PTGWD Extra 5：Mad Love2

4.

Over the following week—

Even though Lu Jianchuan didn’t have any classes, he kept appearing around Fang Xingzhou, everywhere and anywhere, as if an invisible thread bound them together, preventing them from ever being more than two hundred meters apart.

Fang Xingzhou felt himself growing increasingly strange—bordering on deranged.

Before meeting Lu Jianchuan, he had never experienced any kind of sexual desire toward either men or women. Yet within just a few days of knowing his new roommate, he could no longer control the obsessive attention he gave him.

So intense was this attention that it began warping into sensory delusion.

The moment Lu Jianchuan left his field of vision, Fang Xingzhou felt as if his eyes gained a life of their own—hiding somewhere around him, quietly watching his every move in place of the person himself.

Whether he was studying alone in the library, eating dinner by himself, taking a shower, or lying behind tightly drawn curtains in his cramped dorm bed at night—

—those eyes would appear.

He couldn’t see or touch them, but he was utterly convinced they were real—and burning into him with a scorching gaze, as if trying to extract something from his very being.

That creeping illusion gave rise to increasingly bizarre dreams. He dreamed—more than once—of himself entangled with Lu Jianchuan in frantic intimacy, desperately devouring each other, until halfway through the dream, at its most intense peak, the flawless, handsome man would transform into an unspeakable monster—drowning him under a sea of writhing tentacles.

The details were so vivid it felt real—he remembered the dizzying patterns on the tentacles, the cold, elastic surface gliding over his skin, the writhing suckers and hidden mouths, and the strange structures that emerged from within those mouths…

In just one week, his nineteen years of monk-like discipline had been shattered. He was nearly emptied of all self-control, waking up each morning to unspeakable, chaotic evidence of his body’s betrayal.

His desire had burned so intensely that he began to suspect Lu Jianchuan of doing something to him while he slept.

Fang Xingzhou asked his other two roommates whether they’d heard any strange noises at night.

Li Zheng thought for a moment, then said, “Oh yeah, definitely. It’s almost winter, but the stray cats outside are still in heat, yowling all night. Super creepy.”

An Mingzhe added, “I sleep like a log, didn’t hear anything strange. But once when I got up to pee, I noticed the faucet in the bathroom wasn’t fully closed—dripping all night.”

Fang Xingzhou then asked, “Did you guys hear anything from our new roommate at night?”

Li Zheng leaned in and lowered his voice. “Not really any noise, but that guy’s definitely weird. He’s been here a whole week and hasn’t even made his bed. Just sleeps on the wooden board every night—no mattress, no blanket. Maybe he’s a pampered rich kid who doesn’t know how to make a bed?”

Fang Xingzhou was momentarily stunned.

He had avoided interacting with Lu Jianchuan so deliberately, he hadn’t even noticed the condition of the opposite bed.

C City was near the coast, and lately the nighttime temperatures had dipped near freezing. Yet Lu Jianchuan had slept on the wooden board for a whole week—no blanket, no mattress—and didn’t even make a sound when he turned over?

That unplaceable sense of wrongness surged up again. Fang Xingzhou couldn’t help but lift his head, scan the area—and sure enough, he spotted the person within his field of view.

As expected, Lu Jianchuan was standing not far away again. His pale irises gleamed in the sunlight like solid, unmelting amber—stubborn and pure.

5.

That night, Fang Xingzhou wore a smartwatch, setting an alarm for 2 a.m.

Li Zheng wasn’t wrong. Though winter was near, the stray cats outside still seemed stuck in a bizarre mating season. When the vibration woke Fang Xingzhou, eerie yowls—like crying infants—filled the air.

Dazed for half a second, he felt the curtain shift—immediately snapping to full awareness, instinctively grabbing at the moving shadow.

His palm closed around something cold and slick. It squirmed twice, like a snake caught at its weakest point.

But in the blink of an eye, it transformed—warm human skin now throbbed with a strong pulse under his grip.

Fang Xingzhou’s own heartbeat sped up. With his other hand, he pulled back the curtain.

There, under moonlight, Lu Jianchuan stood beside his bed, clearly nervous, eyes darting around. Finding no place to hide, he settled his gaze back on Fang Xingzhou—and smiled.

“Good evening,” he said softly.

Fang Xingzhou stared at his wrist, making sure it was human flesh—and not a snake in human skin.

“What are you doing at my bedside?”

Lu Jianchuan grew visibly more tense, suppressing the urge to look around again, staying silent for a long while.

Fang Xingzhou could feel his hand sweating.

His heart underwent some bizarre chemical shift. He actually heard himself offering excuses for the other boy: “Sleepwalking? Insomnia? The cats are too loud?”

Lu Jianchuan nodded immediately. “Yes.”

A few seconds later, he shook his head—then finally came up with a proper excuse.

“It’s too cold, senior,” he said. His language had improved since their first meeting—at least the words were clear. “Your blanket is warm. It smells nice. I like being near your pillow. I can’t sleep.”

“……”

Only then did Fang Xingzhou shift his attention to himself.

On the barely one-meter-wide dorm bed, his blanket was in disarray. His pajamas were rumpled—shirt unbuttoned to the waist, pants legs bunched to the knees. Beneath that, everything was a sticky mess. And that strange, rotting-sweet scent—so intense and decadent—it made him think of ghostly flowers blooming on the road to the underworld.

