WTNL Chapter 373

Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 373: Say something, Captain

“……”

Wen Jianyan froze in place, his mind unexpectedly going blank.

“Didn’t you see?! There’s someone else beside the captain now!” Not far away, Blond’s trembling voice, distorted by fear, sounded oddly distant. “Captain! Captain! Didn’t you see?! Say something!”

The next second, Wen Jianyan felt a sudden weight on one shoulder. Cool, long hair slid down his neck.

“…………”

Expression blank, Wen Jianyan slowly turned his head toward the “empty space” beside him.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Chen Mo’s voice rang out in concern. “Are you seeing things?”

“I didn’t see anything either,” Yun Bilan said with a frown.

“No, no, no,” Blond stammered incoherently, “you can’t see it from the real world, only in the mirror—it’s right next to the captain, it’s a man—”

Noticing Wen Jianyan’s gaze on him, Wu Zhu looked rather pleased. He raised a hand, wrapped it around Wen Jianyan’s waist, and leaned in fully.

“Ahhhhhh—!!”

Blond’s voice rose in pitch, shrill and panicked. “He, he, he—!”

Wen Jianyan felt the arm around his waist tighten slightly, and a cold, itchy sensation brushed against the side of his face—like the tip of a nose drawing close.

“What’s wrong?!”

Blond’s strange behavior put the others on edge.

“He, he’s touching the captain—!”

“What is he doing to the captain?!”

In that instant, all the stiffness and mental blankness snapped away from Wen Jianyan’s body. He abruptly stood up from the edge of the bed.

“Blond, come with me!”

With that, he lunged forward, grabbed Blond by the wrist, and dragged him toward the bathroom.

Though stumbling backward from being pulled, Blond remained lost in his own thoughts.

“I—I get it now!”

His eyes lit up slightly, as if he’d just realized something. “It’s the ox-eye tears! That’s why I could see what none of you can!”

As he spoke, Blond pulled the small porcelain bottle Wen Jianyan had given him earlier from his pocket and handed it toward Chen Mo.

“You guys should apply some—once you do, you should be able to—”

“……”

Chen Mo stared blankly at the increasingly chaotic scene before him, reaching out instinctively to take the item.

But before the bottle touched his palm, another hand abruptly shot out, snatching it away midair.

“What are you thinking? You can’t use a crucial item like this under these circumstances!”

Wen Jianyan spoke rapidly.

He yanked the bottle from Blond’s hand and stuffed it back into his pocket. With his other hand, he pushed open the bathroom door—all in one fluid, efficient motion that left onlookers stunned.

“You—inside, now!”

Wu Zhu, who had just been thrown aside by Wen Jianyan, now stood nearby with an innocent expression. His gaze drifted from Wen Jianyan to Blond. Then, he too raised a hand and grabbed Blond by the collar.

A high-pitched, blood-curdling scream burst from Blond’s throat—like that of a terrified girl.

“Aaahhhhhhh!”

The next second, he was shoved into the bathroom.

Bang!

The door slammed shut behind them.

Silence returned to the room.

“……”

“……”

The others stood frozen in place, dumbfounded.

After a long moment, Chen Mo finally squeezed out a few words:
“…What the hell just happened?”

No one knew.

---

Inside the bathroom.

Blond curled up on the toilet like a frightened little wife, pale and wide-eyed, sweat beading on his forehead.

Wen Jianyan stood guard at the door, blocking any escape. His fingers tugged irritably at his collar, and his breathing was slightly ragged from all the commotion.

Wu Zhu had also followed them inside.

He wore the same blank, uncaring expression as always, as if nothing mattered to him—nothing except Wen Jianyan. He stood close beside him, golden eyes locked solely on Wen Jianyan, as though the young man were the only person in the world who existed.

In the “Integrity First” livestream room:

[This scene…]

[It’s weird.]

[Really weird.]

[Extremely weird!]

Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, finally calming the waves of emotion crashing inside him. He turned to look at Blond.

The latter was still curled up in the same posture, trembling in the corner, glancing between the mirror and Wen Jianyan. His expression grew increasingly dazed.

