Midnight Owl Ch84

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 84: Love

When Chi Yingxue dissipated the stationery effect, the epiphyte flower fell back to the ground and got squashed, suddenly turning into a charged twig.

All five of them saw this magical transformation and looked at each other in disbelief. Chi Yingxue, being the closest, stepped forward and bent down to pick it up.

His translucent fingers passed through the twig, catching nothing.

To this world, they seemed to have become intangible.

But their voices could still be heard, as Kuang Jinxin soon weakly reminded them, “Captain, the flowers are over there…”

Everyone turned to look. Cornina, who had fainted at some point, was sitting in a corner of the kitchen, with the epiphyte flowers lying quietly next to her on the ground.

They looked as if they had never been part of the battle, as pristine as if they had just been plucked from the tree, dew still clinging to their fragrant petals.

Xu Wang looked at the flowers, then back at the charred twig by the wall. Something suddenly flashed through his mind but eluded his grasp.

At that moment, the epiphyte flower emitted a faint blue light.

The light, no longer dim, grew stronger and brighter, illuminating the entire kitchen.

In the psychedelic colors, the epiphyte flower slowly transformed into a human figure.

He or she appeared to be sixteen or seventeen years old, with delicate features, clear eyes, skin so pale it was almost transparent, and a body lightly draped in cloth. The face was a mix of a boy’s and a girl’s, like an elf stepping out of a forest.

Bending down, it gently kissed Cornina on the forehead.

Its eyes were brimming with emotion, freely pouring out.

In the quiet blue light, everyone heard the whispering words of love—

“I remember that wonderful moment,

As before my eyes you appeared,

Like a vision, fleeting, momentary,

Like a spirit of the purest beauty,

Then to my soul an awakening came,

And there again your face appeared,

And my heart beat with a rapture new,

And for its sake arose again,

A godlike face, an inspiration,

And life, and tears, and love, and you.”

As the whisper faded, everyone left the illusion of the oil painting and returned to 1310.

The room was so quiet that it seemed as if the whispers were still echoing in their ears.

The secret door in the wall remained but was now silent, as Teacher Wei’s team had probably already moved on to the next part of the escape line, struggling somewhere in the Castle Hotel.

There was no more noise from Han Buting’s team in the hallway, and even the traces of the fight had faded, with only the charred black marks on the walls remaining distinct.

The luxurious canopy bed, with its dark green silk sheets, now held a cluster of light blue flowers.

Dark green and light blue, complementing each other beautifully.

“Those last words spoken by the epiphyte flower…” Xu Wang looked at Wu Sheng, asking out of curiosity, “Is it still a love poem?”

Wu Sheng nodded cleanly. “Still a love poem, still by Pushkin, 1825, ‘To Kern’*.”

*This poem was written by Pushkin for Anna Kern. There are various translations of it online.

Xu Wang: “You answered too quickly…”

Knowing some classic love poems was one thing, and he believed in Wu Sheng’s photographic memory, but this speed of retrieval without even a search…

“I spent some time specifically reading books on this topic,” Wu Sheng said, pausing for a few seconds. His gaze moved from Xu Wang’s face back to the epiphyte flower in the middle of the bed, finishing the sentence softly. “It left a deep impression.”

Xu Wang wondered if it was just his imagination, but in those few seconds of silent eye contact, it seemed like Wu Sheng was waiting for him to say something or give some sort of reaction.

But…

The only reaction he could think of was to complain about why on earth you would read love poems.

Does our advisor really want this?

“Whoosh—”

The dark green silk sheets suddenly ignited with a translucent flame, which quickly engulfed the epiphyte flower.

The fire was focused, not harming the sheets or the canopy, just burning the light blue flower.

The change happened too quickly for anyone to react, and the epiphyte flower was charred. The flame disappeared in an instant, like a claw hurrying back to its master.

But as it left, the remnants of the epiphyte flower turned into a small, charred twig, and the intact epiphyte flower reappeared next to it.

Just like the scene in the painting not long ago.

Even Qian Ai, slow as he was, understood. “The epiphyte flower was the substitute, and the 1829 braided girl was Cornina.’

