Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

She felt inexplicably uneasy.

Chapter 551 It's okay, I'm willing

Ran Mouri tugged at Vermouth's sleeve, lowering her voice, her anxiety barely concealed:

"Teacher, do you know where Aze went? I can't get in touch with him..."

Even when she was about to go on a mission, Qingze would still send her a message.

Even if you're going to Dr. Payton to participate in an experiment, he'll explain it in advance, unlike this sudden loss of contact.

Seeing the undisguised worry in the girl's eyes, Vermouth sighed almost imperceptibly, ultimately letting the tenderness in her heart prevail.

"I saw him leave this morning; he didn't look well."

Ran Mouri's heart tightened.

"Teacher, why didn't you tell me!"

She immediately became restless and wished she could leave her seat right away.

“Look,” Vermouth said, pressing her hand down, her tone complicated, “this is why I didn’t tell you.”

She patted Ran Mouri on the shoulder and comforted her, "It's an old problem, he'll get better on his own. Dinner's almost ready, you've had a long day, go home and get some rest."

The night was dark.

Qingze sat alone in the shadows of the living room sofa, surrounded by several empty wine bottles.

The room was pitch black, and he seemed to blend into the silence, with only his fingertips unconsciously stroking a cold lighter, making a soft clicking sound.

The faint sound of a key being inserted into the lock suddenly came.

The figure on the sofa jolted, instantly shattering the oppressive silence that had enveloped them.

He frantically tried to hide the bottle, but the strong smell of alcohol had already filled the entire space, leaving him nowhere to hide.

He simply gave up, grabbed a bottle with a little wine left, poured it into the sofa, and pretended to be dead.

As soon as Ran Mouri entered the room, a strong smell of alcohol hit her.

Her heart sank, and she quickly turned on the light, her gaze immediately locking onto the figure curled up on the sofa.

She walked quickly closer, her gaze sweeping over the empty wine bottles lying haphazardly beside her, her brow furrowing.

Why did you suddenly start drinking?

How much did they drink?

The person on the sofa didn't react at all, as if she was truly drunk and unconscious, oblivious to the lights and her arrival.

His cheeks were flushed an unnatural red, his breathing was slightly heavy, and one arm hung limply at his side, his fingers loosely gripping a nearly empty glass bottle.

Ran Mouri knelt down in front of him and gently touched his cheek—the touch was burning hot.

"Aze?" Her voice softened unconsciously, filled with deep worry. "Aze...?"

The person pretending to be asleep had their eyelashes tremble almost imperceptibly.

When she called him a second time, he slowly and laboriously opened his eyelids a little.

His eyes were unfocused and unfocused as he stared blankly at the person in front of him, as if it took him a long time to recognize who it was.

The moment he realized it was her, his lips turned down, and tears streamed down his face without warning.

Seeing him suddenly burst into tears, Ran Mouri felt as if her heart had been squeezed tightly, both shocked and pained.

"What's wrong? What's going on...?"

She quickly reached out and hugged him, pulling him into her arms and gently patting his back to comfort him.

Qingze buried his face in her shoulder, his cheeks tense.

He didn't want to cry, but his body seemed to have its own will, and the things that had been suppressed for too long burst forth, and he couldn't stop them.

Hearing the suppressed and broken breathing around her, Ran Mouri's heart clenched even tighter.

She held him tighter, her lips close to his ear, her breath warm: "It's okay, Aze... It's okay if you cry out loud, I'm here."

She sighed softly to herself.

Qingze had too many things piled up in his heart; those emotions had been buried too deep and for too long.

They seem normal most of the time, but once they reach a certain critical point, their condition will deteriorate rapidly.

Silence, depression, self-loathing, self-abandonment…

Even self-destruction...

Qingze hugged him tightly, as if embracing an unreal dream.

He closed his eyes and let the tears roll down his cheeks.

After a long while, he slowly released the embrace.

The tears on his cheeks had dried, and the flush on his face added to his drunkenness. His moist eyes stared at her, somewhat intoxicated.

He spoke softly, his voice hoarse and dry.

Do you really...accept me as I am?

His eyes were downcast, filled with extreme self-loathing.

"...an emotionally unstable...even uncontrollable mental patient..."

Ran Mouri cupped his face, forcibly turning his gaze towards her, and said earnestly:

“Aze, I love you, I accept everything about you. Your kindness, your cruelty, your pain, your struggle, and the blood all over you…”

"I have embarked on this path of no return to love you. I am no longer the person I used to be. Don't doubt yourself, and don't doubt my love."

“Aze, you are a good person. Don’t hate yourself. You’re just sick…”

Qingze looked at her, at the seriousness, determination and persistence flashing in her eyes, and the ethereal dream seemed a little more real.