“He, he, he…”

Since he’d already been seen to this extent, there was no point in hiding it any longer.

Wen Jianyan inhaled deeply and pressed a finger to his temple.

“…Yes, you weren’t seeing things. He’s real.”

Blond gaped.

“You, you, you—”

Wen Jianyan said flatly, “Yes, I’ve been able to see him this whole time.”

Blond inhaled sharply, his breath catching with a hiss.

“You, you, you guys—”

Wen Jianyan: “Yeah—”

“You two are together?”

Wen Jianyan: “……”

He choked, abruptly turning to stare at Blond: “What?”

Blond shrank back, intimidated by Wen Jianyan’s gaze and instantly too scared to continue.

He felt wronged too.

To be honest, he normally wouldn’t think in that direction either. But what he just saw outside the door made it impossible to interpret it any other way.

“He’s…”

Wen Jianyan struggled to find the right words, then finally spoke:

“He’s a, um… friend.”

“Friend?”

Suspicion appeared on Blond’s face.

“……”

Wu Zhu lowered his eyes, his golden gaze resting coldly and unreadably on Wen Jianyan.

“…That’s right,” Wen Jianyan said, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose.

His brain was moving fast—just in the past few seconds, he’d already put together a basic cover story.

“He’s indeed not human, so it’s best not to use human stereotypes or logic to interpret his behavior. However, at this stage, at least for now, he seems to harbor goodwill toward us,” Wen Jianyan said vaguely but calmly. “To be precise, the reason I was able to rescue you all from that gentleman’s control just now…”

“Oh…”

Blond blinked, dazedly responding.

From that angle, it did kind of make sense?

That man, invisible outside of mirrors and bearing inhuman, cognitively overwhelming beauty—Blond had clearly sensed an aura of danger, the unknown, and horror from him. He didn’t know what the man was, but fear welled up instinctively, like a bird sensing a predator, or a human staring into an abyss. It was biological.

So when he realized that thing existed, Blond’s first reaction was sheer terror—goosebumps and screaming.

For something that terrifying and inhuman, its behavior… really couldn’t be explained by normal logic.

Fair enough.

Getting involved with a nightmare creature like that… a person would either have to be so clueless they didn’t understand how dangerous the creature was, or so unhinged they didn’t care.

And Wen Jianyan clearly wasn’t clueless.

Just as Blond was slowly convincing himself—

Wu Zhu leaned in slightly, his fingers curling around Wen Jianyan’s wrist.

Wen Jianyan felt the soft brush of hair against his ear, bringing a ticklish sensation.

“……”

His breath caught.

This guy…

Was he trying to make all that explanation meaningless?!

Wen Jianyan stiffened but subtly shifted his posture, hiding the hand Wu Zhu held behind his back. He went on, pretending nothing happened:

“In short, this whole situation is complicated, and we don’t have time to go into details right now. So, to maintain team stability, I hope you’ll keep this to yourself. Once we get out of this instance—”

Wu Zhu either didn’t realize how hard Wen Jianyan was trying to cover for him, or he simply didn’t care.

He spread his arms and pulled Wen Jianyan into his embrace again.

And not only that…

He leaned down and bit gently at Wen Jianyan’s earlobe, his teeth grazing it slowly until the soft cartilage grew hot beneath the thin layer of skin.

One large, cold hand wrapped around Wen Jianyan’s waist, slowly, lazily stroking.

Like a massive, frigid python silently coiling tighter, suffocating its prey in a deadly, heated embrace.

“!!!”

Under Blond’s gaze, Wen Jianyan’s words caught in his throat.

A storm raged in his mind in the span of a few seconds.

He knew Wu Zhu had zero sense of shame—he wasn’t even human—but doing this in front of his teammate, so blatantly?!

Wen Jianyan thought he had a thick skin, but this—this level of shame—was still way over his limit.

For a moment, he went completely blank from sheer shock.

But not for long.

Because—

He felt Wu Zhu’s fingers slowly inching downward, creeping toward his pelvis.

“……”

In that moment, he had never been so hyperaware of Blond’s gaze. It was like his whole body was boiling, like he’d been dunked in embarrassment and cooked alive.

“Stop touching me!”

