The sunlight outside the window seemed to grow even more scorching. It fell onto Male Fusheng’s back, bringing with it a stinging sensation. Yet, this slight pain only made him more exhilarated.
The piercing ache in his back reminded him: Oh, right, he was going to jump out of the window!
He wanted to embrace the sun.
The damp, dark gloom that had accumulated in his bones for a century began to spread. He wanted the scorching sunlight to crawl over every inch of his flesh, to ignite his dark, twisted soul, and to drive away this damned, foul aura.
Male Fusheng tried to force open the hand the little white-haired one had wrapped around his waist. Dammit, it didn’t budge. It seemed the little white-haired one was much stronger than he had imagined.
When he was clutching his leg earlier, he must have been holding back.
What had this little white-haired one been fed growing up? Not only was he strong, but he also had silver hair and a pair of blue eyes.
He looked so strange—well, actually, he was strangely good-looking.
Gritting his teeth, he glared at the little one’s large, watery blue eyes. He didn't even have the heart to tear him to shreds with his resentment and ghostly aura.
This guy wasn't afraid of his threats, and he was stronger than him, to boot. Besides, he couldn't just shred this fragile little flower with his resentment and ghostly aura.
This little flower was flesh and blood; he would surely shatter if he were stirred.
Unlike the wandering, lonely ghosts—who, when scattered, would let out a few beautiful wails before drifting back together in the wind—this was different.
Male Fusheng looked at the little flower, and the little flower looked back at him with pathetic, doe-like eyes.
If he stirred him, he would definitely die, and his screams would surely be miserable. He stroked the scorching window sill, thinking with a malicious twist of mind.
He closed his eyes. It was all too bloody and violent.
It didn't seem to suit such a delicate flower.
Fine! Perhaps he had been reborn in the wrong way. He closed his eyes helplessly and patted his forehead; he had met his match today.
This little white-haired one, a grown man, looked so delicate and weak.
He was just so weak and fair. He couldn't bring himself to do it.
Unlike those hideous, wicked, vengeful ghosts—he could swat those away to the wilderness with a single slap to keep them from loitering about and scaring people—he didn't like the game those evil ghosts played of randomly scaring a passerby to death; it was boring and vile.
He preferred the game of randomly scattering an evil ghost; it was thrilling and fun.
The shrill, perverted, dark, and twisted screams of a terrified evil ghost were quite pleasant to the ear. Even the color of a ghost as it dissipated was the darkest shade of all.
Of course, his own ghostly wails were the most perverted, dark, twisted, and pleasant of all.
After those evil ghosts finished screaming, it was his turn to howl, screaming until the evil ghosts' spirits were too terrified to even pull themselves back together.
He could play that kind of game with one evil ghost for the entire first half of the night.
And for the second half of the night, he would play with another, naturally. Male Fusheng never played favorites.
That way, all three ghosts could have a great time.
It was truly a rare form of entertainment back when he was a ghost, though he didn't miss it at all; being human was better.
The little white-haired one’s hand was still tightly locked around his waist.
No matter how strong the little white-haired one was, Male Fusheng would not compromise. Even if he had to crawl, he would reach the sunlight.
He scrambled toward the window with both hands and feet, kicking his legs out into the air, flailing his arms outside the second-story window, but the little white-haired one kept his waist locked in a death grip.
"Dammit! Let go of me!" Male Fusheng was frantic. He twisted his body wildly, limbs thrashing, his entire lower body hanging in mid-air.
Seeing this, the doctor behind them rushed forward, joining forces with the little white-haired one to pull Male Fusheng back from the window.
Male Fusheng was yanked back into the shadows, his mood darkening instantly, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees.
His hands and feet were still flailing, trying to crawl back to the window.
The doctors surrounded him, pinning his arms and legs down, though they dared not use too much force for fear of harming the delicate Male Fusheng.
Male Fusheng’s expression was so dark it could drip ink. He didn't even know who he had swatted while flailing his arms in the air.
His eyes brimmed with chilling violence, and he didn't stop cursing: "Dog shit, vengeful ghost, go die..." His voice was shrill and venomous.
If one looked closely at Male Fusheng, one could see a faint, shifting black aura radiating from him.
"Get the sedative, quickly!" the red-haired doctor pinning Male Fusheng’s arm shouted.
Male Fusheng felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, but he did not stop struggling. Upon hearing the word "sedative," he struggled even more violently.
"Get another one!" The doctor pinning him had no choice but to give him a second injection. He felt a very faint trace of spiritual power and was so angry he immediately cursed, "Zerg shit, who is recklessly unleashing spiritual power?"
Who would be held responsible if the Male Fusheng was injured? If anything happened to a Male Fusheng from the Morris Family in their hospital, they might as well close down and everyone could pack up and quit.
After the second injection, Male Fusheng finally stopped struggling, his body going limp as he lost consciousness and fell into Alvano’s arms.
Only then did the medical staff scramble to carry him off for treatment.
The leading red-haired Zerg was Cohen, Male Fusheng’s attending physician. He looked at the Male Fusheng, who was now lying quietly and obediently on the hospital bed, and thought that no one would ever associate him with the frantic, cursing, window-jumping male from just moments ago.
"This shouldn't be happening," Cohen thought suspiciously. Male Fusheng had been ransomed from the Space Pirates with only superficial injuries, and his mental state had seemed quite good.
There was no way to account for today’s mental state. Could the reports be wrong? Had Male Fusheng suffered horrific torture while in the hands of the Space Pirates?
Cohen frowned in disgust. The damned Space Pirates were becoming increasingly arrogant. They were bold enough to kidnap a male Zerg and then had the nerve to demand a sky-high ransom.
This kidnapping of a noble male had caused a sensation among the Zerg, not just because the Space Pirates demanded a record-breaking ransom, but because they had actually succeeded.
It was also because Male Fusheng was a member of the Kris family—one of the four great families of the Capital Planet—and was doted on at home, naturally surrounded by countless Zerg protectors.
That the Space Pirates had succeeded in spite of this had left the Zerg in a state of panic.
In recent years, the Space Pirates had committed a series of shocking major crimes. Some asserted that the Military Department was incapable of eradicating the pirates and protecting the Capital Planet, and that the pirates would soon invade it.
The Military Department had immediately issued a denial, claiming that the pirates were merely in their death throes and that the situation was under control.
Cohen shook his head; it seemed these rumors were not without foundation.
Although the idea that the pirates were about to invade the Capital Planet was an exaggeration, their power had indeed grown significantly in recent years.
This caused the Zerg citizenry to question the strength of the Military Department and the Zerg Protection Association. If this precedent were set, more outlaws would surely kidnap male Zergs to demand exorbitant ransoms.
As a result, male Zergs were afraid to leave their homes, and the Zerg were exceptionally angry.
The Military Department and the Zerg Protection Association must be having a headache these days. The commotion of the Male Fusheng jumping out the window had been significant; if news of this spread, the Military Department and the Zerg Protection Association would not be getting any sleep tonight.
Recalling the frantic look in the male's eyes and the underlying malice in his expression, he felt it was necessary for Male Fusheng to visit the psychiatric department to have his mental state evaluated.
Cohen looked with complex emotions at Alvano, the Zerg kneeling in the corner. As Male Fusheng’s only secondary spouse, he was likely in for a world of trouble.