Chapter 29: Medium-Strong

Pei Yu found himself standing inside a pitch-black box. As he turned to move, he was suddenly transported to a warmly decorated room.

On the bed lay a man and a woman, yet no matter how hard he tried to speak, they couldn’t hear him. It was as if he were watching them through a movie screen, detached and unseen.

The camera moved closer to the bed, and he saw, with perfect clarity yet utter disbelief, that the man lying there had the exact same face as him. Behind him stood Chen Shuyin, dressed in a camisole nightgown.

Like a sinner nailed to a cross, he activated his shared perception ability but was trapped within a body he couldn’t control.

The bedside lamp turned on unknowingly, and a soft embrace crashed against his back. Warm, wet breath spread across his nape, sticking to his shoulder blades, and a continuous, whimpering sob seemed to pull his mind back into focus.

He grabbed the hands at his waist, enduring the pain as he turned around, only to face Chen Shuyin’s tear-streaked face. Her nose was red, and trails of tears ran down her cheeks. Even her thick lashes were damp and clumped together.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she tilted her chin up and kissed him, biting down as if devouring him whole. She wasn’t skilled—her only few kisses had all been with him.

After those few days, she never kissed him again. She claimed to be from three years ago, regarded him as a thorn in her eye, an enemy in her hand, yet at the same time, she sought to unravel their connection, aiming for a clean break.

He let her kiss him for a few seconds with his eyes open, then gripped her shoulders and pushed her away. But she was relentless, throwing herself at him without a word, her enthusiasm burning. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he glanced at the clock in the dim light—it was nearly midnight.

“I’m injured,” he reminded her.

“It’s not like you’re hurt down there,” she responded boldly, shocking him. Her hand had already found its target.

Again.

He clamped down on her hand, preventing further movement, his voice low and restrained. “Chen Shuyin, are you toying with me on purpose?”

These past few days, she treated him with indifference while caring for him, then suddenly flipped into a different person, forcing herself onto him.

Instead of getting angry at his words, she straddled him in confusion, blinking her round eyes. “No, don’t you like it?”

Her fingers tugged at his waistband, teasingly pulling it loose. The fabric was pushed upward, gathering under his chin within moments. His breath faltered, his body reacting unmistakably.

Pei Yu’s voice was stern. “Get off.”

“No,” she smirked like a sly fox, using him as her personal toy, pressing against his chest and moving. Soft flesh rubbed against his toned abdomen, growing flushed. Both of them were panting. She scolded him without reason, “Why are you so… so hard everywhere?”

Her unshed tears welled up again, dripping onto his muscles, mixing with his sweat.

He was at his limit. His patience snapped. He grabbed her waist and tossed her onto the bed. “Go to sleep properly.”

“Why?!” Chen Shuyin sat up on her knees, demanding an explanation.

Pei Yu flipped over, pinning her down, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. He covered her mouth. “What excuse will you give me this time?”

His hand slid down, gripping her jaw and forcing her to lift her face, which was already clouded with desire. His frustration carried a trace of vulnerability. “Are you even really her?”

“I just want to sleep with you. What’s wrong with that?” she yelled at him defiantly. “If you don’t want to, then forget it.”

Her abrupt responses and reckless actions felt like nothing more than impulsive whims. When she was in the mood, she toyed with him. When she wasn’t, he was her sworn enemy.

“Fine, you want to sleep with me?” Pei Yu’s red-rimmed eyes gleamed with defiance. “I’ll let you. But afterward, you have to answer my questions properly.”

She took his half-hearted consent as full permission and sank down onto him without any preparation. The sharp pain had them both shedding tears from the corners of their eyes. He held the back of her neck, preventing her from retreating, pressing her down completely. Her sobs broke into pieces.

“My grandmother is in the next room,” she whimpered. “Can’t you be quieter?”

Pei Yu shut his eyes, gripping the bedsheets. Veins bulged at his temples, winding like tangled roots. He was about to withdraw when he suddenly flipped her over, pressing her legs together and pinning her down.

“Ge—”

“Ge! Wake up!”

Pei Yu’s eyes shot open to urgent shouting. Sweat beaded on his forehead, rolling down his face. He scanned his surroundings, his lower abdomen still tight with residual tension. His thoughts caught up as he met Zhou Qi’s anxious face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“The set caught fire. The firefighters are putting it out, and the area’s been cordoned off,” Zhou Qi pointed out the car window. Flames flickered, black smoke billowing into the sky. “The fire’s pretty bad. Looks like today’s shoot is ruined.”

Zhou Qi exhaled in relief. “Thank God we left to drop off Reporter Chen. If we’d stayed, we’d be in trouble.”

It felt like they’d narrowly escaped disaster. Zhou Qi sounded excited. “Ge, your friend’s prediction was freakishly accurate.”

Pei Yu stared at the waves of emergency personnel rushing past the barricades. A sharp pain stabbed through the back of his head. The sensations in his lower abdomen still lingered. It had only been twenty minutes since they’d driven from Sishui Alley to here, yet in that brief nap, he had experienced an intensely vivid… event.

He had watched himself and Chen Shuyin entangled together, but a voice inside him kept whispering: What you saw was real. It wasn’t just a dream.

“Ge, I’ll go check things out. Wait here.” Zhou Qi opened the car door, about to step out.

Pei Yu nodded but then caught a glimpse of a familiar figure getting out of a taxi and running toward the fire scene.

“Hey, isn’t that Reporter Chen?” Zhou Qi exclaimed.

The film crew had blocked off two streets—one along the river, the other leading into town, forming a Y-shape. The fire had started on the riverside street.

Chen Shuyin flashed her press pass and entered, helping gather information.

“Shuyin, weren’t you on leave? Why are you here?” Liu Yiran, stepping out of the station’s news van, spotted her immediately.

She reached for the tally sheet in Chen Shuyin’s hand.

“I’ll explain later,” Chen Shuyin replied, brushing it off. “What’s the casualty count?”

Liu Yiran sighed in relief. “The fire was discovered early and contained. No casualties on the east side. The west side is still being checked.”

“Good thing someone reported it. They made sure there were extra fire extinguishers on set. If not, who knows how many people would’ve died?”

She rubbed her chin, pondering. “It’s strange, though. The authorities criticized the production team just before this, and then a fire breaks out. Almost like the whistleblower knew it was coming.”

Chen Shuyin’s heart clenched. She forced a smile. “Let’s not speculate.”

Liu Yiran agreed. “Yeah, no wild guesses.”

As the rain poured down, the fire weakened, only to flare up again in the strong wind. The cycle repeated, eating up time.

Meanwhile, Pei Yu arrived, locking eyes with Chen Shuyin beneath the downpour.

“Just now, that was my stunt double,” he said coldly. “Were you—”

He noticed her soaked slippers. His sharp gaze softened.

“Worried about me?”