Kuang Jinxin agreed. “The epiphyte flower used itself to deceive the evil spirit. Unable to escape, it could only confess through letters.’

‘It probably didn’t expect Cornina to come looking for it following the address.” Wu Sheng analyzed calmly. “Because once Cornina entered the Castle Hotel, she risked being discovered by the evil spirit.”

Xu Wang agreed with Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin, and Wu Sheng’s outline of the love story. From the experiences inside the painting and various clues, there couldn’t be a second script. But he felt something was missing…

Chi Yingxue listened quietly, without any disturbance in his heart. Compared to the NPC’s deep emotions, he was more concerned about: “What’s the mission?”

There should always be an endpoint to a mission line.

“Back to 1829.” Xu Wang gave up on pursuing those elusive feelings. He carefully picked up the epiphyte flower and looked at his companions. “We promised to help her find the person who wrote the love letter, and now we have the answer.”

The hallway was empty. They didn’t know where the other teams were fighting, but the five companions’ return journey was smooth. Before reaching their destination, they took a detour to check room 1825.

1825, the year of the love poem the epiphyte flower recited to Cornina—the beginning of this phase, when they followed the 1829 “I Once Loved You” to find the braided girl, thus truly starting the love story.

But the same trick didn’t work twice. There was nothing in 1825.

Just as they were about to leave, a loud “boom” came from outside the window, shaking it.

Startled, the five rushed to the window to see what was happening.

They saw a huge pit blasted open on the lawn of the Castle Hotel. The turf flew everywhere, revealing dark soil. Not far from the pit, three challengers were busily setting up new explosives, their faces glinting in the sun with the sheen of hard work.

On the other side, one person operated an excavator while another directed from outside. Under their skilled cooperation, the northeast corner of the lawn was also being destroyed, seemingly about to connect with the other pit.

Kuang Jinxin: “Are these five people a team?”

Wu Sheng: “Judging by their objectives, definitely a team.”

Qian Ai: “Working together to destroy the lawn, what kind of mission is this?”

Chi Yingxue: “……”

Xu Wang couldn’t figure it out either but was glad their team didn’t choose such a physically demanding task.

Ignoring all that, the five, carrying the epiphyte flower, quickly returned to 1829.

Cornina opened the door, but as they entered to tell her the truth, they found a familiar old man with gentle eyes sitting in a chair.

“Are you… here to save our progress?” Xu Wang couldn’t think of any other reason.

The polite elderly writer stood up but was no less surprised than them. “You know Nancy?”

Nancy, the name of the girl with the braids in this life.

“You know each other?” The girl with the braids looked at the five friends and then at the elderly writer, also startled.

The three parties exchanged glances, and the air suddenly became quiet.

Xu Wang and his team hadn’t mentioned the love story to the elderly writer at all, only asking about finding inspiration based on his identity as a writer, leading to legends and a save point. With just these, there was no reason for the writer to appear here.

Seeing that neither side spoke, the girl with the braids took on the role of a communicator, explaining to Xu Wang and his team. “I met Mr. Dokken in the banquet hall on my first day here. I’m his loyal fan!”

Then, to the elderly writer, she said, “Mr. Dokken, these are the people who kindly helped me find the letter sender.”

The elderly writer suddenly realized, returning to his kind smile. “So it was you who helped Nancy. How is the progress? Any clues?”

The five companions: “……”

Not just clues, they had the answer.

But just before reaching the end, suddenly having an audience, it all seemed like a conspiracy!

After a moment of silence, Captain Xu confirmed for the last time with the elderly writer—

“Can we save?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

The five quickly gathered in a corner of the room.

Qian Ai decisively suggested, “Just tell the truth.”

Kuang Jinxin agreed, “Yeah, face the challenge as it comes!”

Wu Sheng shrugged. “I’ve always said, just go for it.”

Chi Yingxue smiled. “Don’t worry, we can always clear the field if needed.”

Xu Wang: “……”

If it weren’t for that last sentence, he would have been reassured!

Refusing to ponder over the meaning of “clearing the field”, Xu Wang, holding the epiphyte flower, approached the girl with the braids.

