, your performance was no less impressive than his!”

Still trying to salvage the situation.

Feng Hechi withdrew his gaze, refusing to spare him another glance.

More astonishing than winning the award itself was the fact that the clip had even been shown on stage.

After the winning actor delivered his acceptance speech and stepped down, the host swiftly announced the remaining awards, followed by closing remarks, bringing the ceremony to a complete end.

Feng Hechi stood up and followed the crowd toward the exit. At a fork in the corridor, the crowd carried him a short distance in the wrong direction before he realized his mistake and doubled back.

By now, the crowd had thinned considerably, leaving only a few people lingering along the corridor, seemingly waiting for something.

“Oh man, that clip had me dying of laughter!”

“Who wasn’t? How could they even put something like that up there? Having connections really makes a difference.”

“If I were him, I’d be so embarrassed!”

The boisterous laughter and chatter drifted from the corner. Feng Hechi raised an eyebrow and started walking toward the sound.

Rounding the corner, he saw a group of young men huddled together, talking excitedly. Feng Hechi glanced over and immediately recognized one of them as the man who had been sitting next to him earlier.

Feng Hechi took a step back, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall, listening with amusement as they continued their animated conversation.

“I even went out of my way to compliment him earlier, just so I could see him humiliated when he didn’t win!”

The speaker was the same man who had been sitting next to Feng Hechi. His lips curled downward in disdain, his obsequious demeanor from earlier completely gone. He continued, “When they announced the winner, I made sure to watch his expression, hoping to see him crushed. But he didn’t react at all—he looked like he didn’t even care! What a waste of my time!”

His tone was bitter, filled with regret for missing out on the spectacle.

“Honestly, if he didn’t have someone backing him, he wouldn’t even have been nominated!”

“Exactly! I mean, why would they pick him of all people?”

The man sitting next to Feng Hechi curled his lip, his face full of disdain. “It’s just because he’s got a decent face. Otherwise, why would his sugar daddy even notice him? He plays the male concubine every day, but puts on this glamorous facade.”

“But he’s an Alpha. Even if he’s being kept, he’d be the one on top, right?”

“So what if he’s an Alpha? In front of his sugar daddy, he’ll crawl and kneel whenever he’s told.”

“Tch, I bet I’d be better at it. President Lu’s taste is really…”

The man was about to continue when a voice suddenly cut him off from behind.

“What’s wrong with my taste?”

The deep voice was as cold as thousand-year-old ice.

Feng Hechi, who had been standing in the corner listening to their gossip with an indifferent expression, suddenly froze as his gaze landed on the newcomer.

His pupils trembled slightly as he stared at the man in disbelief.