He inhaled sharply. His brain fell into a state of chaos—just like his pants.

After a long pause, he looked at Lu Jianchuan with a measured stare, then spoke as calmly as he could: “You climbed into my bed while I was asleep?”

From his scent, Lu Jianchuan sensed his mood. His shoulders tightened. He didn’t dare nod—or shake his head.

“Unbuttoned my shirt,” Fang Xingzhou went on, his voice low, like a whispered intimacy. “Rolled up my pants. Then slipped your hand somewhere that could get you expelled—all because you were cold?”

Even with the lights off, Fang Xingzhou could clearly see Lu Jianchuan’s face flush red.

Lu Jianchuan still neither nodded nor shook his head. After a long pause, he mumbled, “Senior… you looked like you were really enjoying it.”

Fang Xingzhou: “……”

As a normal person, he should probably call the police.

But Fang Xingzhou no longer felt normal. Something inside him had changed—reshaped him into a depraved madman, driven by lust.

He looked at Lu Jianchuan for a long while, letting his gaze trace, moonlight-guided, the sculpted features of the boy before him—trying to decipher the unfamiliar emotion growing inside.

Seeing his silence, Lu Jianchuan rushed closer again. His eyes were wide with innocent sincerity, but the words spilling from his mouth were terrifying: “I’m sorry. If you’re angry… you can cut off my hand. Or my foot. Or anywhere. As an apology gift. As long as it makes you feel better.”

Fang Xingzhou could tell—Lu Jianchuan wasn’t being slick. He was serious.

He had truly offered to mutilate himself just to make him feel better.

And somehow, Fang Xingzhou found the offer… kind of cute. He couldn’t help but smile and said, “Most people don’t gift chopped-off hands. And I don’t need a hand that doesn’t move.”

Lu Jianchuan: “Then what do you want?”

Good question.

What did he want? Fang Xingzhou fell into thought.

His rational mind pretended to ponder, calculating this boy’s threat level—but his body had already answered truthfully the moment Lu Jianchuan offered his hand.

Lu Jianchuan added, “Anything. Whatever you want.”

Fang Xingzhou released his wrist, buttoned up his shirt slowly, leaned against the bedframe, and kept up the illusion of civility. “Then I’ll ask you a few questions.”

Lu Jianchuan nodded seriously, as if preparing for an important exam.

Fang Xingzhou: “How did you get into this school?”

Bulls-eye.

Lu Jianchuan had been prepped by the Institute with pre-arranged answers. He replied with confidence, “My dad paid for my admission.”

“……” Fang Xingzhou’s smile deepened, gaze sharpening with interest. “And your father is?”

Lu Jianchuan: “The richest man in C City.”

He said it without any of the emotions a typical rich heir might have—no pride, no defensiveness, no sense of superiority. It was as if he were speaking about a stranger.

Fang Xingzhou stayed silent for two seconds.

“Is this really our first time meeting?”

Another direct hit.

Lu Jianchuan paused, then smiled. He gazed at the person on the bed with a deep, soulful look. “We must’ve spent a very, very long time together… under fate’s design. You just forgot.”

Fang Xingzhou: “That was terrible. Sounds like a third-year kid wrote your pickup line.”

“I’m sorry… Senior.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Also, we’re in the same year. You don’t have to call me ‘Senior.’”

Lu Jianchuan nodded, and with eager eyes, he said in a voice dripping with syrupy sweetness, “Zhou Zhou.”

Fang Xingzhou’s gaze dropped to the soft curve of his lips—and to his surprise, he didn’t hate the name at all.

He didn’t correct the sappy nickname. Instead, he asked the same question Lu Jianchuan had earlier—

“What do you want from me?”

Lu Jianchuan paused—perhaps he hadn’t prepared for this one. He began to improvise.

He leaned even closer, maybe to see Fang Xingzhou’s face more clearly. Their chins nearly touched.

“I love you, Zhou Zhou,” he said with grave sincerity. “As long as you’re by my side, I don’t want anything else.”

Fang Xingzhou’s pupils contracted slightly.

They locked eyes at close range, and Fang Xingzhou could hear the wild pounding of his own heart.

This… was absolutely not a normal romantic encounter, Fang Xingzhou thought. An overly mysterious background, an intense and inexplicable obsession, a personality full of contradictions—this was either the prologue to a murder mystery or the seduction arc in a twisted romance.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Lu Jianchuan’s breath brushed the edge of his lips like a feather.

Countless thoughts froze and crystallized in the purity of those pale, translucent eyes.

Fang Xingzhou didn’t ask how many others had heard the same words. His body moved before his mind could object—his hand rose and cupped Lu Jianchuan’s cheek.

His breath was hot and rapid. And in the thunder of his own pulse, he allowed himself to fall.

“Get in,” he said hoarsely. “Be quiet. Don’t wake the others.”

Lu Jianchuan’s eyes lit up, bit by bit, like stars catching moonlight.

He climbed into the bed with fluid, noiseless grace, slipping under the covers. His eyes fixed hungrily on Fang Xingzhou’s lips—but he didn’t make a move.

They were so close, Fang Xingzhou could see the fine texture of his lips.

He shut his eyes, then opened them again—and leaned down for a taste.

Very soft.

I’ve gone mad, he thought.