Taking a deep breath, he didn’t bother with any preambles and simply revealed the truth. “The letters are written by it.”

The girl with the braids and the elderly writer beside her were both stunned.

Just as Xu Wang was about to explain everything, a dark red shadow suddenly appeared on the wall behind the girl and the elderly writer.

Xu Wang’s heart sank. He had anticipated a final battle with the evil spirit, but he didn’t expect that a few words of truth would trigger the revenge of the evil spirit!

The epiphyte flower in his hand emitted a strong, blinding blue light.

“I finally… found you…”

The shadow turned into the evil spirit, howling and fiercely pouncing towards the girl’s back!

But the epiphyte flower transformed into a human figure, embracing the girl from behind at a faster speed!

The evil spirit hit the epiphyte flower, but a faint golden light suddenly emerged from the slender, frail back!

The evil spirit was forcefully repelled, letting out a painful, shrill scream.

The epiphyte flower, ready to be scorched by the flames of hell, was momentarily confused.

But the five onlookers saw clearly that the golden light came from the elderly writer’s cane!

Now, the cane in the writer’s hand had turned into a cross, and he held it up to the evil spirit. His entire demeanor changed, as if two figures were superimposed on one another, both like the original writer and like another person.

Xu Wang and Wu Sheng glanced at each other.

There was no mistake.

It was the priest they had heard about in the village, who Amy had confessed to.

“Amy, let go,” the writer said, still in the elderly man’s voice but now with the calmness and peace of a priest. “Cornina is not a witch, but the moment you harbored malicious intent, you became an evil spirit.”

“She used witchcraft to control those petals… I wanted to save the entire village…”

The elderly writer shook his head, saying no more and only repeating, “Let go.”

The evil spirit laughed wickedly. It sounded so evil that it sent shivers down everyone’s spines.

In the next instant, the walls of the entire room burst into flames!

In just a few seconds, the five friends could barely hold on!

The elderly writer sighed almost inaudibly, and the cross he held suddenly emitted an extremely bright golden light.

The flames were extinguished instantly.

The evil spirit twisted in agony, but in just a few seconds, it completely turned to ashes in the light.

The cross turned back into a cane, and the elderly writer now truly resembled a priest. He turned around, looking at the epiphyte flower still protecting the girl with the braids, then at the five friends, apologetically smiling. “I’m sorry, I should have done this back then.”

Wu Sheng, Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin, Chi Yingxue: “……”

Xu Wang: “Cough, better late than never.”

Turns out, the boss was here.

The girl with the braids finally saw the person protecting her.

As she began to speak in confusion, the epiphyte flower gently placed its palm on her forehead.

The girl with the braids peacefully fell asleep.

The epiphyte flower carried her to the bed and gently covered her with a blanket.

Xu Wang watched, baffled. After all the hardships, just when the moment to confess arrived, why pause now?

“I only said the letter was written by you, nothing else,” he hurriedly reminded, as a participant in this love story.

The epiphyte flower gently shook its head. “When she wakes up, she will forget what you said too.”

Xu Wang was stunned for a moment before understanding the implication, incredulously asking, “You erased her memory?!”

The epiphyte flower looked down at the sleeping girl with a tender gaze. “The evil spirit has dispersed, and she should return to her own life. There’s no need for her to remember the letter, nor me.”

Xu Wang: “…Are you content with this?”

A hint of confusion appeared in the eyes of the epiphyte flower, but soon, it was replaced by a clear resignation. “She doesn’t even know who I am. Her love was not for me, but for the illusion woven by those letters… just like me.”

Xu Wang: “……”

What realization is this? That it also didn’t love Cornina, but an illusion in its heart?

Is the ending of the love story to tell them that there is no such thing as love and fairy tales are all lies?

Then what is true love?!

The epiphyte flower quietly watched him for a long while.

Xu Wang almost thought the flower had heard his inner roar.

But in the end, the flower left him with an ambiguous statement—

“I have never truly been burned by the flames of hell.”

Before Xu Wang could ask further, the epiphyte flower returned to its original form, falling back into his palm.

Five people, one flower, two NPCs.

The world was quiet again.

