Translated by boilpoil Edited by boilpoil
Faced with all the cheers asking them to do it, Bright feels a bit cornered.
He doesn’t want to publicly reenact the classic scenes of ‘Spring, the season of new beginnings, has again come…’ in Animal Planet.
However, it seems neither the audience nor the staff are willing to let him go. They don’t seem to be worrying about whether after-programs with hot ladies can still go on with the stage busted. Even the Blond seem to be eager, “I think you can’t last two hours under my mouth.”
Bright had to release him from his embrace. When he caught him earlier, his hand almost snapped. It is still painful right now.
His eyes sweep across the VIP seats of the audience. When he sees the handsome and cold face among them, light seems to have come out from his eyes.
Under the gazes of everyone, Bright walks towards the trainer who is watching the show from not far away, speaking in a low voice only the two of them can hear, “hey, help me out here?”
This is Bright asking for help for the first time in this world. Not because he is weak, as he can’t get out of this even without help. Virginity isn’t really something you’d miss anyway. It is because he wants to experiment with the idea of finding allies in this world.
He has sharply observed the show’s respectful attitude towards the trainer. He deduces it must be because contestants, being properties of the show, can be treated as roughly as they can. Though the trainer is a free man independent of them, so he is treated fairly.
As a pitiful little slave, there’s a limit to how much he can do alone. If an independent third party’s help is secured, even if they might not be much help, at least he would have a source of information.
Hopkin looks at the man unknowingly busting headfirst into his trap, and feels dissatisfyingly bored.
Yes, bored.
Is he going to win him so easily? With just a little lie? How boring.
Oh well, he doesn’t have anything better to do anyway.
Hopkin lifts his chin pridefully, and gives a cursory glance at the person in charge. The latter immediately understands and then keeps blinking at Bright. Someone is sent to take Beauty and Beast on the stage, as well as casualties below it away. Then they rebuilt the stage for the after-program as planned. To liven up the atmosphere, the show even arranged for the lady dancers to participate in a massive orgy after the show’s over to satisfy the contestants.
None of these is of any relevance to Bright whose attention is completely drawn to Hopkin right now.
The expression he caught on the trainer just now makes him deeply unsettled. His mind caught a glimpse of something but seems to have lost it again.
“Follow me,” Hopkin orders coldly. Bright follows after him without being able to dwell on it.
The show has given them a luxurious room. Under the warm lighting, the cool-coloured room didn’t seem that unapproachable. The carpet is thick and soft, and Bright can feel himself sink a little when he walks in.
Is this the difference between a free man and a slave?
His resolve to fight for freedom solidifies.
Hopkin goes to the bathroom by himself after they went in without giving any attention to Bright. When he’s out he is shocked to see Bright having discovered a set of bedclothes and has already put them onto the floor.
Hopkin is speechless, “…”
He feels a bit thumped on the inside, and wants to crack open the brain of the slave in front of him to see how it’s all wired up. Though this strong emotion quickly sinks deep into his chest. He has always been this way. Cold-bloodedness is written into the genes of Inner City aristocrats. Not that the slave is worth him any emotional disruption in the first place.
Bright is still probing for the extent to which Hopkin will accept. It seems this potential ally did not feel unhappy from his actions. This meant that he is not interested in his hole nor his pole, great! Bright feels truly relieved. God knows how hard it is to find someone apathetic to all that in this absolutely sexually indulgent world.
He doesn’t know that it isn’t that he has no desire, but he is just picky. Also, the other person currently doesn’t see him as anything but a ball of flour that he can squeeze or pull at his leisure, so why would he get angry at a toy?
The ball of flour goes to the bathroom and returns a wet ball of flour, fit for grilling or baking, being able to handle high temperatures. It will acquire the best taste of having a crispy outer shell and soft inner filling after cooking, like pizza.
Hopkin sits on the sofa, and looks at the interesting man coldly.
He doesn’t lie down on the bed because that would mean he approved of the slave sleeping separately. How laughable, he genuinely thought he could make the slave cry before this. Thinking this way, a low air pressure starts emanating from him.
“That Blond not to your tastes?” Hopkin asks.
Bright wears a bathrobe, and sits on his bedclothes, answering honestly, “not doing it is because there is no emotional base.”
That love without genuine affection is not love, is what our conservative old fart ‘ Wei Guangzheng ‘ here thought.
Hopkin’s expression is visibly strange. He looks at Bright like a piece of fossil dug out from the ground in research, or like a bizarre creature travelling here from another world. When he confirms that he did mean what he said, he talks to the country bumpkin Bright with a tone one would use to explain common sense like ‘the Earth revolves around the Sun.’
“Science has proven that love is an erroneous feeling, it is a word civilising desire invented by humans to stand against it. It is a delusion formed by chemicals in the human brain.” His eyes look filled with pity for the mentally challenged——if he did have such emotion as pity.
Bright, who has not experienced compulsory education here, does not intend to argue with him. Besides, there’s no way he can win the debate anyway. Also, he’s here to find allies. How his ally viewed love has the least bit to do with him.
“Like faith, some people believe in God, some don’t.”
“So you’re the type to believe in love.”
Bright does not talk further.
Hopkin feels the slave has become interesting again. He’s already bored of destroying normal physical bodies or minds. It seems far more interesting to rip apart precious souls and beliefs, though it would require him to invest further than this. Though he believes his fruit of labour after this will certainly be very sweet.
To make him believe he has acquired love, then destroy that false love he thought he had. Tear apart his resolution completely, and conquer his soul! Isn’t this a wonderful thing?
The unimaginably gorgeous man feels the excitement of a battle. His toes in the slippers curls up. Even the muscles in his lower legs have tensed up.
Now Bright is lowering his head, applying lotions to his hand. Previously it was hurt saving Beauty, and it is still somewhat painful and swelling now. He found the medicine in a drawer in the room. It mentions that it effectively eases muscle cramps. He does not think deeply about where this medicine that is emitting a fragrant smell should be used originally. As the show had very strict control over items like weapons and medicine, he wanted to try this as soon as he saw it.
“Now our cultural festival’s over, will you be leaving soon?”
Whether he leaves or not is up to him. He wants to see how the show will play with him. If it’s interesting, he would definitely stay and watch. Hopkin says impishly, “I have to wait for the show’s decision.”
Bright nods, showing he has understood, then he says plainly, “don’t know when we can meet each other again.” If you can tell me something about the arrangements of the show then it’ll be great.
Hopkin is satisfied that the slave appears to hold goodwill towards his ‘trainer’ identity. Besides his appearance, there should be some other factor. Is it not ordering him to bang with the flow, or did he want information from him?
These little tricks of the slave have made the game more interesting. Hopkin takes out a pair of transparent gloves from the drawer, saying, “your left hand needs rest.”
Right-handed Bright agrees to this act which increases intimacy and trust, letting Hopkin’s gloved hand sliding and touching along his arm. From his deltoid to his biceps; from his elbow to his forearms.
The muscle under his hand is firm and resilient. Its form smooth and appealing. Seemingly tasty whether you fry it or roast it. Hopkin is very satisfied now. He feels the powerful pulse full of living dancing beneath him, then curls his beautiful lips up, saying, “we will still see each other.”
Author’s notes: Bright many years later: Can’t blame but myself for being blind.
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