Exclusive Rights to An Online Voice Actor Chapter 36

Chapter 36

TLC: Lilies

Editor: Whiteflare

Trigger warning: depictions of child abuse

I hope that your voice can be heard by more people.

It wasn’t the first time for Shen Yan to hear someone say that.

But out of all these people, Qi Jing was the only one who told that to the real ‘Shen Yan’.

The diary in his hand wasn’t any script, and he wasn’t playing any role. They were all the things he wrote without concealing anything—the most genuine him.

Nevertheless, Qi Jing still voiced such expectations for him…

His voice stopped. Not because he had nothing to say, but because momentarily, his vocal cords had lost all of their strength. As if he choked.

Shen Yan’s hand clenched lightly at the marks left from Qi Jing’s fingers scratching. Then, his grip tightened gradually, getting stronger and stronger.

Maybe it was because having only a single finger gripped felt funny and it hurt a little when Shen Yan exerted force on it, it caused Qi Jing to instinctively wrinkle his brows a little before directing a smile at Shen Yan.

He was about to say something, but his smile froze the moment their eyes met.

With the floor light s.h.i.+ning from behind Shen Yan, it cast a shadow that made it hard to see the expression on his face—Qi Jing only knew that Shen Yan’s brows were knit and his eyes were downcast, as if he was enduring something.

There was no gleam in Shen Yan’s eyes. They were deep and black, like the depth of the sea where the sunlight couldn’t get through—so deep that one could not see the bottom and an invisible force stopped anyone who wanted to dive into them.

“What happened?” Qi Jing’s mind short-circuited for a moment—when he finally sobered up, he used his finger to scratch at the centre of Shen Yan’s palm as he put a gentle smile back on his face.

Even though Shen Yan hadn’t said anything, Qi Jing could still see the subtle change in his mood.

And it wasn’t a good kind of change.

“Shen Yan?” Feeling an unknown sense of worry well up, Qi Jing called him once again, raising his shoulders to sit up. At that moment Shen Yan finally showed some reaction, silently pressing him back down on the pillow.

“Alright, that’s enough reading for tonight. You should go to sleep soon,” Shen Yan closed the diary and leaned over to say in a low voice.

Due to his movement, the angle at which Qi Jing was looking at him changed, and the light finally managed to slip in to light up a half of his face.

It didn’t look like there was anything out of ordinary about him; he still seemed as gentle and quiet as always. The darkness in his eyes was like a sea surface, the reflection of the light in his eyes seemed like the stars in the sky reflected on the waves, making them appear less gloomy.

It was already late by that time—no matter how much he yearned for Shen Yan’s voice, he still shouldn’t sacrifice Shen Yan’s usual rest hours for his own sake.

Qi Jing nodded and said with a smile, “Okay then, I’ll look at it again tomorrow.”

Shen Yan put the diary down without uttering a word, placing it beside Qi Jing’s pillow. He wasn’t in a hurry to get up and walk away; he gazed at Qi Jing silently for a long time. Only then did his tight grasp loosen a little, letting their warmth part.

“Hurry up and go to sleep. I’ll turn the lights off for you.” He urged softly.

He got up from the bedside and walked to the floor light, turning the light off, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint light that seeped in from the living room through the seam of the door. Qi Jing squinted—adapting to the darkness took him a few seconds. When he opened them once again, he was able to see the silhouette of the other man still standing by the wall.

As if he didn’t want to leave.

To be honest, Qi Jing also didn’t want to let him leave. When he made Shen Yan read the diary for him, other than to listen to his voice, more importantly, it was to spend even just a little more time with him.

Their road together was bound to be long, but today, the man he longed for wasn’t just a photo in his phone’s gallery or an image from his memory. He could be heard, he could be touched, he even gave Qi Jing a tangible hug&#k2014;he was warm to the point of being addictive, so Qi Jing sought after him greedily like an addict.

