Midnight Owl Ch77

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 77: Trust

In regard to the “fair competition” proposal, Xu Wang was somewhat confident in Teacher Wei’s team, but he wasn’t sure about Han Buting’s team.

The “forceful breakout” at the amusement park and the “cupid sneak attack” at the villa made it difficult to establish a good impression between the two teams.

Moreover, the lone presence of Chi Yingxue on 6/23, following the events of 3/23, suggested that the atmosphere within Han Buting’s team was probably not great either.

The accumulated grudges were indeed a concern…

“We are on the puzzle-solving line,” Teacher Wei stated earnestly, showing a willingness for peace and cooperation.

With one side declaring their stance, Xu Wang naturally reciprocated.

“We are on the career line,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the room with a calm and confident air.

Wu Sheng, Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin, Qi Shan: “……”

Lying is easy, but only their team captain could make up such stories with such sincerity, down to every hair on his head.

Han Buting pondered for a while.

Li Xia remained typically gloomy, his eyes hidden behind his bangs, making it hard to gauge his attitude.

The two unfamiliar new teammates, one with a serious and calm demeanor and the other indifferent, also showed no specific inclination.

Only Li Zijin, as lively as ever, nearly desperately signaled his disagreement to Han Buting, but the captain seemed not to notice.

Xu Wang suspected Han Buting’s criteria for choosing teammates were “silent + aloof”.

It must be hard for the energetic young Li Zijin to match the team’s “deep” vibe.

“We are on the joy line,” Han Buting finally said after careful consideration.

His words seemed to relax the tense nerves in the room, at least unconsciously.

Puzzle-solving line, career line, joy line.

True or not, at least there were no overt conflicts on the surface.

A temporary peace agreement was reached between the three teams.

Xu Wang and Dark Circles exchanged glances, seeing familiar and bright smiles on each other’s faces.

It was the joy of a successful deal.

Xu Wang was about to high-five the other team when he was suddenly pulled aside by the collar.

“That’s enough,” Wu Sheng said with an aloof face reminiscent of Han Buting’s team. “In case we end up fighting each other later, won’t it be awkward to remember this closeness?”

Xu Wang was bewildered. “Isn’t your definition of closeness a bit broad…”

“Career line captain, I don’t mean to interrupt your… intimate interaction.” Han Buting finally found a word to describe it. “But could you first help us clear up a doubt? I believe the puzzle-solving line captain has the same thought.”

Xu Wang, still rolling his eyes at Wu Sheng, turned to see that the other two teams hadn’t moved an inch, still not in “search for their own clues” mode. All eyes were quietly on them as before.

Wu Sheng released his grip on his team captain’s collar.

Captain Xu straightened his clothes and composed himself, standing dignified like a proper team captain. “Please speak.”

Han Buting: “Each team has five members. Why do you have six?”

Wei Menghan nodded, adding to Han Buting’s question. “And a team mascot.”

Xu Wang turned to look at his team.

The elderly writer smiled kindly.

Xu Wang held his forehead, having completely forgotten they had an NPC with them, and quickly pointed to the wall. “That’s the painting we mentioned.”

The previously quiet elderly man, as if waiting for this cue, immediately went forward eagerly, his cane tapping a rapid rhythm on the carpet, mirroring his inner urgency.

Once in front of the painting, the elderly man stood still, gazing intently and appreciatively.

Xu Wang, seeing the expressions of the other teams, knew no further explanation was needed and simply said, “Mission NPC.” He glanced at the dog beside Qi Shan. “This one is our defense stationery.”

Wei Menghan had no more questions and turned to his teammates. “Let’s get to work.”

His team dispersed, seemingly ready to conduct a thorough search of the room.

Han Buting also didn’t waste more time and nodded to his team.

They sat down in a circle, ready for their task.

Xu Wang, knowing his destination was the painting and seeing that the other teams had no interest in it, was naturally relieved.

However, his teammates couldn’t help but glance at Han Buting’s team as they walked towards the painting, curious about their formation.

“Are they playing poker for the joy line?” Qian Ai was already standing in front of the painting. He was genuinely worried for the other team. “It’s hard to pair up five people for a game.”

Xu Wang looked at the fire in the painting. “Five-player Fight the Landlord, three against two.”

Kuang Jinxin looked at the kissing couple under the tree. “Could it be Werewolf?”

Wu Sheng gestured at the onlookers. “No, they don’t have enough players.”

“….” Han Buting’s team, trying to focus for the 101st time, failed.

In such a small room, could they not gossip about others unless they’re in the bathroom?!

Li Zijin resisted shouting but couldn’t stop glaring.

And just as he glared, he met Qi Shan’s gaze.

Li Zijin, unfamiliar with Qi Shan, felt uncomfortable under his stare.

Frowning in warning, Li Zijin glared back.

But Qi Shan kept looking.

Li Zijin became irritated. “Why are you staring at me—”

His outburst disrupted the meditation of his four teammates and also stunned Xu Wang’s team.

The two teams glanced at each other and searched among themselves, temporarily unsure who Li Zijin was yelling at.

Qi Shan was already focused on the painting.

“Don’t get distracted,” Han Buting advised Li Zijin tersely, wanting to avoid any unnecessary complications.

Confused and frustrated, Li Zijin reluctantly closed his eyes again and re-engaged in his team’s “mission line”.

This minor incident didn’t affect the main course of action. Han Buting’s team soon entered a focused state, and Xu Wang’s team also began earnestly searching for clues in the painting along with the elderly man.

After ten minutes, nothing happened.

Han Buting’s team still sat quietly, almost making one wonder if their mission line was “yoga meditation”.

Xu Wang’s team scrutinized the painting until their eyes hurt, but the painting remained unchanged, not even showing signs of the “burning” they had experienced before.

Wei Menghan’s team had it even tougher. While the other two teams remained “stationary”, they practically tore the room apart yet found nothing.

All three teams were at a standstill, but none were willing to give up.

The clues clearly pointed to this room.

“Forget the painting.” Xu Wang changed tactics. “Let’s search the room for other clues.”

His teammates agreed and dispersed evenly: one checked the windows, another flipped the carpet, startling Teacher Wei.

“Why are you also turning the place upside down?” Teacher Wei asked warily, his eyes questioning if this was actually their mission line.

“Our focus is really on the painting.” Xu Wang sighed. “But since the painting isn’t responding, we can’t just hang our hopes on one thing.”

Teacher Wei resonated with his words. “Strange, we also followed clues here, but now we can’t find anything either.”

While the two team captains pondered deeply, the eight team members had already begun a thorough search.

Paper Thin Zhu Mo, and Kuang Jinxin both ended up in the same corner, one knocking on the wall, the other flipping the carpet, in good spirits.

Unburdened by the same concerns as his team captain, Zhu Mo was more interested in gossip and whispered to Kuang Jinxin, “Did you guys have issues with them?”

Nodding, Kuang Jinxin honestly replied, “We met them in 3/23.”

Zhu Mo wasn’t surprised by the answer and teased quietly. “How did you make enemies? Did you trick them too?”

Kuang Jinxin, carefully inspecting the lifted carpet without looking up, replied seriously, “We beat them fair and square. We only tricked your team.”

His tone carried no hidden emotions, just a straightforward answer to the question.

Zhu Mo was caught off guard by the response, especially the unabashed honesty of the latter part, and couldn’t help but laugh.

At the bed’s side.

While Xu Wang was re-fluffing the blankets tossed by Teacher Wei’s team, he occasionally glanced at Qi Shan, who was carefully inspecting the window.

It wasn’t that Xu Wang didn’t trust his teammate, but he had observed for ten minutes that Li Zijin’s “Why are you staring at me” was indeed directed at his own teammate.

Qi Shan would glance over at Li Zijin occasionally, seemingly unintentionally. However, having stealthily watched Wu Sheng countless times in high school, Captain Xu was too familiar with this tactic and could easily discern whether it was “unintentional” or not.

His view was suddenly blocked by a figure.

Looking up, he saw Advisor Wu frowning.

“New team members don’t need to be watched like that.” Wu Sheng had been observing for ten minutes, and it seemed like their team captain was about to glue his eyes to Qi Shan.

Speechless, Xu Wang pulled Wu Sheng close, whispering in a barely audible voice only for the two of them. “His gaze at Li Zijin is off.”

Wu Sheng observed Qi Shan for a few seconds. “Looks normal to me.”

“……” Xu Wang gave up. “Forget it. Just focus on finding clues. That’s your strength.”

After a brief silence, Wu Sheng suddenly asked in a low voice, “What’s bothering you?”

Xu Wang looked at him, puzzled.

“It’s not about Qi Shan,” Wu Sheng said. “You’ve been distracted since we left 1829.”

1829 was the room of the girl with the braided hair.

There, Wu Sheng had deciphered the love letter code.

There, Xu Wang was reminded of the five letters from his home.

And he had been preoccupied with it ever since.

Xu Wang’s heartbeat suddenly became erratic, like a disco. He was surprised that Wu Sheng had been watching him and even more surprised that his distraction was so noticeable.

Worse, looking into Wu Sheng’s eyes, he couldn’t think straight. His lie-generating system was crashing.

After a long struggle, he managed a barely convincing, “I’m not distracted…”

Wu Sheng became serious and a bit stern. “I don’t care what you’re thinking about, but from now on, forget it.”

Xu Wang was startled by this response and froze for a moment.

Wu Sheng softened his tone, but his attitude remained firm. “This is both a challenge and a test. We need to be ready for any unexpected events and finish before all the other teams. Any distraction increases the risk.”

“It would be great if this were an exam hall.” Xu Wang sighed regretfully.

Wu Sheng was startled by the change.

Xu Wang gave him a disdainful look that said “stupid”. “If this were an exam hall and we were on the same team, sitting next to each other, I could just copy your answers. We’d finish in minutes and wouldn’t have to be stuck here, right?”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Reason told him he should retort.

Instinct invited him to come over for a treat.

This treat was called “Trust from Xu Wang”. The candy wrapper was colorful, too pretty to unwrap. Just looking at it could sweeten one’s heart.

Kuang Jinxin: “What is the captain and the advisor discussing?”

Qi Shan: “They’re speaking too softly. I can’t hear.”

Qian Ai: “But the atmosphere seems… harmonious?”

Qi Shan: “Why does that sound like a question…”

“Hey—” Phoenix Eyes couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Got it, got it.” Qian Ai hurriedly smoothed things over, shouting to their captain for the second time, “Captain, advisor—”

This time, they finally pulled those two out of whatever dimension they were in.

When Xu Wang looked up, he saw Han Buting’s team standing up, and Wei Menghan’s team had finished searching. The two teams were distinctly separate, but their gazes were unified, all looking towards them.

Captain Xu understood in a flash. “Ready to go?”

Qian Ai, who was about to explain, was shocked by his understanding…

Han Buting remained silent, only acknowledging with his eyes.

Wei Menghan, however, added a few more words. “We can’t delay any longer. We can’t find it here, so we’re changing locations. If we meet again later…”

Xu Wang understood. “It depends on the situation.”

The ceasefire agreement was set by all three parties, and naturally, a mutual heads-up was needed for its termination.

Otherwise, Han Buting and Wei Menghan could just lead their teams away.

Wu Sheng didn’t pay any attention to the changes in the situation here. Having just finished appreciating the candy wrapper, he was now in a fully energized state, with his mind running uncontrollably like a carousel, clicking and moving like a stampede of thousands of horses. From the moment he entered this situation until now, every minute, every second, every detail had been perfectly recreated.

Human aura truly exists.

Like right now.

Everyone felt the unusual flow of air. It formed the words “wisdom” and “intelligence”, swirling around him with his eyes closed.

“Don’t mind us. Our advisor is going through the files.” Qian Ai politely made way for the other teams. “You can leave this way.”

Just as the two teams were about to step forward.

Wu Sheng suddenly opened his eyes and strode forward, heading straight for the white-haired elderly man in front of the oil painting!

Han Buting and Wei Menghan’s teams naturally split apart, maintaining a safe distance, but they were too curious about Wu Sheng’s next move to leave just yet.

“Please take this.” Advisor Wu took out a small card from his pocket and forcibly handed it to the bewildered elderly man. “The questions have been improved, making it easier to start thinking.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

All this fuss just to hand out a flier?!

Han Buting held his forehead, realizing that expecting this team to break the game was wishful thinking.

“When we asked you the first time, you said you wanted to write a novel about revenge.” Wu Sheng suddenly changed the topic. “But when we found you the second time, you said revenge was just one of the novels you were thinking of?”

The elderly man holding the card slowly raised his head. There was a kind look in his eyes now, mixed with something unusual. “Yes, besides revenge, I have conceived another novel.”

Wu Sheng asked, “What’s the theme? Can you tell us?”

The elderly man replied, “Space.”

A hint of surprise flashed in Wu Sheng’s eyes. He had thought the other theme would be key to their mission, but it seemed he was wrong.

But it wasn’t bad.

Wu Sheng: “Can you be more specific?”

Elderly Man: “The recording and reading of space on a medium.”

Wu Sheng: “Can I understand it as saving?”

The elderly man smiled, his voice gentle and warm. “Do you want to save?”

Wu Sheng’s lips curled up. “Of course.”

Xu Wang, Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin, Qi Shan: “……”

Han Buting’s team: “……”

Wei Menghan’s team: “You guys must have chosen the VIP route…”

The elderly man tapped his cane on the carpet, and the spot where it touched instantly rippled like water.

However, the two observing teams also moved, each donning their stationery.

Qi Shan’s dog sensed the sudden change in the atmosphere, letting out a powerful bark.

Only then did Wu Sheng come back to his senses, the abrupt change in the situation catching him off guard.

Xu Wang was also confused, but seeing the situation, he roughly understood. “Can only one team save at a save point?”

Han Buting frowned, as if to ask, “You didn’t know that?”

“This level is mostly about exclusive save points.” Wei Menghan’s “friendly explanation” was much clearer, although this “friendship” might be temporarily on hold.

Xu Wang fell silent. Given the current situation, he wasn’t confident about winning against either Han Buting or Wei Menghan. Moreover, while fighting one, he had to guard against the other’s sneak attack.

Should he ally with Wei Menghan first?

As Xu Wang pondered, Wu Sheng also felt frustrated. He was too caught up in the moment, forgetting to be cautious. Having only saved once, their experience was severely lacking, and their analysis of the rules might be biased.

“In the game, everyone can use the save points.” Kuang Jinxin didn’t believe what others said and looked directly at the elderly man for confirmation. “Can you only save for one team? Why is that?”

“There is no why,” the elderly man replied. “For each mission line, only one team can save here.”

Kuang Jinxin frowned. “But our three teams have different mission lines, so why can only one team save?”

“The mission lines are different, so saving does not conflict with each other,” the elderly man explained.

Kuang Jinxin blinked.

The elderly man continued to be benevolent.

Kuang Jinxin turned to Xu Wang. “Captain, I’m a bit confused…”

Xu Wang glanced at the fully armed two teams. “It’s okay. Being confused is better than feeling awkward.”

Han Buting’s team: “……”

Wei Menghan’s team: “……”

This isn’t a VIP line. This is like buying a fast pass…

Without saying anything more, the three team captains put their hands on the elder’s cane to check, and soon the cane emitted a warm light, and the elder nodded in relief. “Different mission lines, can save.”

The cane touched the ground again, and as the ripples spread, the three teams successfully saved.

“Thank you for bringing me to see the paintings,” the elder said to Xu Wang and the others. “Now I have new inspiration and need to go back to create. You can come over for tea again when you have time.”

After speaking, the elderly man left.

The three teams: “……”

Could this exit be any more abrupt!

“Captain!” Li Zijin suddenly stared intently at the spot where they had just sat in a circle. “The Devil’s pattern!”

Han Buting was shocked and immediately led his team over, unable to believe that what they had summoned for so long had just appeared out of nowhere.

“Thump, thump.”

Zhu Mo, who had returned to the corner of the room, knocked on the wall again, confirming his intuition at the end. “Teacher Wei, this is empty.”

Ji Yunlei, the only new face in Wei Menghan’s team, rushed over first, knocked twice, and gave his teammates a confirming look. “It’s definitely here, no mistake!”

A young man in his mid-twenties, with wheat-colored skin, full of vitality, and a wild handsomeness.

Xu Wang could tell at a glance that the two from Han Buting’s team were new members, but this wheat-skin guy was definitely a regular teammate of Wei Menghan’s team, with trust built up over a long period evident in their glances and attitudes.

Wait a minute.

If both their teams had discoveries…

Xu Wang shuddered, looking sharply at his four teammates.

The four teammates nodded solemnly and directed their captain’s gaze towards the painting.

In the painting, the flames became more real.

“Boom—”

Wei Menghan and Ji Yunlei, working together, broke open the wall, and indeed, there was a secret passage.

In the dusty room, Xu Wang raised his hand honestly. “Well, since everyone has found something, we might need to start burning too…”

Han Buting, who was studying the devil’s pattern, looked up. “Burn?”

Wei Menghan turned around. “Burn what?”

The flames in the painting suddenly leaped out, igniting the walls around!

The temperature in the room instantly rose!

Wei Menghan’s team took a big step back in shock. “What the hell?”

They were asking about Xu Wang’s team’s “fire”, but as they spoke, a disheveled woman in white crawled out of the secret passage. When she climbed to the entrance of the cave, she stopped and raised her faceless head.

Wei Menghan’s scalp was about to explode. Unable to think of new words, he repeated, “What the hell—”

“Don’t block us! This is ours!”

Li Zijin rushed over first, followed closely by Li Xia, then Han Buting and the two new teammates.

Wei Menghan’s team was frightened, and Xu Wang’s team wasn’t faring much better.

The fire had already caused panic, and now a ghost too?!

Qian Ai couldn’t stand it anymore. “Aren’t you on the joy line?”

Li Zijin and Li Xia, together, affixed a talisman to the ghost’s forehead, and then, along with Han Buting, who had arrived, quickly arranged a ghost-exorcism formation.

At this point, there was nothing to hide.

Han Buting said, “We are the horror line.”

Zou Jun, or Phoenix Eyes, didn’t care about Han Buting’s line, just asking one question. “Can you get her out first and then deal with it! We need to go through the secret passage!”

Qian Ai: “Even the puzzle line needs to go through the secret passage?”

Wei Menghan gave him a knowing look, “We are in the escape line.”

Qian Ai: “……”

He didn’t understand. What about the basic trust between people?!

Wei Menghan: “Does your career line also need to enter the sea of fire?”

Qian Ai: “Oh, we are in the love line.”


The author has a message to say:

The three team captain actors express, “What is sharing one’s heart? We don’t understand~~” (~ ̄▽ ̄)~


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch76

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 76: Tacit Understanding

Beijing time: 01:05.

From 1301 to 1829, then back to 1074.

The teammates spent most of their time hanging out in the corridor. Qian Ai walked to the point of questioning life. “Five minutes of puzzle-solving, one hour of walking…”

Even the [(Defense) Transparent Dream Team] couldn’t hold on. Five minutes ago, its time expired, and it called it quits unilaterally.

Fortunately, they reached 1074.

The least tired among them was Captain Xu. He was immersed in “Letter Memoirs” the whole way. By the time he came to his senses, he was already standing in front of room 1074, embodying the saying, “Close your eyes, and when you open them, it’s dawn.”

His teammates were waiting for him to speak. Xu Wang quickly switched back to “challenger mode”, grabbed the doorknob, and gently pressed.

The door was locked.

Looking left and right, ensuring no colleagues were nearby, Xu Wang gently knocked on door 1074.

As the knock sounded, the lock clicked open by itself.

A dim, strange light shone from inside the door.

The five cautiously entered the room, staying alert and quiet throughout.

Inside, it was pitch black, with no sight of bedding, decorations, or windows—like entering a dark cave, illuminated only by a bright spot in the center. It was a crystal ball on a table, emitting a cold light. Behind the table was a gypsy with her face covered in a veil. The cold light of the crystal ball reflected her snake-like eyes, making it mysterious and eerie.

“Hello…” Xu Wang, leading the team, stood at the entrance, trying to muster a friendly smile, and waved at the woman.

The gypsy lifted her gaze, sweeping it over the five people, remaining silent.

“Can she understand?” Qian Ai murmured softly, then raised his voice a bit. “Nice to meet you!”

Xu Wang: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qi Shan: “Um, what the captain said seems to be in English too…”

“Do you know the girl from room 1829?” Wu Sheng got straight to the point. “We’re helping her find someone to communicate with.”

The gypsy placed her hands on the crystal ball. After a few seconds, a black mist appeared in it.

“Evil spirit.” These were the first words she said as she raised her head.

Her voice was low and husky, not like she was having a conversation but more like chanting a mysterious and ancient spell.

The atmosphere became more oppressive.

“Is there a connection between the evil spirit and the communicator?” Xu Wang asked the key question.

The gypsy didn’t follow up, instead continuing to look at the crystal ball. “The evil spirit is in this castle, day after day, burning with the flames of vengeance. Hatred keeps it alive, and jealousy drives its paranoia. The only way to avoid the evil spirit—”

She slowly lifted her gaze back to them. “Deception.”

Kuang Jinxin: “Deceive the evil spirit?”

The gypsy shifted to his face, finally responding, “Yes. Use a decoy to deceive the evil spirit, let the fires of hell burn the decoy, and you can safely avoid it.”

Kuang Jinxin asked, “What about the decoy then?”

The gypsy woman said, “Endure the pain.”

Kuang Jinxin frowned. “That’s unfair…”

The gypsy woman gently stroked the crystal ball, and the black mist inside slowly dissipated. “Only those who are willing can become a decoy and deceive the evil spirit.”

Kuang Jinxin had no response.

Willingness leaves no room for others to comment.

“What if we don’t want to avoid it?” Wu Sheng suddenly asked.

The gypsy woman paused. A hint of confusion glazed her eyes. Clearly, this was outside her “divination scope”.

Xu Wang spoke for his advisor, clarifying, “We want to eliminate the evil spirit. How do we do that?”

“No, wait.” Qian Ai squeezed between them. “Calm down, you two. No matter how you spin this, this plot looks like it did a 360° to the horror line. We can’t steal someone else’s mission…”

Wu Sheng shook his head. “You need to look beyond the surface.”

Xu Wang looked deeply at him. “Lao Qian, this is about love.”

Qian Ai: “……”

The world is full of dog food. Why must it be eaten in a haunted house?!

Feeling heartbroken, Qian Ai moved away from the two, seeking comfort from Classmate Kuang, only to find him chatting with Classmate Qi.

…Five people walking together instantly highlight the single ones.

Covering his broken heart, Qian Ai couldn’t help but eavesdrop with one ear.

Kuang Jinxin: “This love story is not good.”

He wasn’t sure what was discussed earlier, but this was what Qian Ai heard.

“Game storylines are like this,” Qi Shan said, like an experienced gamer. “They have to be torturous to show depth of feelings.”

“It’s not about torture,” Kuang Jinxin said. “It’s okay for the decoy to be willing, but does the one who avoids the evil spirit know?”

Qi Shan couldn’t follow. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Kuang Jinxin nodded seriously. “If the one who avoids the evil spirit also loves the decoy, they wouldn’t agree to let the other suffer.”

Qi Shan: “Maybe they don’t know?”

Kuang Jinxin: “How sad would they be if they found out?”

Qi Shan: “…This love story is indeed not that great.”

Qian Ai listened to the whole process of Qi Shan being convinced. As an “experienced person”, he wasn’t surprised by the outcome.

Although his captain was eloquent, when it came to “preaching”, Kuang Jinxin was the master, silently persuasive as the wind.

Meanwhile, Advisor Wu and Captain Xu were close to making the gypsy cry, but the answer remained the same—she didn’t know which room the evil spirit was in and that it could only be avoided, not destroyed.

“Don’t you have any letters for us?” Captain Xu suddenly wondered.

The gypsy’s expression looked like she wanted to send them away.

Captain Xu sighed and whispered to Wu Sheng, “She’s like a mother to Xiao Kuang, but a stepmother to us…”

Wu Sheng consoled his captain. “You can’t compare yourself to a youth blessed by the gods.”

Captain Xu wasn’t satisfied. “Where am I lacking?”

Wu Sheng asked, “Are you seriously asking?”

Xu Wang: “…No thanks!”

That guy definitely had a stomach full of “harsh truths” waiting for him!

Wu Sheng laughed, unsure why he was happy. Ever since the love line began, he felt great. When he’s in a good mood, his mind opens up. Suddenly, he walked towards the back of the gypsy, and in a few steps, was swallowed by the darkness.

Xu Wang was startled and quickly followed, but after a few steps, the view suddenly brightened.

Wu Sheng turned on the flashlight on his phone.

Now they could see more clearly. There was no dark cave, just an empty hotel room devoid of furniture. The walls were covered with thick curtains, blocking out all light.

Looking at each other, Xu Wang nodded.

Wu Sheng immediately stepped forward and pulled the curtain halfway open!

Bright sunshine flooded in.

The light from the crystal ball was insignificant under the sun. The previously mysterious and oppressive atmosphere vanished.

“We should have done this earlier…” Qian Ai felt the relief of exiting a haunted house and hurriedly pulled the curtains fully open.

Like the room of the girl with the braided hair, behind the gypsy woman was a bright window. Through the glass, one could see the hotel’s expansive lawn and the clear blue sky…

“Ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh—”

Something flew past the window, leaving behind a series of piercing screams.

The five friends were unprepared and were momentarily stunned.

“Ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh—”

That “thing” flew back, still at the speed of light, but this time it circled around outside the window for a while before flying out of view. The friends could now make out that it was a young man riding a broom.

This scene was common in magic movies.

But the magicians in the movies definitely didn’t wear fluorescent green jackets.

The friends no longer paid attention to the gypsy. They all moved past the fortune-telling table to the window and saw clearly that there wasn’t just one broom flying outside, but five.

Their flight path resembled balloons wildly deflating.

Even so, they continued to encourage each other amidst screams—

“Hang in there—”

“Not falling is a victory—”

“My balls hurts. Ahhh—”

“You’ll get used to the pain—”

“No pain, no gain.”

“You fucking chose this line, and now you’re here giving me pep talks*?!”

*Chicken soup. It’s a metaphor referring to things (usually writings or articles) which affect motivation and make you feel good reading them, kind of like how eating chicken soup soothes the soul.

The five friends fell into an awkward silence.

Half a minute later, Xu Wang broke it. “This must be the ‘joy’ line…”

Qian Ai swallowed. “Where’s the joy?”

Kuang Jinxin said bluntly, “The brooms seem happy.”

Wu Sheng and Qi Shan: “……”

The ‘joy’ line made those who didn’t choose it feel a sense of relief from having narrowly escaped death.

After briefly observing the other team’s mission line, the friends were glad they made the right choice. They turned around to search the room more thoroughly but were startled the next second.

The gypsy had disappeared.

Only the crystal ball remained on the fortune-telling table.

Qian Ai’s scalp tingled. “Is she a fortune teller or a vampire…”

As if in response, a small flame suddenly appeared in the crystal ball.

Quickly, the flame turned into four burning numbers—1314.

Qian Ai frowned. “This room…”

Wu Sheng: “We’ve been there at the beginning.”

Xu Wang: “The writer.”

Kuang Jinxin: “Came here for inspiration.”

Qi Shan: “Wanting to write a revenge story.”

…Is there no way out for the underachievers!

The clues were clear, and the five friends immediately set out.

As they opened the door, the team opposite them did the same.

Ten friends looked at each other. One from the opposite team and Wu Sheng immediately raised their arms!

Clearly, teams that had made it this far had tactical rehearsals for sudden enemy encounters. Otherwise, multiple people activating defense stationery would waste a lot of time.

In an instant.

A white railing rose in front of the other team, encircling them like a protective barrier. On Xu Wang’s side, a majestic large wolf dog appeared, sitting in front of the five people, eyeing the other team as if challenging them to try something.

Wu Sheng was startled; this wasn’t his defense stationery.

Xu Wang, Kuang Jinxin, and Qian Ai felt the same, having memorized the equipment list during their strategic planning.

[Owl: Someone used [(Defense) Guard Dog] on you~~]

Xu Wang was the first to turn his head, looking at Qi Shan.

Following his lead, the friends realized this was the new teammate’s stationery.

Qi Shan was uncertain if he had done the right thing. He had just been called out before, and any tactic required communication first. But in such situations, it’s all about reflex, with no time to report…

“We are on the escape line.” The person across cut straight to the point, drawing back the attention of the five.

Xu Wang reciprocated. “We are on the career line.”

Twenty eyes met, all proud and upright, creating a harmonious scene.

“We’re heading that way.” Xu Wang pointed in the direction of 1314, speaking the truth this time.

The other team sighed in relief. Though the change in their expression was subtle, Xu Wang still caught it.

“We’ll go the other way.” The other team pointed in the opposite direction.

Xu Wang nodded. “Farewell for now.”

The other team also nodded. “Until we meet again.”

Before real conflicts of interest arise, no one wants to start a fight.

Provoking a third party would be counterproductive.

One group headed east, the other west, retreating face-to-face until the other’s figure was almost indiscernible. Then they each turned around and went their separate ways.

“Impressive,” Wu Sheng complimented Qi Shan sincerely as he caught up with him.

Qi Shan, walking ahead, almost stumbled in surprise and looked at him bewilderedly. “Huh?”

Xu Wang, walking beside them, explained, “His defense hadn’t activated yet, but yours had already appeared. He thinks your reaction speed is incredibly fast, so it’s impressive.”

Qi Shan: “……”

Can one word really carry so much meaning…?

“You’ll get used to it.” Qian Ai shared his experience with the new team member. “There’s a devilish understanding between those two.”

Xu Wang and Wu Sheng: “Your choice of adjectives…”

Qian Ai: “See, here it comes!”

Sheng and Wang: “…”

Qi Shan laughed, feeling more relaxed, and let it slip. “I specifically trained my reaction speed.”

The four teammates paused and looked at him, puzzled.

Qi Shan explained, “I wanted to be a professional esports player.”

Xu Wang: “Wanted to?”

Qi Shan: “Yeah, but although you can train for speed, my awareness wasn’t up to par, so I didn’t make it. It just became a hobby.”

“Can you train for awareness?” Kuang Jinxin asked, not being a gamer and not quite understanding the field.

Qi Shan said, “You can, but those with natural talent work just as hard, so you end up having no chance.”

Kuang Jinxin nodded, indicating he understood.

Xu Wang wanted to offer some consolation, but he quickly realized that Qi Shan’s eyes lacked regret. Instead, they still sparkled brightly. He truly loved esports, so much so that even being a spectator filled him with passion and longing.

Xu Wang decided not to say more. The group, along with their watchdog, proceeded quietly and swiftly to room 1314.

Inside, an elderly man was drinking red tea and watching the wildly flying brooms outside the window.

Qian Ai, trailing behind, carefully closed the room door.

Xu Wang, leading the way, opened with, “We’re back…”

The elderly man was delighted and smiled warmly. “I was just worrying about not having someone to talk to this afternoon, with all the ghastly screaming outside…”

Xu Wang tried to restrain himself from looking outside and asked, “You mentioned before that you were working on a new story about revenge?”

The elderly man clarified precisely. “To be accurate, it’s one of the new works I’m contemplating.”

Xu Wang asked, “Can you tell us more about it?”

When they had previously visited the room, the old man wasn’t so talkative; otherwise, they would have engaged in a deeper conversation then. Xu Wang figured that it must be the selection of their mission line that had truly triggered the corresponding NPC’s in-depth storyline.

“I haven’t really fleshed out the plot yet. I just heard a legend and thought to come here to find inspiration…” the elderly man said calmly, sipping his tea.

Xu Wang eagerly asked, “What legend?”

The elderly man set down his teacup and began slowly. “The legend says that in the Middle Ages, this place was just an ordinary village. Due to the rampant Black Death, anything associated with evil magic was blamed for this terrifying disease. The primary targets were witches, but in reality, those killed were innocent girls…”

The five friends exchanged looks.

Witches?

Coincidentally, they had met one.

Not only met, but also had been “warmly hosted”…

“In this village, there was such a girl who was accused of being a witch. Soon, the villagers executed her by burning her at the stake…”

“But afterwards, real evil spirits began to appear in the village. People died or were injured, and those who were lucky enough to survive quickly moved away…”

“Over time, the village was abandoned. Later, a nobleman who owned this land, for some reason, decided to build a castle here. Once the castle was completed and the nobleman moved in, his family never had peace again…”

“Then it comes to today.” The elderly man sighed, seemingly tired, but his eyes were still ablaze with a writer’s fervent passion. “Although the castle has now become a hotel, it is said that the evil spirit still lingers within, wandering restlessly.”

“Is it room 1310?” Xu Wang, who had been quiet the entire time, asked directly after the elderly man finished.

The elderly man looked bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

Xu Wang honestly replied, “We saw a painting in room 1310, depicting a witch being executed, and the walls had burn marks.”

The elderly man stood up excitedly. “Quick, take me to see it!”

Xu Wang was taken aback. “Huh?”

The elderly man had already firmly grasped his hand. “Quickly, take me to room 1310—”

The five friends: “……”

Shouldn’t he be the one guiding them? What kind of twist is this, where the challengers lead the NPC!

Having no choice, Xu Wang couldn’t bear to shake off the elderly man’s grip—mainly because he couldn’t—so he led the whole team, along with the elderly man, to room 1310.

The door to room 1310 was ajar.

Xu Wang stopped abruptly in front of the door, listening intently. His teammates behind him entered a “ready for battle” state.

The room was eerily quiet, without a sound.

Xu Wang frowned and, after seeking the consent of his teammates with a glance, pushed the door open.

Inside, two teams were in a standoff.

One line stood on the left, the other on the right, tense and alert, their expressions sharp. Hearing the noise, they all turned in unison—ten faces like ten elite monsters.

Captain Xu stopped at the entrance, wishing he could cut off the leg he used to walk in just now.

Behind him, his four teammates, except for the puzzled Qi Shan, understood their captain’s complex emotions.

A chance meeting on a narrow path between two familiar teams…

On the left were Han Buting, Li Xia, and Li Zijin, along with two new teammates they hadn’t met before. On the right were Muscles, Dark Circles, Paper Thin, Phoenix Eyes, and a new teammate.

Han Buting’s trio always looked cold, but their expressions darkened further upon recognizing them.

The expressions of Teacher Wei’s team were much more varied, including surprise, astonishment, squinting, raised eyebrows, and confusion.

Deciding who to greet first was an obvious issue.

But Captain Xu had to first engage in rapid calculations.

In just four days to turn in their submission for the Moonlight Maze, if Teacher Wei’s team had gone back to the first level, they would need to clear two single-level records to catch up—a probability that was just too low. The most likely scenario was that they had saved their progress in the Moonlight Maze.

“Did you save your progress?” Captain Xu directed this opener at Teacher Wei. His smile was warm and familiar, skipping formalities to quickly bridge the distance between them.

In a standoff between two armies, suddenly a third party arrives. Wei Menghan was also glad it was a team they had a “meal’s acquaintance” with. “Yes, did you save too?”

Captain Xu seemed to ponder but was actually continuing his rapid calculations.

If they had saved their progress and entered the Moonlight Maze with the opposing team the next day, then if the other team submitted their work, they would inevitably have to return to the first level. How could they be here on 6/23? It didn’t add up.

Wait, if he could figure this out, couldn’t the top-scoring Teacher Wei as well?

Xu Wang suddenly understood.

What’s most taboo during a three-way standoff? Making enemies.

Understanding but not revealing, they could still be friends…

“Yes,” Xu Wang firmly replied. His head was spinning with logic. What a tough job for a team captain!

Wei Menghan and Xu Wang exchanged looks.

Between the two captains, a silent “exchange of glances” took place.

Wu Sheng: “……”

Is such a simple logical relationship worth such a long stare!

Equally impatient was Han Buting—

“If you want to form an alliance, please hurry up. We don’t have time to watch you cultivate feelings.”

Forming an alliance meant breaking the balance and inevitably starting a battle.

Xu Wang looked at Han Buting, then at Wei Menghan, feeling they probably didn’t want to start a battle either. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have just stood there until his team arrived.

“We just met another team in the corridor.” Xu Wang didn’t pick up on Han Buting’s cue, suddenly bringing up something seemingly unrelated.

Feng Rang, the one with dark circles who had recommended financial products to Qian Ai, immediately understood and asked, “And then?”

Xu Wang: “We exchanged information about our mission lines, so there was no conflict.”

Feng Rang: “So?”

Xu Wang: “We parted ways, happily.”

Feng Rang: “Your point is. If our mission lines don’t conflict…”

Xu Wang: “We go our separate ways.”

Feng Rang: “What if the clues are all in this room?”

Xu Wang: “Find our own. Rely on our own abilities.”

Feng Rang: “I think that’s a good idea.”

With that, the two looked at their surrounding teammates, their smiles warm and inviting. “What do you think?”

This kind of tacit understanding was likely cultivated through selling financial products and real estate.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch75

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 75: Letters

With the pop-up of the task line option, the friends retreated back to the empty room 1301 they had initially left.

With the door tightly shut and the atmosphere quieted down, in the first minute, the friends either stared at their arms in deep thought or gazed at the ceiling in contemplation, with no one speaking.

Choosing one out of six wasn’t difficult, but if, among these six paths, some were as blissful as heaven and others as nightmarish as hell, then the choice had to be made carefully.

“Career line seems the safest.” Qian Ai decided first, mainly because he relied on instinct rather than logical analysis. “Who would choose the horror line? And the joy line… Are we sure it’s us who will be happy, not the NPCs?”

“Ah.” Kuang Jinxin felt a bit disappointed. “I actually wanted to choose the joy line…”

Qi Shan also felt a bit down. “The horror line could be quite thrilling…”

Qian Ai, not expecting his words to dampen the spirits of two teammates, hastily corrected himself. “I must have overthought it. The joy line surely means pure happiness!”

Qi Shan: “?”

Qian Ai: “?”

Qi Shan: “……”

Does his choice of the horror line not deserve any comforting reassurance?!

Three people, three directions. Kuang Jinxin decisively asked the leaders. “Captain, Sheng Ge, which one do you want to choose?”

Xu Wang didn’t even have to think and could answer for his advisor. “Your Sheng Ge will definitely choose the puz…”

“Love line,” Wu Sheng said. “I choose the love line.”

Xu Wang doubted his ears. He turned to look and saw Wu Sheng with a serious face.

“You can’t be serious…” Xu Wang wasn’t trying to disparage Wu Sheng, but given his teammate’s emotional intelligence, even a kiss could be brushed off as playful banter. Choosing the love line?

“To experience it,” Wu Sheng said.

Xu Wang was speechless. “This isn’t like trying an orange at the market, where you can taste a slice first.”

Wu Sheng replied, “Without tasting, you’ll never know if it’s sour or sweet.”

“You just want to taste it,” Xu Wang retorted. “Did you ask the orange for its opinion?”

Wu Sheng asked, “Then what do you suggest?”

Xu Wang rolled his eyes. “Either buy it and accept it if it’s sour or walk away and stop thinking about its sweetness.”

Wu Sheng fell silent and just looked at him.

Xu Wang suddenly felt a bit flustered, his heated brain finally cooling down.

What nonsense had he been spouting? And Wu Sheng was even playing along. What a mess.

While Xu Wang was confused, Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin, and Qi Shan were even more baffled.

What’s this about sour and sweet oranges to buy or not buy? Is this how the leadership team communicates now? What are they, then, a bunch of onlooking fruits?

Xu Wang’s usual approach was to avoid confusion by circumventing it altogether. The fall he took ten years ago was painful, but since it was his own doing, he couldn’t hold a grudge. But he remembered the pain.

“I choose the puzzle line,” he declared his stance.

Kuang Jinxin confirmed again in a daze. “Captain chooses puzzle? Sheng Ge chooses love?”

Qian Ai’s expression turned grave. “Did you two get the wrong script or what?”

Anyway, everyone had made their choice, and they were completely disjointed.

Qi Shan asked, “What now? Draw lots?”

“Actually, I changed my mind…” Kuang Jinxin hesitated, raising his hand. “I choose the love line too.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Qian Ai: “What love do you know, you little brat!”

Kuang Jinxin: “Anyway, I’ve changed my mind!”

With two votes, the love line won.

The process was confusing, but the result had to be respected.

With no other choice and time pressing, Captain Xu Wang led the way, choosing the “love line”.

As the last person made their choice, a flame suddenly appeared in midair in the center of the room. Something seemed to be inside the bright flame.

As the flame weakened, the object inside became clearer, and when the last ember died, an envelope fell to the carpet.

The teammates hurriedly gathered around.

In such moments of speed, Kuang Jinxin usually couldn’t compete, but this time Wu Sheng was also behind. While Xu Wang and the others were picking up the envelope, he curiously asked, “Why did you change your mind?”

“Because you looked like you really wanted to choose love.” Kuang Jinxin’s reason was unexpectedly simple.

Wu Sheng: “……”

The straightforward gaze of his teammate felt like an infrared scanner, leaving him nowhere to hide.

“Sheng Ge, have you never been in love?” Kuang Jinxin suddenly asked in a very soft and rapid voice.

Over there, Xu Wang had already started opening the envelope.

Wu Sheng was unprepared and didn’t know how to answer.

Kuang Jinxin sighed, seemingly understanding the truth. “Sheng Ge, even if the love line here is realistic, it’s still fake. You can’t satisfy yourself by just going through the challenge…”

Wu Sheng was stunned, feeling something was off. “I’m not…”

Kuang Jinxin’s eyes were full of genuine concern. “Also, many NPCs already have their own partners. If you happen to choose one with a CP, you’ll end up being the third wheel…”

Wu Sheng: “……”

He wasn’t here for a one-night stand in the love line!

“What are you two talking about—” Captain Xu, holding the letter he took out of the envelope, called out. “Hurry over here.”

Wu Sheng and Kuang Jinxin quickly rejoined the group.

Xu Wang naturally passed the letter to his advisor.

Wu Sheng took the letter and, under the light, read the flowing words written on it—

I once loved you,

Love, perhaps,

Has not yet completely died in my soul.

But I hope it won’t bother you anymore.

I don’t want to make you sad or hurt.

I once loved you silently, without hope.

Enduring both shyness and jealousy.

I once loved you so sincerely, so tenderly.

May God bless you,

And may someone else love you, just like I did.

As Wu Sheng finished reading, Xu Wang contributed his knowledge. “It’s a love poem* by Pushkin. The first line is the title of the poem, I Once…”

*The title of the poem is I Loved You. However, various translated versions exist. The one linked in the Wikipedia is one of the English versions, while the one used in this novel, I believe the author combined the various Chinese versions into one (thus the lines and translated text don’t match up one to one like the English version).

He suddenly stopped, struggling to speak.

What kind of title is this? It sounded like a confession!

“I Once Loved You?” Qian Ai, not getting the full version, asked blankly.

“…Yes.” Xu Wang nodded.

Qian Ai admired his quick retrieval of information. He quickly guessed, “Did we study this poem in our high school Chinese class?”

Xu Wang was amused. “Which high school Chinese class teaches you love poems!” After a thought, he clarified strictly, “Elegies for deceased wives in classical Chinese don’t count.”

“……” Realizing he was off track, Qian Ai understood this was part of someone’s literary extra-curricular knowledge.

Qi Shan, hearing this, finally caught on. “You two were high school classmates?”

Qian Ai pointed to himself and Xu Wang, then to Wu Sheng, who was still looking at the letter, saying, “All three of us.”

Qi Shan looked incredulous.

Qian Ai understood his feelings. “We never expected that the Owl would plague a whole class like this.”

“That’s a bit sad.” Kuang Jinxin was still focused on the love poem. “Sheng Ge, did you figure anything out?”

His question brought back the attention of the other three teammates.

“I can’t be sure.” Wu Sheng put the letter back in the envelope. “But we can go and check.”

“Got a clue?” Xu Wang didn’t expect such a quick response. “Where to?”

Wu Sheng: “Room 1829.”

Xu Wang: “Reason?”

Wu Sheng: “The poem was written in 1829.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Wu Sheng: “Did I remember it wrong?”

Xu Wang: “Shouldn’t have… I think.”

Who remembers such dates! He still gets the dates of the Opium Wars mixed up!

Wait.

Why would a science whiz be so knowledgeable about love poems?!

Activating [Transparent Dream Team], the group left room 1301 and stealthily headed towards room 1829.

A long journey.

Walking down the corridor, the friends finally confirmed that it wasn’t just “seemingly” endless, but “actually” endless!

When passing room 1700, the door suddenly burst open with a bang!

The five immediately pressed against the corner, holding their breath, to avoid being exposed.

Inside, two teams were fighting, spilling into the corridor, and a disheveled woman in white joined the melee.

Upon closer inspection, the woman had no face.

Finally, one team was sent home by the faceless woman, while the other narrowly escaped, disappearing into the depths of the corridor.

The invisible companions watched the woman in white return to her room, feeling a chill down their spines.

The corridor returned to silence.

Qi Shan confessed sheepishly, “I feel ashamed of my naive suggestion for the horror line…”

Xu Wang laughed, about to say it was okay, but then heard Qi Shan lament. “What a pity.”

Xu Wang didn’t understand. “Hmm?”

“We should have helped that ghost lady,” Qi Shan said. “So the other team couldn’t escape either.”

Qian Ai, walking in front, turned back in confusion. “Why intervene? It’s none of our business.”

Qi Shan shook his head, analyzing it logically. “While it’s unrelated to our task, only one team can submit their papers, so we’ll eventually have to fight.”

Qian Ai frowned, thinking hard. He felt Qi Shan was right but also sensed something was off.

“We only act when we really need to compete,” Kuang Jinxin said. “Maybe by then, they’ll have been sent home by other teams.”

“The logic is sound.” Qi Shan understood his point. “But it’s better to keep control in our hands.”

Kuang Jinxin pondered this logic seriously, and since he was too earnest, the topic ended without a conclusion.

Approaching room 1829, the group somehow ended up with Wu Sheng and Qian Ai at the front, Kuang Jinxin in the middle, and Qi Shan and Xu Wang at the rear.

“Basic defense is invisibility.” Xu Wang suddenly spoke up, as if sure Qi Shan would understand. “Intermediate defense involves physical armor, and everything else is considered advanced defense.”

Qi Shan listened intently and nodded at the end. “Cool.”

Xu Wang looked at him. “Anything else you want to ask?”

Qi Shan paused, then smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

It was more than obvious to Xu Wang; Qi Shan’s curiosity was almost written on his face, yet he waited so long without asking.

“Any tactics we use later, we’ll explain clearly,” Xu Wang said seriously, putting aside his joking tone. “Likewise, if you have any tactical ideas, you must tell us. Only by working together can we become more in sync.”

Qi Shan lowered his eyes, and after a few seconds, smiled. “Understood.”

Xu Wang said no more.

Qi Shan was different from Lao Qian and Kuang Jinxin, who were genuinely naïve and gave direct reactions whether they agreed or not. Interacting with them was straightforward; you just had to speak your mind.

But Qi Shan was different.

Xu Wang could only give him a hint.

If Qi Shan had actually intervened and dealt with the team that had just escaped, would it have been wrong?

No.

But that wasn’t their team’s style.

Style is a mysterious thing, primarily guided by personality, and Xu Wang couldn’t list it out clearly.

A team is like that; when there are incompatible aspects, they need to be addressed to continue harmonizing.

He hoped Qi Shan would become a true partner.

Wu Sheng had been standing in front of room 1829 for quite a while. When he turned around, Xu Wang was still whispering with the new teammate.

Advisor Wu and the others waited patiently without saying a word.

Xu Wang finally felt as if a gaze was staring at him.

“Click—”

The door of room 1829 opened on its own, revealing a young girl with braided hair, dressed in a floral dress, with faint freckles on her face, looking pure and cute.

She stood inside the door, bending over to lift the carpet in the corridor.

Wu Sheng, Qian Ai, and Kuang Jinxin, who were already at the door, quickly stepped back.

The braided girl successfully lifted the edge of the carpet and took out a letter hidden underneath. Just as she re-entered the room and was about to close the door, Wu Sheng became visible and held the door open.

The girl turned around in surprise, seeing five men suddenly appear at the door, and asked tremblingly, “Who are you?”

Wu Sheng hesitated between introducing himself or mentioning the task line, but Xu Wang had already held up the previous envelope to the girl’s face.

The girl was stunned, comparing Xu Wang’s envelope to her own, and finally noticed the key point—the wax seal on the envelope was exactly the same.

“Are you the ones I’ve been corresponding with?” The girl’s eyes were filled with shock and disbelief, without a trace of joy.

The teammates felt emotionally wounded.

Fortunately, they had gambled right on the task line.

“We’re not,” Xu Wang said. “But we can help you find them. Can you tell us more about this?”

The letter in Xu Wang’s hand seemed to have earned enough trust, and the girl immediately invited them in, explaining the whole story.

This love line started with a letter.

The girl, experiencing the stirrings of first love, suddenly received a love letter one day. The affection in the words moved her, but she still mailed the letter back to the address on it, including a letter of her own, telling the sender that the letter was sent to the wrong address.

Soon after, she received a second letter. The sender claimed there was no mistake—the letter was meant for her. He loved her.

At first, the girl didn’t believe it, but she couldn’t bear to end the correspondence as the sender not only talked about love but also shared interesting events and even knew some of her likes, feeling like a long-time friend.

Gradually, she fell in love with him and wanted to meet him, but he never responded.

Determined, the girl went to the address on the letters—this Castle Hotel.

But with so many rooms and people in the hotel, she had no idea where to start and decided to stay temporarily. The sender’s letters began arriving at her door, appearing every three days under the carpet, where she also placed her replies.

Qian Ai: “So you came all this way here, only to continue writing letters and having a romance with the person?”

The girl with the braided hair nodded.

Qian Ai, feeling exhausted just by listening, commented, “I can’t understand this kind of romance. What kind of love is this? Why not just talk face-to-face?”

“This is called the beauty of ambiguity, you know.” Xu Wang retorted, suspecting that if Qian Ai ever fell in love, his way of showing affection would probably be, “Whatever you like to eat, brother will take you to eat.”

Wu Sheng was surprised by Xu Wang’s response.

Back in the days when they communicated through letters, Xu Wang had always complained about the “old-fashioned” method, never once mentioning the “beauty of ambiguity”.

“I’ve been here for thirteen days. Counting this unopened one, I’ve received four letters from him.” The girl handed over the letters. Her eagerness to find the person overshadowed her shyness about revealing personal details. “The earlier ones are at home. I only have these. Can you see if there’s any clue in them?”

Wu Sheng took the letters and laid them out side by side on the table.