There was no joyous “ding—”

Only the persistent “bang bang bang” of the excavator outside on the lawn.

Xu Wang, holding on to the last bit of hope, looked at the priest. “Can we submit our answer now?”

Priest: “No.”

Xu Wang: “Thank you.”

The five friends looked at each other, completely lost for direction.

Kuang Jinxin: “Haven’t we reached the end of the love story line?”

Qian Ai: “This is a bit awkward…”

Chi Yingxue: “Do I need to interrogate this priest?”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Xu Wang: “Xiao Chi, stay away from the old man’s cane. I’m afraid he might hit you.”

Finding a corner away from the noise of the window, Xu Wang sat on the carpet, lost in thought.

Qian Ai, seeing he was untangling the events of the past two days, asked Wu Sheng, “Aren’t you going to help think?”

Wu Sheng looked at him and suddenly asked, “Why did the epiphyte flower give up?”

Qian Ai scratched his head. “Didn’t it say the girl didn’t love it, but an illusion?”

Wu Sheng: “How did it come to that conclusion?”

Qian Ai: “……”

Wu Sheng: “Did the epiphyte flower truly love her?”

Qian Ai: “It should, right? Otherwise, how could it endure being a substitute and burned for life after life?”

Wu Sheng: “Then why did it say, ‘I have never truly been burned by the flames of hell’?”

Qian Ai: “……”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Qian Ai understood Wu Sheng’s mood. “It’s better to leave it to the captain to figure out such a confusing storyline.”

Wu Sheng: “Mm.”

Qian Ai: “Why did you choose this line in the first place?”

Wu Sheng: “Young and naive.”

Qian Ai: “…I forgive you on behalf of the moon.”

A few minutes later, the priest turned back into the elderly writer. Although confused about the situation, he decisively said goodbye, just as abruptly as last time, as if in a hurry to go back to collect his salary.

In the corner, Captain Xu took out a letter.

Not the ones given to them by the girl with the braids later, but the letter that guided them at the very beginning of the love line, with only one poem on it—”I Once Loved You”.

The love poem was not long but filled with sadness from beginning to end.

Especially the last two lines, “But may God bless you, and may someone else love you as I did,” were heart-wrenching.

For a while, Xu Wang thought this was the tone of the love story line—that they were about to experience a story of unrequited love and hopeless resignation.

But looking back now, the epiphyte flower indeed gave up, but without heartbreak. Instead, it was more open-minded and clear than when in love.

Even when in love, the letters it wrote to the girl with the braids were filled with passionate emotions, never showing a hint of discouragement or despair!

Xu Wang suddenly looked up. A few steps away, Kuang Jinxin and Chi Yingxue sat quietly, not sure how long they had been watching him.

“Any discoveries?” Kuang Jinxin, seeing the “epiphany” in his captain’s eyes, immediately asked with anticipation.

Xu Wang confidently said, “There’s another person.”

Kuang Jinxin was astonished.

Chi Yingxue, leaning on his hand, was initially indifferent, but Xu Wang’s conclusion suddenly piqued his interest.

“Another person?” His voice rose slightly, carrying a subtle anticipation. “Someone more difficult to deal with than the evil spirit?”

Xu Wang: “…There’s another heartbroken person who loved but couldn’t have it.”

Chi Yingxue paused, then smiled at Xu Wang. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“……” Xu Wang swore he just received a 😏 emoji.

Seeing that he seemed to have really figured something out, Advisor Wu and Classmate Qian, who were distant from love, immediately gathered around.

Wu Sheng asked the most practical question, “Evidence?”

Xu Wang lifted the letter in his hand. “This poem isn’t about the epiphyte flower. Its silent love for Cornina brought it happiness, not sorrow.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Xu Wang: “Think about the poem it recited to Cornina in the painting. It said, ‘And my heart beat with a rapture new.’ Just being able to silently love her was enough to make it happy.”

Wu Sheng: “…Mm.”

Qian Ai: “Captain, actually, the advisor doesn’t understand, nor do I, but it’s okay. Continue.”

