I picked up a boyfriend in the infinite game

The blood was like blood-colored jade beads, dripping onto the ground, turning into gorgeous flowers, and pouring out the vitality of life.

The next moment, the blood-red flowers were spread out and used as paint to depict half of the god's handsome and flawless face.

Song Guicheng lowered his eyes and painted each stroke carefully and attentively without hesitation. The face that he had only seen once came to mind without much recollection.

Blood continued to ooze out of the wound, but he seemed to feel no pain, depicting every part of the god in great detail.

His eyebrows were like distant mountains, his eyes were like ink paintings. His face was like white porcelain, and his thin lips were so pale that they were almost colorless. His eyes seemed to have no ripples at all, cold and dust-free, casting only an indifferent gaze.

Song Guicheng suddenly thought of his mother, that poor woman who fell in love with a man, his biological father, and gave up her money and property, youth and beauty, time and life without hesitation.

What she wants in her life is to have a husband who loves her and well-behaved and lovely children.

These two things, which she had exhausted all her energy to pursue and held tightly in her hands, finally became like vines parasitic on her body, sucking away all her vitality and causing her to become lonely and withered.

She died when Song Guicheng was 10 years old, and until her death, she was still thinking about that man's name.

In front of the bed, Song Guicheng grabbed his mother's hand, but he could not shed a single tear. This woman who was once famous for her beauty now looked haggard, like a pearl that had lost its luster and turned into sand.

She said, “You are not like your father.”

Song Guicheng didn't understand why his mother said that. Judging from his appearance alone, he was a carbon copy of his father, with handsome features and a gentle temperament.

She said, "Like me, no good."

Then he closed his eyes forever.

The mother's tone was heavy and sad, and there was a compassion and pain in her eyes that almost became tangible. Song Guicheng could not understand this look.

He didn't understand his mother's last words, his mother's hesitation and struggle, or his mother's regret and depravity.

He only understood one thing: the first thing he remembered very clearly in his life was his mother's death, which left an indelible mark on his life that he started over at the age of 10.

This woman was not kind to him, but he still felt his heart aching.

This pain of loss seemed to become the background color of his life for the next 14 years.

*

The night was like a huge curtain, covering all colors, leaving only silence and depth, only a ray of light under Song Guicheng's feet, and only the bloody gods in his writings.

The earth was wailing and trembling. The biting cold wind blew away the darkness, bringing a bone-chilling chill to Song Guicheng in the hot summer.

The flashlight at hand was lifted up, swaying and scattering light, illuminating the almost torn night. Chill permeated the air, as if every inch of land was afraid.

Song Guicheng's bones felt itchy. The chill that came from the same source as the air seemed to be summoned, clamoring to rush out of his body.

"Like me, not good."

When Song Guicheng stood between the collapsing heaven and earth, listening to the silent groans, the light and shadows perished, but he stood still, he suddenly understood the meaning of this sentence.

In his past life, he silently swallowed too much glass shards mixed with sugar. When the aftertaste faded, the glass shards had already scratched his insides into pieces, leaving only an intact skin.

When he was isolated and desperate, with no one around, everyone hoped for his death, everyone wanted him to die, and no one was willing to lend a helping hand.

The only one who reached out and held his hand was an expressionless, high-handed god.

Someone who keeps saying he wants to kill him but lets him go again and again is much gentler than someone who keeps saying he hopes he lives a good life but lets him almost die again and again.

He wanted to hold on to this tenderness, even if it was on the tip of a knife, he would hold on to it regardless of the risk of hurting himself.

He stood there, waiting for the flashlight to be swallowed up by the spreading darkness, waiting for the spirit on the altar to awaken, waiting for the night to imprison his soul and remain silent in the prison of time.

The night wind was mixed with a hint of icy frost and snow, and the chill that was running through his body suddenly condensed at his fingertips, causing his fingers to tremble slightly.

Song Guicheng raised his eyes and saw Wu Zhi, who was cold and otherworldly in the moonlight, and then he saw the moon hanging high in the sky behind him.

Did he bring the moon, or did the moon bring him?

[Player Song Guicheng completes the side quest: Awakening the Altar Spirit. ]

[The mission was successful, and the reward was: time and space stopped. ]

[Time and Space Stillness: You become a believer of the gods, and the gods will share some of their original power with you, one of which is the ability to control time. Sacrifice blood and you will gain the ability to stop time and space, 3 times per instance, 5 minutes each time.

The number of times remaining in this instance: 3/3. 】

The moonlight was like water, sprinkling on the god in front of him.

Song Guicheng saw some patterns embroidered with red silk thread on his black robe, which spread from the cuffs to his torso and all over his body.

Wu Zhi was looking down from a high place, and from his angle he could clearly see Song Guicheng's slender and thick eyelashes.

His eyes moved from Song Guicheng's eyelashes to her soft lips, to her beautiful waistline, and then to her long and straight legs.

He had to admit that this human being was the most beautiful believer he had ever seen in his life.

Behind him, his followers traced his appearance in blood, even the upward curve of his eyes was exactly right.

The wind lifted a few strands of Wu Zhi's black hair, and the moonlight fell between his eyebrows, with a kind of gentle coldness: "What do you want?"

The voice was cold and straight to the point.

He didn't understand why every time he saw this human, the power of his body would roar out like a ferocious mountain torrent, breaking through the string of reason in his mind and making him want to kill him.

But when it was about to kill him, it suddenly tightened, restricting his movements.

It was the body's instinct to kill him.

Letting him go is also the body's instinct.

This was the first time in his long and boundless life that he had such a feeling, which made him remember this person's appearance and name.

Song Guicheng moved the fingers hanging at his side, feeling Wu Zhi's calm gaze on him, and said, "I don't want to lose anymore."

As long as he can hold me tight, as long as I belong to him, as long as I won't lose myself again, everything is fine.

Wu Zhi looked at Song Guicheng with some confusion: "You have nothing to lose."

"Now I have it," Song Guicheng met Wu Zhi's silent gaze directly. The moonlight fell into his eyes, with a dim brilliance. He stretched out his finger and pointed at the god in front of him, "You."

Many years later, he finally realized that he and his mother were the same type of people, willing to give up everything they had in order to pursue what they wanted.

The mother gave her life, and he sacrificed his soul.