The teammates gathered around the table to study them. The letters were mostly in a similar format: starting with a piece of love poetry, followed by some interesting events and thoughts about the girl.

Kuang Jinxin asked, “Do we still need to follow the dates of the poems?”

Qian Ai looked at Wu Sheng, inquiring, “Are these poems all from the same era?”

Wu Sheng shook his head. “No.”

Qian Ai then turned to Xu Wang, noticing something in his captain’s eyes, and immediately asked, “Captain, did you notice something?”

Xu Wang replied, “Lucky guy.”

Qian Ai: “Huh?”

“I mean, this guy is lucky,” Xu Wang said with a bit of sympathy for the girl. “Every letter says he misses her, but why not meet up? Only a naïve girl would actually come looking for him. Anyone else would have broken up already.”

“Maybe he has his reasons.” Wu Sheng suddenly defended the unseen NPC.

Xu Wang raised an eyebrow curiously. “Like what?”

Wu Sheng turned to Xu Wang. “Like, maybe he’s already dead and is now a ghost communicating with the girl.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Is this the [(Illusory) The Curse of a Single Dog]…?

Qi Shan picked up a letter, holding it against the light.

Kuang Jinxin leaned in, thinking Qi Shan had found something.

But Qi Shan placed the letter back on the table in disappointment. “There’s no hidden message revealed by the light.”

Wu Sheng kept tilting his head and pondering. When Qi Shan placed the letter back, he picked it up again, but instead of one letter, he took all four and stacked them together against the light.

Xu Wang leaned in to look with him and finally saw the pattern. “One… zero… seven… four?”

Wu Sheng said, “Yes.”

The other three teammates immediately joined in to study the letters, and finally, they understood. Regardless of the content of the letters, these four numbers always appeared in the same spot on each page. When the letters were stacked, these numbers were the only ones that perfectly aligned.

Qi Shan was genuinely impressed. “Impressive.”

Kuang Jinxin, who was used to such feats, would have been more surprised if Wu Sheng hadn’t figured it out.

Qian Ai felt a subtle sense of dissonance. This love line, once in his advisor’s hands, seemed to take on a puzzle-solving tone…

Xu Wang’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Wu Sheng casually place down the letters, looking effortlessly cool.

The joy of finding the next room number turned without warning into an indescribable anxiety.

Stacking the letters against the light…

Was Wu Sheng genuinely inspired by Qi Shan, or had he already known about this trick?

The communication between him and Wu Sheng had been real, starting with Wu Sheng’s initiative… Could it be that Wu Sheng had hidden strange codes in those few letters?!

If he did, what could they be?

The apprehension turned into anticipation, and within the anticipation, a sense of urgent, unsettled panic emerged.

Xu Wang frantically recalled those five letters. He could almost recite their content, but only almost. Who could use their brain like a scanner like Wu Sheng?

And even if he could recite them, he couldn’t simulate a comparison in his mind. It’s not just about the text; it’s about their positioning… Damn, Wu Sheng, you lunatic!

As Wu Sheng was about to return the letters to the girl, his nose tickled unexpectedly.

He resisted the urge to sneeze, his gaze accurately finding his team captain. “Are you scolding me in your mind?”

Xu Wang was startled but maintained an innocent expression. “How could I?”


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch74

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 74: Ancient Castle

From Huainan to Anyang, the friends leisurely traveled for four days.

Their journey was stitched together by several green leather trains, experiencing what Mao Qiping called a “comfortable journey” for the first time. They dozed off on the train during the day and slept soundly in the Endless Sea at night. Occasionally, when the interval between trains was too long, they explored the local cuisine around the train stations, living a peaceful, Zen-like existence.

When they left Beijing’s Endless Sea, they traveled light, carrying only small bags with essential documents and items. Even when entering the “Owl”, they were ready to move at a moment’s notice.

To avoid damage during battles, their phones were in waterproof and shockproof cases. However, there wasn’t a good solution for laptops, so Wu Sheng didn’t bring his when leaving Beijing.

It was unclear how his company’s affairs were handled, but one thing was certain: even without his laptop, their advisor could still shine his wisdom using only his phone’s memo app.

Shortly after boarding, while Qian Ai was still exploring the train attendant’s snack cart, Wu Sheng had already listed a full page of names on his memo app, showing it to his three teammates.

Xu Wang was confused by the repeated “Top 1-5” lists. “What’s this?”

“From the time we entered the Owl until now, the leaderboard has opened six times,” Wu Sheng explained. “All six lists are here.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai returned, having just bought a pack of beef jerky. “Are you showing off your memory…”

Wu Sheng, with an innocent look that said, “Do I need to show off my memory?”, selected two names on the list. “This must be Muscles’ team.”

The selected names were:

First leaderboard: Top 5 – Feng Rang, Ji Yunlei, Wei Menghan, Zhu Mo, Zou Jun (8/23)

Second leaderboard: Top 4 – Feng Rang, Ji Yunlei, Wei Menghan, Zhu Mo, Zou Jun (8/23)

The unchanged scores suggested the team didn’t rashly attempt the 9/23 challenge within a week. Due to other teams dropping, they rose in rank, indicating no new teams had emerged.

With Wu Sheng’s selection, the friends understood.

Kuang Jinxin: “The team calls him Teacher Wei…”

Xu Wang: “No wonder he responded when I mentioned Muscles*…”

*Clarity: The nickname Xu Wang gave him is [Wei Menghan] (威猛汉), which is a homophone for his actual name [Wei Menghan] (魏孟寒).

Qian Ai: “Captain, how do you always hit the mark with nicknames?”

Wei Menghan, Teacher Wei, Muscles.

“They’re not just about eating,” Wu Sheng said, exiting the memo app. “They’re strong.”

Xu Wang: “Who said they only knew about eating?”

Wei Menghan and his team would probably turn over the table full of crawfish if they heard this.

Identifying Wei Menghan’s team was just the first step. Over the next few days, the friends, led by Advisor Wu, studied new tactical arrangements for stationery.

They used 26 pieces of stationery in 4/23, leaving 23. But with rewards for clearing and breaking records, each received two sets of defense, offense, and illusory stationery, replenishing 24 pieces. So, they had 47 pieces in total to strategize with.

As the last train segment ended, they had not only recovered from the fatigue of 4/23 but were also fully revitalized.

It was early morning when they arrived in Anyang. The sun was just rising warmly, and the sky was clearing up. They started the day with spicy soup and egg-stuffed pancakes, then checked into a hotel to freshen up. At noon, they tried Anyang’s three smoked dishes*, Daokou roasted chicken, and fried skin dregs, enjoying themselves like a senior tour group.

*Famous specialty in Anyang referring to smoked chicken, smoked eggs, and smoked pig.

As night fell, their comfort faded, replaced by the tension of the unknown upcoming level.

Their coordinates were at a crossroad.

At midnight, the four arrived 200 meters away from the crossroads, waiting in the shadows.

The crossroad was empty, but they couldn’t tell how many competitors were hidden in the surrounding darkness.

All was silent; even the wind stopped.

“Hoot, hoot—”

A purple vortex formed around a manhole cover near their feet. Without hesitation, they jumped in.

The sensation of weightlessness disappeared, and their vision cleared.

Castle banquet hall.

The dome was adorned with murals, crystal chandeliers, exquisite reliefs, and a long table filled with delicacies. In the center, guests in groups of three or five chatted lively, and waiters bustled about with trays of drinks.

The castle had a medieval vibe, but the guests wore modern clothes, as if a company had rented the place for a year-end party.

Laughter and chatter filled the air.

Xu Wang and his team stood out, but they weren’t the only ones out of place.

Looking around, they saw others like them, some in groups of four, others alone, some confused, some cautious, some thoughtful, and some blending in with the guests, eating and drinking.

Beijing time, 00:02:00.

The two-minute “Owl entry time” ended, and a voice announced the closure of the portal with a “N-in-one” prompt.

“Ding—”

The guests, mingling with their toasts and laughter, were oblivious to the distinct, strange sound, diligently fulfilling their roles as NPCs. Those clinking glasses continued, and the conversations went on.

This was the moment to identify the “challenge-takers”—those who raised their arms couldn’t escape notice.

[Roster]: Team members insufficient (4/5). Would you like to add more members?

Xu Wang and his team were prepared for this. Although Captain Yue had failed twice to break the “ten-minute curse” in the challenges and was reluctant to discuss this level, the need to add members upon entering was still reluctantly shared.

The four teammates unanimously chose “Yes”.

A list of potential members immediately appeared:

6/23 Chen Xu [Invite]

6/23 Chi Yingxue [Invite]

6/23 Deng He [Invite]

6/23 Qi Shan [Invite]

6/23 Wang Chuming [Invite]

Unlike [Report Card], [Roster] showed the current level of the players, not the levels they had completed. However, what Xu Wang didn’t expect was that, despite the banquet hall seeming full of challengers, only five were actually without a team.

And one of them was on their blacklist…

Qian Ai’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How did he manage to get to this level?”

It wasn’t a question of ability but of personality; Qian Ai couldn’t understand how any team could tolerate that guy for more than two days.

“He made it here, but he’s without a team again,” Xu Wang said, feeling complicated. Despite their hostility towards him, if they hadn’t meddled with his relationship with his teammates a month ago on 3/23, perhaps things would have worked out.

It was hard for someone like Chi Yingxue to find a team that he approved of and that didn’t disdain him.

Kuang Jinxin didn’t think too much. Upon seeing Chi Yingxue’s name, he instinctively looked around and eventually spotted the man leaning against a wall corner diagonally across from them.

Chi Yingxue was dressed normally today, in a dark coat and similarly colored pants, even appearing somewhat low-key.

Feeling the gaze on him, he suddenly looked up.

Their eyes met across the crowd of guests.

Kuang Jinxin was stunned, unsure how to react.

Chi Yingxue nodded slightly, acknowledging him from afar.

His gaze held no sign of “reunion of old acquaintances”—no hostility, murderous intent, surprise, or astonishment. His look, including the slight nod, was like that towards a stranger.

Kuang Jinxin was completely baffled. Even if they hadn’t clashed before, such politeness and courtesy weren’t Chi Yingxue’s style.

The other three teammates, unaware of this “eye contact”, focused on the list of potential members.

With only five options for addition, it meant most challengers trapped here had teams but were understaffed and couldn’t truly enter the level.

Too many monks, not enough porridge*,” Qian Ai lamented, then reminded their captain, “Hurry up and choose, or we’ll really be left with an empty bowl.”

*(僧多粥少) Idiom referring to too many people and two few things to distribute.

As he finished speaking, two names disappeared from the list: Wang Chuming and Chen Xu.

Xu Wang, Wu Sheng: “……”

Qian Ai: “Got it. I’ll shut up.”

As Qian Ai fell silent, Xu Wang didn’t hesitate any longer. He had planned to communicate with these few individuals before choosing, but now it seemed they had to leave it to luck.

“Xiao…” Xu Wang was about to ask Kuang Jinxin for his opinion, but the prompt sounded first.

All four teammates received the same message:

[Roster]: Qi Shan requests to join your team. Do you agree?

It turned out to be a mutual selection; apart from teams actively adding members, solo players could also apply to join teams. The four teammates looked at each other, thinking it was a match made in heaven. Why wait?

“Ding—”

[Roster]: Qi Shan joined your team.

[Owl: Welcome to the Castle Hotel~~]

The world went dark for a moment, then lit up again. The banquet hall, the guests, and the fellow challengers had vanished. The complete five-member team found themselves in a room at the Castle Hotel. The bed and furnishings were antique, but the telephone and notepaper on the dark brown desk revealed its “modern” identity.

Along with the four teammates, the fifth member, Qi Shan, also appeared.

Judging by the name, Xu Wang had expected a bright-eyed young boy*. But in reality, Qi Shan was in his early twenties, slightly shorter than Wu Sheng, around 1.85 meters tall, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs, and a face that was not particularly striking but very approachable and friendly to look at—basically, a total heartthrob.

*Clarity: His name is [Qi Shan] (齐闪). The [Shan] (闪) means flash or shining, which gave Xu Wang that impression.

“Thank you for letting me join,” Qi Shan said with a dazzling smile, instantly switching from cool to sweet.

Xu Wang sincerely bonded with the new teammate. “We mainly choose based on looks.”

“Cough.” Wu Sheng cleared his throat. “Time is limited. We can build our friendship while tackling the challenges.”

Advisor Wu emphasized the word ‘friendship’.

Xu Wang, immersed in the joy of a new teammate, didn’t hear him and continued to ask Qi Shan, “Why did you choose our team?”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Lao Qian stepped forward, patting Wu Sheng on the shoulder, consoling, “Since ancient times, it’s always out with the old, in with the new.”

Wu Sheng didn’t respond and just shot him a look.

“I saw your names first among the options,” Qi Shan said. “My intuition told me it was you guys.”

Xu Wang was surprised. “Our names are pretty ordinary, right?”

“It’s hard to explain, just a feeling.” Qi Shan looked at each teammate. There was a bit of pride in his tone. “But now that I’ve seen you in person, I know I made the right choice. Without saying anything, I can match your names to your faces.”

Xu Wang was amazed. “Really?”

Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai were also surprised.

Wu Sheng raised an eyebrow, then frowned slightly, as if he saw a charmer who used little tricks to win hearts.

Qi Shan first looked at Xu Wang. “You are Wu Sheng.”

Then at Wu Sheng. “You are Kuang Jinxin.”

Then at Kuang Jinxin. “You are Qian Ai.”

Then at Qian Ai. “You are Xu Wang.”

After speaking, Qi Shan gave a warm smile as if to say, “I told you we were destined to be together.”

The four teammates: “……”

Confused by their new member’s mix-up, they began to question their own identities…

“Xu Wang.”

“Wu Sheng.”

“Kuang Jinxin.”

“Qian Ai!”

They decided to introduce themselves properly.

Qi Shan was stunned. “Did I get all of you wrong?”

Wu Sheng responded with a clear and refreshed nod. “Don’t doubt it. You perfectly missed all the correct answers.”

In this awkward yet warm atmosphere, the ceremony of welcoming the new member came to a successful conclusion.

Like them, Qi Shan had never been to 6/23 before, but unlike them, he hadn’t skipped 5/23. When Xu Wang honestly shared that their team had set a record for a single challenge and then inexplicably jumped a level to get here, Qi Shan reciprocated by sharing what he knew.

Firstly, breaking the record for submission did indeed grant the reward of “advancing one level further”; secondly, the content of 5/23 was “Ghost House Infernal Affairs”, which involved entering a maze-like old house as a ghost and completing tasks without being discovered by various monsters, ghosts, and evil spirits.

Although Xu Wang and his team had already obtained information about the fifth level from Captain Yue, they were relieved to hear Qi Shan’s information align perfectly with Yue Shuai’s description.

Objectively speaking, accepting a new member was uncertain. A good addition meant joy for everyone—a bad one could bring unrest. As the team captain, Xu Wang didn’t take this lightly.

After a brief exchange of information, the five teammates quietly opened the room door.

Outside was a narrow, long corridor with a dark-patterned carpet, candles on the walls, and a seemingly endless row of identical doors with only the room numbers different.

“Defense?” Wu Sheng whispered.

Despite Yue Shuai not wanting to discuss this level, he still told them that although his team didn’t last ten minutes in their two attempts and didn’t know the actual task, they encountered a secret passage the first time and found a save point the second.

The presence of a save point suggested they might encounter teams that had battled the previous day. As newcomers unaware of the actual task, they needed to be extremely vigilant to avoid unknown dangers.

Considering this, Xu Wang decisively nodded. “Basic defense.”

Wu Sheng promptly activated his [Stationery Box].

[Owl: Someone used [Transparent Dream Team] on you~~]

As the alert sounded in their ears, the teammates became invisible, including Qi Shan.

Qi Shan wasn’t surprised by the protective gear, but the term “basic defense” seemed like a cool code for communication.

The gear not only concealed the teammates’ appearances but also Qi Shan’s surging emotions.

Upon reaching the corridor, they saw that their room was 1301.

The corridor was silent, with the carpet muffling their footsteps and only the faint sound of burning candles in their ears.

A shadowy figure was faintly visible ahead, but before they could get a clear look, it disappeared.

The teammates reached the spot where the shadow vanished, room 1310, with its door half-open.

The room was silent, neither visible through the partially open door nor audible, not seeming like a “challenge-taker” was inside.

Although invisible, the teammates could see each other. After exchanging glances, they decided to enter.

Slipping through the wide door gap, they entered a room similar in décor and bedding to their own, but the wall color was different.

This room had unevenly charred black walls, as if burned by fire, and was in complete disarray.

However, the furnishings were brand new.

Even the oil paintings on the walls were vivid, as if freshly painted.

But the content of the paintings was cruel.

It depicted a “witch execution” from the Middle Ages: a young woman tied to a cross, with a blazing fire beneath her and an excited crowd around, as if eager to fan the flames higher.

The woman looked pained but resolute, staring at two onlookers hiding behind a nearby tree.

It was a young man and woman kissing behind a tree, using the witch’s execution fire as their bonfire for a date.

Suddenly, the “witch” in the painting slowly turned her head towards the teammates.

The five silent teammates watched as the “witch” turned from a side profile to a full face, finally locking eyes with them and giving a sinister smile.

Amidst the chilling sensation, the walls of the room suddenly burst into flames!

The heat was scorching!

“Retreat—”

Xu Wang, no longer caring about revealing their position, decisively led the team out of room 1310!

Thankfully, they didn’t encounter a crazed scenario like the door suddenly shutting behind them.

Back in the corridor, the five, sweating coldly, couldn’t tell if their fear was from escaping the inferno or the witch’s smile.

Now they knew. What entered room 1310 wasn’t a human shadow, but a ghost!

“Click—”

“Click—”

“Click—”

Room doors 1312, 1313, and 1314 opened simultaneously. A long-haired gentle girl, a gentleman in a suit, and an old man with white hair but a youthful face each peeked out. They searched the corridor but couldn’t find the invisible five. They looked at each other, asking, “What happened?”

After asking, all three looked bewildered. Then they closed their doors.

Considering that none of them seemed like aggressive NPCs, after agreeing unanimously, Wu Sheng undid the invisibility, and the five knocked on each door for a friendly exchange.

The process went smoothly, and in no time, they learned the backgrounds of the three individuals.

The long-haired girl from 1312 was here on vacation, but she couldn’t remember where her home was or how long she had been staying here.

The gentleman in 1313 was here for a business cocktail party and hadn’t encountered any problems.

The old man in 1314 was a writer, constantly working on his writing and currently brainstorming a new novel.

They gathered some information but still had no clue what the actual task of this level was.

Beijing time, 00:15:00.

After wandering cluelessly for fifteen minutes, Xu Wang’s team finally heard the dreaded voice—

[Owl: I hope you have found your direction~~]

This was followed by an update on the [Cheat Sheet]—

[Cheat Sheet]: Please select a task line for 6/23. Once chosen, it cannot be changed. Love Line/Career Line/Puzzle Line/Escape Line/Joy Line/Horror Line?

The five looked at each other.

Qi Shan’s surprise was simple—he didn’t expect to be able to choose a task line.

The other four teammates, on top of being equally surprised, had an additional layer of thought—had they just easily passed fifteen minutes and received the task prompt? What exactly had Captain Yue and his team experienced in their two “Ten Minutes Curse”…


The author has something to say:

Captain Yue, heartbroken, doesn’t want to speak… TAT


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Suddenly Trending Ch71

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 71

When Yao Hong suddenly heard about Lu Yiyao’s decision to change careers, she was struck like a bolt from the blue. The moment the word “change careers” reached her ears, she could almost visualize herself, bewildered and unsure of whom to continue fighting alongside in her career.

The last time an artist she had worked with for years was taken away by Cupid, Yao Hong went through a prolonged low period until she met Lu Yiyao and regained her fighting spirit. Now facing a similar situation, she felt too old to bear it again.

But it seemed Lu Yiyao had read her mind, hitting the nail on the head—changing careers didn’t mean going separate ways. They were still going to work together, even more closely and on a higher level.

Although Yao Hong complained verbally, deep down, she was relieved. Over the years, Lu Yiyao had become more than just a collaborator to her, more like a younger family member or even a child she had nurtured. Who could bear to part with their child?

So if Lu Yiyao is determined not to be an artist anymore and starts an entertainment company instead, their continuing collaboration in a different way would be the most comforting ending for Yao Hong—but for now, she couldn’t be at peace yet. Although starting a company and investing in projects meant Lu Yiyao had essentially shifted from being a secondary party to a primary one, effectively elevating his status in the industry, and it was true he never had an insatiable love for acting, the thought that it was Ran Lin who made him realize his new direction still frustrated her…

Yao Hong was in a state where she couldn’t even bear to hear her prospective daughter-in-law’s name, like a stereotypical evil mother-in-law!

“Stop hiding and come out,” she called out to the little assistant lingering by the door frame. “He didn’t choose this time to tell me just to keep it from you. But since he trusts you so much, don’t let him down.”

“Rest assured, Hong Jie, Lu Ge.” Li Tong came running out, standing before them, and swearing to the heavens. “If I reveal what I heard today to a fourth person, then I will… stay single for life!”

Yao Hong couldn’t help but laugh.

Lu Yiyao held his forehead. “That’s a bit too harsh…”

Li Tong let go of his hand and returned to his usual jocular demeanor.

Yao Hong, amused by his carefree attitude, reminded him, “Although it’s early to talk about these things, you should start thinking about your future. If you want to continue in this industry, I can introduce you to other artists…”

“I’m not leaving,” Li Tong declared resolutely. “If Lu Ge is starting his own company, then there will be plenty of roles to fill. I want to continue working with him. If he doesn’t need an assistant, I’ll see what other positions are suitable, even a department head or deputy…”

“You wish!” Yao Hong would have hit his head if they weren’t seated at different levels.

Li Tong stuck out his tongue and laughed.

Lu Yiyao thought the suggestion was constructive, and he nodded in consideration.

Yao Hong felt she might be driven mad by these two sooner or later!

They couldn’t possibly cover all the aspects of such a significant life decision in one day, especially with Yao Hong still reeling from the shock. They would need time to cool down and think things through.

“Alright, rest well for the next few days,” Yao Hong said, standing up. “Once you’ve recuperated, we’ll plan further. We’ll also need to inform Pentium Times, as we originated from there. Although we’ve been virtually independent these last two years, we’re still technically under their umbrella. It’s only right to let them know.”

Lu Yiyao knew Yao Hong was now on his side, or rather, she had always been, no matter how whimsical his decisions were.

“I understand,” he replied, standing up sincerely. “Thank you, Hong Jie.”

“Just save me some worries,” Yao Hong said with a glance.

After seeing off Yao Hong and Li Tong, Lu Yiyao thoroughly soaked himself in a bath. But because it was too comfortable, he accidentally fell asleep in the middle of it. Fortunately, he was in the right position, with his arms resting on either side, his head and neck on the bathtub’s rim, and his legs against the end of the tub. He was a stable sleeper, so other than waking up to slightly cooler water, he didn’t slide into the tub and wake up choking—a tragic incident avoided.

However, the life-loving Teacher Lu was still a bit frightened afterward and vowed to set a safety alarm for his next bath.

After drying his hair, Lu Yiyao looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. His cheeks were slightly hollow, his dark circles apparent, and his stubble uneven—a look the director insisted on for an unkempt effect, coupled with his somewhat overgrown hair, really made him feel distressed.

After hesitating for a while, Lu Yiyao still squeezed some shaving foam into his hand, evenly applied it to his chin, and then picked up the razor blade, deciding to start the first step in restoring his once glorious appearance—from the chin.

Just as he made the first stroke, the phone on the washstand rang, displaying “Huo Yuntao” dancing happily across the caller ID. Lu Yiyao didn’t move the phone; he just slid to answer, hit the speakerphone, said “Hello,” and continued his task.

“Hey, are you home?” Huo Yuntao knew the time of his flight back today, so he timed his call to check on him.

“I am,” Lu Yiyao replied, trying not to move his mouth too much, making his speech a bit muffled. As the phone was also not near his mouth, his voice sounded even more vague and distant to Huo Yuntao.

“What are you doing?” Huo Yuntao asked, puzzled. Lu Yiyao, realizing he couldn’t avoid explaining, sighed, put down the razor, and with his chin still covered in foam, picked up the phone and said, “Scratch card1.”

Scratch card1? Lottery?” Huo Yuntao was confused.

Lu Yiyao rolled his eyes. “Shaving. The cleaner the shave, the happier I feel. Happy shaving1.”

1Clarity: The word he’s using is (刮刮乐) which means scratch-off cards. Broken down, though, it means shave shave happy, so he’s kind of making a little pun.

“…” Huo Yuntao didn’t want to comment on his old friend’s odd metaphor but was more concerned about, “After months of sleep deprivation and hard work, your first thing after wrapping up is not to sleep but to shave?!”

“It’s my first sleep at home. I can’t just go to bed like this.” Lu Yiyao had his principles. “It doesn’t fit my aesthetic.”

“So, what? You plan to shave, then do your hair?”

“I can’t. I only have enough energy left for shaving.”

“Thank goodness.”

After teasing him, Huo Yuntao added with a smirk, “Ran Lin surely doesn’t know you’ve reached the peak in the field of narcissism.”

“He seems to know a bit…” Lu Yiyao, reminiscing about their interactions, always felt that Ran Lin had seen through some of the truth. “But probably not as clearly as you do.”

