My Husband and I Sleep in a Coffin Vol. 1, page 11
Wang Xiaomie was again speechless. Let’s see—that many people plus it being public plus them studying it together… oh, it’s basically an extended public execution. Hi, mortuary? I’d like to have myself cremated, is that cool? Yeah, that’s right, I’ve been dead a long time now, and I’d like to get another death for myself today.
“Is something wrong, Shixiong? Why aren’t you reading?”
Wang Xiaomie looked down at the notebook, flipping to another page.
“The food in this academy’s beyond tasty! The royal we must recite a poem for the occasion: Head chef masterfully bakes/osmanthus candies, buns, and cakes/If I had to pick a flaw?/It would be nice to have meat in my maw. Tut tut, we are truly too talented, baahahahaha! Farewell!”
Wang Xiaomie could not bear it. Don’t look! All of you, shut your eyes! This idiot isn’t me—he isn’t me—!
Meanwhile, Wen Fengjin was still urging him on. “Since Shixiong isn’t reading aloud, I suppose you must have discovered something.”
“I have indeed made a discovery,” Wang Xiaomie replied.
“Oh?” Wen Fengjin smilingly asked, “And what is that?”
Wang Xiaomie smiled as tears rolled down his cheeks: “The fact that I really am an idiot.” [justkeepsmiling.jpg]
Wen Fengjin looked stunned by this. “Shixiong is saying things this Fengjin doesn’t understand again. But now that you’ve seen it, I assume Shixiong understands the situation as well.”
Wang Xiaomie nodded with extreme seriousness, then flipped through a few more pages. Much of the writing was stuff along the lines of: “I saw that kid today. Who would’ve thought the future villain who’ll plunge all existence into the abyss of misery would be a kid like this?” or “Ai, I’ve realized that there’s no way to reveal that thing’s existence through speaking or writing, but I’ll do my mission properly, either way. If I fail, I’ll have my memories erased and die again, which is way too harsh…”
There was also: “Little shotas are so kawaii! I’ll make sure to raise him into a well-rounded kid!” and“What the heck is up with this setting? Raising him from a tiny kid into a big villain, then becoming said villain’s unattainable crush… Come on man, isn’t that beyond dumb? Stupid xx!”
After getting halfway through this notebook, Wang Xiaomie set it down, buried his head in his hands, and spent a good few hours recovering, while Wen Fengjin spent the whole time keeping him company by his side.
Wang Xiaomie shook his head. Hard as it was to believe, and dumbfounded as he was, now that he’d read this diary, his mind was tying together all the different transmigration and reincarnation stories he’d once read online. He understood, more or less, that his past self had, for whatever reason, been bound to a system. Whenever the diary mentioned “that thing” or “stupid xx,” it was probably referring to said system. His mission, meanwhile, had probably been to care for the supervillain, give the villain some warmth during his miserable childhood, and teach him to become a good person…
At this thought, Wang Xiaomie glanced up at Wen Fengjin.
Sensing his gaze, Wen Fengjin—in his brilliant red-and-black robes—unconsciously gave him a bewitching smile. Those dark eyes, those upward-curling lips, that little red pattern on his forehead…this was the epitome of a guy who at any moment was going to say “this venerable one demands your worthless life today.”
Wang Xiaomie thought: Boss, which of those educational tests do you think you can pass? PE?!
Ai, that’s why there was no point asking. The system wasn’t blind—one look at what the big boss had grown up to be like and it would simply wave its hand, erasing his memories and sending him back to the modern world.
For all he knew, his inexplicable death was also this system’s fault. And Wen Fengjin said that after he died, he’d built this underground mausoleum, collected all sorts of rare treasures, and even planted a pining tree or whatever. He’d genuinely waited for him in this mausoleum for over a thousand years. Wang Xiaomie traveling from modern to ancient times, meanwhile, was something the system could achieve in an instant. For all he knew, he’d failed his mission and died the night before, then been immediately summoned into this body by Wen Fengjin, who’d been waiting for a really long time…
Damnit, why was it that the more he thought about it, the more he and Wen Fengjin were like the BL version of the movie The Myth?!