He snapped, grabbing Wu Zhu’s hand with a fierce glare:

“Let go! Do you even know what kind of situation we’re in?!”

“……”

Not far away, Blond’s eyes widened slightly.

Still, Wu Zhu didn’t let up. He took Wen Jianyan’s earlobe into his mouth again and gently bit down.

Wen Jianyan was furious, especially knowing that Blond was watching. Shame and anger surged up so hard it made his vision swim: “You bite me again and—!”

“Um…”

Blond weakly raised his hand.

“Actually… after we came into the bathroom, the effects of the ox tears wore off…”

He snuck a look at Wen Jianyan’s face, cautiously, incredulously, and clearly terrified:

“Captain… don’t tell me… your… uh, friend… is standing right next to you right now?”

And…

It looked like…

They were…

Yeah.

Wen Jianyan: “……”

He froze. Again.

In his mind, Wen Jianyan replayed every word he had just said, especially the last two sentences…

When he realized what he had just revealed—what kind of details he had inadvertently exposed—his vision went black, and he nearly passed out on the spot.

Weakly, but without a shred of conviction, he said:

“…He’s not here.”

Blond didn’t say anything.

But his eyes were filled with blatant disbelief.

“Anyway, it’s just like I said earlier,” Wen Jianyan spoke dryly, stiffly. “If there’s nothing else, let’s head out. Let me be alone for a bit.”

Blond was silent for a moment.

“No problem.”

He didn’t dare have one.

Because, in a way… he was very afraid of what the answer to this “problem” might be.

On the surface, Wen Jianyan appeared calm, but inwardly, he watched in despair as Blond passed by him and trudged slowly toward the door.

The restroom was dead silent.

The air felt so heavy it was hard to breathe.

Creak.

The doorknob turned.

Blond stepped outside.

But halfway through the doorway, he seemed to think of something and turned back to look at Wen Jianyan.

Wen Jianyan’s heart leapt into his throat, worried that the other man would start asking more questions.

But Blond just looked at him, hesitated for a moment, and then, as if summoning all his courage, said, “Still, no matter what, Captain… I’m kind of happy.”

“?”

Wen Jianyan was stunned.

He hadn’t expected Blond to say something like that.

Then he heard him continue:

“You just said that during this crisis, your… uh, friend, helped you, right?”

Wen Jianyan paused, then nodded.

Blond seemed relieved.

He gave a small smile. “That’s great…”

Wen Jianyan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Scratching his head, Blond gave an embarrassed smile:

“I thought you’d never rely on anyone else.”

He hadn’t known Wen Jianyan for long, but even so, he’d gradually gotten a sense of the man’s hidden “nature.”

No matter how gentle and approachable he seemed on the surface, deep down, Wen Jianyan always kept his distance—never letting anyone truly know what he was thinking or feeling.

Even if he had the insight and intelligence to unravel vast, unknown mysteries and could risk his life to save others as if it were no big deal, the moment things reached a critical point, he would push everyone away.

Su Cheng, Yun Bilan, and even Blond himself had all been lied to, misled by smiles. By the time they figured things out, he had already reappeared with a calm, detached smile, as though none of it mattered.

Whether it was others’ lives or his own, Wen Jianyan habitually bore the burden alone. Even after being scolded by Su Cheng and beaten by Yun Bilan, he remained stubbornly independent, hardly ever involving anyone in his plans. It made one wonder…

Was he protecting others—or just protecting himself?

So when Blond heard that someone—or something inhuman—had helped resolve this crisis, he was genuinely happy.

It meant their captain wasn’t always fighting alone… that he still had the ability to entrust others with important responsibilities.

Because otherwise…

He really would worry.

Worry that one day, Wen Jianyan would just disappear from their lives without a trace.

And as an exceptional liar, he had more than enough skill to vanish flawlessly, leaving no clue whether he was simply fed up—or had died alone in some forgotten corner.

“It’s just…” Blond hesitated, then said awkwardly, “I hope you’ll include us in your plans more often from now on. We can be useful too.”

“No, that was just—”

Wen Jianyan instinctively took a step forward.