He had too many bitter experiences lately, so his desire for sweetness was even more intense than usual.

“What happened? You don’t want to go?” The best way to conceal one’s true thoughts was to jokingly redirect a question at the other party.

Shen Yan didn’t answer, nor did he move.

“We can always sleep together, after all, this bed is quite wide.” Qi Jing narrowed his eyes into two little crescents like a languid cat, deliberately teasing Shen Yan.

Qi Jing had a bad habit—even if he knew that the other party was already stumped by his question, he still couldn’t help but joke around a little longer. Shen Yan definitely wouldn’t be able to answer this one anyway.

Just as he expected, Shen Yan didn’t react.

Seems like I went too far with that one. With a giggle, Qi Jing took the initiative to help relieve Shen Yan from his distress, “I’m just joking. You should quickly go get some rest too, goodnight.”

At that moment, Shen Yan stepped out of the shadow, slowly walking back towards the bedside.

Qi Jing would think he was only coming back to say goodnight—that is, if he didn’t lean down suddenly, propping his hands on either side of the pillow.

Feeling the pillow sink, Qi Jing was so startled that he instinctively propped his body up, gasping quickly.

The gasp was very light, so light that if it weren’t for how close at hand the other man was, he wouldn’t be able to hear it.

But Shen Yan was too close, so close that even in low light, Qi Jing could still see the outline of his face clearly. Moreover, the distance between them was shortening inch by inch until they could share the same breath between the two of them. Shen Yan’s breath brushed by Qi Jing’s skin, making him feel ticklish—he could even feel its warmth.

Qi Jing lay back and bent his knees subconsciously, his whole body shrinking back. The pillow sank even further, while those two arms remained firmly rooted to the sides.

They were completely shrouded in darkness. The lamp was already turned off. He lay on the bed, and the hands of the person before him were pressed by the sides of his neck—it was a situation where he had no way to escape.

“Shen Yan… “ Startled, he called that person’s name hoa.r.s.ely, not even daring to blink.

The person above Qi Jing might have heard that, or not, either way he remained unmoving.

“Shen Yan…” Qi Jing finally lost his head realising that the other party might have taken his joke seriously, and said with a trembling voice, “I was joking just now.”

Rather than saying he was shy, it was more that he was scared.

They were both adults, and grown men at that. It would be a lie if he said he never thought that there would be some development during their stay under the same roof.

But considering his fractured hand, sleeping together on the first night with the possibility of some other ‘actions’ taking place… It exceeded his expectations, and he was unable to accept that as a matter of course.

Seeing the lack of any movements from Shen Yan, Qi Jing couldn’t help but take his hand out from beneath the quilt and push him lightly.

His fingers pressed against Shen Yan’s chest—it was an obvious gesture of resistance. It might have been because he was too tense, but his fingers couldn’t stop trembling.

The person above him finally moved and Qi Jing held his breath in that moment—he could no longer hear his own breaths anymore.

A moment later, the weight on his hand lightened and the thing he was pus.h.i.+ng against suddenly disappeared, leaving his empty gesture of resistance in the midair—it seemed like that chest had retreated.

“I know,” That low and husky voice could be heard in the darkness, seemingly carrying a hint of a forced smile, “I know you were joking… Don’t be afraid, don’t fear me.”

As Shen Yan said that, he moved his hand away from the pillow and turned one of them around to gently touch the hair on the side of Qi Jing’s face. With the back of his hand to Qi Jing, he intertwined a few locks of hair in his fingers, stroking it, combing it, comforting him carefully.

Qi Jing finally took back his hand which froze in place for a long time.

“Goodnight.” Seeing how he hid his hand back under the quilt, Shen Yan lowered his eyes slightly and said goodbye in a low voice, his smile somehow bleak.

It was their first time to say ‘goodnight’ to each other without being separated by the internet—it should have been a comforting memory, but because of him, that memory was now blemished.