If things were really as he supposed, then the fact that he had a system sure was nice—past or present, all it needed was a word from the system. But what about Wen Fengjin? How had he spent these thousand-plus years guarding his corpse?
Knowing himself, Wang Xiaomie figured there was a good chance he’d carelessly gotten close to the guy because of his mission, originally thinking he could muddle his way into becoming the kid’s unattainable crush…only to end up foolishly turning their relationship into the ambiguous thing it was now.
And given how stubbornly infatuated Wen Fengjin was, on top of everything else. Looking at it another way, if you threw me underground and left me there with nothing but a corpse for company…
Fuck. Wang Xiaomie rubbed at his arms. Forget one or two years—even half a month would be too much for him to handle! A grave robber could show up and he’d excitedly talk the guy’s ear off with pointless babble. No wonder Boss Wen had a different face every day, like he had bipolar disorder or something. It was all caused by ~the pressures of life~.
He flipped right to the last page, and found that the only thing written in the diary was that it was the day of Wen Fengjin’s coming-of-age ceremony. The rest of the diary had unexpectedly been ripped out by someone.
Beside him, Wen Fengjin narrowed his eyes as he reached over and took the diary from Wang Xiaomie’s hands. He said, “The pages here were already damaged when I got it. Seeing as Shixiong has now seen it, I’ll be taking it back for safekeeping.”
Wang Xiaomie scratched his head. “But isn’t this my diary? And it looks like there’s another volume in that box, too—can I see that one?”
To his surprise, Wen Fengjin’s face instantly darkened at those words, the pasted-on smile completely disappearing like the ebbing tide, his long, narrow, inhuman eyes holding back a bone-chilling something. His response gave the impression he was trying to be a little more gentle, but the icy, lowered tone of his voice only served to make him that much more terrifying. “Is Shixiong drawing clear boundaries with me now? Also, you are wrong—that book isn’t your writing, it’s mine.”
“I clearly saw it said Wang on the cover…”
“Shixiong.”
“Ah?”
“Don’t go angering me now, okay?”
I, Wang Xiaomie, in all the years I’ve been alive, have never before met someone capable of saying “okay” in a way that just oozes bloodthirst…
“Shixiong, when you first came to this body and replaced the real Mian Deng all those years ago, I noticed it. That’s why the person I wanted to be close to from the time I was seven years old, the person I wanted for myself, was that soul from lands unknown. I rejoiced that you had come at all—so much so that I prayed constantly that you would stay for all eternity. I feared that you might be one of those deceased who’d been reincarnated in another’s corpse, and so every day, I helped you defend your secret, cleaning up every mistake you made that might give your identity away.”
Which is why, as well as those people from before, the assassins that damn emperor sent to kill me on the day of my coming-of-age ceremony—and the academy director, who’d realized you were acting strangely and demanded to have you dealt with—were all killed by the old guard my father had left for me.
What made that day different from the others, however, was that you found out about it. That was probably when you began to distance yourself from me…
Wen Fengjin tilted his head, placing a hand against Wang Xiaomie’s cheek as he stared at him with an unwavering gaze. As Wang Xiaomie looked on in terror, his mouth pursed into a long, thin line before curving upward at the corners.
“Now you know my secret, Shixiong, so…are you still going to distance yourself from me? Do you still think the one I love is merely the previous owner of this body?”
Wang Xiaomie wildly shook his head, as if afraid that if he didn’t respond quickly enough, the boss would decide to give him a lover’s suicide for a present.
Plus there was nothing worse than discovering your current boyfriend was actually your past one, especially when from an outsider’s perspective, you were the scumbag in the relationship! The other guy had patiently waited for him for so long, only for it to turn out that Wang Xiaomie had completely forgotten him! He’d even told him, “Don’t use me as a replacement!”
Wang Xiaomie gulped. Wen Fengjin really has an amazingly good temper.
Just as he was thinking this, Wen Fengjin said, “Shixiong, I’ve suffered so much all these years…”
His intonation had the bitterness of a jilted girlfriend. This, combined with his scary tone, made him sound like one of those female ghosts in movies who went “Ah~ I died such a tragic death~”
Wang Xiaomie said: “…I was wrong! And besides, I don’t have any memories right now anyway, so h-how was I supposed to know? Oh, right—and why didn’t you show this to me earlier?!”