But before he could say anything, Blond had already walked away, carefree and unconcerned.

Bang.

The bathroom door closed again.

Wen Jianyan stood still, frowning at the closed door.

That guy… what was he even saying?

So strange.

The previous situation had been too dangerous, the power gap too vast, and his teammates’ lives too valuable. That’s why Wen Jianyan had chosen that approach.

It had the lowest risk, with the least possible sacrifice.

Just by leveraging a non-human entity, he could achieve the greatest benefit at the smallest cost.

Why wouldn’t he do that?

What “include in the plan”? That wasn’t even a consideration.

Strange logic.

As Wen Jianyan frowned in deep thought, something big crept up behind him and gently nuzzled against his neck.

“…Get lost.”

In a bad mood, Wen Jianyan shoved him away.

It seemed they’d been in the bathroom too long, because the door was now being knocked on with a thump-thump.

Through the door came Yun Bilan’s voice:

“Captain?”

The voice snapped Wen Jianyan out of his thoughts.

“…Coming.”

He raised a hand to wipe his face, forcibly pulling himself together, then stepped toward the door.

As the door opened, Yun Bilan’s face appeared.

“You okay?” she asked.

Wen Jianyan had already returned to his usual self. With a graceful smile, he replied, “Of course.”

As he walked out, he glanced around the room.

Then suddenly, Wen Jianyan’s gaze landed in one corner.

He froze.

“…Wait, what’s he doing here?”

Instantly, everyone followed Wen Jianyan’s line of sight and turned to look.

In a corner of the room, a man was curled up nervously, cowering against the wall like a quail that had been beaten into submission.

It was Hughes.

That same squad leader from the Black Team who had, under Wen Jianyan’s direction, turned on Anise and captured him—who had then been sent out to deliver a signal to his own team—was now unexpectedly appearing here again.

Feeling the weight of countless stares falling on him, Hughes looked like he was about to burst into tears. Instinctively, he shrank further into the corner.

“Oh, him!”

Chen Mo suddenly recalled.

“He was sent to deliver a message earlier, and we caught him.”

Of course, as a hostage.

Since then, he had been forced to follow them around… His mouth and hands had been sealed by props, so he could only quietly tag along with the team. Even during the later confrontation with the Black Team, when he desperately tried to signal the gentlemen on his side with his eyes, it was all in vain—because all of their attention was focused on Wen Jianyan. There was no way they’d notice a possible hostage in the opposing team’s formation.

So just like the rest of the Red Team members, Hughes had been “controlled” earlier. After being released from that control, he was pitifully abandoned by the Gentleman and Anise.

A poor soul who had been forced to infiltrate the Red Team.

Wen Jianyan walked toward him step by step, his face showing a thoughtful expression.

The closer he got, the more terrified Hughes looked.

Chen Mo undid the prop sealing Hughes’ mouth.

Hughes swallowed hard and forced himself to spit out two trembling words: “Liar… liar!”

Wen Jianyan gave a soft smile.

“Liar?”

Hughes erupted in rage:

“You—you—you—y-you—you were lying to us the whole time!”

During the previous confrontation, from the conversation exchanged between the two sides, Hughes had fully grasped the situation—they’d been thoroughly played.

He had been toyed with by the Red Team’s leader and had even helped them kidnap his own captain!

Just thinking about this made Hughes’ vision go dark. He was shaking with fury.

“But I saved your life, didn’t I?” Wen Jianyan tilted his head slightly.

Under the hotel’s lighting, his pale lashes glimmered, and that gentle, handsome face—one tailor-made for deceit—looked incredibly innocent, even tinged with melancholy.

“…”

Unconsciously, the rest of Hughes’ accusations got stuck in his throat.

“Besides”,

Wen Jianyan crouched down, leveling his eyes with the other’s, and smiled brightly, “I’m going to save your life again.”

Hughes froze. “W-what do you mean?”

“You must’ve overheard my conversation with the Black Team just now, right?” Wen Jianyan asked. “All non-official employees are bait.”

He poked Hughes’ shoulder with a finger. “You’re an official employee, right?”

Hughes numbly nodded.