Shen Yan moved both his hands away, allowing Qi Jing to lie down in peace while he took two steps back and stood, for a couple of seconds, at a distance where the other would feel safe. Later, he went around the bed, choosing a route that was as far as possible from it to go towards the door.

Shen Yan went out of the bedroom, closing the door gently. After hearing it close with a ‘clack’, he took his hand away from the door and blankly brought it to his forehead.

He hadn’t really meant to force Qi Jing to do anything just now, much less actually join Qi Jing in bed like he proposed; after all, he promised that he would wait… until the day Qi Jing gave his approval.

But regardless of that, when he heard Qi Jing’s words of encouragement, they already caused a stir in his heart. And when Qi Jing teased him time and time again, the thought of giving that man a kiss suddenly appeared in his mind just as he was about to leave—he only wanted to kiss his forehead, nothing more.

However, as reality has proven, breaking promises just wasn’t it… He had almost made Qi Jing repulsed, didn’t he?

Thinking back, he felt lingering fear, and his fingers started to feel chilly.

Shen Yan silently shook his head a few times to calm down. He turned off the light in the living room and returned to the study. Once in the room, he quietly sat on the chair for another fifteen minutes before finally going to sleep with his clothes on.

The bed in the study was very cramped. There was no s.p.a.ce to turn over so he lay on his back, staring quietly at the empty ceiling.

It was the time of the night where all was quiet and still, the distant street lights became the only source of light in the depth of night, sending a dim glow of light into the room despite the wall—unfortunately, even that couldn’t stop the white of the ceiling from being dyed grey by the dark of the night.

Grey is a colour of dreams. It’s because memories are black and white, so when their fragments intertwine, they turn into grey.

And most of the dreams are composed of memories.

He didn’t even know what time it was when he fell asleep and when that dream came.

It was a dream he hadn’t seen for a long time. In this dream, he was invisible. Just a single, simple camera len that framed all of the things before his eyes, including that rented apartment sealed away in the depths of his memory.

The iron doors were covered in rust, tightly closed all day long.

Those doors only opened at morning, noon, and evening, precisely at the times when the occupant left and came back from work, as well as at lunch break.

The upturned ‘good fortune‘ character pasted on the door was conveniently bought at the street stall last year, and its craftsmans.h.i.+p was crude—it had already started losing colour by the time the summer came. It looked worn out and old; the edges of an adhesive tape had already peeled off, curling up on the iron plate.

He was the one who put the tape on it. He was too young at that time, and didn’t know how to make it pretty or symmetrical. He just sat on the floor, and stuck it left and right crookedly, but at least he got the tape on there. Yet the ‘good fortune’ character on the door wasn’t stuck on by him, but by the woman in front of him who watched him fiddle with the tape. At the beginning, she was still smiling faintly, but the moment he crawled up to go out to stick on the character with her, that smile disappeared.

“Shen Yan,” The woman once again squatted down and placed a finger on her lips, making a shus.h.i.+ng gesture, “don’t talk, don’t say anything.”

He looked at the woman’s grave expression and nodded, sitting back silently and grabbing the leftover tape to play.

The woman didn’t move and continued, “Go back to play in the room, otherwise someone will see you when the doors are open.”

He nodded once again and tidied up the adhesive tape and small scissors obediently, putting them into a plastic box. He took it into his arms and went back to the bedroom, not forgetting to slowly close the door behind him.

The rented apartment made of one room and one living room was very simple and was barely decorated, but they could still get by while living a simple life.

The woman didn’t send him to kindergarten. Every day, she would get up and make breakfast in a hurry, and without enough time to make sure he finished eating, she would go out to work. At noon, she would come back during lunch break for a half an hour to make lunch, rest for a bit, then in the afternoon, she would go out once again and return in the evening.

In her absence, he would go to the cupboard himself to find his building blocks to build something, plasticine to play with, or pick out and slowly read the children’s book that woman bought for him. He might have not attended kindergarten, but in the evenings, she would teach him to read and write—after a long time, he learned to read those books by himself to get through those endless mornings and afternoons.

