The plot of "Quick Transmigration: The Charismatic One Always Collapses" is incomplete.

"I thought you didn't know fear?"

The moon, without a trace, drew near, its red-hot tip almost touching Wen Yubai's skin.

Wen Yubai could feel the intense heat emanating from the iron scepter.

He lowered his eyes, turned his head to the side, and mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

Yue Wuhen was somewhat irritable.

Is this how you use torture?

It's nothing more than branding a mark on this body and hearing the same screams as those of the tortured.

It's so boring.

As if by some strange twist of fate, he took back the iron shovel.

With cool, thin-gloved fingers, I gently brushed across Wen Yubai's chin.

Then she grabbed his chin and forced him to turn his face away.

He wanted to see something else in those eyes.

Panic, fear, or humiliation?

There are many ways to kill, and he is also very skilled at torturing people.

So, which method can I use to vent my anger?

He was thinking.

I couldn't figure it out.

As a result, nothing was done during this execution.

"OP."

The waiter at the door was already bowing and waiting, holding a copper basin filled with water.

This is standard practice.

Every time the host personally handles the prisoners, he immediately washes his hands, and sometimes he even takes a bath.

However, this time, Yue Wuhen seemed not to have seen the basin of water at all.

He didn't stop walking, absentmindedly rubbing his fingers.

The waiter, holding the basin of water, dared not utter a sound and could only watch the figure disappear into the distance.

Only after it was completely out of sight did he carefully close the specially made iron gate again.

This is the place where Moonshadow Tower interrogates traitors.

The waiter dared not look at the room where the host had stayed and what a miserable state it must be in.

He had caught a glimpse of the young man when he was led inside; he was a very handsome young man.

I don't know what I did to offend the poster, that I've been locked up here.

It's early February now, and the spring chill is still in the air.

The ground was bitterly cold, so it must have been even colder in the dungeon.

The waiter shrank back and pulled his clothes tighter.

I wonder how many days that young master can hold on; I'm afraid he won't be able to get through tonight.

He shook his head, not daring to think any further, picked up the water, and quickly left.

-

The next day, the waiter kindly opened the door, intending to bring in a bowl of water.

But the young master from yesterday had his eyes closed, and his cheeks were flushed with an unnatural redness.

He called out several times, but received no response, so he rudely reached out his hand.

His forehead was burning hot.

He had clearly caught a very bad cold and was running a high fever.

The dungeon was cold and damp, and he was only dressed in thin clothes. He had also been frightened, so it was understandable that he couldn't survive.

The waiter looked at him and felt a pang of pity.

He hesitated for a moment, but still steeled himself and went to report to the landlord.

Yue Wuhen was wiping his sword when he heard this and paused.

"Are you sick?"

He repeated it, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes, yes, Master, that young master seems to have a very high fever. If we don't call a doctor, I'm afraid..."

Under Yue Wuhen's icy gaze, the waiter did not utter the words "it won't last long."

"Useless thing."

Yue Wuhen uttered a few words, but it was unclear whether he was referring to the waiter or Wen Yubai.

He got up and went to the dungeon.

When Yue Wuhen saw Wen Yubai, who was delirious and burning hot, he felt a surge of irritation.

He hadn't even figured out how to punish him yet, so how could this person have gotten into trouble first?

Fragile and troublesome.

With a cold face, he personally bent down to unlock the heavy shackles, and then picked up the feverish Wen Yubai.

The waiter rushed forward to take over, but was stopped by a look from Yue Wuhen.

The body in my arms was burning hot; I could feel the abnormal heat even through the clothes.

Wen Yubai seemed to feel a chill and unconsciously shrank into his arms, her forehead pressed against his neck.

Warm breaths brushed against my skin.

It was as if he were someone you could rely on.

Yue Wuhen's heartbeat suddenly skipped a beat.

He walked on habitually, and before he knew it, he had arrived at his bedroom.

Going to other guest rooms would be too much trouble, so let's forget about it.

He then placed Wen Yubai directly on his bed, which was covered with a dark-colored quilt.

The pure black bedding made Wen Yubai's flushed cheeks stand out even more.

The waiter brought Old Zhang over in a hurry.

When the white-bearded doctor entered the room and saw a strange young man lying on the landlord's bed, he was surprised.

This person doesn't look like the killer inside the building.

Is she someone important?

But he dared not ask any more questions, nor did he dare to look any longer.

They could only cautiously step forward to treat the patient under the watchful eye of the person in charge.

He moved his hands carefully and cautiously, and even the handwriting in the square was neater than usual.

Throughout the entire process, Yue Wuhen simply stood silently, watching Zhang Lao's actions and the flushed face of the person on the bed.

After the doctor left, Yue Wuhen dismissed everyone else.

He walked to the bedside and slowly took off his gloves.

The fingers exposed to the air were long and pale, with distinct knuckles, and carried a coldness from years of being deprived of sunlight.

He reached out his finger and gently touched Wen Yubai's forehead.

No.

The nausea I had expected did not occur.

My fingertips slid down my sweat-dampened temples.

Eyes, cheeks, lips...

It is delicate and warm, not nauseating.

I felt nauseous, but I wished I could peel off a layer of skin.

At this moment, Wen Yubai's eyelashes trembled, and she opened her eyes groggily.

His vision was blurred, and the high fever made him delirious. He vaguely saw a figure.

He parted his lips slightly, as if he wanted to speak, but just happened to touch something.

Yue Wuhen froze.

"Hmm?"

Wen Yubai frowned, his face flushed red, revealing clear disgust and discomfort, as he bit the intruder with his teeth.

A slight pain brought Yue Wuhen back to her senses.

He looked at the rejection on Wen Yubai's face.

A surge of anger suddenly rose in my heart.

Do you really hate being touched by him that much?

Yue Wuhen leaned down, his gaze fixed on Wen Yubai's resistant face.

Impulsiveness clouded his judgment; he abruptly threw off the covers and forcefully pulled the burning-hot person into his arms.

Wen Yubai struggled on instinct.

"Don't move."

Yue Wuhen pressed him tightly against her chest, her chin resting on the top of her head.

The person in his arms gradually weakened their resistance, their hot breath brushing against his collarbone.

The bedroom became completely quiet.

Yue Wuhen lay motionless.

The impulse, a mixture of pleasure and desire, aroused by disgust, slowly faded away.

He slowly and stiffly released his arm.

As if burned, she rolled out of bed and stood barefoot on the cold floor.

She looked down at her arm, then at Wen Yubai on the bed.

What was he doing just now?