“Definitely not as clearly as me,” Huo Yuntao said. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have fallen for you.”

Lu Yiyao: “…”

Huo Yuntao: “Speechless, huh?”

Lu Yiyao savored Huo Yuntao’s teasing, finding it more and more pleasant. “Hearing from someone else that he loves me feels quite wonderful…”

“Stay home tomorrow and wait for me. I’ve got some materials that should be helpful. See you!!!” With an authoritative tone, Huo Yuntao ended the call, leaving Lu Yiyao figuratively upending a bowl of dog food.

Lu Yiyao, in a cheerful mood, finished shaving and looked at the mirror, quite satisfied with the three parts of his charm that had returned. Finally, holding his phone, he plunged into the soft, big bed, entered WeChat, and his gaze gradually softened— [I’m back.]

After sending the message, he felt completely settled and peacefully fell asleep in the long-missed, familiar-smelling bed of his own home.

……

Ran Lin went back home in October.

The shooting of <Chronicles of Winter> was three months, mostly concentrated in a green studio due to extensive post-production work, so the actual shooting period was shorter than expected. However, aiming for a release on the first day of the lunar new year the year after next meant a tight schedule to allow ample time for post-production, with no breaks during the holiday season.

After <Chronicles of Winter> Ran Lin was to join the crew of <Dyeing Fire> without a break, so any visits home would have to wait until later in the year. Therefore, taking advantage of the current opportunity, he decided to spend a week at home.

Nothing had changed at home. The bun shop was still the same, the old neighbors were still around, and his mother was still hard working and capable, while his father was still semi-busy. Besides the payment for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> he had given half of his subsequent earnings from ads and press to his family. Although he meant it as savings, he hoped to improve his family’s living conditions and felt somewhat helpless whenever he heard they hadn’t used his money, unsure how to ease his parents’ burdens.

But when he actually got home, seeing everything as it always was and his parents’ healthy, happy faces, he felt that perhaps things were just fine as they were. A life of comfort was all that mattered, and this was the most comfortable life for his parents, with their own business and a son they were proud of.

And it wasn’t like nothing had changed.

In the past, when he returned home, his parents would worry about his future, carefully saving money for him, gathering a dowry. But this time, he could distinctly feel his parents’ relief, a burden lifted from their hearts, an ease that came from within. They no longer needed to worry about their son; instead, they could bask in his reflected glory.

There’s no need to go into detail about him being paraded around to the neighbors; since his return, he’s already made several appearances at the shop, meeting with familiar and unfamiliar folks who all came to see him.

Though it was a bit embarrassing, being his parents’ pride was the most gratifying thing in Ran Lin’s life.

The hometown that seemed to never change was Ran Lin’s charging station. Once back in Beijing, he was full of energy.

Wang Xi probably anticipated his excellent spirits, so the day after he arrived in Beijing, she sent him the script for the project after <Dyeing Fire>—

“<The Legend of Lantern Blossoms>?” Ran Lin looked at the characters on the script’s cover and immediately imagined an oil lamp flickering before a mottled window, creating a crackling of light.

Wang Xi watched him worriedly, not missing any slight expression on his artist’s face. “Can you still handle it?”

Ran Lin looked back at his agent with difficulty. “Depends on how many episodes there are.”

Wang Xi couldn’t help but laugh and point to the boldface at the top of the script’s cover. “Doesn’t it say here? It’s a 60-episode ancient mythology TV drama.”

“That’s okay then…” Ran Lin’s tense nerves relaxed. “I thought it would be eighty or ninety episodes.”

“Eighty days.” Wang Xi patted his shoulder. “Just endure it, and it’ll be over.”

Ran Lin was stunned. “The shooting period is less than three months?”

“That’s how these fast-food dramas are—a bunch of such crews in Hengdian.” Wang Xi also felt helpless. “This is one of the better scripts I’ve seen, with a quite delicate love line. If you perform well, maybe you’ll be the brightest star amidst the roaring thunder.”

“That doesn’t sound very tempting…” Ran Lin couldn’t laugh or cry, gently brushing over the script cover, almost with a sense of reverence.

Wang Xi saw his disheartened look and suddenly asked without warning, “Your contract expires at the end of June, the year after next. Have you thought about the future?”

Ran Lin was still immersed in the world of the magical lantern battles and didn’t react immediately to Wang Xi’s words.

After a moment, he honestly said, “Not yet.”

When his contract expired in two years, he indeed thought about switching careers after it was up. But then he met Lu Yiyao at the airport, and in the next two years, his entire career trajectory was like switching from a merry-go-round to a rapid ride. Caught up in the whirlwind, he was just focusing on doing well in the present, completing his roles and schedules, without thinking much about the distant future.

However, now that Wang Xi mentioned it, Ran Lin realized it wasn’t far off. His six-year contract had only one year and eight months left.

“Do you want to renew with Dream Without Limits?” Wang Xi asked again.

Ran Lin paused, unsure. “Xi Jie, is the company asking you to ask me this?”

“No.” Wang Xi looked at him calmly. “I’m asking you personally.”

Ran Lin looked down. To tell the truth, he was still somewhat wary of Wang Xi, especially after the incident with the drama version of <Chronicles of Winter> and since Wang Xi managed more artists than just him, he really couldn’t be sure if he could be completely honest about his feelings with her…

“I only manage you now,” Wang Xi suddenly said. “Your decision will also affect my future.”

Ran Lin looked up in surprise, or more accurately, shock. “Only me… what do you mean?”

Wang Xi revealed a relaxed smile. “I’ve handed Han Ze over to a new colleague.”

Wang Xi’s features were rather sharp, so when she was serious, she exuded an intimidating aura. But the more so, the gentler and more charming she seemed when she did smile.

“Why change agents?”

Ran Lin didn’t expect Wang Xi to reveal the whole truth. He knew that changing agents usually meant irreconcilable differences or some unrectifiable situation, as both were typically invested in a mutually beneficial relationship, deeply aware of each other’s strengths and weaknesses after years of collaboration. The cost of changing was too high. Thus, while he asked, he had already imagined various scenarios in his mind.

Unexpectedly, Wang Xi replied, “He doesn’t want me anymore, and insisted on changing. I can’t just cling on, can I?”

Ran Lin gasped inwardly. The phrase “doesn’t want me anymore” was too ambiguous. Was Wang Xi really thinking he wouldn’t read too much into it, or did she simply not care if he did?

Ran Lin couldn’t determine the truth, but he clearly saw a fleeting hurt in Wang Xi’s eyes. Suddenly, he felt that whatever the truth was, it didn’t matter. The past was past, and everyone needed to look forward. Moreover, without Wang Xi, if he was still under Kang Hui, he probably wouldn’t even be able to get roles like <The Legend of Lantern Blossoms>…

“I want you,” Ran Lin said calmly, yet firmly. “He lacks vision, but not me. I have an eye for quality.”

As Ran Lin’s words faded, the air in the small apartment slowly quieted down.

For a long time, neither spoke, just looking at each other.

Finally, a noticeable tremor shook Wang Xi’s forced calm, exposing deep-seated emotions. “You’re not my type…”

Ran Lin: “…You could give me everything, and I still couldn’t handle it!”

After a half-hearted complaint, Ran Lin chuckled, then added seriously, “Just give me the ‘warrior woman’ part. You lead in front, and I’ll support from behind.”

Wang Xi was speechless at such a “reasonable” arrangement.

Indeed, the “deep partnership” script didn’t suit her. Wang Xi used to think that the kind of rapport Yao Hong had with her artists, akin to kinship, required a secret manual to cultivate. Now she realized that no manual would help; it was a matter of innate talent.

“I hadn’t really thought about renewing the contract before,” Ran Lin steered the conversation back, “but if you ask me now, I might lean towards… no.”

How much trust does it take to talk about not renewing the contract with an agent who’s not personally signed with him, but with the company, and when there’s still more than a year left?

Wang Xi thought she would at least need to confess everything about Han Ze before Ran Lin would trust her this much.

Because if she turned around and told the company, it might mean no new work for Ran Lin from now on, being shelved after <The Legend of Lantern Blossoms>; or perhaps he’d be called back to the company for a talk, to be persuaded with reason and emotion, essentially a brainwashing marathon.

But Ran Lin just said it sincerely and openly, making his earlier “I want you” echo as a complete circle.

“Are you planning to start your own agency or switch to another?” Despite the emotional turmoil inside, Wang Xi’s words came out dry and business-like, making her want to scold herself.

Ran Lin, not sensing anything amiss, naturally replied, “I haven’t thought it through. Xi Jie, since you’re asking me this, do you already have some ideas for me?”

Wang Xi suppressed her turbulent emotions and analyzed calmly. “If you continue acting methodically for the next two years and everything goes smoothly, by the time your contract is up for renewal… No, just before it’s up, many companies will definitely contact you, offering you deals. Signing with a company means broader resources; after all, it’s good to lean on a big tree for shade. But conversely, no matter how big or good the company is, you’ll inevitably face the same issues you’re facing now; that sometimes the company’s will might override yours, giving you only relative, not absolute, autonomy.”

Watching Ran Lin fall into deep thought, Wang Xi suddenly thought of another possibility. “Or, if your drama becomes a massive hit, you rapidly rise to fame, or a company specifically targets you, wanting to poach you, even willing to pay the penalty for breach of contract.”

The last possibility, though delightful to imagine, is just that, a pleasant fantasy. But when it comes down to reality, Ran Lin still wants to honor the contract. “Even if I don’t renew, I want to leave on good terms. After all, it was Dream Without Limits that brought me into the entertainment industry.”

Wang Xi nodded, saying no more.

She was relieved by Ran Lin’s gratitude and sense of obligation, but knew better than him that a harmonious departure in a world driven by profit is quite difficult.

But Ran Lin didn’t need to worry about that. She just needed to know his stance. The rest, she would handle.

With this thought, Wang Xi exhaled softly and looked up. “You probably don’t need me to remind you…”

“Keep today’s conversation confidential.” Ran Lin finished for her.

Wang Xi frowned and gave him a look. “Don’t answer for me in the future.”

Ran Lin blinked, innocently.

As she was leaving, Wang Xi suddenly remembered to ask, “Have you packed everything?”

Ran Lin nodded.

Wang Xi, still concerned, asked, “Are you sure you don’t need Wenwen to follow?”

Ran Lin grinned. “Really not necessary. I’m just going to experience life. Have you ever seen a newly released unemployed youth carrying an assistant?”

Wang Xi was left speechless, finally managing to say, “Alright then, be safe.”

……

After seeing off Wang Xi, Ran Lin wanted to browse Weibo on his phone but couldn’t find it anywhere. He finally discovered it on the nightstand in his bedroom, not remembering when he had casually placed it there.

Picking up his phone, Ran Lin saw a message from Lu Yiyao.

[Welcome back.]—Ran Lin’s restless emotions contrasted sharply with the calm reply. It had been months since they last saw each other, and now he especially wanted to run straight to Lu Yiyao’s doorstep.

At times like this, Ran Lin would whimsically wish he wasn’t an artist but a paparazzo instead, able to stick to Lu Yiyao every day, not only inseparably but also legitimately.

Lu Yiyao didn’t reply, and Ran Lin thought he might be resting, so he didn’t disturb him and started devouring the script for <The Legend of Lantern Blossoms>.

All afternoon, Ran Lin lay in bed reading the script, his entire being immersed in a world filled with demons and spirits. The story wasn’t as ridiculous as he imagined, with a light, juvenile tone, focusing primarily on the romantic plot between the male and female leads, coupled with a grand demons’ brawl—all merry and boisterous.

The story actually began with a scholar painfully studying by the light of an oil lamp night after night for ten years, failing to pass the exams but inadvertently turning the lamp into a spirit, which developed human-like desires, ultimately leading to an epic love story. However, the scholar didn’t pursue officialdom afterwards but, after a life-and-death ordeal, gained strength and transformed from a weak scholar needing protection from the heroine into a true hero capable of protecting his woman.

When his phone’s notification sound pulled him out from this world of gods and demons, what Ran Lin actually thought was that the story was quite inspiring…

Lu Yiyao—[Just woke up and saw your message. Where are you?]

Ran Lin understood right away. Lu Yiyao was at home, asking where he was to determine if it was convenient for a more direct contact.

Without replying, Ran Lin made his move—sending a video call invitation.

Two seconds later—[The other party has declined.]

Ran Lin was taken aback and immediately typed—[Not at home?]

Lu Yiyao—[At home.]

Ran Lin—[Is there someone else there?]

Lu Yiyao—[No.]

Ran Lin frowned—[Then why not accept the video call?]

Lu Yiyao—[I don’t look good.]

Ran Lin—[What?]

Lu Yiyao—[Too haggard, not good-looking.]

Ran Lin choked back frustration.

What do you do when you’ve got a narcissistic peacock? Of course, you continue to love him!

Taking a deep breath, Ran Lin typed with all the love he could muster—[I like you no matter what you look like.]

The reply came quickly—[No, I have to be in my best state when I see you.]

Ran Lin took another deep breath and continued—[I love your soul.]

Lu Yiyao—[But appearance is also important.]

Ran Lin—[Accept the video call!!!]

Lu Yiyao—[Nodding like pounding garlic.jpg]

It would have been over if he had been like this, instead of forcing him to play tough.

Rolling his eyes internally, Ran Lin sent the video invite again, and this time it was almost instantly accepted, so fast that Ran Lin hadn’t even rolled his eyes back…

“How much do you despise me…” Lu Yiyao said, seeing his lover’s eye roll and thinking he really shouldn’t have video called.

Ran Lin had no time to explain, focusing all his attention on Lu Yiyao’s face, inspecting it up and down, left and right, as if Lu Yiyao’s face was a navigational chart and he was the captain who had to scrutinize every detail without missing anything.

Lu Yiyao, feeling awkward under the intense scrutiny, tried to persuade him. “Give it up. The dashing man of your memory has already been written off by the <Split Moon> crew. No amount of looking will bring him back.”

Ran Lin sighed and negotiated with his lover, “Since it’s the man of my memory, shouldn’t I be the one to add the adjectives?”

Lu Yiyao was very accommodating. “Then just remove ‘dashing.'”

Ran Lin deadpanned. “So ‘handsome’ is untouchable, right?”

Lu Yiyao leaned closer to the screen. “Mwah.”

Ran Lin covered his wildly beating heart, unseen by the video, gritting his teeth. “You’re cheating.”

Lu Yiyao’s lips curled up. “No, this is surpassing the master.”

“Oh right,” Lu Yiyao suddenly remembered something, becoming serious. “The three paparazzi who follow me every time I come back are gone.”

“They gave up on you, having followed for so long without any juicy scoop.” Ran Lin felt pity for the paparazzi for picking such a strict and self-disciplined subject.

“If all the paparazzi stopped photographing me, that would be great,” Lu Yiyao said indifferently. “Then you can come over to my place whenever you want.”

Ran Lin realized he shouldn’t feel sorry for the paparazzi. After all, they at least had staked out Lu Yiyao’s place, while he, the legitimate boyfriend, hadn’t even seen what Lu Yiyao’s apartment building looked like!

Sighing, Ran Lin suppressed his bitterness and said rationally, “There’s no ‘if’. You’re just that famous; if not you, then who else?”

Lu Yiyao said, “You’ll be even more famous than me in the future.”

Ran Lin instinctively wanted to say, “I hope so,” but then thought, if both of them became incredibly famous, wouldn’t meeting up become even more difficult?

As he was idly pondering, he heard Lu Yiyao ask, “Are you still leaving tomorrow?”

Ran Lin came back to reality and nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, so I probably won’t be able to see you.”

Lu Yiyao seemed unconcerned. “With the way I look now, even if you came to see me, I wouldn’t want to meet you.”

Ran Lin: “Hey—”

Suddenly, Lu Yiyao’s tone darkened, his voice husky. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to resist pouncing on you.”

Ran Lin suddenly covered the camera, then turned over, lying on his back in a starfish position, exhaling towards the ceiling as if that would dissipate the heat coursing through his body.

Lu Yiyao, on the other end of the phone, was about to lose it. “Covering the camera and turning it completely black when we get to the important part is cheating!”

By the time Ran Lin moved his finger away from the camera, the romantic atmosphere that Lu Yiyao had created was completely disrupted.

Lu Yiyao looked at him annoyedly, his teeth itching. “If you have the guts, don’t fall into my hands.”

“The one who can’t handle three drinks doesn’t have any threatening power.” Who’s afraid of who across the screen?

Lu Yiyao nodded, seemingly approving but actually thinking to himself, ‘Let’s see how long you can keep this up.’

Teasing one’s lover is part of the charm when done in small doses, but if it really makes the other angry, the one who suffers is still oneself. So, Ran Lin knew when to stop and started talking about serious matters. “The company has taken on another TV drama for me, so my schedule is packed until the end of next November.”

In other words, this pair of star-crossed lovers would only be able to meet if they could find a sliver of time.

Lu Yiyao knew that Ran Lin was leaving for Wuhan tomorrow to experience life for <Dyeing Fire> and that after returning in December, he’d need about ten days to recuperate before joining the crew of <Chronicles of Winter>. But that <Dyeing Fire> was followed by another drama was beyond his expectation.

“What drama? Does the schedule have to be so tight?” A good show is worth continuous work, but that’s from a career perspective. From a personal perspective, Lu Yiyao was worried about Ran Lin’s health.

But when he threw the question over, there was a long silence from the other end.

Lu Yiyao frowned in confusion. “What’s wrong? Did you sign a confidentiality agreement and can’t reveal the drama name yet?”

“No…” Ran Lin thought how there wouldn’t be any confidentiality agreement for such a drama; it was just a bit hard to say.

Hesitating, his eyes suddenly caught the script next to his pillow, so Ran Lin simply picked it up and showed it to Lu Yiyao through the camera.

Lu Yiyao saw <The Legend of Lantern Blossoms> at first glance, his feelings turning complex at the sight of the “60-episode ancient mythology TV drama” above it.

“Do you… like this script?” Lu Yiyao still held a glimmer of hope. “What’s it about? Tell me.”

“You won’t want to hear it.” Ran Lin knew Lu Yiyao’s attention was on him taking on another new project and hadn’t really listened to what he had just said, so he repeated, “The company took it on for me.”

Lu Yiyao heard clearly this time and basically understood.

“No room for negotiation?” he asked.

Ran Lin shook his head. “No room for negotiation. I have to take it. I already turned down an 80-episode drama with high pay for <Dyeing Fire>, if I refuse again, I’ll just be waiting to be shelved.”

Lu Yiyao pondered for a moment. “When does your contract expire next year?”

Ran Lin wondered if today was a special day since everyone seemed to be discussing contracts with him.

“June 30th.” Ran Lin had it memorized.

Lu Yiyao stared at him. “Are you thinking of renewing it after it expires?”

Ran Lin laughed. “Did you and Xi Jie coordinate this?”

Lu Yiyao was puzzled. “Hmm?”

“She came over at noon,” Ran Lin said. “Brought me this script, and we talked about future plans.”

Lu Yiyao tensed up. “What did you say?”

Ran Lin replied, “The truth. I don’t want to renew.”

Lu Yiyao’s first reaction was disbelief, but then, thinking it over, he knew Ran Lin wasn’t one to act foolishly. He suppressed his sarcasm and cautiously said, “Aren’t you afraid she’ll go back and tell the company?”

Ran Lin shook his head. “I don’t think she will.”

Lu Yiyao rested his forehead in his hand. “If ‘thinking’ were reliable, courts wouldn’t need evidence to make decisions.”

Ran Lin’s eyes widened as he looked at the screen. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were especially handsome.”

Lu Yiyao: “…Sometimes ‘thinking’ is reliable.”

Ran Lin: “What about your principles?”

Lu Yiyao reflected on not speaking too absolutely as he backpedaled, learning a deep lesson.

Ran Lin, suppressing a laugh, revealed, “Han Ze has been handed over to someone else. Now Xi Jie only manages me.”

Lu Yiyao was surprised. “Really?”

Ran Lin nodded.

“What happened between them?”

“I didn’t ask, but I feel Xi Jie is quite sad.”

“…”

Lu Yiyao fell silent, deep in thought.

Ran Lin, thinking he was still concerned about Wang Xi, said: “When she took on <Dyeing Fire> for me, she convinced the company to drop the high-paying TV drama. I know she must have faced a lot of pressure and did a lot for me, so I trust her. But don’t worry, I won’t tell her about us two, especially since this matter is special…”

“I’m not worried about myself, I’m worried about you,” Lu Yiyao sighed. “You always think too well of people. I’m afraid you’ll suffer for it.”

“In fact, I am indeed surrounded by good people,” Ran Lin grinned proudly.

Lu Yiyao loved seeing Ran Lin smile, as if the whole world lit up with him.

“So, when you said you didn’t want to renew, what was Wang Xi’s reaction?” Lu Yiyao steered the conversation back.

Ran Lin said, “She analyzed the pros and cons of finding another company or going independent for me, but we didn’t talk much. After all, I still have several dramas to shoot, and the contract isn’t urgent. But she instructed me to keep our conversation confidential.”

Lu Yiyao: “And then you turned around and told me?”

Ran Lin: “You’re not just anyone.”

Lu Yiyao: “…”

Watching Lu Yiyao suddenly freeze, adorably stunned, Ran Lin sweetly awaited what was next, but unexpectedly, the screen suddenly went black.

Ran Lin blinked in confusion, then realized—

“Enough! First, you learned from my kisses, and now you’re copying me by covering the camera. Can’t you absorb some positive energy from me!”


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Suddenly Trending Ch70

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 70

The signing of <Chronicles of Winter> proceeded without any hitches. Both parties sat down and signed the contract steadily, with everything written in black and white and stamped with a red seal.

Back in the nanny van, Wang Xi turned around, rhythmically tapping the back of the seat in front of Ran Lin and Liu Wanwan as they spoke, reminiscent of a teacher tapping on the blackboard to remind the students to “take notes on the key points”.

Ran Lin and Liu Wanwan paused their conversation and looked up together.

Wang Xi looked at her artist, pride evident in her deliberate words. “From now on, your value has doubled.”

Ran Lin was surprised at the direct impact of a single contract. “Double now?”

Wang Xi noticed her artist’s surprise, not at the doubling but at the timing, and chuckled. “So, when would you like it to double?”

“The sooner, the better.” Ran Lin laughed. “But I thought we have to wait until <Chronicles of Winter> is released.”

Wang Xi grew fonder of her charge by the moment, even their worldly talk of money seemed charmingly vulgar, cheeky, and refreshingly unconventional.

“Everyone in the circle is sharp,” Wang Xi said. “Tomorrow, the news of your signing <Chronicles of Winter> will spread, and with the popularity you’ve gained from <Sword of Fallen Flowers> anyone with a bit of sense will see you’re set to rise next year. Wait until <Chronicles of Winter> is released to come looking for you? By then, even money won’t buy availability, and the opportunity will have gone cold.”

Seeing Ran Lin pensive, Wang Xi continued, “In the future, if you go public with a relationship, especially if your other half is also a female artist, you’ll be inundated with a couple variety show offers. If you’re planning to get married, even before the wedding, you’ll be approached with ads for all sorts of home goods because they’ve already seen your future public image—like the sweet boyfriend or the ideal domestic man. In short, investors and brands are always the quickest to sniff out potential.”

Wang Xi was just using these examples to help Ran Lin understand why signing a contract could immediately increase their worth, even before filming. But when Ran Lin heard “romance” and “marriage”, a flicker of something crossed his heart.

That flicker showed on his face—the most direct and genuine reaction, unguarded. Even though he quickly covered it, Wang Xi noticed something was off.

“What’s wrong?” Wang Xi asked, puzzled.

“Nothing.” Ran Lin forced a smile and half-seriously responded, “Just that love and marriage seem a bit far off.”

“Not far off at all.” Wang Xi, thinking her artist was facing some unknown emotional turmoil, responded with unneeded worry, “Don’t think there’s no rush because you’re young. Once you get busy, you’ll see how fast time flies. Before you know it, you’ll be thirty. Are you going to not date till then?”

Wang Xi’s teasing gaze clearly showed, “Don’t pretend to be an innocent boy with me.”

Ran Lin managed a faint smile, more to himself than agreeing with Wang Xi. “Yeah, dating is still necessary.”

“Date if you must,” Wang Xi leaned forward, earnestly advising, “but you have to let me know, or else if you’re spotted, we’ll be very passive… Ah!”

Suddenly, the driver hit the brakes hard.

Wang Xi, half-turned from the front passenger seat to the back to talk, was jostled around, nearly hitting her head.

It turned out the car in front had rear-ended the one before it, and thankfully the driver braked in time, avoiding a chain collision.

After the brief scare, the driver maneuvered around the accident and soon returned to a smooth drive.

Wang Xi quickly forgot the previous “prevention is better than cure” topic, sitting upright and buckling up, no longer daring to be flippant.

Ran Lin lowered their eyes, exhaling softly.

The next morning, Ran Lin checked the time on his phone upon waking and noticed a WeChat message from Lu Yiyao sent at three in the morning—[Congratulations on signing 👏, but I remember someone said they wouldn’t let me find out about their affairs from others. If it happens again, get ready to lay flat and surrender? 🤔]

Ran Lin typed back with a smirk—[I’m already lying flat like a pancake, warm and ready. When will you come? If you don’t come soon, I’ll cool down 😳]

Almost immediately, he received a reply—[😠]

This emoji was almost exclusively used by Xia Xinran, and suddenly seeing it from Lu Yiyao, Ran Lin couldn’t help but burst into laughter, unable to imagine his expression—[You can’t blame me if you miss out 🤷]

After a while, the other side replied—[I like your current tone. Try to keep it until I finish my shoot and come back 😊】

Ran Lin paused, instinctively asking—[What tone?]