The phone in that house rarely rang, but sometimes, it would ring incessantly. At those times, the woman would sit on its side and stare fixedly at that phone, yet refuse to take the call.

Even if she took it, the woman would always warn him before picking up the receiver, “Shen Yan, don’t talk, don’t say anything.”

He nodded his head and went to the corner obediently to read his picture books.

Don’t talk, don’t say anything.

That was what the woman constantly indoctrinated in him. Once he finally got used to this psychological suggestion, he could only watch quietly, even if the woman was sitting alone on the chair, weeping after listening to the call.

For he knew that if he spoke without permission, the woman would hit him hard on the palm of the hand with a ruler, and he was not allowed to cry even though it hurt.

He had cried once before; it was probably too loud to be contained by the walls of the apartments and his crying accidentally travelled into the ears of the neighbours. Later, the married couple next door brought some handmade zongzi during the Dragon Boat Festival, planning to share them with neighbours. When it was their turn to be visited, the woman ordered him to hide in the room quickly and hid the children toys in the living room, and only then opened the door.

He sat behind the room door all by himself, not daring to move a muscle. He listened to how the woman standing at the door exchanged polite greetings and chatted with the couple, trying his best to not make any sound.

“That’s right, is there a child in your house?” Suddenly, that aunty asked curiously.

“There isn’t, I’m single.” The woman answered briefly, but an indistinct hint of fear could be heard in her voice.

“That’s right, you’re still so young.” That aunty complimented out of politeness.

“Eh, but I remember hearing a child crying here before… Maybe it was in a different apartment, not yours?” Her husband continued the topic with a smile. But the tones of their voices were carefree, without showing any interest in pursuing the topic earnestly.

“Maybe you heard wrong.” The woman smiled stiffly.

That mishap ended with him receiving the most hideous beating he could remember.

The woman blocked his mouth with a towel to prevent him from crying and alarming the neighbours, then he was beaten so hard with the pole of a chicken feather duster that his skin broke, and the blood trickled out incessantly.

“You mustn’t cry, you mustn’t make any noise! We were almost exposed by the neighbours today!” The woman scolded him angrily in a hushed voice.

He bit the towel rigidly with no strength to struggle, only able to hold in his tears and nod mechanically.

“Will you still be like this in the future!” The woman hissed out the question.

He shook his head feebly. From start to finish, he didn’t utter a sound—even after taking the towel out from his mouth, he was just sobbing in a weak voice.

The woman was probably tired from giving him a beating. She collapsed on the side of the bed, looking at him with those grim eyes. With half her make-up coming undone, she looked like a forlorn yet bitter ghost. He got up from the floor by himself, limping his way to her side through his pain and burying his head in the bedding to cry his fill, using the fabric to wipe away the tears which drenched his face. The woman threw the feather duster away and took him into her arms, then began choking with sobs.

“Shen Yan… You need to forgive mum.” The woman repeated like a broken record, “ If you were discovered, it wouldn’t be good for anyone. Do you understand?”

There was no expression on his face as he lay unmoving and stiff as a board in her arms. .

“In a word, just remember, it will be good as long as you don’t talk, don’t let them hear you.” The woman’s continuous mutters repeated in his ear like a curse.

Everything is good as long as I don’t talk, understood.

Even if he wanted to talk, n.o.body would listen to him.

T/N:

Lucilla chokes with sobs: WHERE IS MY KNIFE QAQ (And, is it, perhaps, a good moment to say Happy Year of Ox? I hope all of you will have a good year ^^)

whiteflare: [murmuring a mantra to calm down] Hurt people hurt people. BUT POOR BABY SHEN YAN.

lilies: (๑˃̥̩̥̥̥̥̆ಐ˂̩̩̥̥̩̥̆৭)