“Never truly burned by the flames of hell…” Kuang Jinxin muttered to himself, then suddenly, his eyes widened in realization, looking at Xu Wang. “There’s someone else protecting the epiphyte flower. That person is the real substitute!”

Xu Wang almost despaired in the bewildered gazes of Qian Ai, Wu Sheng, and Chi Yingxue, but now he almost wanted to hug Classmate Kuang and kiss him. “Exactly! Only those who can feel sadness, heartbreak, jealousy, and despair experience true love!”

Kuang Jinxin: “That’s why the epiphyte flower didn’t confess and also erased the girl’s memory!”

Xu Wang: “This whole ordeal wasn’t about their love story!”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Xu Wang: “……”

Together, they had an epiphany. “The twig!”

Wu Sheng, Qian Ai, and Chi Yingxue listening in silence: “……”

They might be more suited to digging holes in the lawn outside. 


The author has something to say:

Ah, love, the little demon that grinds people down~~(~ ̄▽ ̄)~


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

Escape From the Asylum Ch103

Author: 木尺素 / Mu Chisu

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


Chapter 103

Layers upon layers of water continuously spilled out of the bathtub, colliding with the thin layer on the light gray floor tiles, creating splashes and ripples that turned into white mist.

In the increasingly dense mist, two figures clung closer together.

Bai Zhou held Zhou Qian with one hand while supporting the back of his head with the other, kissing him first lightly, then deeply.

Zhou Qian gripped Bai Zhou’s shoulders tightly, his eyes misted with steam, unconsciously leaning back slowly. His gaze was filled with confusion, bewilderment, and fulfillment—all emotions eventually transforming into genuine joy.

Suddenly, the sound of water splashing intensified as more water overflowed from the bathtub’s edge, increasing in volume and speed.

Caught off guard, a loud “splash” was heard as Bai Zhou, unable to restrain his passion, kissed Zhou Qian deeply, causing them both to plunge beneath the water’s surface.

Breathing became increasingly difficult.

Yet, neither wished to stop.

Outside, the wind over the sea intensified, with waves crashing against the shore, increasingly stirring up the sand back into the ocean.

The neon lights in the sky dimmed and the night deepened, yet the hustle and bustle of this city that never sleeps didn’t quiet down.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Bai Zhou opened his eyes to see Zhou Qian’s face turning red. He forcefully pulled him up with the hand resting on Zhou Qian’s neck.

As their upper bodies emerged from the water, fresh air rushed into their oxygen-deprived lungs. Zhou Qian, after catching his breath, suddenly grabbed Bai Zhou’s shoulder, attempting to pull him back under the water.

Bai Zhou, worried about Zhou Qian choking, held his head steady to prevent him from moving.

However, Zhou Qian’s loss of control made him restless and uncontrollably rebellious.

A kiss that descended again calmed him.

Yet Zhou Qian seemed still unsatisfied.

Restlessly moving, he caused large splashes to overflow the bathtub and roll onto the floor.

Taking a breath, Bai Zhou temporarily broke the kiss, his magnetic voice blending with the sound of water, reaching deep into Zhou Qian’s ears. “Be good, Zhou Qian.”

“Zhou Ge, my head hurts. I feel terrible.” Zhou Qian gripped Bai Zhou’s shoulders several times, leaving clear fingerprints.

No matter how much Zhou Qian pleaded, Bai Zhou remained unmoved, so Zhou Qian abruptly embraced him, almost forcefully pulling him underwater.

During each episode, Zhou Qian yearned to do something extreme, frenzied, and dangerous.

Whether it was setting fires, smashing furniture, or swimming into the dangerous depths of the sea, each act brought him a thrilling sensation.

Just now, he discovered a new thrilling game—kissing Bai Zhou underwater to the point of near suffocation.

The dangerous, satisfying, and exciting feeling was intoxicating.

But now Bai Zhou wasn’t cooperating. His waist was tightly held by a hand, making it difficult to move.

So, when Bai Zhou leaned in to kiss him again, Zhou Qian ducked and quickly bit his shoulder, muttering discontentedly. “You’re bad. I don’t like you anymore.”

Zhou Qian was confused.

