Bo Li’s mind went completely blank.
She had not expected Erik to so perfectly match… her own predilection.
She had always known her tastes were unlike those of ordinary people—compared to regular films, she far preferred horror.
And if the protagonist was not human, but a supernatural monster, all the better.
She still remembered the first time she watched a horror film. When the male lead first appeared, his looks and figure were flawless.
Her friends all thought he was very handsome, but Bo Li felt rather uninterested. After glancing a couple of times, she lowered her head and continued eating.
Who could have known, halfway through the film—
The male lead was suddenly cursed. His skin sloughed off completely, leaving behind only a sticky, nauseating skeleton. He reached out a hand toward the heroine, signaling for her to come forward and kiss him.
That scene should have been terrifying. Yet she felt the blood rush to her head, the tips of her ears burning, and an uncontrollable thrill rise within her.
From that moment on, she developed the habit of watching horror films with her meals.
She was not the sort who could not distinguish between reality and fiction; she would not bring her cinematic inclinations into her daily life.
The boyfriends she had dated were all ordinary college students.
She had never once thought that one day, her peculiar desires would be so fully satisfied.
Inside the bedroom, Erik’s face was half-hidden in shadow, the other half revealed under the dim light.
One side of his face was severe, yet whole.
His features were sharply defined, his brows and eyes deep and clear.
The other side, however, was terrifyingly sunken, like the hollow eye socket of a skull—empty, indifferent, brimming with a chilling, inhuman quality.
The skin there was as hideous as if seared by fire, stretched tight over the cutting line of his jaw.
It was by no means a face considered beautiful in the worldly sense.
Anyone, upon seeing such a monstrous countenance, would be frightened by that skull-like visage.
No one would think such a face possessed any allure, let alone be stirred with a subtle tremor of desire.
But who told her that her tastes were so unusual?
Bo Li gazed at him, hearing the quickening beat of her own heart.
Never had she once been grateful for transmigration.
Even now, she had not adapted to the nineteenth century—she disliked stepping into the muddy, filthy water outside; she disliked how, the moment she lifted her skirts even slightly, she would be met with the pointing and gossip of passersby.
Still less did she like the foggy days, when her eyes would sting and dry, and she would sneeze again and again—the factories nearby were too many, the mist heavy and foul, the air seemingly full of soot and dust.
Yet if not for transmigration, she might never in her life have met a man who so perfectly embodied her obsession.
He not only gave her that fear she so craved, but also the very visage of her desire.
Bo Li stared at him without blinking, reaching out to touch the horrific half of his face.
Erik’s expression did not change in the slightest.
She could feel, however, a faint spasm pass across his face. His Adam’s apple moved violently, and from the tips of his ears down his neck, a layer of gooseflesh rose.
His breathing gradually grew hurried and uneven, like countless searing brands pricking against her fingertips.
It was scalding, frighteningly so.
Bo Li saw the flush at his ears, crimson to the point of transparency.
His neck too had taken on a faint redness.
He was far from as calm as she had imagined.
In fact, he was… rather sensitive.
And yet, his expression remained terrifyingly indifferent, the pair of golden eyes within those sunken sockets staring fixedly at her without a flicker.
The force of his hand pressing down at the back of her head grew heavier and heavier. “What are you still waiting for?”
Bo Li noticed a prominent vein bulging at his neck, seeming to be suffused with blood, carrying with it a trace of desire.
He appeared caught between a state of rage and shame.
…She liked it immensely.
Bo Li drew in a deep breath, barely managing to keep her tone even as she asked, “…Where do you want me to kiss?”
“What you wrote,” he retorted coldly, “what do you think?”
Tens of seconds passed, yet Bo Li said nothing.
Erik had already guessed that she would not kiss him, that she would stall with all manner of excuses.
This was the outcome he had long anticipated.
Though she had not screamed in terror like his mother, nor fainted, nor nearly gone mad, trembling as she handed him back the mask—
Her vacant eyes had already said it all.
No one wanted to kiss a monster.
Since the moment of his birth, this curse had accompanied him.
The notebook had spelled it out plainly: Bo Li drew near to him, embraced him, kissed him, only to survive under his hand.
But why was it, that at the moment of realizing the truth, his chest still ached with an indescribable pain?
There had been several more lines written in the notebook.
Those Chinese men said that some words were wholly unheard of, their meaning too obscure, and they feared mistranslating them into the exact opposite, so they had left them untranslated.
He had not forced the matter.
Now, as he fixed his gaze on her eyes, he wondered—were those untranslated lines meant to be her other means against him?
What else could she use to oppose him?
Words to humiliate him, or some weapon to wound him?
Erik slowly loosened his grip on the back of Bo Li’s head.
Yet the very instant he released her completely, Bo Li suddenly raised her hand and seized his collar.
Between them, there was a disparity in strength that could not be questioned.
She could not possibly pull him.
Yet under her tug, he unconsciously took a step forward, lowering his head.
A soft, moist warmth pressed upon his lips.
His mind buzzed blank.
Only after dozens of seconds did he realize—this was a kiss.
She had kissed him.
Bo Li had only intended a fleeting touch, the barest brush of lips before withdrawing.
She had judged correctly: only when she retreated would he draw near.