“If the Black Team realizes that even using up all the non-official employees won’t bring them victory, what do you think they’ll do?” Wen Jianyan’s smile remained sweet and gentle.

“…”

Hughes shivered involuntarily.

They would…

The answer was obvious.

They’d steal the ID badges of official employees from other teams and turn them into bait instead.

“Our captain—our captain will win,” Hughes’ voice was faint, as if he were trying to convince himself. “As long as they obtain the wagered item before the end, we’ll win…”

“Oh?” Wen Jianyan smiled. “You sure about that?”

Hughes said nothing.

“Or rather…” Wen Jianyan drew out his words, “are you sure you can survive until then?”

Hughes opened his mouth but couldn’t make a sound.

He looked dazed.

More precisely, everyone who had ever been guided by Wen Jianyan ended up with that same dazed look—like their souls had been bewitched, misled by siren-like sweet words into stumbling step by step into a pitch-black sea.

The other team members glanced at Hughes with a touch of sympathy.

Wen Jianyan smiled and patted his cheek. “That’s more like it.”

He stood up and turned toward the others. “I have a plan.”

Everyone perked up.

Yun Bilan crossed her arms and raised a brow. “Oh? What is it?”

Wen Jianyan looked around the room, his gaze pausing briefly on Blond.

“Blond, go call in the other two Red Team captains.”

During his earlier deal with the Gentleman, Wen Jianyan had specified that everyone be released—which naturally included the two Red Team captains.

Blond nodded and turned to leave.

As he looked at the remaining team members, Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, as if making a difficult decision:

“Next, I’ll need all of your help. Is that okay?”

“…”

The others exchanged glances.

Yun Bilan said nothing, but her expression visibly softened, even showing a faint smile.

Chen Mo also smiled for once:

“Of course—only afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

The time before the banquet passed quickly.

At exactly one o’clock, there was a knock at the door.

The hotel manager, dressed to the nines, appeared outside. His face wore that same stiff, eerie smile, and his hollow, black eyes bore into everyone.

This time, he held no lantern:

“Are you all ready?”

According to the employee handbook, everyone was fully dressed.

They wore neat, pitch-black suits and donned pale, expressionless masks with blurred facial features.

“Follow me”,

The hotel manager said with a smile.

Wen Jianyan stepped forward to follow him.

His gaze fell upon a nearby mirror.

Wu Zhu stood there, watching him, golden eyes cold and brilliant.

He stepped forward as well, catching Wen Jianyan’s hand.

…What a pity.

Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes behind the mask, thinking silently.

Back in the bathroom, he really should have questioned that guy properly.

Based on what Wu Zhu had said in the [Diorama] earlier, as long as the “anchor”—that is, Wen Jianyan himself—was present, he would gradually be drawn toward his main body.

That might explain why this fragment of Wu Zhu seemed so “affectionate” toward him.

Although Wen Jianyan wasn’t sure how long he had slept in Wu Zhu’s dark space, by that logic, even if this version of Wu Zhu was a fragment shattered again and even more incomplete than the one in [Diorama], his memories should now be nearly complete.

Memories of blades, of bloodshed, of more than just affection and desire—colder things.

Previously, Wu Zhu’s intelligence and memories were fragmented, so Wen Jianyan could understand his clingy behavior as driven by instinct—and he had even taken advantage of it.

But now, for some reason, even with his memories nearly restored, this Wu Zhu continued acting the same. Not only had he not done anything extreme, he hadn’t even tried to free his true self from the Ouroboros.

Aside from feigning ignorance, Wen Jianyan couldn’t think of another explanation.

Unfortunately, earlier in the bathroom, he had been so distracted by Blond’s words that he’d forgotten to call him out.

His hand—wearing the Ouroboros ring—was enveloped in Wu Zhu’s large, cold palm.

“…”

Wen Jianyan hesitated but ultimately didn’t pull away, allowing the other to intertwine their fingers and clasp his hand tightly.

Fine, if Wu Zhu wanted to keep pretending, let him.

As they walked down the dim corridor, Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes slightly.

In any case, this instance would end once the banquet concluded.

When that moment came—when the game board was overturned—Wu Zhu wouldn’t be able to fake it any longer.

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