Blood.
There was blood everywhere.
On the wall and the ground, large pieces of torn human bodies flew everywhere, and hideous blood and flesh were all over the ground. The little boy huddled in the corner, his beautiful eyes widened to the extreme, and his pupils reflected his mother's increasingly approaching face and her bloody fingertips.
Don't kill me, Mom, please don't kill me!
Fear overwhelmed everything. His throat seemed blocked and he couldn't make any sound. He watched the cold light rise high above his head.
At this moment, a figure rushed up from behind the mother and shot her in the chest!
The little boy's pupils shrank as small as needles in an instant.
His mother's blood poured down, almost soaking him completely, but he had lost all hearing and touch. One hundredth of a second seemed to be extremely long, until - plop!
The mother slumped to her knees, her cold, blood-stained hair brushing against the little boy's cheek.
Her eyes were fixed on her youngest son, and her upper body fell forward. As she passed by him, she used her last bit of strength to whisper something in the child's ear.
It seemed like a prophecy.
But the child could no longer hear.
The sounds, smells, colors, and touches all turned into a distorted mass of colors like a montage. He subconsciously wanted to see who shot and killed his mother, but his mind had already spun away, as if falling backwards into the dark deep water.
The water level submerged the mouth and nose, piercing the lungs through the trachea like a sharp knife, and deadly suffocation enveloped everything.
"!"
Shen Zhuo suddenly opened his eyes and stood up gasping for breath.
"What's wrong?" Bai Sheng sat up, still half asleep, and skillfully held Shen Zhuo in his arms, rubbing his forehead, which was soaked with cold sweat, with his lips.
Shen Zhuo's heart was beating heavily. The remaining fear from the dream was still lingering in the depths of his consciousness. When he tried to recall it carefully, he could not grasp anything. His frightened mind was blank.
“… I had a dream,” he murmured hoarsely, “I forgot what I dreamed about.”
"It's okay, don't be afraid." Unexpectedly, Bai Sheng didn't ask too many questions. He stroked his forehead with the ball of his thumb, lowered his head and kissed him, and whispered with his lips against the skin between his eyebrows: "It's just a nightmare."
Shen Zhuo vaguely felt that he had dreamed of a fragment from his childhood, but he could not remember the scene in the dream no matter what. He closed his eyes and instinctively buried his head in Bai Sheng's neck. He could smell the clean and pleasant scent on his skin, which enveloped him warmly like the ocean.
"I'm here. It's okay."
Bai Sheng's hair was messy and he was wearing nothing on his upper body. The light and shadow outlined his beautiful muscle lines. He picked up Shen Zhuo with one hand and sat him on his thighs. With the other hand, he reached under his loose T-shirt and stroked his thin back vigorously. It was a very soothing gesture until Shen Zhuo's tense back gradually relaxed.
Their waists and hips were pressed together, the bedding was messy, Shen Zhuo's arm was hooked around the back of Bai Sheng's neck, and their noses were rubbing against each other intimately.
Bai Sheng's breathing became heavy. He put his hand into Shen Zhuo's hair and pressed his head down: "Give me a kiss."
"You are... um..."
The penetration of lips and tongue became easy and familiar. It was gentle and addictive at first, but as the body temperature rose, the breath became disordered, entangled, restless and even fierce, and gradually began to imitate a certain frequency.