Infinite Flow: Becoming a God in a Nightmare Game

The bathroom was filled with damp steam, and the warm yellow wall lamps reflected shimmering light onto the water-stained tiles.

The sound of the shower water perfectly masked certain other noises.

Lu Zhi knelt on the edge of the bathtub, his long, slender fingers running through Jiang Qi's wet black hair. "Is the water temperature just right?"

His deliberately soft voice drifted through the misty steam, as if afraid of startling something.

Jiang Qi was completely immersed in milky white foam, his pale shoulder blades sticking out sharply, like butterfly wings about to break.

He looked down at the jasmine petals floating on the water's surface when suddenly water droplets fell into the ripples, creating tiny whirlpools among the foam.

"do not move."

Lu Zhi's Adam's apple bobbed, and he gently wrapped a soft towel around his trembling fingertips.

"I'll apply the medicine after you wash it."

In the rising steam, the young man's thin back arched into a fragile curve, water droplets meandering down his concave waistline, condensing into tiny specks of light at the edge of the bathtub.

When the warm towel touched his collarbone, Jiang Qi suddenly curled up.

The mirror gradually became shrouded in white mist, yet the outline of Jiang Qi's hunched back could still be seen—like that of a wounded beast.

The foam peeled off with a rustling sound as the violent tremors occurred, revealing the sickly pale skin underneath.

"He was alive and well just a second ago, calling me Brother Jiang."

"I shouldn't have taken it upon myself to let her handle it alone..."

“I clearly grabbed her wrist, but the blood… I just can’t wipe it all away.”

A broken sob stuck in his throat, and he scratched his arm furiously until the pale pink scar oozed crimson.

"Brother, don't do this."

Lu Zhi grabbed his wrist, but loosened his grip when he touched those misty peach blossom eyes.

The young man's eyes were tinged with red, his wet eyelashes trembled, and tears mixed with water droplets dripping from his hair, forming small puddles in the hollow of his collarbone.

Lu Zhi gently wiped the burning eyelids with his fingertips and pulled the person into his arms.

The soaked shirt clung to my skin, making it impossible to tell whose body temperature was more scorching.

Jiang Qi's body trembled violently, his damp eyelashes casting butterfly-wing-like shadows on his eyelids, and the warm water that had leaked through his fingers suddenly turned scalding hot—it was his silent tears.

"it's not your fault."

Lu Zhi's lips brushed against the newly added scar behind Jiang Qi's ear, "Lu Xue was meant to be sacrificed."

"He Yuelin has tied her life to Lu Xue's, and there is nothing we can do about it."

"But I've dreamt more than once that her last words were my name..."

Jiang Qi's hoarse sobs mingled with the sound of water, like silk soaked in moonlight tearing apart inch by inch.

The last syllable faded away in the sudden kiss.

Lu Zhi tasted blood, unable to distinguish whether it was from Jiang Qi's bitten lip or the rusty taste in his own throat.

The young man struggled in his arms like a fish out of water until he bound his wrists and pressed him against the tiles.

Lu Zhi pressed his forehead against his, panting, "Lu Xue and Lin Wanchu risked their lives to keep you alive, not to let you drown in the bathtub."

Jiang Qi was immediately speechless.

The showerhead water created pale red swirls on the tiled floor, mixed with unwashed bloodstains and some salty liquid.

"Shh-"

Lu Zhi's long, slender fingers traced the young man's purplish knees, applying peppermint ointment to the self-inflicted bruises. "Let me remember for you the apologies you never had a chance to say."

Just like the cycle of reincarnation.

The fragrance of jasmine, mingled with salty tears, brews into a slightly bitter honey in the rising mist.

As the sound of water subsided, Jiang Qi finally collapsed into his arms, exhausted.

Lu Zhi stroked the unhealed bite mark on his finger—it was from Jiang Qi's nightly nightmares where he bit himself.

He picked the person up horizontally.

The body in his arms was as light as a withered leaf, yet it clutched his clothes tightly, like a drowning person grasping at the last piece of driftwood.

Lu Zhi dared not use force, for fear that he would shatter the cracked glass statue with the slightest touch.

He gently placed the distraught young man on the bed and applied ointment to Jiang Qi.

A moment later, Lu Zhi pulled Jiang Qi into his arms, as if this could shut up the cruel gap in fate.

"Brother, good night."

A bizarre scene always unfolds beneath the flagpole in front of the white marble steps of the Nancheng Grand Theatre.

Whenever the crimson sunrise spreads across the square and the scarlet flag flutters in the morning breeze, a figure in a bright red wedding dress always appears and disappears behind the sycamore trees.

The faded red silk wedding dress wrapped around her thin body, and the twin lotus flowers embroidered with gold thread had long been gnawed away by time.

The way she held the gilded photo frame was like that of someone protecting a newborn baby.

The young man in the photo, wearing a Zhongshan suit, has handsome features and a smiling eye. The medal pinned to his chest gleams coldly in the morning light.

"The flag-raising ceremony is about to begin, please step back a little."

The security guard on duty gave the third reminder.

Like a startled egret, the girl retreated into the shadows of the sycamore trees, yet stubbornly remained facing the flagpole.

As the national anthem played, she suddenly stood on tiptoe, the pearl pendants on her faded embroidered shoes jingling as if echoing the fluttering red flag.

As the last rays of sunset sink below the horizon, she will drift like a ghost to the base of the flagpole.

Therefore, security guards on midnight patrols often see this eerie scene on the surveillance cameras.

The shadow cast by the five-star red flag was like a dark red silk, wrapping the huddled figure in a cocoon.

When the moonlight falls like shattered silver, you can clearly see the silver hairpin in her hair, the crabapple bud on the tip of the hairpin forever frozen in the moment before it blooms.

She habitually rubbed the last petal against her cheek, as if she could still touch her mother's trembling fingertips as she pinned her hair before leaving.

"Live well for your mother's sake..."

The fragmented echoes in her memory were swept away by the night wind, leaving only the enormous shadow cast by the five-star red flag, gently engulfing her and the photo frame.

Until one day, a light rain fell.

The girl's fingertips, adorned with crimson nail polish, repeatedly traced the edges of the photo frame, which was then polished to a gleaming shine.

A crack in the glass ran right across his smiling eyes.

As the scalding tears fell softly onto the crack in the photo frame, she hurriedly wiped them with her sleeve, only to find the red silk of her wedding dress stained even more deeply.

A figure suddenly cut off the moonlight, and a plain white tissue entered the crimson field of vision.

When the girl looked up, she met a pair of eyes filled with worry.

A woman carrying a guitar knelt in the rain, her black Doc Martens boots crunching through the shimmering sunlight.

A clear, crisp voice broke through the rain curtain, and the transparent umbrella tilted at an angle.

"Hello, do you need help?"

The girl was stunned for a moment, then shook her head.

"Wipe your eyes clean, they're as red as a rabbit's."

The night wind swirls up the ginkgo leaves scattered on the ground, and the national flag flutters overhead.

The lingering warmth from the man's fingertips was burning her icy wrist.

The guitar case tapped crisply on the concrete floor, and the woman's fingertips, still damp with ink, enveloped the room with the warm scent of pine resin.

"The five-star red flag is raised and lowered three times a day, and you stand under the sycamore tree three times a day."

"You're almost never absent, don't you need to go home?"