I picked up a boyfriend in the infinite game

Song Guicheng's voice was very soft, supported by the moonlight, soft and gentle, yet resounding.

He looked into Wu Zhi's eyes without hesitation. Wu Zhi's silent eyes were like an abyss that led people to fall into, carrying a silent sense of fear.

Song Guicheng didn't know what his expression was at the moment. He could only feel the coolness around Wu Zhi evaporating the heat in the air, and the cool wind blew through his hair.

Blood was still dripping from his fingers, like pearls from a broken string.

Song Guicheng's tone was calm, like a lake without ripples. He had no idea what an earth-shattering move he had made.

Believers offer their souls to the gods in exchange for favors.

Wu Zhi tilted his head, with a hint of pure confusion on his face: "Why?"

What puzzled him was that humans, like ants, were not afraid of his pressure, their backs were tense as if they were about to break in the next second, and they still told themselves in a righteous tone that you belong to me and I don’t want to lose you.

This action is extremely daring.

But Wu Zhi was not angry, or rather, he rarely got truly angry.

Song Guicheng touched his chest, his heart was beating rapidly at an abnormal frequency, and countless emotions intertwined and expanded, blocking his throat and making him unable to speak.

What should he say?

What can he say?

He talked about his unfortunate childhood, his precarious life, and how in order to survive, he had to put on a mask of smile and beg for mercy from people he hated.

"Hmm?" Wu Zhi took a step forward. A god came to the world, and the tremendous pressure made the night tremble.

Song Guicheng took a deep breath, and a gentle and harmless smile appeared on the corners of his red lips. He whispered, "Because I want to be blessed by the gods."

He didn't tell the truth.

A long time ago, he was lying in a cold ward, feeling the pain in his body like a ulcer. He prayed to God so earnestly, hoping that someone could save him, but all he got in response was darkness and pain.

From then on, he no longer longed for the protection of God.

It was 14 years after he had grown into an independent adult that the gods came to him and extended their hand to him.

But he had to admit that even though the shelter came so late, it still allowed his soul, which had been suffering in the flames all day long, to find a resting place.

He wanted to keep such a god and let his burned soul find his own rain.

But years of caution have made him adept at disguising himself with lies.

Being a person is a skillful thing. You can't be too smart or too clumsy. You can't be without any weaknesses, otherwise you will be guarded. The best way is to show your weaknesses to others to cover up your weaknesses.

Being a smart, kind person who reveals his weaknesses is an experience he has gained over the years.

The moment he stepped into the Soul-Tracing World, he put on the mask conscientiously and sincerely, deep into his bones, as if he really was that kind of person.

Wu Zhi suddenly frowned, and walked forward slowly, his ink-black robe dragging on the ground. He pinched Song Guicheng's chin with his hand, which was as exquisite as porcelain, and tapped his lips with his index finger: "Don't smile like that, it's ugly."

The sound is like frozen snow, giving people a cold and alienated feeling.

What followed was an overwhelming smell mixed with frost, snow and dew, which was hard to describe. This smell easily reminded people of the distant past and the lonely world that Song Guicheng had never seen.

He obediently relaxed the expression on his face and reached out to place his hand on Wu Zhi's cold palm.

Wu Zhi raised his eyebrows and let Song Guicheng pry open the fingers of the hand that was pinching his face one by one, and then slowly wiped the blood off the back of his hand with a handkerchief.

This is a cherishing attitude.

Wu Zhi did not stop him, but the look in his eyes became increasingly gloomy. The air became quieter as his thoughts progressed. Under the silent moonlight, only the rustling sound of fabric rubbing against each other could be heard.

He put his other hand behind Song Guicheng's head and pushed him forward with a slight force. Song Guicheng leaned forward and stopped just two breaths away from Wu Zhi.

Wu Zhi lowered his head, and the face that was so beautiful that it seemed like it was not a mortal's suddenly enlarged in front of him. He looked down at him and asked, "Is this your new trick?"

His fingers tapped the back of Song Guicheng's neck from time to time, bringing a cold shiver. As long as he wanted, Song Guicheng's head would be twisted off immediately.

"No," Song Guicheng raised his head, his light brown eyes flickering, his face expressionless, "This is my surrender."

This scene coincides with the rainy night a few days ago. The people and postures are the same, only the questioner and the answerer have switched positions.

Wu Zhi let out a light laugh from his throat, his chest vibrating, his voice was like an iceberg breaking jade: "Didn't you want to kill me last time?"

"That's because you want to kill me," Song Guicheng did not avoid the question, but answered his question seriously, "If I die, I will lose the only thing I have, my life."

Wu Zhi narrowed his eyes, as if considering the credibility of his words.

The hand covering the back of the neck has changed from lightly tapping to stroking, coldness and warmth collided, and no one took a step back.

There was silence all around, as if time had stopped at this moment. A solemn tranquility permeated the air, and even the sound of heartbeats was swallowed up in this endless silence.

His eyes caught a glimpse of the dried blood on Song Guicheng's hand, and suddenly he didn't want to ask anything anymore. Instead, he picked up the hand, extended his tongue slightly, and licked it gently.

The wet tip of the tongue lightly touched the dry skin, and a tingling sensation exploded from Song Guicheng's fingertips, spread throughout his body, and then gathered in his heart.

At that time, gently pressing on the back of his neck was a soothing gesture.

He said, "As you wish."

*

The room returned to deathly silence; the fresh breeze, the bright moon, and the cold and lasting smell all seemed like illusions distorted by the darkness.

The flashlight was running out of battery and the light went from bright to dim.

Song Guicheng used the fading light to illuminate his wrist. He strung the blood-red rope and black jade beads into a bracelet that fit the size of his wrist and wore it on his hand.

The blood-red string was pulled out by Wu Zhi from his own clothes. This color is not as bright as bright red, and when paired with black, it creates a conflicting and beautiful beauty.

He touched his pocket; the glass marble was gone, replaced by the black jade bead.

Song Guicheng tried to pull the bracelet, but it couldn't be torn off or taken off. It was like a shackle that locked him tightly.

"Wear it, and it will help you find me," Wu Zhi stared at the wrist that was made very slender and pretty by the red thread, "no matter when, no matter where."

He tilted his head slightly, with a half-smile on his face, still looking calm and unperturbed: "Song Guicheng, it wasn't you originally."

Upon hearing this, Song Guicheng paused in fastening the rope and looked up in confusion at Wu Zhi, who looked more like a ghost than a god.

He chuckled, and this chuckle seemed to melt the ice and snow, and thousands of trees blossomed. There was nothing in his empty eyes: "No, maybe it was you from the beginning."

His eyes rested on the bracelet again: "Perhaps I was waiting for this moment when I first met you."

Just like he didn't understand his mother's last words, he didn't understand Wu Zhi's words this time.

It was a long, long time later that Song Guicheng understood the meaning of this sentence.

All choices are connected. From the moment he made a sincere wish, the gears of fate began to turn again unexpectedly.

It was only a long time later that he reacted, just like today.