That notebook was the best proof.
She had already succeeded in stirring his curiosity, in making him speak, in pressing him close before her.
But it was not enough.
For now, he could only be considered hooked.
To make him willingly say he liked it, to voice what he desired—that was her true aim.
Bo Li did not plan to grant him too much sweetness at this moment.
She was just about to withdraw when Erik, as if bewitched by the kiss, suddenly pressed her head hard against him, forcefully crushing his lips to hers.
His strength was overwhelming, making her cry out in pain.
His expression turned colder still, as though provoked to anger. The pressure of his lips grew heavier, until they were sealed against hers with near-suffocating force.
He did not understand what a kiss was—he only knew to press against her lips, to grind down with force, to devour her breath.
Bo Li felt herself suffocating.
In order not to be smothered to death by this kiss, she flicked out the tip of her tongue, brushing lightly against his lips and teeth.
It was like a spark falling into a dry forest.
Erik fixed his gaze upon her, and for the first time, his eyes frightened her.
Clamping her jaw as though he were some hunting beast, he snared her tongue-tip in a lightning strike, plundering without restraint.
Only then did Bo Li realize firsthand—his age truly might not be great.
He had no sense of measure, no grasp of rhythm, no knowledge of when to be sated.
For one instant, she even thought he might bite her tongue clean off and swallow it whole.
Even she felt a flicker of fear, beginning to push at his shoulder.
But he did not respond in the least. He only crushed against her lips, greedily drawing out her saliva.
Not until the corner of Bo Li’s eyes brimmed with tears—tears of suffocation—did he finally pause, though his lips still clung to hers, as though bound together by glue.
Bo Li seized the moment and immediately drew back.
He was clearly already lost in the kiss. When he saw her retreat, his first reaction was to seize her wrist, yank her back, and press his lips to hers once more.
Bo Li was torn.
On one hand, kissing him was indescribably thrilling—unlike anything she had ever experienced before, a wholly new sensation.
On the other hand, the fervor with which he kissed her was somewhat frightening.
Bo Li had no doubt that if she allowed him to continue like this, her lips would either swell unbearably or he might bite off a piece of her tongue.
It was terrifying.
She had never seen anyone kiss like this.
Sensing her intention to pull away, he instinctively stepped forward, his knee pressing between hers.
Bo Li grew increasingly breathless, her ears burning hot.
On one side was the unprecedented rush of stimulation, on the other the danger to her lips and tongue.
…It was far too difficult to decide!
In the end, she remembered the haunted house was to open again tomorrow, and only with effort did she drag her reason out of that turbid mire.
She looked toward Erik.
He was staring at her without moving, as though overcome with agitation and excitement, his pupils contracted to the limit, his eyes nothing but a blazing, searing gold.
He was no different from a beast.
If it were anyone else, they might have been frightened.
But she liked it.
From head to toe, in both temperament and appearance, she liked him immensely.
Bo Li closed her eyes, deciding to enjoy it for just a few more seconds, then give him a slap so he would let her go.
But Erik suddenly released her.
He seemed to have regained clarity. His expression was calm, yet the muscles of his face still twitched faintly, and in his eyes there still burned that terrifying, violent emotion.
He fixed his gaze upon her, his chest rising and falling sharply, lost in thought.
Bo Li saw the sheen of moisture lingering on his lips, and she instinctively swallowed.
At once, he seemed to register the signal, made a swallowing motion of his own, and leaned forward as though to kiss her again—
Like a reflex.
But soon he restrained himself.
Bo Li waited a long while, yet he said nothing. She was finally forced to ask: “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”
It was because of what he had told her—she had followed it all.
And yet he only felt an indescribable confusion.
Why would she do such a thing?
Was it merely expedience, or was it—
Erik heard himself ask with unnerving calm, “Do you not find it disgusting?”
“Not disgusting,” Bo Li replied. “I liked that kiss very much. Did you not?”
He could not tell in the slightest whether she spoke truth or falsehood.
An overwhelming sense of shame coursed through his body, making his very skin prickle and sear as though in flames.
More terrifying still was that, at this very moment, that same furious impulse surged forth once again.
Erik’s expression froze, chilling, as he abruptly stepped back a pace.
At the same instant, Bo Li went on: “I not only like that kiss, I also like your appearance.”
“…Like my appearance?”
Bo Li nodded, utterly unaware of how absurd this lie sounded. “Your appearance perfectly matches my… standards for a partner.”
He had never in his life heard such a ludicrous falsehood.
Every word, every syllable, was false to the extreme, filling him with a violent sense of repulsion.
And yet—that same furious impulse believed it.
Blood rushed downward in a torrent, desperately seeking an outlet.
He fought to steady his pounding heart, feeling as if he were about to ignite, his voice alone remaining cold: “What trick are you playing now?”
Seeing there was no reasoning with him, Bo Li simply seized his collar once more and planted a kiss upon his face—the ruined half of his face.
After that kiss, Erik’s countenance showed no trace of joy.
What stood before him was too strange, too unbelievable, and it chilled his blood through.
He did not know what Bo Li was thinking, did not know if her words were true or false, did not know why she would kiss him.
He did not even know her origins.
Before this, he had never cared to wonder.
But now, he felt an indescribable—fear.