Wen Fengjin’s expression changed ever so slightly, after which he relaxed and replied, “You’d only just awoken, and the memories of your previous death were so painful, I didn’t want you to remember them again.”
“So that’s it, huh.” Wang Xiaomie recalled what he’d said about how they’d been hunted because of that immortality elixir, and then been tortured or something. More importantly, the story had ended with him dying, which he was sure would have been a huge blow to both him and Wen Fengjin, albeit in different ways.
No wonder he doesn’t want me to remember it. This chain of incidents left Wang Xiaomie’s tiny brain totally muddled. He sat in the casket, head aching, as he slowly tried to work it all out.
Seeing how quickly Wang Xiaomie believed him, and the clueless look on his face as he sat there, Wen Fengjin’s smile deepened.
The blood sacrifice I performed back then was left incomplete. Without the control the sacrifice would have given me, what will I do if Shixiong remembers all those things I did to you and tries to leave again?
And also…a Shixiong who feels remorse and wholeheartedly devotes himself to me here in the mausoleum… I like that quite a lot. If I don’t restrain myself, I’ll probably hurt him, huh.
Heh.
Chapter 22:
Tough Love
WEN FENGJIN had originally expected that, having learned the portion of the truth he’d purposely revealed, Shixiong would be filled with remorse and then whole-heartedly devote himself to him, ultimately giving him both his heart and his body, after which they’d live a happy, lovey-dovey life, exchanging words like “Fengjin, I’m cold,” and “I’ll hug you, Shixiong,” for the rest of their days.
However, our little top from ancient times—Big Boss Wen Fengjin—clearly had no idea of the way in which modern people did relationships. Before getting on the Boss route, Wang Xiaomie was a pitiful baby shrinking with terror, who whined and cried when bullied.
But after learning that he was the boss’s beloved moonlight darling, Wang Xiaomie turned into a beast with his mouth constantly curving upward, smile gradually turning savage! The disparity was as great as your partner before and after marriage.
“Xiao-Wenzi, do the laundry.”
Wen Fengjin thought: Xiao-Wenzi?!
“Xiao-Wenzi, I pulled that sword rack out to use as a clothes-drying rack.”
“…What happened to my Liaoyue Sword?”
“Huh? Oh, I tossed it on the floor!”
Wen Fengjin was speechless.
“Xiao-Wenzi! Mu Yi stole those snacks I got last time, you’ve gotta make him give them back!”
Wen Fengjin, again, speechless.
“Xiao-Wenzi, these mermaid-oil lamps have been burning all these years and still haven’t burned out. If I put one on the floor to use for hot pot, will it… whoa! I’m on fire! Quick, come put it out, Xiao-Wenzi!”
A blazing Wang Xiaomie ran wild around the room, yelling loudly. Wen Fengjin sighed, not a trace of his usual bewitchingly vicious expression left on his face. He rushed over to catch Wang Xiaomie—who was acting like a puppy with its tail caught in someone’s fingers—in his arms. With a wave of his hand, a great stone floor tile suddenly shattered, and the flying dirt instantly extinguished the lantern.
Wen Fengjin hugged the tearful little creature in his arms, looking at a burnt tuft of forehead hair which was curling wildly from the flames, and the accompanying innocent look on that face.
A frowning Wen Fengjin was just about to say something when Wang Xiaomie’s eyes widened, and he puffed up his cheeks. “What are you doing? You’re planning to scold me, aren’t you!”
Wen Fengjin stayed silent. Tough love was reduced to nothing more than this.
Half irritated and half amused, Wen Fengjin couldn’t help pinching his nose as Wang Xiaomie kept grumbling “audacious” complaints. His teeth itched to bite into that face—to bite that smooth, soft skin, that lively figure he’d yearned for night and day, even if said figure’s skin was cold.
Some kind of warmth gradually spread through Wen Fengjin’s heart.
Afterward, Wang Xiaomie began to notice that he was seeing fewer smiles on Wen Fengjin’s face. Those twisted, psychotic smiles went away and were replaced by a sort of exasperated, amused yet irritated expression as he put down whatever he was doing to attend to the repeated calls of “Xiao-Wenzi.” He was frowning, but he was happier than ever before.