Lu Yiyao—[Flirty.]

Ran Lin’s face nearly burst into flames.

He realized that not only was he improving, but Lu Yiyao was also leveling up. At this rate, he would never have a day to turn things around!

Lu Yiyao—[I’ve arrived at the set, can’t talk much now.]

Ran Lin was surprised and looked at the time; it was only 6:30 a.m.—[You’re starting work this early? You’ve only slept for three hours!]

Lu Yiyao—[The filming schedule is quite tight these days.]

Ran Lin—[I’ll wait for your successful wrap-up.]

Lu Yiyao—[Next time I definitely won’t drink!]

Ran Lin chuckled, feeling a small surge of excited anticipation mixed with a touch of longing.

August ended with the signing of <Chronicles of Winter>.

In September, the weather gradually cooled, and although the midday sun was still fierce, the mornings and evenings became much more pleasant.

Just as Wang Xi said, the signing of <Chronicles of Winter> gave other financiers and brands confidence, directly boosting his worth. The most immediate change was the increase in advertisements and scripts coming his way.

However, most of these eager parties were looking for quick profits, so the quality of brands and scripts varied greatly. Wang Xi spent a long time selecting and finalized an advertisement for a drink and a men’s skincare product. As for scripts, she initially filtered them before passing the decent ones to him.

When Gu Jie called, Ran Lin was looking at a TV drama script titled <Song Dingbo Catching Demons>.

It was actually <Song Dingbo Exorcising Ghosts>, but due to censorship, “ghosts” were changed to “demons”. The script added characters and expanded on the original story, adopting a style of fantasy and light comedy, with eighty episodes planned. Honestly, the screenwriter’s adaptation was quite cute. Despite the name suggesting a cheesy drama, the storyline was smooth and logical. The script could pass with more than a passing grade, and if well executed, it might become a summer hit.

However, from an actor’s perspective, Ran Lin was somewhat apprehensive about this kind of unrestrained fantasy comedy.

The characters and storylines were exaggerated and wild, seeking to entertain with bizarre and spirited antics. If done well, it could dominate the summer and bring laughter to the audience. But more often than not, poorly executed ones ended up as cringe-worthy disasters.

Wang Xi could guess what her artist was thinking just by looking at Ran Lin’s expression while flipping through the script.

She had mixed feelings about the script too, but ultimately, she presented it to Ran Lin. The script wasn’t solicited by her but was sent directly to Dreams Without Limits, initiated by a friend of the boss, effectively a high-level communication. When the discussions were nearly finalized, the boss approached Wang Xi, suggesting she consider the project for Ran Lin, somewhat pushing him into it.

What was so good about it?

Of course, the pay was attractive.

With an eighty-episode length, the planned filming schedule was only a month longer than <Chronicles of Winter> but the pay was several times higher. For the same few months of work, the company naturally preferred such deals.

Of course, commercial blockbusters like <Chronicles of Winter> that elevated an artist’s fame and value were needed too. So, this script didn’t clash with the <Chronicles of Winter> schedule, with the start date set for next April…

“Xi Jie.” Ran Lin closed the script, shaking his head solemnly at his agent. “I can’t do this.”

Wang Xi broke off her thoughts, looking at Ran Lin, not surprised by his response. “I know you don’t really want to do this kind of show, but from the company’s perspective…”

“It’s not just about the show, but the schedule too,” Ran Lin said. “It clashes with the filming of <Dyeing Fire>.”

Since that dinner party, there had been no follow-up on <Dyeing Fire>, and Wang Xi thought the project had fallen through. Surprised to hear Ran Lin mention it again, she asked, “<Dyeing Fire>… isn’t off?”

Ran Lin didn’t understand why his agent would think so. “Didn’t I tell you after I returned that day? Director He was very satisfied with me, but he said we need to wait for the script to be rewritten before signing anything. Otherwise, actors won’t even know what they’re playing, which can lead to problems.”

Last month’s report did indeed say so, but Wang Xi thought these were just polite rejections, common in the industry where many projects fizzle out with a gentle letdown. Usually, the quicker the response to wait, the more likely it’s a stalling tactic. “So it’s not a gentle rejection, but actually waiting for the script?”

Ran Lin couldn’t help but smile. “Really waiting. If you had dinner with Director He, you’d understand. He’s not the kind of person who beats around the bush. He’s very straightforward.”

Wang Xi pondered for a moment and asked, “With <Dyeing Fire> being delayed and rescheduled, can you be sure it will definitely start this April?”

Ran Lin fell silent for a moment, hesitating before saying, “I can’t. Even if it starts in May or June, the schedules still clash.”

“What if it starts in August? Then the schedules wouldn’t overlap,” Wang Xi recalled Director He’s “dark history” and felt it was a possibility.

Ran Lin gave a wry smile. “Xi Jie, you said it’s ‘what if,’ which means there’s a 9,999 out of 10,000 chance that the schedules will clash. I can’t take that risk.”

“Do you really want to act in this movie that much?” Wang Xi asked calmly, not trying to persuade but offering a perspective from her own experience. “Maybe the film will win awards, but it’s not a big-budget production, and its niche style means a limited audience, which won’t help much in expanding your popularity.”

“I’ve thought it through, Xi Jie.” Ran Lin looked at his agent firmly. “If I just wanted to be famous and have tens of millions of fans, this movie could be optional. But if I want to be a good actor. This is a very rare opportunity. If I miss it, there might not be a second chance.”

Wang Xi’s lips moved slightly, but she remained silent, as if she had more to say but was unsure whether to proceed.

Ran Lin, growing impatient, chuckled and teased, “Xi Jie, just say what you’re thinking. You’re not usually one to hold back.”

Wang Xi rolled her eyes at him. “Do you realize how many opportunities you’ll lose if you wait for several months?”

“I have no choice.” Ran Lin shrugged innocently. “I’ve already promised Gu Jie that I’d do it, and that was after he confirmed with me multiple times. I can’t go back on my word.”

Wang Xi sighed. “You’re really committed.”

Ran Lin said truthfully, “Mostly because I’m afraid he’d beat me up. With his build, he’d be a hero in ancient times.”

Wang Xi couldn’t help but laugh at her artist’s unseriousness but was interrupted by Ran Lin’s ringing phone.

Before she could see who was calling, Ran Lin had already picked up the phone from the coffee table. “Hello…”

Wang Xi, seeing that Ran Lin didn’t move away or signal her to leave, leaned back into the sofa and waited patiently. However, as she listened, she realized something was off… Actually, she didn’t even need to listen; just seeing the animated expression on Ran Lin’s face told her this call was unusual.

“Really? That’s great… Don’t worry, no problem… I know… Right, if I go back on my word, we’ll cut ties…”

Wang Xi had just taken a sip of water and almost choked on the last part of his sentence.

Cut ties… Are you in kindergarten?!

After hanging up, Ran Lin, oblivious to his agent’s expression, immediately reported, “That was Gu Jie. The script for <Dyeing Fire> is out, and the start date is set for April 3rd!”

Wang Xi had guessed as much, but she was more curious. “It’s not Gu Jie’s movie. Even if you stood him up, you’d be standing up the director. Why would he cut ties with you?”

Ran Lin explained, “Because he introduced me to Director He and vouched for me, saying he knows my character well and that I wouldn’t go back on my word.”

“……” Wang Xi, having seen too many instances where verbal promises mean nothing in the face of interests, felt a surge of respect for these two artists, almost wanting to award them a “Righteous Duo” banner.

“When are you signing the contract?”

“They want to sign as soon as possible, probably sending the contract this week.”

“Alright.” Wang Xi picked up the <Song Dingbo Catches Demons> script. “I’ll help you decline this one with the company.”

“Thanks.” Ran Lin nodded vigorously, half joking to help his agent strategize. “Just tell the boss that I might become an award-winning actor after <Dyeing Fire> with a golden future ahead!”

“You just focus on doing well in <Chronicles of Winter> first!”

Unable to bear it anymore, Wang Xi tapped him on the head and got up to leave, no longer lingering.

After sending Wang Xi off, Ran Lin held his phone and grinned stupidly for a while. After his laughter subsided, he immediately sent a message—[Guess who’s in Director He’s new film <Dyeing Fire>? Double male leads. One is Gu Jie, and you’ll never guess who the other is!]

Lu Yiyao, who was eating lunch, looked at the message on his phone and felt like his intelligence was being insulted.

……

At the same time, Wang Xi left Ran Lin’s apartment and went straight back to the company.

In front of Ran Lin, she had appeared “so easy”, but only she knew that the upcoming refusal would be a fierce battle—rejecting one offer and accepting <Dyeing Fire> meant the company would lose nearly ten million.

Other agencies with numerous well-known artists under their wings might not care about this sum and might even arrange for their idols to appear in prestigious films for no fee just to maintain their presence. But for Dream Without Limits, which in recent years had only really promoted one artist, Han Ze, nothing was more concrete than cold, hard cash. Even Han Ze, at the beginning of his rise to fame, had taken on some high-paying but low-quality projects.

The company’s logic was simple: if they made you a star, you needed to reciprocate.

However, artists always seek better development and plans more beneficial to their careers, leading to frequent disputes between them and their agencies, especially those who suddenly rise to fame.

Such disputes can be detrimental to young artists. The newly famous are not yet firmly established; their popularity can wane as quickly as it rose. If the company decides to drag things out, they can effectively quash an artist’s momentum.

Wang Xi didn’t want Ran Lin to fall into this mire. She might not manage Ran Lin forever, but at least for now, she wanted to do everything possible to help him navigate a balance between personal development and company demands.

En route to the company, Wang Xi mulled over her arguments. Once at the office, she dropped off her bag, took a brief rest, and then called her assistant to check if the boss was in.

To her surprise, the assistant said the boss was indeed in and wanted to see her.

Wondering what was going on, Wang Xi headed to the boss’s office and discovered another person there, chatting amiably with the boss. She recognized the person from her time at Pentium Times, where they had worked together for a few years before losing touch.

Wang Xi suspected the boss had a particular fixation on Pentium Times. Otherwise, it made no sense to always recruit from there.

“No need for introductions. You two are old acquaintances,” the boss said warmly, a rare amiability in his tone.

“Long time no see.” Wang Xi extended her hand first.

Deng Minru, five or six years her junior, stood up and courteously responded, “Xi Jie, please guide me in the future.”

The little girl from her memories had become a formidable figure. Even though Deng Minru tried to appear unassuming, Wang Xi could feel the other’s aura—familiar because they were similar.

“The future of Dream Without Limits’ brokerage department is in your hands,” the boss said with earnest hope. “I expect you to lead us to new heights!”

The boss was skilled at weaving personal agendas into seemingly routine encouragement—clearly, Deng Minru was being positioned to have equal standing with her.

Wang Xi hid her thoughts behind a smile, ready to express her loyalty with something like “I will not let the company down,” but the boss skipped the formalities and got straight to the point. “Since you’re both here today, go back to your office and hand over Han Ze’s information and situation to Minru. She’s already visited the set and communicated directly, so there should be no issues.”

Wang Xi was slightly irked by Deng Minru’s quick action but let the feeling pass quickly, replaced by a sense of relief at finally severing ties with Han Ze.

“Minru,” Wang Xi began gently. “Could you wait in my office for a bit? I need to discuss something with the boss…”

Deng Minru, sharp as ever, understood immediately. “No problem. I’m not in a hurry. I’ll head over first.”

After the “new colleague” left and the door closed again, the boss’s demeanor darkened. “Why make her wait in your office? Are you showing dominance?”

Wang Xi felt the trust the company had in her waning due to Han Ze’s recent downturns. As a result, the boss was less cordial and more authoritative with her than in previous years.

In the past, Wang Xi would have bristled at such treatment, but now she knew better than to react. Keeping a low profile and focusing on her goals was more important than temporary satisfaction.

With this in mind, Wang Xi offered a resigned smile. “I actually need to discuss something important with you.”

The boss raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s the matter?”

“You know the script you gave me…” Wang Xi carefully began. “Ran Lin might not be able to take it.”

The boss didn’t explode but asked in a deep voice, “Does he dislike the script?”

“No, no.” Wang Xi immediately shook her head. “The script is appealing, and the payment is very tempting, but he has already promised Director He to shoot his new film.”

The boss frowned slightly. “Which Director He?”

Wang Xi replied, “He Guan.”

The boss tapped his fingertips on the desk, pondered for a moment, then said, “Push it.”

Wang Xi raised her voice slightly, her tone seemingly surprised. “That’s exactly what I thought too! I said the same to him!”

The boss was taken aback, assuming Wang Xi was going to argue on behalf of the artist.

Wang Xi continued, “I explained it thoroughly to him. I told him that Director He’s films have a narrow audience and won’t help much with popularity. Plus, the payment is low, and the shooting often lacks a fixed wrap date. Who likes to shoot Director He’s films? Either newcomers or even amateurs happy to be on the big screen, or big stars who don’t care about fame or money and just want to boost their credentials and improve their acting skills. For someone like him, who’s on the rise but not yet firmly established, it’s critical to strike while the iron is hot and increase visibility as much as possible. It’s foolish to spend half a year or even a year on one film.”

The boss liked what he heard and even thought that Wang Xi’s persuasion was probably better than if he had done it himself. He nodded in agreement. “Exactly. The choice is clear, isn’t it?”

“But…” Wang Xi feigned difficulty. “There’s one thing he mentioned that got me thinking.”

The boss’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?”

“He said that during dinner, Director He personally revealed to him,” Wang Xi leaned in closer and whispered, “that this film has been in preparation for several years and is guaranteed to sweep domestic film festivals once completed, if not international ones.”

“Everyone boasts over drinks; that’s what drinking is for,” the boss scoffed. “You believe that?”

“If it were someone else, I wouldn’t, but this is He Guan we’re talking about,” Wang Xi argued. “You know his reputation in the country and the quality and acclaim of his films. Even if he can’t compare to his peak, he can easily outdo the current mass-produced films domestically.”

“Imagine if Ran Lin really wins Best Actor for this film, even just domestically. Among his peers, he would be breaking out.” Wang Xi pressed on, “Not only would his fee increase, but the caliber of endorsements would skyrocket. Just from the endorsement fees, the company would make a fortune.”

The boss frowned, pondering the credibility of this bright future.

“Although it’s a bit like undermining our own brand,” Wang Xi pressed further. “I’ve managed Han Ze for years and never really secured an opportunity for him to work with a top director as the lead. This time luck has fallen on Ran Lin’s lap. It’s not just his luck, but our company’s fortune. If he misses this, it’s a small thing to lose an opportunity, but if it damages our momentum, it’s a big loss.”

Many businessmen believe in feng shui and destiny, and the boss was no exception.

While he had been hesitant initially, the mention of potentially damaging the company’s fortune made him unsettled. Logically, he knew Wang Xi was manipulating, but psychologically, doubts crept in.

“How much is Director He offering?” he asked, still concerned about the financial aspect.

Wang Xi hesitated before revealing a number.

The boss’s face darkened, and Wang Xi quickly continued before he could scold her. “Ran Lin also knows this will cause a loss for the company, so he proposed that after shooting Director He’s film, he’d take on a high-paying TV drama. If not high-paying, then one with more episodes, but either way, he is determined to make up for the company’s investment and loss.”

The boss seemed somewhat appeased. “Did he really say that?”

“Why would I make up lies for him? I’m signed with Dream Without Limits, not Ran Lin,” Wang Xi said convincingly, then added, “But to be honest, the kid really is quite considerate.”

The boss nodded, somewhat moved. “It’s rare to find someone who’s grateful these days.”

He leaned back in his chair and asked, “When is the contract with Director He’s film being signed?”

Wang Xi answered, “As soon as this week, at the latest next week.”

“Alright then,” the boss concluded. “Make sure to avoid clashing schedules for this film. Look for a suitable TV drama and sign it as soon as possible to fill the gap for next year’s latter half. Don’t worry about the rest; once <Chronicles of Winter> hits theaters next year, his fee will increase again.”

……

Back in the office, Wang Xi and Deng Minru handled the handover regarding Han Ze. Despite the changes, Wang Xi provided Deng Minru with the most comprehensive information, including her understanding of and plans for Han Ze. Whether or not the new partnership adopted these strategies was now their concern.

By the time Deng Minru left, it was nearly 4 p.m.

Wang Xi stood up, looking out at the skyscrapers, suddenly feeling a bit tired.

After leaving Pentium Times, she joined Dream Without Limits, once believing her career would be tied to the company for the latter half of her life. She had even envisioned turning this modest company into an industry leader.

However, reality proved that she had overestimated both herself and Dream Without Limits.

After drinking half a cup of coffee, Wang Xi called Ran Lin. She skipped the details and just reported the outcome. “We’ve declined <Song Dingbo Catches Demons>, and <Dyeing Fire> can be signed, but afterward, you must sign a TV drama to help the company make money. You can’t be too picky.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, so long that Wang Xi thought Ran Lin was brewing a storm of protest.

Finally, a voice came through. “You’ve worked hard, Xi Jie.”

Wang Xi suspected her slightly heavy and tired tone gave away her feelings, or perhaps her clever artist had anticipated the possible consequences of rejecting the TV drama. Either way, his simple words brought a breeze of relief to her heart, cool and soothing.

“It’s not hard,” Wang Xi found herself saying. “Just do well in your roles and don’t waste any opportunities.”

There was a pause on the other end before Ran Lin assured, “I promise.”

……

By the end of October, <Split Moon> had wrapped up.

This film didn’t require Lu Yiyao to lose weight, but by the end, he had lost several pounds and looked worn and pale, matching the troubled character he portrayed in the film.

Yao Hong, who had returned to Beijing two months earlier, personally went to the capital airport to pick him up. Seeing him in person almost broke her heart. Once they managed to get through the crowd of fans and into the nanny van, Yao Hong shot a few deadly glares at Li Tong.

Yao Hong rarely glared at anyone, but when she did, it was lethal.

Li Tong felt wronged and was about to complain when Lu Yiyao noticed and chuckled. “Hong Jie, Li Tong has been very diligent and responsible. If you want to avenge my lost good looks, go find the director.”

Yao Hong gave him a look and affectionately pinched his face. “No worries, we’ll eat back what was lost.”

Lu Yiyao’s face, typically that of a mature city man, had become more angular and rugged with the weight loss, adding a certain hardness to his worn look. Still, he preferred his former self.

He decided to rest and recuperate for a few days to regain his vitality before reuniting with his lover.

The temperature in Beijing was much lower than in Xiamen. By the end of October, the streets had the early signs of autumn. Lu Yiyao rolled down the car window slightly, letting the crisp air refresh him and blow away months of accumulated stress from his role.

When they reached the underground parking of his apartment, Lu Yiyao felt a real sense of return, not just physically but mentally.

“Get some good sleep,” Yao Hong instructed worriedly.

Lu Yiyao nodded and got out of the car.

Li Tong had already gotten out and was handling the luggage, but Lu Yiyao bypassed him and tapped on the passenger window where Yao Hong was sitting.

Confused, Yao Hong lowered the window. “What’s up?”

Lu Yiyao said, “Come up with me. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Yao Hong’s brows furrowed slightly, sensing something serious. “Something… serious?”

“Mm,” Lu Yiyao admitted a bit resignedly. “It’s very important, and I need to talk to you about it.”

Sensing the urgency and importance of the matter, Yao Hong knew she couldn’t just avoid it. So she got out of the car, told the driver it might be a while, and all three headed up to Lu Yiyao’s place.

Once inside, Li Tong conscientiously took the luggage to the guest room to start unpacking for his boss, while Lu Yiyao led Yao Hong to the living room couch.

Yao Hong, not eager to dive into what seemed to be a heavy conversation, asked, “Don’t you want to change your clothes first?”

Lu Yiyao shook his head, took a deep breath as if making a significant decision, and said, “Hong Jie, I don’t want to take on any new gigs starting now.”

Yao Hong was shocked, but her face remained composed, only her trembling voice revealing her emotions. “Why?”

Lu Yiyao took Yao Hong’s right hand into his, holding it gently as a gesture of both comfort and apology. “I want to change my career.”

Yao Hong looked at him incredulously. “Leave the industry?”

“No,” Lu Yiyao clarified. “Not leaving the industry but changing careers.”

“No longer an artist?”

“Right,” Lu Yiyao affirmed, holding the agent’s hand firmly. “I want to become a boss.”

Yao Hong looked at him.

He looked back at her.

Suddenly, the agent pulled her hand away and pinched his face hard. “You think you’re capable now, huh? Now you want to be a boss, why don’t you just shoot for the moon!”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback and barely managed to dodge her, laughing while trying to calm her down. “Hong Jie, calm down, listen to me—”

Yao Hong couldn’t calm down!

She had been an agent for over twenty years, and the two artists she was most proud of were one who gave up her career for family and one who had given up literature to go into business. Moreover, compared to her predecessor, who retired swiftly after winning Best Actress, Lu Yiyao was even more regrettable. She had hoped to push Lu Yiyao to the pinnacle of success!

Li Tong, hesitating at the door of the guest room, wondered whether to intervene and, if so, whose side to take. Life’s choices are indeed difficult!

Yao Hong didn’t actually intend to beat Lu Yiyao up; she was just feeling frustrated. After letting out her frustration, she managed to breathe easier and then demanded, “Give me a reason.”

Lu Yiyao articulated every word. “I want to be with Ran Lin, truly and for the long term.”

“……” Yao Hong covered her chest, wanting to hit him again.

“It’s not just that,” Lu Yiyao quickly added, seeing her reaction. “I’m also genuinely interested in this field. And if I own an entertainment company, when Ran Lin’s contract is up, he can sign with me…”

Lu Yiyao swallowed the last word as he noticed the agent’s less than pleased expression.

Yao Hong knew it; it was all because of love!

She’d encountered not just one, but two love-struck individuals!

Seeing the agent reluctantly release her grip on the teacup, Lu Yiyao felt especially sorry.

He had wanted to talk to Yao Hong about this for a long time, but due to his filming schedule and her personal matters, the conversation had been delayed until now.

Today, he didn’t want to delay any further and had intentionally called her up for an honest, face-to-face discussion.

“Hong Jie,” Lu Yiyao said softly. “If you don’t mind, when my company is set up, would you continue to help me?”

Yao Hong, devoid of any enthusiasm, looked up at him. “You’re not even an artist anymore. What do you need me for?”

“I might not be an artist, but my company will sign artists… Hong Jie, please stop glaring at me…” Lu Yiyao felt as if his “beauty without ambition” label was definitely cemented in his agent’s mind.

Despairingly, Yao Hong massaged her temples. “I know you’re going to sign him. No need to repeat; just hearing his name gives me a headache.”

She actually had no issue with Ran Lin, but ever since he entered into the relationship, her own artist had been like a soul lost, and now he was even planning a drastic career shift. She was struggling to accept it all at once.

“Hong Jie, it’s not a decision I made on a whim,” Lu Yiyao said earnestly. “In the future, my entertainment company will sign multiple artists and invest in projects. I need someone trustworthy to help me manage it.”

Yao Hong’s voice was muffled, clearly still upset. “I don’t understand projects.”

But Lu Yiyao knew she was relenting. “But you understand artists. You could manage the entire artist department. You’ve brought me this far with little ambition on my part; I’m sure you could lead some promising talents to success.”

Yao Hong looked at him sideways. “You just keep flattering me.”

Lu Yiyao was serious. “I’m speaking the truth.”

The most terrifying flattery is the truth.

Yao Hong sighed, resigning as a pragmatist. “When does his contract expire?”

Lu Yiyao, barely concealing a smile, replied, “There are still two years left, but I haven’t asked about the exact month of expiry next year.”

Yao Hong was surprised. “You’re planning to open a company for him, and he hasn’t even told you when his contract ends?”

Lu Yiyao looked steadily at his agent. “I haven’t talked to him about this yet. Hong Jie, you know before he does.”

Yao Hong: “…So should I be happy about this?”


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Suddenly Trending Ch69

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 69

Xia Xinran wasn’t a man who always did what he said, but Gu Jie was. When Xia Xinran, full from eating until late into the night, wanted to go home and sleep, he was ruthlessly obstructed by Gu Jie.

After declaring it an all-nighter, they agreed not to stop until the first rays of dawn broke through the clouds and lit up the sky. Throughout the night, Xia Xinran, hugging Ran Lin, repeatedly asked why he had agreed to dine out with this person.

Ran Lin, sipping on sour plum soup, was neither tired nor sleepy, but rather content.

As the sun rose, Gu Jie, true to his word, arranged for a driver to send everyone home in his formidable Land Rover.

As for the “letter of severance of relations with the Gu family” Xia Xinran had written on a napkin at 3 a.m., no one knew where it ended up; no one remembered it anymore.

When the car first stopped at Xia Xinran’s place, he, barely able to keep his eyes open, reminded them, “Remember, next time the spicy hot pot is on me!”

Despite the initial rounds of drinking, the three of them had mostly stuck to non-alcoholic beverages throughout the night, so aside from fatigue, they were all sober.

After Xia Xinran was dropped off and the car started up again, Ran Lin suddenly remembered something important and asked Gu Jie, “When you recommend me to Director He, does the director need to see clips of my performance? My team has made a highlight reel of my performances. I can send it to you if needed.”