He didn’t realize he had never properly expressed his feelings to Bai Zhou.

He also didn’t know how deeply his words had hurt Bai Zhou—just minutes ago, he had said “no regrets,” and now, “I don’t like you anymore.”

So, taking advantage of Bai Zhou’s momentary distraction, Zhou Qian successfully pushed him away, sliding into the water alone, closing his eyes underwater with a satisfied smile, his body seemingly drifting with the flowing waves to an unknown destination.

But the next moment, he was pulled out by Bai Zhou.

“Zhou Ge?” Zhou Qian opened his eyes, his expression confused as he looked at Bai Zhou.

Bai Zhou wrapped him in a bathrobe and, without a word, carried him out of the bathroom, heading directly upstairs to the bedroom.

Along the way, Zhou Qian struggled intensely, unable to bear even a second of silence or stillness during his episodes. Every cell in his body seemed to crawl with ants, all clamoring for him to release his emotions in some intense manner.

“Zhou Ge, let’s go running, swimming… or take a bath?”

Zhou Qian, clinging to Bai Zhou’s neck, moved restlessly on him. “I’m not sleeping anyway. I can’t sleep now. Just let me vent; it won’t take long. Just wait a little longer.”

Bai Zhou remained silent, his expression lost in the night, indecipherable.

Zhou Qian became unhappy. “Let me down. Zhou Ge, you—”

In the darkness, everything was blurred, and combined with his unclear consciousness, Zhou Qian was somewhat unsure of the kind of environment he was in.

The only constant was his innate trust and openness towards Bai Zhou.

So much so that when Bai Zhou took a belt from the drawer and tied one of his hands to the head of the bed, he still didn’t feel that Bai Zhou meant to harm him.

He was just irritated by the loss of the thrilling sensation of suffocation underwater. He looked at Bai Zhou somewhat bewilderedly. “Zhou Ge?”

Bai Zhou leaned down close to his ear. His voice was deep and serious. “I can play with you. But there must be limits, no real danger.”

Zhou Qian blinked unconsciously. “I’m a good swimmer. I won’t drown.”

Bai Zhou: “Let’s not play with water. Let’s change the game.”

Zhou Qian asked with some anticipation, “How? It’s not fun being tied up.”

Bai Zhou didn’t respond. At some point, a bathrobe belt that had fallen to the floor was picked up and then gently placed over Zhou Qian’s eyes.

Darkness enveloped him, and he could see nothing.

Feeling uncomfortable, he instinctively reached out with his right hand to pull at the belt, but then his wrist was tightly grasped.

“Zhou Ge…”

Having lost the freedom of both hands and with something covering his eyes, Zhou Qian seemed to finally become a bit anxious, his body showing clear movements.

“Zhou Ge, I feel uncomfortable.”

Sensitively sensing Bai Zhou’s lips approaching, Zhou Qian instinctively raised his head to kiss him.

Their lips touched lightly, but soon Bai Zhou turned his head aside.

Zhou Qian frowned, instinctively trying to chase a certain warmth, then felt Bai Zhou kiss his cheek and heard him say slowly by his ear, “Mm. I know. I’ll help you.”

……

The mountain’s lifeline was held by the wind.

A warm breeze came, sweeping away the snow and ice. The hard frost gradually softened, turning into spring rain, flowing and nourishing everything.

Streams flowed again, tender buds sprouted, and mountain flowers bloomed one after another.

It was a cycle that repeated endlessly.

“Zhou Ge… I…”

After some time, Zhou Qian’s hands were free again. At this moment, he was restlessly grabbing Bai Zhou’s shoulders and then his neck.

Bai Zhou whispered in his ear, “Do you still want to play in the water?”

Zhou Qian immediately shook his head.

“Do you still want to play this?”

“Hmm? …No, not playing anymore.”

Bai Zhou almost coaxed him. “Do you really not want to play?”

Zhou Qian slowly hugged him, burying his head in his chest, and said softly, “…I do.”

……

The next day.

Zhou Qian woke up at noon.

His first reaction was extreme fatigue, so he turned over, wrapped himself in the blanket, closed his eyes, and continued to sleep.

Then he suddenly remembered something.

