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Thinking back over the past few days, Yan Zhou felt both furious and horrified.

What horrified him was how, no matter what precautions he took, that freak could still get inside his flat effortlessly, even leaving those sickening messages. What made him even angrier was how the psycho toyed with him like a cat playing with a trapped mouse — and the worst part was, he couldn't even figure out who the bastard was.

The man would come once every day without fail. Since Yan Zhou had already stopped going to school, he figured he might as well stay home and wait for the pervert to show up — and when he did, Yan Zhou would give him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

He sat on the sofa all day. By around four in the afternoon, the freak still hadn't shown up, and Yan Zhou began to wonder if maybe he’d given up.

Just as he was starting to doubt, his phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

> "How long are you planning to sit there? Aren’t you hungry? Even if you’re looking forward to seeing me, you shouldn’t starve yourself. You’ll make your brother feel so heartbroken."

The tone was enough for Yan Zhou to immediately know — it was him.

His heart skipped a beat. He didn’t even bother wondering how the psycho had gotten his number; instead, he started frantically typing back.

> "Who the fuck are you? If you’ve got the balls, come out and fight me face to face!"

The reply came almost immediately:

> "How could I ever bear to hurt you? I only want to spoil you."

The flirtatious tone made Yan Zhou's skin crawl.

> "You disgusting freak! If you don't back off, I’m calling the police!"

> "Oh, feel free to call them. I’ll be waiting. But before you do, you should eat something. You can’t play with me properly if you’re weak. You’re so skinny… you barely had any weight in my hands last night. You need to eat more, little one — get some flesh on those bones. You’ll be even cuter that way."

Reading the long, disgusting message made Yan Zhou's whole body tremble with rage. He immediately dialled the number, but it was rejected. He called again, and again, only to meet the same response.

His anger burned even hotter.

> "Fucking die, you perverted piece of shit! If you don’t stop harassing me, I’ll make sure you regret it!"

And then it hit him —

Had that freak actually touched him last night?

Disgusting! Fucking disgusting!

His eyes reddened with rage as he stared at the screen. For a moment, there was no reply. Yan Zhou smirked coldly, thinking the psycho had finally been scared off.

> "Ha! Coward. Think you can mess with me? Think again!"

Just as he was feeling pleased, another text came in.

> "Regret it? Little Zhou, does that mean you're ready to let me eat you up?"

Yan Zhou nearly smashed his phone against the wall. His chest heaved violently; he knew if he kept texting, he was going to blow a fuse.

Knock, knock, knock—

Three knocks at the door — just three, but each one sent chills crawling up his spine.

Hesitating for a second, he opened the door — no one there. Only a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on the floor.

Was that psycho just here? Had he never even left? Or was he living upstairs or downstairs — close enough to sneak in whenever Yan Zhou went out?

Speculation ran wild in his mind. Looking at the box, his gut reaction was hell no.

He slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

But then he hesitated. If he left the box outside and one of his neighbours picked it up and saw whatever disgusting thing was inside, how could he ever face them again?

Grimacing, he opened the door and snatched the box inside.

It’s not because I want it, he told himself, It’s just... better me than someone else finding it.

He tossed the box straight into the rubbish bin — planning to haul it to the dumpsters tomorrow.

There’s no way in hell I'm keeping anything from that freak.

Then he remembered —

The scarf.

That fucking scarf was still in his wardrobe.

Scowling, he retrieved it and stuffed it into the already overflowing bin. It was so full now, he could barely cram anything else in.

Still feeling sick to his stomach, Yan Zhou collapsed back onto his bed.

But something gnawed at him.

Wait a minute — how the fuck did he know my sleeping posture? How could he know I was waiting for him inside my room?

Panic set in.

Was there a hidden camera?

Finally realising the seriousness of the situation, Yan Zhou jumped up and started searching around. But no matter how carefully he checked, he couldn’t find anything.

Needle cameras were notoriously hard to spot.

He wasn’t some superhero — he was just an eighteen-year-old boy.

When problems came up, he usually solved them with his fists.

But now?

He was fighting someone he couldn’t even see.

The room suddenly felt like a cage — no, worse. It was a glass prison. Eyes watching from every angle.

Terrified, Yan Zhou grabbed his phone and called Xia Chen, stuffing clothes into his bag at the same time.

The line connected quickly. "Hello, boss?" Xia Chen's voice rang out.

"I'm coming to stay at yours for a few days. You don’t mind, do you?"

"Huh? My place? Of course not! Heh heh heh... Boss, you’re getting clingier by the day!" Xia Chen laughed, lecherous and teasing.

Yan Zhou didn’t have the patience to joke around. "Meet me where we met yesterday. Be quick."

"Got it!"

Fortunately, Xia Chen was renting a small place near the school — it wouldn't be a problem.

Yan Zhou knew he couldn’t stay in his flat anymore. It wasn’t a home — it was a glass box, and he was the little white mouse trapped inside.

Someone was watching him.

Someone he couldn't see.

Someone who knew his every move.

And the thought of it made his skin crawl.