After saying everything in one breath, Ran Lin realized it was inappropriate. After all, helping was a favor, not an obligation. Gu Jie’s willingness to make introductions was already meaningful. His words seemed overly concerned and eager, likely adding pressure to Gu Jie. Moreover, his words were unfiltered and direct, spoken as soon as they came to mind…

“No need.” Gu Jie flatly refused. “Whatever your team made for you will surely be only the best parts. Even if I take it, Director He won’t watch it.”

Ran Lin looked at his friend’s disdainful face and suddenly realized his attitude was overly polite.

Feeling complicated, he suddenly felt a heavy pat on his shoulder, then heard Gu Jie continue, “What era are we in now? A simple online search will turn up all your videos. Director He will definitely observe you from all angles. He even has an account on Station B.”

Ran Lin, mouth agape, doubted his ears. “That’s… trendy?”

“A ghost edit video can open new perspectives for observing an actor,” Gu Jie explained. “That’s his exact words.”

Ran Lin was filled with emotion. “No wonder he became a famous director…”

Gu Jie stretched his arms out, resting them on the backseat, leaned back, and sighed as if enlightened. “So… without experiencing hardships, how can you see a rainbow~~ No one can succeed easily~~”

It was an old song, but when Gu Jie hummed it, it still carried an invigorating, motivational feel.

Ran Lin suddenly realized that Gu Jie’s attitude was exactly the kind of equanimity he had always strived for. Simple, pure, direct; ready to wait a year for a good script, willing to curse at a director who rewrote a script he’d memorized, and helping a friend with whom he wasn’t particularly close.

It wasn’t a choice made after weighing gains and losses; it was just his character.

With the power of a role model, when it was time to get off at his home, Ran Lin had no more hesitations and began to treat Gu Jie like a brother. “Say some good words about me in front of the director, you hear?”

Gu Jie, with a “you-don’t-need-to-tell-me-that” look, still cautioned, “Even if I say good things, if you don’t catch Director He’s eye, don’t blame me.”

Ran Lin smiled, recalling the enticing food descriptions Gu Jie had made at the hotpot party and immediately promised, “Whether it works out or not, I’ll treat you to authentic Inner Mongolian roasted lamb leg, crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, a taste that lingers!”

“Remembered, huh… I knew you had more conscience than that guy,” Gu Jie said, clenching his fist and thumping his chest twice. “Leave it to me and wait for the victorious news!”

Ran Lin mimicked the gesture, thumping his chest twice and suddenly feeling like he had joined some secret brotherhood.

After returning home, Ran Lin fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up until two in the afternoon. Feeling rejuvenated, he went online to search for information about the film <Dyeing Fire>.

[A story of the praying mantis stalking a cicada, while oriole follows*.]

*Idiom refers to while coveting the gains ahead, one should be aware of the dangers behind.

Ran Lin looked at the movie synopsis that only had one sentence after searching it and almost wanted to drop the mouse.

Director He, you might as well work for the secret service!

As for the cast, other than Gu Jie’s confirmed participation, there were guesses about every young actor you could name on Weibo, with marketers betting on who would be cast, including rumors that Director He might use a completely inexperienced newcomer.

Compared to that, at least the information Gu Jie shared had some substance. In the movie, Gu Jie plays a film cop, and he thinks Ran Lin would suit the role of a young man just released from prison, who at eighteen had followed the wrong crowd and got incarcerated for robbery. Now, six years later, he’s released at the start of the film at twenty-four.

As for the relationship between the film cop and this young man, since the new script was still up in the air, even Gu Jie wasn’t sure. But in the old script, the young man was described as thin, with pale skin hinting at green, living in a daze, and listless.

Ran Lin didn’t know why Gu Jie thought he fit this young man’s character, but he didn’t dare to ask too much for fear of upsetting matters.

A day passed after that.

The good news came on August 13th, the day Ran Lin was shooting an advertisement for the web game of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

He was in a magnificent costume, dueling with Tang Xiaoyu, who was clad in a moonlight white robe, both enjoying the swordplay. After the scene, they stood side by side, forcefully delivering the ad’s catchphrase to the camera—

“The most romantic sentiment, the fiercest martial world, Sword of Fallen Flowers, waiting for you to battle!”

The director was satisfied and declared it a wrap for the half-day shoot.

Tang Xiaoyu couldn’t wait to take off his makeup as he started to remove the large, bright green jade pendant hanging in front of his chest while walking back to the makeup room. He complained about the rough and shoddy work of the costume and makeup department and realized. “No wonder ‘Elder Brother’ didn’t come to shoot. It’s really a bit embarrassing.”

Ran Lin looked forward to the future. “It will also be blasted on various online platform ads.”

Tang Xiaoyu lamented, “My gentle and jade-like Xu Chongfei, ruined…”

As Ran Lin sympathized with him, Liu Wanwan caught up, offering a constantly vibrating phone, saying, “Ran Ge, you’ve got a call.”

Seeing “Gu Jie” on the caller ID, Ran Lin had a very auspicious premonition.

……

Wang Xi didn’t stay with Ran Lin to finish shooting the web game advertisement that day. Instead, after escorting him to the set and exchanging pleasantries with the director, she hurriedly returned to Dream Without Limits.

After confronting Han Ze, she had been incredibly busy for two consecutive days with various pre-scheduled meetings and activities, such as meeting with producers, directors, or networking with potential investors who might not be immediately useful but could be valuable in the future. Her schedule was packed, so she hadn’t had the chance to report her intention to change agents to the company.

Of course, she was also being cautious.

Even though Han Ze’s work had been mediocre in the past two years, he was still considered the top star of Dream Without Limits. Proposing to change agents as an artist of his stature would undoubtedly lead to criticism, and she needed time to prepare a persuasive explanation for the higher-ups.

Today, having finally found some free time and prepared her rationale, she left Ran Lin and returned to Dream Without Limits. She had already informed the boss the previous afternoon, so upon her return, she went straight to the boss’ office, who was waiting for her, which seemed like a good sign.

Everything seemed optimistic.

Before she could speak, the boss said, “Han Ze told me.”

Wang Xi had calculated everything, but she didn’t anticipate that Han Ze would act first, underestimating his shrewdness. Facts prove even the dumbest person can have moments of clarity, especially when they’re up to no good.

With the boss already spoken, Wang Xi didn’t need to say anything. She just sat there, bracing for the inevitable scolding.

When Han Ze got ruthless, he didn’t show any mercy at all. He even shared the intimate details of their initial romance with the boss, though he twisted the story to portray it as “his youthful naivety against her calculated scheming”. He piled on accusations of her inability to separate personal from professional matters, poor leadership, and more, blaming her for all the mishaps and setbacks in his career over the past two years, dumping all the blame onto her in one go.

Wang Xi wasn’t surprised by Han Ze’s betrayal or the boss’ full-blown rant. After all, if she couldn’t manage her relationship with the artists well, even she admitted that her management of Han Ze was a failure from a career standpoint.

So, she pretended to listen attentively to the boss’s scolding while actually checking if the curtains in the office were drawn.

Unfortunately, they weren’t.

This wasn’t a well-soundproofed office, and with the clear glass windows, the boss seemed determined to spare her no dignity. Wang Xi was surprised, but when the boss almost finished his rant and suggested they didn’t need to look for another agent within the company for Han Ze because he had already found a suitable one who would soon join Dream Without Limits brokerage team and become her new colleague, she realized the root of today’s drama.

It seemed the company had been contemplating removing her from her position even before discussing it with them.

If she was right, this “new colleague” would either take over her role or work alongside her at an equal level, effectively changing the leadership dynamics within the agent department.

Indeed, a too dominant subordinate isn’t often favored by leaders.

Wang Xi thought back and realized she had indeed turned down many high-paying but low-quality projects for Han Ze. She had done her best for him, but from the company’s profit-first perspective, dissatisfaction was inevitable.

As the boss softened his tone after mentioning the new agent, it was clear he was using a mix of intimidation and kindness, a common tactic for those in power. Wang Xi inwardly scoffed, but outwardly nodded earnestly.

The boss seemed pleased with her reaction, probably surprised by her compliance, and quickly concluded the meeting, allowing her to leave.

Wang Xi was surprised herself with her calmness; in the past, she would never have imagined being so composed, recalling times when she even slammed tables during arguments. But now, she understood that acting on impulse is easy; the hard part is enduring and staying focused on the goal.

Ran Lin’s career was just beginning to shine, and she didn’t want to abandon it midway.

As she walked out of the office, all her colleagues pretended to be busy, but she knew they were all watching her, listening for any signs of her reaction.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out with her head held high, her heels clicking assertively on the floor. Just then, her phone rang from her bag. Stopping briefly, she quickly answered while continuing to walk, “Hello?”

It was Ran Lin on the line.

Just two minutes ago, he had become her only partner.

Strangely, just seeing his name on the display brought her comfort, as if a refreshing rain had fallen.

“Xi Jie…” The voice on the other end seemed to be holding back something.

Wang Xi tensed up, thinking she couldn’t afford any more surprises, when Ran Lin shared, “Director He from <Dyeing Fire> has invited me to dinner!”

Wang Xi had reached the elevator and was pressing the button while asking, “What fire? Which Director He?”

“The one who directed <Eliminating a Good Man>, He Guan, Director He. His new movie <Dyeing Fire> needs to recast a few actors due to scheduling issues, and he wants to see me!”

She could hear the suppressed excitement in his voice.

As the elevator arrived and the doors opened slowly, Wang Xi stood still and asked, “Did Director He contact you personally?”

“No,” Ran Lin answered honestly. “A friend helped me make the connection.”

As the elevator doors closed and it continued down without her, Wang Xi watched the floor numbers blinking and quietly said, “When did you get such a wide network?”

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the phone before Ran Lin asked, “Xi Jie, are you happy or not about this? Can you give me some direction first?”

Wang Xi’s lips, previously pursed in a straight line, slowly relaxed into a softer expression, though her voice remained calm. “Which male lead are we talking about?”

“Either male lead one or two,” Ran Lin replied, swallowing nervously. “It depends on how the script is revised. If it’s a double lead, then male lead one. If not, then male lead two.”

Wang Xi: “And who is the confirmed male lead one?”

Ran Lin: “Gu Jie.”

Wang Xi: “Oh, he’s the one who made the connection for you.”

Ran Lin: “…Xi Jie, you could be a detective.”

Unable to suppress her smile any longer, Wang Xi pressed the elevator button again and exhaled slowly, “Shooting Director He’s films is notoriously tough. Can you handle it?”

“The hardship is fine,” Ran Lin paused before adding, “but the pay is a bit low. Xi Jie, can you handle it?”

“I can,” Wang Xi laughed without mirth. “But the company will probably have a headache.”

Ran Lin’s voice grew troubled. “Then what should we do…”

Wang Xi thought to offer him a plaque with “worrying needlessly” written on it. “What to do is for me to consider. But the premise of considering it is that you actually get the role first, right?”

Ran Lin: “……”

Wang Xi: “What’s wrong?”

Ran Lin: “That’s a bit harsh.”

Wang Xi: “Instead of feeling hurt, you’d better hurry up and rewatch all of Director He’s previous films. Watch them again, and then a third time. The most lovable people in the world are die-hard fans, understand?!”

Ran Lin: “Understood!”

Wang Xi could imagine Ran Lin’s silly grin just from his voice. As she was about to step into the elevator, her phone rang again.

The notorious “signal killer” elevator of the office building seemed to suggest to Wang Xi that perhaps she should take the stairs. Turning to the stairwell, she carefully descended in her high heels, phone in hand. “Yeah… I’m listening… go ahead…”

She had barely gone down one flight when she stopped in her tracks.

The call was from the movie adaptation of <Chronicles of Winter>—Ran Lin had been confirmed for the lead role, and the contract was already drafted and ready to be sent over.

This was one of the most efficient and decisive production teams Wang Xi had ever dealt with. She felt it wasn’t her luck but Ran Lin’s.

After hanging up, she breezed down to the first floor, stepping out into the harsh August sun. But instead of feeling overwhelmed by the heat, Wang Xi felt a sense of clarity and brightness.

Standing in the sunlight, she tried to recall which senior executive at the company had suggested transferring Ran Lin from Kang Hui to her care. She couldn’t remember who it was, only sure that it wasn’t the one who had scolded her that day.

Resigned, she visualized the executive as a shadowy figure with bright eyes in her mind and sincerely thanked them—

Thank you.

……

Ran Lin knew that due to continuous script revisions and repeated schedule delays, Director He was anxious to finalize the cast, but he didn’t expect it to be so urgent.

“Are you free tomorrow? Director He said he’d book a flight over if you’re available.” Gu Jie always got straight to the point, making every word count when discussing business.

It took Ran Lin a couple of seconds to digest the information. “Tomorrow might not work; I have a full day of scheduled appearances. Also, isn’t Director He in Beijing?”

“He’s in Wuhan,” Gu Jie explained. “Overseeing script revisions and scouting filming locations.”

“How about the day after tomorrow?” Ran Lin felt awkward delaying any further, especially since the director was willing to fly out to meet him.

“That’s fine, just don’t change your mind. And…” Gu Jie paused before continuing honestly, “He’s not coming just to see you. Others have recommended actors to him too; he’s planning to meet with everyone in one trip.”

Ran Lin suddenly understood and felt more at ease. “That makes more sense. It would be too much of an honor if he was coming just to see me.”

Gu Jie didn’t expect such a reaction and laughed. “Right, a role is only valuable when there’s competition. Good luck.”

Ran Lin was determined to give it his all, but he also wanted to use his resources wisely. “How did you impress Director He initially?”

Usually straightforward, Gu Jie hesitated this time. After a long pause, he admitted, “My experience might not be applicable to you.”

Ran Lin did not force others against their will, but long after the call ended, he still imagined Gu Jie shattering the audition table with a single palm, Director He clapping stiffly at the table collapsed in two, and finally, with a grit of his teeth, deciding “It’s you!”

The next day, Ran Lin spent his entire day fulfilling scheduled appearances, but whenever he had a moment, he’d watch Director He’s previous films on his phone. He had seen most of them before, but this time he focused on rewatching the director’s most classic and personally satisfying works. He delved deep into the films, studying the style, narrative structure, emotional exploration, and underlying messages.

He avoided film reviews and relied on his own understanding.

Recently, he hadn’t been in touch much with Lu Yiyao due to the latter’s hectic filming schedule. The last time they spoke, Lu Yiyao was excited about how immersed he was in his role, using methods Ran Lin had suggested and finding his own approaches. He hoped to maintain this momentum and not be a fleeting sensation.

Ran Lin could hear his excitement and tension.

Lu Yiyao may not be obsessed with acting, but he was the type of person who, when doing something, wants to do it to his satisfaction, especially when encountering difficulties, there was no second path other than “overcoming” them. Therefore, breaking through bottlenecks and finding the right feeling brought him a sense of achievement after surmounting the challenges.

Ran Lin was happy for him and understood the state of being deeply immersed in a role, so he tried not to disturb him lately.

If he could secure the role in <Dyeing Fire>, likely the contract for <Chronicles of Winter> would also be signed by then. Just after speaking with Wang Xi, his agent returned with good news: not only was he confirmed for <Chronicles of Winter>, but the contract was also ready to be signed soon if there were no issues with the terms.

Thinking about sharing two pieces of good news at once made Ran Lin quite proud, almost ready to boast to Lu Yiyao.

Outside the car window, the night deepened. Liu Wanwan watched Ran Lin, just finished with his schedule, holding his phone and watching a somber, realistic tragedy, yet smiling sweetly. She unconsciously moved a bit further towards the car door.

Her phone vibrated again. Frowning, Liu Wanwan opened WeChat and replied—[Tired, don’t want to chat.]

The other side persisted—[Don’t go, I’m still on set. Probably will be shooting till late night. Keep me company?]

Liu Wanwan was exasperated—[Why should I stay up with you?]

The other person justified—[Your boss and my boss are friends; we should maintain a good interaction too.]

Liu Wanwan—[Talk to me when you’re as handsome as your boss!]

The other side—[You can’t judge someone by their appearance! 🫴*]

*It’s actually Erkang’s hand gesture.

Liu Wanwan’s lips curved into a smile at the picture, but she resolved not to reply. Otherwise, the conversation would never end.

This colleague named “Li Tong” seemed to always find something to chat about with her, and before Liu Wanwan realized it, they had become quite familiar. Especially lately, Li Tong complained about the inhuman schedule of the <Split Moon> crew, starting work earlier than chickens and finishing later, with him suffering alongside his boss.

Liu Wanwan, feeling sorry for him, occasionally engaged in these little chats.

Neither Ran Lin nor Lu Yiyao knew that their assistants had started talking. One was preoccupied with meeting a director the next day, while the other was diligently working on set.

The next day was overcast with intermittent rain.

As soon as Ran Lin stepped out of the car, the wind almost snatched his hat away, but thankfully, the driver stopped right under the sign of “Authentic Inner Mongolian Roast Whole Lamb”, allowing him to quickly enter the restaurant without being exposed to the pre-rain winds for too long.

After he mentioned the name of the private room, a waitress immediately led him inside. However, she recognized him just a few steps in, gasped in excitement, and repeatedly expressed her fondness for his portrayal of Xu Chongfei. Ran Lin nodded continuously, hiding his dismay and agreeing, “Yes, Xu Chongfei is quite popular.”

They reached the door of the private room, and the waitress, now less excited, considerately opened the door for him. As Ran Lin entered, he felt the cool air—the air conditioning was quite strong.

Inside the spacious room sat only two people: one, his friend, beaming and energetic, dressed as if ready for a martial arts practice, and the other, casually dressed in a round-neck sweatshirt and loose shorts with a fisherman’s hat beside him—undoubtedly Director He.

Due to Gu Jie’s insistence that the day be informal, like a friends’ gathering rather than work, and the director’s preference to chat with actors, Ran Lin didn’t bring along Wang Xi.

Knowing Director He’s temperament, Wang Xi didn’t insist but reminded Ran Lin to perform well.

At that moment, Gu Jie stood up and warmly invited, “Come, have a seat.”

However, Director He remained still, not even turning to look, his gaze fixed on the teacup in front of him, exuding an inviolable majesty.

Ran Lin swallowed nervously and attempted to greet, “Director He…” but the director seemed absorbed, not responding.

Ran Lin sat down with Gu Jie, but his gaze still rested on Director He, realizing that just as Gu Jie had described, the director seemed to have entered a mysterious realm incomprehensible to others, automatically shielding himself from all external disturbances and focusing solely on his inner world.

“Have the dishes been ordered?” Ran Lin whispered.

Gu Jie nodded. “Don’t worry. All the dishes I ordered are classics.”

Ran Lin, amused yet slightly confused, wondered if Gu Jie misunderstood his question.

“By the way,” Gu Jie, remembering something, whispered, “About the lower pay for the film, there’s no issue with your agency, right? If everything goes well but you back out due to the pay, it’ll be a disaster for me. Director He would be furious.”

Ran Lin understood Gu Jie’s concerns.

As an artist signed with a company, unlike those who own their studios, he didn’t have much say in choosing scripts. The company took seventy percent of the film’s earnings, so when it came to spending a few months filming, whether earning one million or ten million, the company’s choice was obvious and without hesitation.

At such times, Ran Lin felt it was better not to be too famous. “I’ve already informed my agent. It’s all good. No eager investors are trying to throw money at me yet.”

Gu Jie laughed, about to pour a glass of water for Ran Lin, when suddenly he noticed Director He looked up, quickly patting Ran Lin on the shoulder.

Ran Lin, catching the cue, turned and met Director He’s gaze, standing up respectfully and greeting, “Director He.”

He Guan was a tall and burly man with a square face, a crew cut, deep eye sockets, a slightly hooked nose, and a chin adorned with stubble, presenting a very formidable and fierce appearance.

“Sit down quickly. No need for such formalities.” Director He finally ended his contemplation and gestured hastily.

Despite his rugged appearance, He Guan’s voice was surprisingly easygoing. Even without a smile, his facial features seemed relaxed, lacking the pretentious depth or sternness common among many directors.

“Today is just a casual chat. Don’t be nervous. If you’re nervous, you won’t be yourself, and then today’s meal will be wasted.” Director He was straightforward, addressing the purpose of the meeting without overemphasizing it, maintaining a comfortable balance.

Ran Lin didn’t know what to say for a moment, just staring at the genial, smiling director, finding him quite marvelous.

Director He, unflinchingly, let the young actor observe him, and after a while, asked with interest, “Noticed anything?”

Ran Lin, snapping back to reality and a bit embarrassed, honestly replied, “You feel completely different from the atmosphere of your films.”

“Many people say that,” Director He watched him quietly, continuing, “But I still want to hear your thoughts.”

Ran Lin tilted his head, thought for a moment, then tactfully said, “No matter the subject or story of your films or the group they focus on, be it the lower class or the middle class, they all tend to be… gloomy and harsh. But you, in person, are especially bright and cheerful, not at all like that.”

“Gloomy, harsh…” He Guan mulled over these words, then suddenly looked at Ran Lin. “Don’t be polite with me. Can you be more direct?”

Ran Lin glanced at Gu Jie subconsciously.

Gu Jie, instead of hinting, said, “Don’t worry. Speak freely. Director He likes straightforward people.”

Ran Lin always felt one day Gu Jie would lead him into trouble. But seeing his friend’s open expression, and Director He’s similar demeanor, he suspected they might have bonded over their personalities and decided to be frank. “Pessimistic. Even if the ending is happy, it leaves one feeling hopeless and suffocated. It’s particularly bleak.”

Bang!

Director He slammed the table, startling Ran Lin. Amid the echo of the table slam, Director He burst into hearty laughter. “Gu Jie, I like your friend!”

Gu Jie, smugly, replied, “I never recommend someone blindly!”

Both men’s confidence enlivened the atmosphere.

Ran Lin unconsciously swallowed, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two men, feeling an anxious trepidation that, after this meal, he might be coerced into something daunting by the pair.

Just then, the waiter, perhaps timing it perfectly, brought over three roasted lamb legs, one in front of each person, creating a striking visual impact.

Just as Ran Lin thought they were about to feast, the waiter brought over a pot of fragrant tea. Unlike the complimentary tea, this was specially ordered and of high quality.

Noticing Ran Lin’s confusion, Director He smiled kindly. “Drinking can lead to trouble, so today let’s eat well and drink tea heartily.”

Ran Lin suddenly felt an urge to slam the table and shout himself—he was growing fond of this capricious director who played by his own rules!

The scent of the tea mingled with the aroma of the meat. Without any formalities or toasts, Director He simply commanded, “Eat.”

“Actually, a person’s understanding and perception change with age,” Director He began as they ate. “No director’s style stays the same forever, which is why I’ve been revising the script repeatedly. The screenwriter is an old friend, too accustomed to my style and prone to falling back into old patterns, but this time I wanted to do something less bleak.”

Ran Lin was surprised to hear Director He was challenging himself. “Something optimistic…uplifting?”

“Not exactly,” the director replied seriously. “This time, I’m not planning to imbue my personal feelings. I’ll let the camera follow an objective documentary style, avoiding judgment on the characters or events in the film, leaving right and wrong for the audience to decide, striving for the stark ‘harshness’ you mentioned earlier.”

Ran Lin thought to himself that bleakness and harshness aren’t mutually exclusive; in fact, his previous films were just that—a harsh style of bleakness. But he hesitated to discourage the director’s enthusiastic explanation. Changes might be real, and only the director might understand them. He couldn’t comprehend everything in just one meal.

He looked at Gu Jie, hoping to glean some insight from his partner to better understand Director He’s profound theories. But when he turned, he found his friend fully engaged in a battle with the stubborn lamb leg.

With a sigh of despair, Ran Lin turned back to his own thoughts. After a moment, he was ready to share his views, excitedly looked up, but then hesitated and held back his words.

Perhaps growing impatient waiting for Ran Lin to speak, Director He also focused on his meal, determined to conquer the lamb leg.

Ran Lin looked left, then right, and after a long moment of mixed feelings, he too threw himself into eating!


Kinky Thoughts:

I know the author is trying to whitewash Wang Xi and give her redemption, but like common now. It’s completely unethical to date your artist, and given that age gap and her position in power, it’s absolutely conceivable she took advantage of Han Ze (regardless of how he’s portrayed in the novel).

For such a supposedly competent and smart woman, she sure dug herself a lot of pits.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch73

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 73: Badge

The conversation began with a casual greeting, but somehow it developed into a late-night snack at a table.

Oh no, it was actually two small square tables pushed together, overcoming all odds to eat like a family.

Eating late-night snacks alone isn’t as enjoyable—that was Captain Muscle’s reason. By the time Xu Wang and the others realized what was happening, various snacks had already covered half of the table. The remaining half awaited the return of Dark Circles from other stalls to fill it up.

“We ‘appraised’ from one end of the street to the other, ensuring that only the best are on our table,” Dark Circles boasted upon returning, as Phoenix Eyes gave his stamp of approval on the quality of their “purchases”, speaking with emphasis and posture as if they weren’t at a street stall but a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Huainan beef soup, fragrant pan-fried hairy tofu, baked stuffed sesame rolls, and more represented Anhui, forming half of the eight-person late-night snack feast. Spicy crawfish, grilled meat skewers, fried chicken cutlets, spicy hotpot, and other popular dishes completed the other half of the table.

“Drama Queen” Captain Xu initially didn’t want to eat, mainly out of guilt, fearing that he might accidentally reveal something in his excitement.