After purposely wreaking havoc, Wang Xiaomie looked at Wen Fengjin’s expression, which was gradually growing more lively, and quietly laughed behind his sleeve. If you’re unhappy, I’ll do anything to make you warm. I may be cheekily causing trouble, but I just want to make sure you aren’t so lonely…
There was a type of angel in this world that took the form of a romantic partner who was bizarre and constantly causing trouble, yet always gave you a kiss afterward to cheer you up. To deal with a little creature such as this, who could be naughty yet admit their mistakes, and was constantly melting your heart with cuteness, there was no need to hit them—all you had to do was give them a good hard kiss.
When they went to bed at night, the man who’d previously been constantly copping covert feels of the boss would now openly feel him up, circling around him as he freely touched away. Get that man molested! Wang Xiaomie thought.
Wen Fengjin looked at the head pressed against his chest, the thighs carelessly riding his lower abdomen, and those quiet, clearly fake snoring noises. He suffered through enduring this treatment, and even being spoken to with disdain, as Wang Xiaomie exclaimed, “Why’s your body so cold!” Hmph, I’ll give him the cold shoulder!
Wen Fengjin stayed silent. The falsest advertising in all of history: Rather than marrying the gentle shixiong he’d expected, he’d wound up marrying this lousy Wang Xiaomie.
Boss Wen, unable to endure any more of this, decided to push Wang Xiaomie off him, only for Wang Xiaomie to bare his teeth. “Do you not like me anymore? Huh? Say it! Bark bark bark!”
“…Stop barking, Xiaomie.”
“…Bark bark bark!” I’ll bite you to death!
Wen Fengjin had, without realizing it, become incapable of calling this suicidally cheeky creature “Shixiong” or “Mian Deng.” His unnaturally black eyes began to fill with a sweet love as he changed from a man who looked up to his shixiong to an “old” man who endlessly doted on his beloved little bastard.
One day, Wang Xiaomie was so bored he’d started playing with mud. The mausoleum lacked pretty much everything—including both electricity and Wi-Fi—but it certainly wasn’t lacking in gold, jewels, water, and mud. Wang Xiaomie had once even asked Wen Fengjin, “An underground river this long should have fish in it, right?”
Wen Fengjin had paused before responding, “I did toss a few of the more hardy types of fish in there all those years ago, but they’re for defending against grave r—”
“Wow! There’s fish! That means we can finally have fish to eat!” A jubilant Wang Xiaomie immediately started looking for fishing equipment, completely failing to listen to whatever else Wen Fengjin was going to say. He then pulled up a big fish with a human face and black hair, giving him two days’ worth of nightmares full of human-headed fish grinning cheerfully at him. I was a fool for believing that a mausoleum would have normal fish!
From that day onwards, Wang Xiaomie never again mentioned catching or roasting fish to eat. And now he obediently molded his mud, with the end goal of making only two things, both cremation boxes—one for Wen Fengjin and one for himself. Whenever they happened to get found by some pro in the future, and dug up out of the dirt, they could put these boxes to use.
He’d recently begun having dreams of the past. Though he always woke up with a bitter taste in his mouth after those dreams, Wang Xiaomie credited it all to that weird tree.
Perhaps it was because his lost memories were beginning to awaken, but he’d also been spending longer and longer periods away from the tree. He’d even gotten to know a lot of Wen Fengjin’s “little cuties.” Those adorable little oddities sure were something… Compared to the rest, the bloody lizardman, Mu Yi, really was the most attractive of the bunch.
Wen Fengjin held his hand as he introduced him to them.
“This is Mu Er.” She was a female ghost who could give Sadako a run for her money, being pale all over, with sticky black hair, and a terrifying visage to boot. Apparently, she lived underwater.
“This is Mu San.” This one didn’t even have a humanoid shape at all. It looked just like some sort of tree fungus that’d grown a face and hands. Seen from a distance, it looked like a walking, you know, ahem, that thing all men know… Also Wen Fengjin said absolutely not to touch the sticky fluid on its body, which could instantly turn a living person into a puddle of water, leaving only their clothes behind.