He didn’t know if Bai Zhou had those kinds of feelings for him, so he tested him.

And then?

Then he seemed to have gone to play in the sand…

What happened after that?

Certain images in his mind became clearer, and Zhou Qian was stunned.

After realizing what happened, he sniffed his shirt and looked closely at the bed sheet and duvet cover—

Everything was clean and had a faint scent of soap.

Could it be just a wet dream?

After pondering for a moment, Zhou Qian quickly went to the window and opened the curtains, only to see the bed sheets, shirts, and robes drying on the balcony downstairs.

So.

It wasn’t a dream.

What did I do yesterday…

How he clung to Bai Zhou, scratched him, and seemed to have cried and made a fuss several times…

All these images appeared in Zhou Qian’s mind.

Even with thick skin, he couldn’t help but blush at this moment.

The two had grown up together and were always close. Zhou Qian wasn’t worried about Bai Zhou seeing him in a bad state. After all, he had been embarrassed many times as a child, and Bai Zhou had seen it all.

But they hadn’t seen each other for seven years, and now they were both adults. Many things were different from before. Moreover, they hadn’t really talked about some issues. They hadn’t been reunited for long, so how could they suddenly…

Zhou Qian was unable to accept it for a while.

When he fully recalled last night’s events and counted how many cold showers Bai Zhou had taken, his face reddened even more.

Zhou Qian, in this situation, stood still for a long time.

After a while, there was a knock on the door behind him.

Then Bai Zhou’s deep voice followed. “Awake? Go wash up and come down for lunch.”

Zhou Qian was too embarrassed to turn around and look at him, subconsciously biting his finger joint, and said in a muffled voice, “Okay.”

Bai Zhou paused for a while, then entered the room. “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Qian quickly jumped onto the bed and pulled the blanket over him. “Nothing. I want to sleep a bit more.”

Bai Zhou asked him, “Feeling better now?”

“Yes. It rarely happens once a month. Don’t worry,” Zhou Qian said softly.

“Then don’t sleep now. Get up and eat something. You spent the entire night—”

“I-I didn’t…” Zhou Qian interrupted him, trying to save face. “It wasn’t all night. Just an occasional episode.”

Bai Zhou didn’t say anything, seeming to smile, then reached out and patted Zhou Qian’s shoulder through the blanket.

Zhou Qian reluctantly sat up, glanced at Bai Zhou, and was stunned again.

—Bai Zhou’s neck and collarbone were covered in red marks, as if he had fought three hundred rounds with a crazed, biting, and scratching wild cat.

“I…” Zhou Qian turned away, picked up the water on the bedside table, and drank it with his back to Bai Zhou, asking, “So, what’s for lunch?”

Bai Zhou: “You’ll see when you go downstairs.”

“Okay. You go ahead.” Zhou Qian headed to the bathroom. “I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my face.”

“Alright. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” Bai Zhou walked to the corridor and was called back by Zhou Qian.

“Zhou Ge—”

“Hmm?”

“Last night, why didn’t you—”

In his mind, a certain number fluctuated between 5% and 35%.

Then Zhou Qian heard Bai Zhou say, “You weren’t very clear-headed last night.”


Kinky Thoughts:

Oh. Good on Bai Zhou.


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

Midnight Owl Ch83

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 83: Epiphytic Flower

Five people, one NPC, and a cluster of epiphytic flowers.

The night was deep like water, and the evil spirit could arrive at any time, leaving the companions with little time to plan their tactics.

“We’ve searched the entire village and found no other main storyline items. It’s almost certain that this epiphytic flower is the love line’s prop,” Xu Wang said as he pulled out paper and pen from his backpack and handed them to his advisor. “But how to use it, we can only guess.”

Taking the paper and pen, Wu Sheng quickly listed four possibilities. “Active attack, passive defense, direct entry into the main storyline, or delayed activation—these are the four directions I can think of right now.”

“Direct entry into the main storyline would be great.” Kuang Jinxin fantasized about an easy and effortless future.

“It’s not very feasible.” Xu Wang didn’t want to discourage him, but this was based on the experience of their companions. “Li Zijin and his team still had to manually exorcize ghosts even with their yellow talismans.”