But once the spicy aroma of crawfish filled the air, he couldn’t resist.

Just when he had started enjoying a few, his hand was swatted away by his own advisor.

Xu was confused and glared at Wu Sheng—any disruption during a wonderful eating moment should be intolerable!

Wu Sheng remained unphased. “Enjoy in moderation.”

Xu Wang followed his gaze and finally realized he still had an injury on his neck.

But the wound, inflicted by the young girl in black’s Wind Blade, was so shallow that it only left a trace of blood, not even requiring a band-aid. If such a minor injury required dietary restrictions, then he should have fasted when he was scratched by a black bear.

“Better safe than sorry. It’s wise to eat something light,” Wu Sheng suggested, as if understanding Xu Wang’s unspoken complaints.

Xu Wang asked in frustration, “Do you see anything light here?”

Wu Sheng glanced at the table, picked up the plastic-sealed menu at the corner, and, after a brief look, called out to the stall owner. “Boss, add a dish of cold okra salad—”

Xu Wang: “……”

Where is the camaraderie among socialist teammates?!

“Captain, don’t be ungrateful.” Qian Ai, who had been watching the whole time, put down a crawfish claw and sighed pitifully. “I wish someone would care for me and offer me cold okra salad…”

Xu Wang, looking at the mountain of crawfish shells in front of him, replied unconvincingly, “Your words have no persuasiveness…”

Qian Ai closed his mouth, feeling wronged.

He was indifferent to crawfish, but who made Wu Sheng use [A Dragon Swimming in Shallow Waters is Teased by Crawfish] tonight? The crayfish in the water were so cheerful. Clearly, this was pure, naked seduction that was irresistibly tempting.

The okra salad was served.

Chopstick by chopstick, he picked up okra in a desolate manner, occasionally putting one in his mouth to let his taste buds experience what it means to be cold and abstinent.

This was Captain Xu’s night of food indulgence: The End.

“Did you really eat your way from one end of the street to the other before starting the challenge?” Unable to feast, Xu Wang had to distract himself with conversation.

Muscles, Phoenix Eyes, Paper Thin, and Dark Circles all nodded together; half of their eyes showed confusion, half innocence.

“Is there a problem?” Muscles asked on behalf of the team.

Xu Wang: “…No, no problem.”

If one didn’t consider the “wind that sweeps away the clouds” eating manners of these four, there was no problem at all.

Muscles was sitting directly opposite Xu Wang. Talking to him was most convenient, so noticing him about to “dig in” again, Xu Wang hastily called out, “Muscles…”

As soon as he spoke, he hesitated, wanting to correct himself.

As a result, Muscles looked up in surprise. “You know my name?”

Xu Wang: “……”

A nickname being so accurately matched?!

Realizing the mix-up and that he hadn’t introduced himself, Muscles quickly changed the subject. “Did you see the leaderboard just now?”

Xu Wang was eager to discuss just that and immediately perked up. “I saw it. I thought the single-challenge speed records would be held by regulars on the leaderboard, but it seems like only Fan Peiyang’s team is there.”

Muscles had just brought up a random topic, not expecting Xu Wang to be genuinely interested. Without hiding anything and without compromising his own team, he shared some information. “The single-level speed record is only revealed to those in the same level when it’s broken. Including this time, we’ve only encountered it three times, and the previous two were Fan Peiyang’s team, one on 2/23 and the other on 4/23.”

Xu Wang was surprised, having assumed that the speed leaderboard was visible to everyone. If it was as Muscles said, only visible in record-breaking levels, then even if others broke records in different levels, they wouldn’t know immediately.

Like now, the record for 4/23 was theirs, and 2/23 was another team’s, no longer Fan Peiyang’s. But when was the 2/23 record refreshed? And when did Fan Peiyang’s team break the 7/23 record? For both them and Muscle’s team, it was a mystery.

“The records for the first seven challenges are up for grabs by any team willing to fight for it, with a bit of luck. It’s normal for them to change hands.” Muscles added, “But after 7/23, the records are set in stone.”

Xu Wang was stunned. “You’ve encountered three record announcements, and none have changed after 7/23?”

“Yep.” Muscles pondered, then shared some gossip. “Last week, a team encountered Fan Peiyang’s team in 9/23. They were trying to break the 9/23 record but failed.”

The implication was clear about the difficulty of the later challenges.

“Do you know any teams that hold records after 7/23?” Wu Sheng joined the conversation.

Muscles shook his head, sighing. “They probably gave up long ago.”

Wu Sheng felt this didn’t make sense. “Would teams fast enough to set records give up so easily?”

“Until now, there’s been no record for 13/23.” Muscles looked at him. “Do you know what that means?”

Wu Sheng understood clearly. “It means that even record-breaking teams have to repeatedly traverse levels 1–13.”

Muscles nodded. “It’s like academic performance. Effort leads to improvement, but if the difficulty exceeds a certain level, no amount of effort will suffice. Eventually, even those who consistently score 59 points will lose heart and give up.”

Wu Sheng suddenly remembered Phoenix Eyes once calling him “Teacher Wei”.

“If your team consistently scores 59 points,” Wu Sheng asked, “would you give up?”

Muscles thought seriously. “Hard to say…”

Seeing hope and having it dashed repeatedly is more devastating to the will than never having seen hope at all.

“We won’t.” Xu Wang, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up.

Muscles was taken aback.

“Well, I mean he won’t.” Xu Wang pointed at Wu Sheng. “Our teammate here loves tackling the impossible. If it’s really like you said, countless 59s, he’d be ecstatic, dragging us to attempt the level eight times a day.”

“Not really…” Advisor Wu modestly disagreed, but his slightly upturned mouth betrayed his relentless pursuit of knowledge.

Muscles, who had spent nearly a decade lecturing, saw through Wu Sheng’s knowledge-thirsty soul instantly.

That’s his favorite kind of student!

Xu Wang: “……”

His advisor seemed to have caught someone’s attention. What to do? Should he flip the table?

Their companions didn’t notice this “undercurrent” because they had each found their “soulmates”—

Dark Circles: “Right, XX Bank. Their financial products are diverse, well-designed, and backed by the bank, making them the most reliable for long-term investments. If you’re interested in principle-guaranteed investments, large deposit certificates are also a good choice…”

Qian Ai: “Can I buy them through mobile banking?”

Dark Circles: “Most of them, yes, but some require visiting a branch.”

Qian Ai: “You haven’t told me your name. How will they pay you a commission?”

Dark Circles: “I have an advisor number. Just use it when you make a purchase.”

Qian Ai: “Hey, your job sounds pretty good…”

Dark Circles: “Of course. I’m the only one in our team who didn’t quit my job.”

Qian Ai: “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m also juggling challenges with work!”

Dark Circles: “Are you a financial advisor too?!”

Qian Ai: “No, I’m a food vlogger.”

Dark Circles: “That sounds fun!”

Qian Ai: “It’s not easy. Speaking of which, how do you balance work and challenges? I can only manage sporadic vlogging…”

Dark Circles: “You need a long-term plan for that. Let me explain…”

Paper Thin, resting his chin on his hand, watched the animated conversation with a soft smile. You’d think he was sitting in a café, watching the street scene.

Turning his head, he saw a classmate staring intently at him.

Paper Thin smiled warmly.

Kuang Jinxin, who had been curious for a long time, asked directly, seeing the other party’s gaze. “Are you a dancer?”

Paper Thin chuckled. “Not even close. I just practiced dancing.”

Practiced.

Past tense.

If this was Xu Wang, he would have detected the hidden meaning in those words.

But Kuang Jinxin wasn’t as perceptive. He was delighted to get a positive response. “I thought so! Dancers have such a presence. You’re the second most attractive person I’ve ever seen!”

This was a unique compliment for Paper Thin, who had heard many in his life. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Who’s the first?”

“Chi…” Kuang Jinxin almost blurted out a name but stopped himself, tapping his head. “Oh right, I can’t say names. It’s dangerous.”

He looked serious, as if saying the name would cast a curse.

Paper Thin’s eyes crinkled with amusement. His fatigue from the night almost dispelled, as if charmed by Kuang Jinxin’s natural candor.

“It’s a challenger I met on 4/23,” Kuang Jinxin elaborated, then immediately relaxed and sighed a little regretfully. “He’s really good-looking, but his personality isn’t great.”

Paper Thin inquired, “Bad temper? Nasty character?”

“It’s not specifically bad, just… weird,” Kuang Jinxin reflected on his memories of Chi Yingxue, particularly the moment he was hugged and dropped from the Ferris wheel. “It’s like he has a small, dark room in his heart, and no one knows what’s inside.”

Paper Thin, lost in thought, responded after a while, “Everyone has a dark room in their heart.”

Kuang Jinxin, without hesitation, shook his head and pointed at Qian Ai, who was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Dark Circles. “His heart is like a sunroom.”

Classmate Qian, who had no idea he was mentioned, was completely absorbed in Dark Circles’ vision of ‘rolling wealth’, from body to soul.

Paper Thin couldn’t see this sunroom but could imagine such a mental space. “Transparent, full of flowers and plants; sounds nice.”

Kuang Jinxin corrected him. “It’s mainly the eight major Chinese cuisines and RMB.”

Paper Thin almost choked on his drink and, suppressing a laugh, asked directly, “What about your other teammates?”

Kuang Jinxin: “Our advisor is a meditation self-study room.”

Paper Thin: “……”

Each word made sense individually, but combined, they seemed so mysterious…

“The captain is like an amusement park!” Kuang Jinxin, after some deep thought, found the perfect description for their leader.

Paper Thin, seeing the light in Kuang Jinxin’s eyes, finally confirmed his sixth sense was right.

A team that can inspire such pride in its members can’t be weak.

“Hmph.”

Phoenix Eyes, being ignored, continued to roast eggplant in foil, savoring it as if it were escargot.

As the meal ended and the night market closed, the eight strangers who met by chance, having bonded over a meal, went their separate ways.

The next challenge location hadn’t been given yet, so Xu Wang and the others found a decent hotel nearby. After a month in the Endless Sea, not only did they collect stationery, but they also accumulated substantial team funds, allowing for a steady improvement in their accommodation.

The arrangement remained two standard rooms, keeping in mind that better conditions shouldn’t lead to extravagance.

Wu Sheng emerged from the bathroom after a shower, noticing the dawn outside. His captain, who had showered earlier, hadn’t slept and was lying in bed, holding the keychain while staring at it.

Wu Sheng sat on his bed, drying his hair, waiting for his captain to initiate a conversation.

Sure enough, Xu Wang sat up abruptly, looking serious and full of academic curiosity. “Didn’t you once say that the operating logic of the Owl is very similar to a program?”

“Yes,” Wu Sheng said. “But that’s just a metaphor. If the Owl were indeed a program, its algorithmic complexity would be beyond human comprehension, not to mention its ability to interfere with the real world.”

Xu Wang stared at the keychain, lost in thought again.

The first time he entered the Owl with the keychain, he had to drop it on the ground to transform it into Wangwang. But on the second entry, the keychain went directly into the [Stationery Box], becoming an icon. Since then, the pattern of “disappearing into an icon upon entering and automatically reverting to a keychain in reality” had become fixed.

He had always thought this was Wangwang finding its most suitable mode of existence.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if it was the Owl making targeted adjustments based on Wangwang?

As Wu Sheng said, when the owl absorbs external information, it might generate something new through its own algorithms.

If that’s the case, then “teaching NPCs to be human” isn’t far-fetched…

Watching Xu Wang deep in thought, Wu Sheng felt a sense of impending redundancy to his job as their advisor.

“Where’s your little cards?” Xu Wang suddenly looked up and extended a hand to his advisor. “Let me see them.”

Wu Sheng, delighted that someone was interested in his “educational project”, quickly put down his towel and pulled out a stack of cards, solemnly handing one over as if he was handing them a business card.

Xu Wang took the card and saw Advisor Wu’s “intellectual crystallization” for the first time. “Why are you here… Is this your job or your mission here…”

After reading the first two, Captain Xu felt hopeless.

Looking up, he asked Wu Sheng, “Why are you on Earth?”

Wu Sheng, unusually, was stumped by the question.

Xu Wang sighed, emphasizing, “Asking questions is like conversation. You need to choose topics that interest everyone, to make them feel connected and inspire exploration. Questions about the universe or the ultimate meaning of life—even if you ask me, I wouldn’t bother answering.”

This comment jolted Advisor Wu.

He suddenly stood up, draped in his bathrobe, and rushed to the writing desk, tearing off a piece of hotel notepaper and began writing fervently, his eyes shining with inspiration.

Xu picked up the towel thrown on the bed to prevent dampness from seeping into the sheets, feeling as if he was back in their high school dormitory, under the tyranny of his study-obsessed roommate. “You don’t have to be so hardworking…”

Day turned to night, and the moon rose.

Time seemed to pass especially fast since they entered the “Owl”.

At midnight, the four teammates re-entered the moonlit forest.

This time, they intentionally entered directly from the hotel, a few kilometers from the coordinate point, so neither the maze nor other challengers were in sight. The surroundings were just the forest and the moonlight filtering through the leaves.

“Ding—”

The new coordinates, as expected, appeared in the [Cheat Sheet].

“Henan… Anyang?” Wu Sheng recognized the coordinate point but was puzzled.

The other teammates didn’t react much to “Henan” but were startled at “Anyang”.

Qian Ai: “Didn’t Captain Yue say that 5/23 is in Henan Xiangcheng?”

Kuang Jinxin confirmed. “Henan Anyang should be the 6/23 coordinate.”

When Yue Shuai mentioned it, they had looked up the locations on an offline phone map. Although both were in Henan, one was central and the other near the northern border, almost touching Hebei. The two places spanned half of Henan Province and weren’t very close.

“Check the [Report Card],” Xu Wang said, noticing something new on his arm.

The other teammates did so.

The [Report Card] was a section not often opened, as without the two leaderboards active, its contents only showed their team’s progress. Since everyone knew how far they had gone, nobody specifically checked it.

Even as recently as yesterday, they had focused intently on the [Submission Speed Ranking] for just two minutes.

Now, all four teammates could clearly see their current score—a symbol indicating they had completed certain challenges.

Xu Wang: “……”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Qian Ai: “Could it be that we finished 5/23 and all collectively forgot about it…?”

Kuang Jinxin: “Is it possible that, as a reward for breaking the submission speed record, we skipped the next level and went straight to the one after that?”

Xu Wang: “If that’s the case…”

Wu Sheng: “The logic is flawless.”

Qian Ai: “Can’t you also consider my guess…”

Xu Wang: “There’s always been a difference between Europe and Africa.”

Qian Ai: “……”

“Huh?” Kuang ‘Prince of Europe’ Jinxin, after exiting the [Report Card] and casually checking his [Stationery Box], made a new discovery. “Captain, I’ve got an extra hidden item slot!”

The three others immediately gathered around.

Indeed, in Kuang Jinxin’s [Stationery Box], a hidden page appeared next to the regular stationery. This page had thirteen empty slots, twelve of which were empty, and only the fourth slot had a question mark.

The three teammates quickly checked their arms but couldn’t find any hidden page, no matter how hard they tried.

After exchanging glances, they all agreed on one thing.

A question mark obviously meant it was something to be clicked on!

Classmate Kuang clicked on it, and the question mark disappeared, revealing a prompt:

[Stationery Box]: Please choose one submission speed record-breaking reward. Large cash prize/Moonlight Maze Badge?

Xu Wang: “A submission speed reward? Didn’t we already open the treasure chest yesterday?”

Wu Sheng: “But Xiao Kuang didn’t get any money.”

Xu Wang: “There must be some issue.”

Qian Ai: “I just want to know how ‘large’ this large amount is…”

The day before, they only had two minutes and were occupied with opening chests and checking the leaderboard. It’s possible the hidden slot appeared then, but either the notification sound was lost in the mix or there was no notification at all, leading to their failure to notice it.

“Captain.” Kuang Jinxin, usually decisive, was now perplexed about the choices. “What’s the use of this badge?”

“I don’t know either,” Xu Wang admitted honestly. “But based on the law of ‘nothing is given for free’, it must have some value…”

“The reward is yours.” Captain Xu patted Kuang Jinxin on the shoulder. “So follow your heart.”

While Kuang Jinxin was seriously contemplating his choice, Wu Sheng finally had a suggestion for his captain. “You’re making up laws now; could you at least put some thought into naming them?”

Xu Wang was speechless. “You’re focusing on such details…”

Wu Sheng: “The Law of One White.”

Xu Wang: “Damn, that sounds cool.”

Sometimes, being pretentious is also a talent.

Two minutes later, under the heartbroken gaze of Qian Ai, who loved money, Kuang Jinxin resolutely chose the badge.

The unknown is always the most attractive.

[Owl: Congratulations on finding the 4/23 Moonlight Maze Badge!]

The cheerful notification sound wasn’t just one but four.

The teammates were astonished and simultaneously looked at their arms.

For Kuang Jinxin, the hidden item slot’s fourth slot now officially housed the [Moonlight Maze Badge].

But for Wu Sheng, Xu Wang, and Qian Ai, their [Stationery Box] also showed an extra hidden item slot with a [Moonlight Maze Badge].

Kuang Jinxin was so happy, he felt like spinning around.

The maze was a challenge they had faced together, so naturally, they should all receive the badge together!

The three teammates were also elated, although they still didn’t know what the badge was for. They had deeply understood Classmate Kuang’s role:

“King.”

Blessed by RNGesus*.”

*The term used here is (欧氪), which is a combination of Europe (欧洲) + krypton (氪金) which is a term for in-game currency. Europe (referring to Europeans and, by extension, white), which is associated with being lucky. So overall, the term is like a guy who’s incredibly lucky when he spends in-game currency to buy loot boxes (or whatever).

“A one-man team…”


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch72

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 72: Records

Realizing she had been deceived, the young girl in black fell silent.

Her cold face, as usual, showed no signs of joy or anger. However, around her, a faint black mist began to emanate…

Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai simultaneously looked towards their team captain on the other side. Since they were all wrapped in vines and suspended mid-air at the same height, it was convenient for eye contact.

[Looks like you two have angered her…] — The uneasy glances from Kuang and Qian.

[I’m just the sous-chef. The main chef is our advisor—yes, the advisor.] — The innocent look from Captain Xu.

The teammates hanging from the vines quieted down, as docile as budding flowers.

Even the shallow water calmed, and the crayfish ceased their play. The young dragon was nowhere to be seen, and the elusive electric eel lay hidden at the bottom.

The scene was momentarily very quiet.

At such times, the advantage of not being able to read the room or observe the atmosphere becomes apparent.

“You should have entangled me with the vines too, regardless of whether I was unconscious or had lost my ability to fight, but you didn’t.” Advisor Wu, who showed no pressure, didn’t forget to analyze the battle strategy for his opponent. “In a high-level duel like ours, one wrong move means losing everything.”

The three teammates: “……”

Their strategist had completely immersed himself in the role of a “scheming villain”, but “mysterious confidence” was a sacred and inseparable part of all his personas.

“Please fulfill your promise and show us the way,” Wu Sheng demanded, serious now.

The young girl in black stared at Wu Sheng, her eyes as cold as frost. If looks could freeze someone to death, Wu Sheng would have entered the Ice Age by now.

But the electric eel was swimming around her ankle, like an inescapable evil spirit. She knew that any movement, whether using stationery or summoning stones with the wind, would result in another destructive electric shock.

They faced each other in a long, silent standoff for a while.

The young girl in black, as reluctant as she was, finally gave in. “Right…”

The four teammates perked up their ears, not wanting to miss a single word.

“Right—left—right…”

“Plop.”

The four teammates, who were intently memorizing the directions, were startled. What kind of direction is “plop”?

The young girl in black, who was giving directions, was also confused. Being the closest to the sound and hearing it the clearest, she immediately looked down.

The next second, a wet little head popped out of the water near her leg. The calico bangs were soaked, forming distinct strands, and the blue-green eyes were filled with panic. The little paws struggled frantically in the water, crying desperately. “Meow, meow, meow—”

For the [Soul Painter], the ankle-deep water was like an abyss.

Wu Sheng hadn’t expected Wangwang from Plan K to make an appearance at this moment. He immediately deactivated the stationery effect without hesitation.

The shallow water vanished instantly, and Wangwang, as if pardoned, leaped up with a “plop”, clinging to the maze wall, spreading out like the “大*” character. Its small paws clutched desperately at the stems and leaves of the vine plants that had spread to the wall, motionless like a spider kitten.

*Big.

Seeing how adept it was, Wu Sheng knew that the little guy must have maintained this position for a long time before falling into the water due to exhaustion.

While Advisor Wu’s mind was racing, Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin were still in their initial state of shock, their puzzled gazes drifting towards the captain.

“The fight just now was too intense. My hand slipped when I was trying to activate a stationery.” Captain Xu apologized profusely, once to his teammates and once to Wangwang.

Teammates: “……”

Wangwang: “Meow!”

The sound of frustration, no matter how you heard it, seemed to carry an unappeasable wrath.

Xu Wang shrank his neck, avoiding the blue-green glare of the kitten overlord, and quickly prepared to deactivate the stationery and send Wangwang back home through the air.

But as he was about to act, the young girl in black suddenly turned around, came behind the small calico kitten, and curiously extended a finger, lightly touching the tip of its ear.

The kitten seemed displeased at being touched, folding its ear down instantly.

The young girl in black, startled, withdrew her finger as if electrocuted.

But within two seconds, she couldn’t help herself and gently scratched the top of the kitten’s head.

The kitten, seemingly annoyed, suddenly turned and pounced!

The young girl in black instinctively stepped back half a step, and the kitten only managed to grab her cloak.

Missing its target, Wangwang immediately fled, perfectly inheriting its team’s “scheming” style. Unexpectedly, its sharp claws hooked the cloak, and as it jumped and ran, it tore off the black cloak of the young girl!

Silver hair cascaded down, beautiful as moonlight!

Her black princess dress, less playful than Xiao Bai’s but more exquisite, made her look even more like a moonlight elf—cold, serene, and mysterious.

The vine plants disappeared.

The three teammates landed on the ground.

But the young girl in black didn’t even look at them, only bending down to carefully pick up Wangwang—like a guilty little kitten, it stepped on the cloak, not daring to move.

A gentle, warm breeze enveloped Wangwang, making its fur warm and cozy.

Feeling comfortable, Wangwang narrowed its eyes without taking a stand and lay quietly in the young girl in black’s arms.

After two or three minutes, the wet kitten regained its majesty. Its fur was sleek and shiny, and it purred comfortably.

Only then did the young girl in black reluctantly raise her eyes and look at Xu Wang.

Captain Xu understood and quickly summoned [Soul Painter].

Wangwang, in the young girl in black’s arms, slowly disappeared. Its little paw icon reappeared in Xu Wang’s stationery box.

At this time, the four teammates had regrouped.

The young girl in black glanced at them and turned to draw a door on the maze wall with her finger as a pen.

As her fingertip left, the door materialized, identical to the twenty doors they had nearly missed earlier.

The four teammates: “……”

She too is a soul painter.

“Forget the previous directions.” The young girl in black turned back. Her moon-like, long hair gently fluttered in the night breeze. “This door is for you.”

Xu Wang asked, “What’s behind the door?”

The young girl in black: “You’ll know once you go through.”

Xu Wang, understandably, was cautious. “It’s not a trap, is it?”

“You can continue on the path I initially directed.” The young girl in black’s voice remained cool and distant, as if she was merely offering options, leaving the choice up to them.

Xu Wang instinctively looked at his teammates.

Wu Sheng: “One cannot be too careful.”

Qian Ai: “Better to stick to the safe route.”

Kuang Jinxin: “I think she means no harm…”

“Xiao Hei.” Captain Xu decided. “We choose the door!”

Wu Sheng, Qian Ai: “……”

What kind of voting standard is this?!

The young girl in black nodded and stepped back, giving them space to open the door themselves.

The four teammates approached the door. Xu Wang took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob, but suddenly another hand covered his.

It was Wu Sheng.

“Wait a moment,” he said.

Xu Wang: “……”

Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Right, they had forgotten. Their advisor always had a final step.

As Wu Sheng held his teammates back from opening the door, he looked again at the young girl in black. To everyone’s surprise, he didn’t send another small card but said directly, “Xiao Hei…”

“Shut up.” The young girl in black’s usually indifferent tone finally showed some impatience. “Hei Momo.”

Wu Sheng was taken aback. “Your name?”

The young girl in black didn’t respond, implicitly confirming it.

Wu Sheng nodded. “Okay, Momo…”

Hei Momo: “……”

The three teammates turned their heads silently. Their advisor, who should have been cunning at times of deceit and straightforward at others, was oddly omitting surnames. If one day he got beaten up, it would definitely be his own doing*!

*Clarity: Generally, in Chinese culture, it’s impolite to refer to someone by just their first name, unless you’re very close to that person.

“Where is your home?”

Fortunately, Wu Sheng’s question came quickly enough to divert Hei Momo’s attention and save him.

“The Moonlight Maze is my home,” Hei Momo answered without hesitation.

Wu Sheng asked again, “Xiao Bai has a bedroom. Do you have one?”

Hei Momo frowned slightly. “Who is Xiao Bai?”

Wu Sheng: “Someone like you, living in this maze.”

Hei Momo: “…Oh.”