He suddenly grabbed the back of her head, his force carrying an irresistible determination, and pressed her deeply into his embrace.

The strong smell of alcohol overwhelmed all her senses, and Ran Mouri seemed to be slightly intoxicated as well. She wrapped her arms around his neck and became intoxicated by the surging and passionate kiss.

A hand slipped under the hem of her clothes, caressing her, and slowly moved upwards.

Some cool fingertips touched the skin, bringing a shiver.

The clasp on her back was undone, and Ran Mouri did not object.

Qingze's breathing grew heavier and hotter, almost igniting the surrounding air. Unbeknownst to him, the girl he was holding was pressed down onto the sofa, her face flushed and her clothes half-exposed.

Qingze finally regained some of his senses.

He froze and stepped back.

But the arms around his neck gently yet stubbornly pulled him back.

Her voice was soft and moist as she kissed his burning cheek and then covered his lips again, "Aze, you can..."

Her hand slid down to his waist and touched the cold belt buckle.

Qingze suddenly grabbed her hand, and the dazed, drunken look in his eyes vanished without a trace.

"Can't!"

His voice was terribly hoarse, carrying a clear-headed pain, yet clinging to that last, faint line of reason.

Ran Mouri wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his earlobe, her gentle breath caressing his ear.

"It's okay, I'm willing."

"No! You can't!"

Qingze almost roared as he pushed her away with all his might, then swayed as he stood up, his chest heaving violently.

Ran Mouri watched his trembling back as he tried his best to control himself. The lust in her eyes faded a little, but her smile deepened.

"Then let's try a different approach."

She stood up and gave Qingze a hard push, causing him to fall back onto the sofa.

He grunted and grabbed her hand.

Ran Mouri tightened her grip slightly, and Aozawa's clear eyes were replaced by lust as a burning kiss swept over him once more.

Lips, cheeks, neck, chest...

The kiss continued downwards, and Ran Mouri's movements became faster and faster.

"Ugh, my arm is sore..."

Qingze held her, panting.

"Change to another one."

Finally, Qingze's breathing calmed down, and Mouri Ran leaned against his chest, her hands feeling weak.

"Waaah, I feel so bad too."

"Bear with it."

Chapter 552 Aren't you the same?

After throwing a few crumpled pieces of paper into the trash can, Qingze belatedly realized what had happened.

Seeing the person on the sofa pouting and looking at him resentfully, Qingze coughed awkwardly and straightened her clothes.

"Ahem, I'm going to sober up..."

As he spoke, he staggered towards the bathroom.

Ran Mouri watched his swaying figure and muttered:

"You're not drunk at all, stop pretending..."

She stood up, straightened her clothes, tidied up the wine bottles, and looked through the refrigerator.

There are some vegetables in the refrigerator, but they've been there for a while and aren't very fresh, but they're still edible.

She guessed that Qingze probably hadn't eaten dinner.

After taking a shower, Qingze walked out of the bathroom wearing a loose bathrobe, his hair still dripping wet. A warm and enticing aroma of food wafted over, dispelling the steam from the bathroom and the chill of the night.

He followed the aroma to the restaurant entrance and stopped.

Under the warm yellow light, Ran Mouri was standing in front of the stove wearing an apron.

She leaned slightly forward, intently watching the bubbling soup in the pot, her profile appearing exceptionally soft in the light and shadow.

The aroma of food, the rising steam from the pot, her occasional gentle stirring with chopsticks... everything was filled with a simple yet solid, comforting sense of home and happiness.

Qingze leaned against the door frame and watched quietly for a long time.

The melancholy and coldness that lingered in my heart seemed to be smoothed out and melted away inch by inch by the warm light in this picture.

He walked over, his footsteps very light.

Ran Mouri heard the noise and turned around.

Seeing that he was clean and refreshed, with slightly damp hair, no longer smelling of alcohol, and with clear eyes, he showed no signs of drunkenness.

She held her chopsticks, wanting to knock him on the head.

"Did you not eat properly again tonight?"

Qingze touched his nose somewhat guiltily and looked up at the ceiling: "Before... I didn't feel very hungry, so I didn't pay attention."

But now, lured by this aroma, my stomach immediately started rumbling honestly.

"Not eating on time can easily lead to stomach problems!" Ran Mouri said earnestly and sincerely.

Suddenly, something occurred to her, her expression turned serious, and she took two steps closer to examine him:

"Wait, you don't actually have a stomach problem, do you? You just don't feel any pain, so you can't feel it yourself?"

Qingze chuckled and gently flicked her forehead: "What are you thinking? Nothing of the sort. I have a full-body checkup at least once a month."

Fiano stared at his body, more concerned than he was about the man himself.