“Aren’t you curious about them?” Wu Sheng was surprised by her indifference. “Besides Xiao Bai, there’s Xiao Huang, and possibly Xiao Hong1, Xiao Lu2, Xiao Lan3, all living in the Moonlight Maze like you.”

1Red.
2Green.
3Blue.

“So what?” Hei Momo’s eyes remained unflinching, neither refuting nor resisting. She genuinely didn’t care.

“Don’t you want to see the outside of the maze?” Wu Sheng persisted, gazing at her steadily. “There’s a forest outside the maze.”

Hei Momo looked up at the night sky. “I have the moonlight. That’s enough.”

The night was peaceful.

The sound of insects.

“In another minute, I will resume combat.” The young girl in black asked one last time, “Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

Qian Ai: “Goodbye!”

Kuang Jinxin: “Goodnight!”

Xu Wang: “It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care!”

Wu Sheng: “See you later.”

The three teammates: “……You don’t have to make such a wish!!!”

After the hurried farewell, Captain Xu decisively opened the door, leading the team out.

“Click.”

The door closed behind them.

Inside, Hei Momo looked up at the moon again.

Outside, the four teammates, expecting to enter a new maze path, were stunned to see a forest full of lush trees.

The Moonlight Forest.

Had they… left the maze?

“Ding Ling Ling—”

[Owl: Congratulations on passing the 3/23 test and handing in your papers!]

Xu Wang: “……”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “…Is it really that easy?”

Why does it feel like cheating shamefully?!

Xu Wang: “Huh? Isn’t something missing?”

Wu Sheng: “Dear, see you tomorrow~~?”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “Are you sure that’s Chinese?”

“Ding—”

The second half of the sentence wasn’t completed, but the reward came early.

Usually, after a submission, they would be instantly returned to reality, and the rewards and coordinates would be given the next day when entering the “Owl”.

Qian Ai looked at his [Stationery Box], feeling something was off, and finally realized the issue. “It seems I’ve been given an extra illusory stationery!”

During the first three rounds, the rewards were exclusively “defense and offense stationeries”, but this time it was a combination of “defense, offense, and illusory stationeries”.

The teammates gathered their arms together and found that everyone received the same: three rewards each time.

Classmate Qian, who thought he had won a lottery, had his dreams shattered in an instant.

“As the levels progress, the demand for stationery increases, so it makes sense that the rewards also increase a bit.”

Just as Wu Sheng finished analyzing, the teammates heard a new notification sound. It was super long and one they hadn’t heard before.

“Ding Ling Ling Ling Ling~~~”

[Owl: Congratulations on breaking the 4/23 submission speed record!]

Submission… speed?

The four teammates looked at each other, completely unprepared. Their arms rang with “dings” again, as if to ensure they weren’t confused enough.

“Ding—”

[Report Card]: 4/23 submission speed record updated (01:37:25), Kuang Jinxin, Qian Ai, Wu Sheng, Xu Wang receive additional rewards!

“Ding—”

[Report Card]: [Submission Speed Ranking] is now open. Please check it as soon as possible.

“Thud— Thud— Thud— Thud—”

Four treasure chests fell in front of each teammate, landing on the soft ground with a solid thud.

Sheng, Wang, Kuang, Qian: “……”

They had to check the [Submission Speed Ranking] and open the treasure chests, and likely, just like the previous [Overall Score Ranking], they only had two minutes. Once the time was up, the ranking would close, and they would be forcibly returned to reality…

The four teammates glanced at each other. What were they waiting for? Let’s get moving!

Click, click, click, click—

No time for gentle handling or elegant unboxing. The four of them pried open the treasure chests like robbers!

“Ding—” sounds were continuous.

Each of their [Stationery Box] received three more stationery, still a combination of defense, offense, and illusory stationery.

Is the reward for breaking the record just one set of combined stationery?

Of course not.

Like the chests in the Endless Sea, they also contained real gold and silver—soft sister coins*.

*It’s internet slang referring to the RMB (the yuan), but with a cute interpretation as soft sister coins is [ruanmeibi] (软妹币) while RMB is [renminbi] (人民币) (both with the RMB acronym).

Xu Wang’s chest had a stack, estimated to be ten thousand.

Wu Sheng’s chest had a stack, also estimated to be ten thousand.

Qian Ai’s chest had a… small stack, estimated to be one thousand.

No, even one thousand Qian Ai could bear, but he counted it in a flash. “Only eight hundred?! Heartless—”

Kuang Jinxin gently tugged at his teammate’s sleeve and informed him discreetly. “I didn’t get a single coin.”

Qian Ai was stunned. “How is that possible?”

Even if Kuang Jinxin said he got 80,000, he couldn’t be so shocked.

But looking down, indeed, the other’s chest was empty.

Despite their curiosity, the teammates quickly opened the [Submission Speed Ranking], trying to absorb as much information as possible.

No wonder they were keen.

After more than a month in the “Owl”, this was the first time the [Submission Speed Ranking] was opened!

[Submission Speed Ranking]

12/23 — Du Yin, Fan Yebai, Li Dian, Mu Yixuan, Peng Ye (05:46:58)

11/23 — ……

……

7/23 — Fan Peiyang, Teng Ziyan, Wan Fengmang, Zhang Qian, Zheng Luozhu (02:19:02)

6/23 — ……

5/23 — ……

4/23 — Kuang Jinxin, Qian Ai, Wu Sheng, Xu Wang (01:37:25)

The teammates looked down the list until 7/23, where they saw familiar names.

“Fan Peiyang’s team only holds one record?” Even Kuang Jinxin felt something was off.

This team was a regular on the [Overall Score Ranking], always visible every week the ranking was updated. Although they didn’t know each other, the names were as familiar as they could be. Of course, a good overall score doesn’t necessarily mean fast speed, but logically, as the levels go higher, fewer teams reach them, and even fewer submit. A team that’s consistently in the top five of the overall ranking, even topping half the time, shouldn’t they have taken at least more than one record for the later levels?

Moreover—

“After 7/23, all the records are held by unfamiliar teams.” Wu Sheng confirmed after a quick glance. “Not a single name has been on the [Overall Score Ranking].”

“Could it be possible that they were on it before?” Kuang Jinxin tried to explain. “And just in the month we’ve been in the ‘Owl’, their performance dropped, and they fell off the ranking?”

That made some sense…

“Forget it.” Wu Sheng shook his head. “With so little information, we can’t draw accurate conclusions out of thin air. Time will tell, and we’ll find the answer eventually.”

With Advisor Wu putting an end to the discussion, Xu Wang immediately shook off his worries, his face lighting up. “We broke a single-level record, got stationery, and money. Shouldn’t we celebrate somewhere?”

Kuang Jinxin: “Of course, we should!”

Qian Ai: “Yeah.”

The person who only got eight hundred kept a low profile.

Just as the joyful atmosphere was rising, the [Submission Speed Ranking] closed.

Indeed, just two minutes.

The scene before the teammates darkened and then brightened up again, and they were at a night market food stall.

At 1:40 a.m., some stalls were closing, but the lively atmosphere of the night market, with the combined scents of cooking, created a beautiful nightscape, making it hard to leave.

“How about we start with a stall here?” Qian Ai suggested. “It’s fitting for the occasion and feels great!”

Captain Xu thought for a moment. Celebrating at the place where they broke the record seemed like a good story. Yes, it was a plan.

He took a deep breath, intending to use his nose to choose the stall with the most enticing aroma, but before he could pick a stall, he found himself starved by the smells.

Just as he was about to consult his teammates, he saw Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin also looking like they wanted to try everything, completely hopeless. Reluctantly, he turned to his advisor, hoping for some rationality.

Wu Sheng was indeed rational, not even glancing at the stalls, instead looking thoughtfully at the ground, pondering some profound question.

Xu Wang, speechless, nudged him. “What are you thinking about?”

Wu Sheng looked at him, then pondered for a few seconds before finally saying, “It wasn’t a slip of the hand, was it?”

Xu Wang blinked twice, absorbing the advisor’s meaning, and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “You know me well.”

Wu Sheng was exasperated. “Next time you have a spontaneous plan, could you give me a sign so I can avoid the risk…”

Xu Wang got annoyed at this. “How was I supposed to know you had so many stationeries? Why did you have to use [A Dragon Swimming in Shallow Waters is Teased by Crawfish]?”

Qian Ai: “Uh, what are you two talking about…”

“It wasn’t a slip of the hand…” Kuang Jinxin connected the context and realized. “Captain, did you release Wangwang on purpose?!”

Xu Wang nodded frankly. “I originally wanted it to hide in a dark corner to coordinate with Plan W, but it got scared when your Sheng Ge used water.”

Qian Ai: “Then just tell the truth. Why make up a slip of the hand?”

Xu Wang: “Hei Momo was there. I couldn’t just say I released Wangwang to unexpectedly attack her from behind. She likes Wangwang so much. It would have hurt her.”

Qian Ai: “……”

A meticulously planned strategy and opportunistic tactics. In summary, the leadership of this team are all devils. — “Qian Ai’s Challenge Diary”

“Nice to see you again—” A warm greeting came from the side.

The four teammates looked and saw four familiar faces. The same muscular man, phoenix-eyes man, paper thin man, and dark-circles man they had chatted with briefly at the maze entrance.

Compared to their vigorous appearance when entering the maze, they now looked somewhat weary, and their clothes showed signs of combat.

“You were also kicked out, right?” Dark Circles said frustratedly. “An hour and a half to the exit, there’s definitely something fishy. If I catch those guys!”

Four teammates: “……”

“Um, cough.” Xu Wang cleared his throat, trying to look sincere. “When we were at the entrance, didn’t you say most teams were familiar faces? Don’t you know who broke the record?”

Dark Circles: “People are familiar, but not the names. There are grudges and enemies in there. What if someone finds out the real names and seeks revenge in reality?”

Muscles nodded and added, “Reality and the ‘Owl’ are not completely separate worlds. Fatigue and pain continue into reality, as do relationships between people.”

Phoenix Eyes was speechless. “Teacher Wei…”

“Ok, Ok.” Muscles raised his hand. “Class dismissed.”

The usually quiet Paper Thin, as if sensing something, suddenly looked up thoughtfully at the four. “Do you recognize the team that submitted their papers?”

Qian Ai: “Not at all!”

Kuang Jinxin: “It’s our first time on this level.”

Wu Sheng: “Never thought a team could submit so quickly.”

Xu Wang: “Yes, although it’s hard to admit, I must say, it really is an excellent team…”


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Full Server First Kill Ch128

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/


Chapter 128: Looking

At the elite group’s campsite.

At a certain moment, people who were running amok in the camp suddenly froze in place. They became like specimens in amber, still breathing, hearts still beating.

Something definitely happened. Abandon would bet his decades of gaming experience on it.

For the first time, he found the current “wax museum” scarier than the previous “madhouse”. It was too quiet, combined with the surrounding abyss-like darkness, they seemed like they were stuffed into a tiny submarine, slowly sinking to the bottom of the sea.

A thick layer of dark shadows bubbled up from the pitch-black ground, stirring wildly like boiling water. Abandon’s scalp tingled, and he immediately ran towards the direction of Hot Ash.

“There are so many shadows in the camp!” Abandon shouted.

“At the same time, the monsters around us have all vanished,” Night Ranger Solo quickly reported. He looked into the distance, his face unable to hide his worry.

“The change is too fast. Anakin and the others must have triggered something.” Hot Ash drew his long sword, its glow illuminating the surroundings.

“I think so too,” Solo said hurriedly. “Since the monsters are gone, can’t we go to support them…”

“No,” Eugene said firmly.

“I didn’t ask you!” Realizing his relative might be in trouble, Solo had no mind to maintain any Player etiquette.

“You can’t do anything if you go now, except cause trouble.” Eugene stared at the campsite, which looked like a puppet theater. “Don’t you feel it?”

This time, even Hot Ash frowned at Eugene.

Abandon and Solo, being mid-level Players, might not notice, but Eugene should be able to feel what Hot Ash could. In fact, besides noticing the abnormality in front of him, he hadn’t detected anything else.

Was it because of his native status?

Though puzzled, Hot Ash wasn’t going to play twenty questions at a time like this. He hummed, “Mr. Eugene, what do you suggest?”

“While the Saints in the camp are immobilized, everyone should immediately retreat to the Brick Mountains, ensuring the safety of most people. With your abilities, it should be doable.”

Eugene clearly had thought this through. “I myself will stay here to cover for the Goddess.”

“Taking so many people over the snowy mountains?!” Abandon’s mouth fell open.

Eugene smirked slightly. “Mr. Hot Ash is a fierce knight. He can do it. If I’m not mistaken, Amazon must have prepared a thorough response plan. You don’t need to complete the whole journey.”

Hot Ash looked deeply at Eugene. “Are you sure you want to stay?”

“The traitor Painter was guided here by God. I must see the result.” Eugene’s tone was calm. “Drake is also an interesting person, always appearing at places concerning my God… Lastly, if this team can return, someone needs to tell them what happened here at the camp.”

“I’m staying too, waiting for my sister!” Solo immediately added.

Abandon glanced at the decorative-like, motionless undead knight.

Ever since Drake left, he couldn’t control it anymore. It wasn’t destroyed by Eugene only because it was a “critical quest NPC”. If there was a risk, Eugene wouldn’t protect it, and Solo would prioritize Anakin… Their quest could fail.

Moreover, since Solo was staying, running back alone would be embarrassing in front of Hot Ash. He might as well stay through!

“I’ll stay too.” Abandon cleared his throat. “Our quest NPC is still here! I have to watch over it.”

Hot Ash nodded appreciatively. Eugene, however, glanced over the two staying behind, then looked meaningfully into the distance.

……

Anakin was reaching her limit.

Despite having Fischer, the “air purifier”, the corruption was still rapidly corroding her body. She had already lost sensation below her waist, and above it, she felt ulcer-like intense pain.

The night was too heavy, her condition too poor, and she was gradually unable to see the situation in the distance clearly. All she could see was the surging darkness and the purification magic that was almost engulfed.

Painter extended a hand towards her, his palm hovering just above Anakin’s thigh without touching. A warm current flowed and stirred along with his purification magic.

“Hold on, miss.”

Painter spoke with a smile, his tone light as if he wasn’t bothered by the corruption at all—if Anakin hadn’t seen his festering, blackened ankles, she might have believed him.

“You needn’t be distracted…”

“If you fall, the burden on us becomes heavier, and Mr. Fischer’s pressure increases,” Painter said. “It’s not stinginess, it’s tactics.”

Anakin gasped for breath and nodded. She took out the last two bottles of holy water from her inventory and handed one to Painter.

If she had known this would happen, she would have prepared more. Who would have thought that just by doing a quest, she would end up facing the Demon King?

The system had once called her “the lucky one chosen by fate”, but it seemed all her luck had been used up in such an ominous place.

After drinking a bottle of holy water, the effect was minimal. The corruption was relentless, and Painter’s purification was like a drop in the bucket.

Anakin didn’t know if it was getting darker or if her vision was blurring with black spots. Even Painter, close at hand, started to blur. She was about to…

Suddenly, her vision cleared instantaneously.

The corruption remained the same, and the efficiency of the purification hadn’t changed, so there was only one possibility—Anakin turned in shock and looked at Fischer.

Fischer was staring intently in the direction of the Demon King, his eyes flickering with an unusual fervor.

His spell to collect corruption had strengthened several times compared to before. The thick corruption in mid-air condensed into a ball, pulsating like a living organism.

“My God.”

Fischer ignored Anakin’s gaze, fixated only on the main battlefield. “How foolish I have been… How could I waver? I was deceived by a false god before…”

Painter frowned and squinted in the same direction, saying nothing.

As the leader of the Drifting Mercenaries, he had long acquired the ability to see in the dark—at that second, in his vision, a blue ring of fire suddenly ignited, and the form of the Demon King flashed.

Its body and head were severed into two parts.

……

It worked.

Nol, however, didn’t relax his guard. He signaled Teest to jump down, landing between the Demon King’s body and head.

As expected, the Demon King didn’t perish from that strike.

Its head and body twisted on the spot, spewing more black figures from the severed parts. They rushed towards each other, as if trying to reattach the severed sections.

Teest naturally didn’t miss this opportunity.

[King of Eternal Sleep] activated again, and several large pieces of debris floated over, lying across the middle of the Demon King’s head and body. They occasionally rotated, pushing away the gathering figures.

Nol then activated his magic again—targeting the “head” and “body”, he only needed [Lullaby].

Nol, burning half of his body with all his might, pushed the Demon King’s body further and further away until it was swallowed by the waves. What followed was simple.

To get the sea moving, he only needed the most basic magic.

Nol laid on Teest’s shoulder, extending his staff. The tides of the Endless Sea surged, and waves as high as tsunamis washed the shadow-spewing body into the depths of darkness.

When they turned around, only a giant head remained behind them.

Above the head, six white orbs slowly drifted. The top of the head continued to spew shadows, and the neck’s severed part also kept spraying. The vortex of shadow remnants gradually calmed down. They just appeared and dispersed. They turned their backs to the head, aimlessly running into the distance.

For some reason, the head seemed much calmer now. The six eye-like orbs slowly rotated, converging in the direction of the two men.

The hill-like toy bear collapsed, its beautiful flowers still blooming. The cannons fired chaotically into the sky, exploding like fireworks. The fierce wooden talismans clattered to the ground like oversized party poppers.

Nol, dragging his mutilated body, braced for battle, and Teest also prepared his shield just in case.

But they didn’t feel any hostility.

The fragments of the dream swiftly passed, and the head also shrank more and more. It deformed and collapsed, its six light spots also constantly moving, their gaze following the two men in front of them.

The world’s remnants behind the Demon King splendidly collapsed, resembling a bright yet lonely curtain fall.

It could be harmed but had no health bar. It was nearly devoid of reason but didn’t struggle, nor did it have the boss’s typical death throes.

At that moment, Nol suddenly felt that this long-dead Demon King was more like a “living being” than any enemy before.

It didn’t attack, and they didn’t take the opportunity to strike either. Teest once thought of taking the chance, but Nol gently stopped him.

So they just quietly watched.

The city’s ruins dispersed, and the figures of different shapes and sizes hurried away. As time passed, their forms became more blurred.

In the end, at the spot where the head had been, only a child’s shadow remained.

Its size was no different from a normal child, appearing to be under ten years old.

Beneath the child’s feet, there were two very vague, almost formless adult shadows. They lay quietly on the ground, like its shadows. At the place of their eyes, there were two dim white lights, too blurred to distinguish.

On the child’s face, the two orbs of light were relatively clearer. It moved its body and looked up at the two towering opponents.

It silently opened its arms towards them, just like the Demon King did when it first attacked.

The air briefly solidified for two seconds.

Nol, missing an arm and a leg and with most of his body consumed as material, struggled even to stand. Teest was still somewhat intact, but he was paler than a corpse, his lips bloodless, showing symptoms of magic exhaustion.

In the deadly quiet night, their breaths were louder than their heartbeats.

“Put me down,” Nol whispered to Teest.

“It could be a trap, and we’re both at our limits now.”

“But if it isn’t.” Nol struggled to get off Teest’s back. “I can’t bear it.”

Teest reluctantly let go, muttering, “What if it is? I don’t want to bear that either—”

Nol stopped, giving him a weak smile. “You can do whatever you think is necessary, including stopping me.”

“…This isn’t an order.” After saying that, Nol took out the wedding ring from his backpack and carefully hung it on his chest. “I’m communicating with my husband.”

Teest stared at Nol for a long time, annoyed, then stepped back half a step. “Ah, you’re really troublesome.”

The shadow still held its arms open, the two orbs of light in its eyes unwavering. Nol slowly stepped forward, stopping in front of it.

The blade of the letter opener silently passed through the shadow. Just as he had guessed, nothing happened.

“…Thank you…” The shadow seemed to have forgotten how to speak, trying several times before barely managing to make a sound. “…It’s okay… It’s useless…”

It was indeed different from the other shadows!

Nol squatted down. “Kid, do you remember anything? How can we save you?”

The child’s shadow quietly shook its head.

“Without those dreams… it’s finally quiet…”

Its voice was ethereal and unpleasant, sounding more like an old person than a child. “We died long ago. You can’t save us…”

It chose the question that would least affect Nol’s sense of guilt.

“We are just lingering spirits…”

The child looked down at the two adult shadows. “First it was me… Then came a brother and a sister… They said they were adults and wouldn’t compete with me for control, voluntarily giving up…”

“Sounds harmless enough,” Teest interjected without mercy. “But your corruption is terribly strong.”

The shadow remained motionless. “As long as we exist, we will hinder the new world… We just want to go home…”

“Do you remember how you became like this?” Nol went straight to the point. “Anything will do.”

The shadow shook its head and responded in a soft voice, “Memories keep fading… I forgot the names, the past. We can’t go home anymore… We just want it to end…”

Nol was speechless.

The obsessions of the first three creators were so deep. With god-like powers, they became wandering spirits in the world. But two thousand years of loneliness and pain were enough to dilute decades, even just a few years of human memory.

They wanted to go home but had long forgotten who they were. When they sensed traces of their compatriots, they instinctively pursued them.

…But how many things could withstand the power of a “god”?

At this point, Nol suddenly realized a very subtle issue.

“Since you are the lingering spirits of the ‘former creators’,” he said slowly and gently, “why couldn’t the other two gods defeat you? …Do you remember this?”

The child’s shadow flickered for a few seconds, this time not immediately shaking its head in denial.

“Not long ago, two very strong ones fought each other, and then one became weaker… I could feel it…”

The shadow clumsily described. “I never saw them… They are not my compatriots… I don’t like them…”

“Could it be the battle between the Goddess of Life and the Eternal Son?”

Hearing this, Teest moved closer with interest. “Those two were lying all along. They never dealt with the Demon King at all!”

“Thank you.” Nol braved the corruption, tentatively reaching out his hand to touch the figure’s head. The latter was a bit surprised. It didn’t dodge, but instead started to tremble slightly.

The outline around the figure became increasingly unstable, and it hesitated before moving a small step forward.

Nol was startled and then decisively extended his arms, embracing the shadow. In a trance, he felt as if he had returned to the hunter’s cabin in Night of the Hunt.

He had longed for an embrace in the initial breakdown, and he got one.

…How lucky he was.

“I’m sorry. This is all I remember…” the figure whispered in his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you…”

“Kill me, kill me, kill me…”

The figure began to disintegrate and churn, its voice turning mechanical again. Those few minutes seemed like a cruel flicker of life.

The slender figure tightened its arms around Nol, murmuring in fluctuating tones. The purification magic couldn’t suppress such close-range corruption, and Nol closed his eyes, deciding to let go of the embrace when—

Swoosh.

Accompanied by a strange magical fluctuation, something cool brushed against his shoulder, piercing the figure’s head.

It was the “Betrayer”.

The figure’s outline shook violently, followed by a death-like silence. It curled up, slowly leaning against Nol’s blood-stained shoulder.

The next second, it dispersed like smoke, as quietly in its departure as in its arrival.

For some reason, Nol suddenly remembered the first time he saw it… The monster called the Demon King, lying quietly on the beach, dreaming of a past that was a thousand years old.

If he lost himself in this world, lost his sanity, would he become a part of it too?

“Good night,” he whispered softly.

“You said I could do anything,” Teest said provocatively behind Nol. His tone was assertive, with a pea-sized hint of nervousness.

“Thank you, Teest,” Nol replied seriously, still in a kneeling posture.

Corruption still flowed over his skin. The Demon King had no corresponding system task, so the system was momentarily silent.

In the dark, Nol struggled to stand.

Grief, relief, doubt… They mixed together, turning into a faint rage.

The two gods never fought the Demon King themselves, now stirring up Players against him—no matter how the three innocent creators had fallen to this state, those two were definitely implicated.

He had to—

[Notification: Authorization effective., Data processing complete.] The system’s voice suddenly sounded.

…What?

[You have been recognized by the “Remnant Will of the World”.]

[Fantasy “Playing House” rights transferred.]

[Novel “Armored Holy Throne” rights transferred.]

[Game “Prosperous Shopkeeper” rights transferred.]

Nol stood there, stunned.

Before him, three white shadows suddenly appeared. The shortest in the middle, its edges flickering with data error-like mosaics, resembled the child just now.

The other two, a man and a woman, adult-sized.

The child gestured a ball-throwing motion at him, then waved. The adults nodded at him, the girl even making a “V” sign.

[Postscript: Go home.]

[Postscript ends.]

As the system notification ended, they dimmed and disappeared on the spot. In that instant, the dark land seemed to light up.

The dark red sky above faded, revealing a sky full of stars. The black corruption on the ground turned into white specks, slowly dispersing into the night. The land became an ordinary yellow-brown. The cold and discomfort from the corruption were gone, leaving only clean wounds.

At this moment, the Endless Sea was still gray-black. But Nol believed that at sunrise tomorrow, it might turn azure blue.

Nol’s throat was sore.

He had no joy in victory. They had to win, and the Demon King… The Demon King also wanted them to win. From the beginning, this wasn’t a real battle.

Overwhelmed with emotions, Nol instinctively turned to embrace his knight.

But when he saw the sky, his thoughts were instantly replaced by awe—

In the indigo night sky, stars twinkled. There should have been four identical moons overhead. But now, there were only four equally sized black holes.

The thing that had been blocking them moved away.

The next second, something stuck to them. But what returned wasn’t the gentle-colored “moon”, but gray-red, murky, moist chunks. They rotated for a moment, revealing four misshapen red pupils.

They stared directly at Nol and Teest.


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