“Active attack and passive defense are fine, as long as they protect against fire. I don’t want to be burned again…” Qian Ai’s requirements were simple—just a bit of safety.

“What does delayed activation mean?” Chi Yingxue pointed to the fourth item on the paper.

“It will take effect after a delay,” Wu Sheng explained.

“……” Chi Yingxue frowned slightly, confused, not quite sure if he had heard an explanation or not.

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin sympathetically looked at their new teammate.

“We’ll use our abilities to resist the evil spirit first. The prop will activate only if we endure for a certain period,” Xu Wang interjected, explaining for his advisor.

Chi Yingxue suddenly understood. The joy in his heart dispelled the faint shadow of “Wu-style explanation”. “I like this direction.”

Direct entry into the main storyline? Too boring.

His barely concealed anticipation caused a crack in his usually warm and gentle demeanor.

Xu Wang caught a glimpse of a combative spirit in that crack.

In a competitive world, was it better or worse to have a fighter on the team? Xu Wang couldn’t be sure. But on second thought, their team seemed to have come this far not by seeking advantages and avoiding disadvantages but by feeling—if it felt right, whether they suffered together or were happy together, it all seemed okay.

Not good. They seemed to be managing their team spirit as if they were in a relationship—Captain Xu frowned and fell into deep worry.

Meanwhile, Advisor Wu continued mapping out on the paper. “Based on the four possible ways the epiphytic flower could work, we’ll set up four plans: A, B, C, and D…”

Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin. “Yeah.”

Advisor Wu drew arrows and branches under each plan. “Each plan might have unexpected outcomes, so I’ve also prepared four contingency patches: E, H, G, and S…”

Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin: “Okay.”

After a few rounds, the paper was filled with a complete mind map by Advisor Wu, with boxes, arrows, guiding lines, and key symbols.

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin took the tactical map, studied it seriously, and memorized it in detail, occasionally asking questions like, “How exactly should we position ourselves for Plan Gamma?” or “Do these four patches need to correspond exactly to the plans?”

Chi Yingxue silently listened to the entire process: “……”

Kuang Jinxin, having grasped the tactics, realized their new teammate hadn’t participated in the learning. He looked up to find him leaning by the window, admiring the moonlight again.

Enjoying the moon wasn’t a problem, but the moon couldn’t help defeat the evil spirit.

Kuang Jinxin looked on for a while, then stood up, leaving Qian Ai still memorizing diligently, and quietly approached Chi Yingxue.

Feeling someone near, Chi Yingxue turned around. Half his face was basked in the indoor light while the other half in the moonlight, creating a strangely beautiful fusion.

Kuang Jinxin was momentarily stunned, then regained his composure and asked, “Aren’t you going to memorize the tactics?”

Chi Yingxue didn’t expect him to approach so directly, but his lips still curled into a gentle smile. “It’s too troublesome.”

Kuang Jinxin shook his head in disagreement. “If you try to save effort now, it’ll be more troublesome during the fight.”

“Don’t you think a battle where every move is calculated is boring?” Chi Yingxue’s voice was light, like a whisper or a sigh.

Kuang Jinxin looked at him quietly for a long time before saying, “This isn’t a game.”

Chi Yingxue laughed softly, countering, “Isn’t it a game if no one dies no matter how we fight?”

Kuang Jinxin fell silent.

In fact, when he approached to ask, he didn’t intend to force Chi Yingxue to study; he was just curious about his thoughts. Now, he understood.

“Don’t worry.” Chi Yingxue gave him a reassuring look. “I won’t hold you back.”

Kuang Jinxin shook his head almost reflexively. “We are teammates. There’s no holding back or not—only good or bad performance.”

Chi Yingxue paused for a moment. A strange feeling crossed his heart, and he was unable to discern what it was or even if it was related to Kuang Jinxin’s attitude or words.

After a while, he remembered to respond. “I will perform well.”

Kuang Jinxin believed him. “You are very capable. I know.”

It seemed like the conversation should end there, but the young man in front of him didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving.

Chi Yingxue raised an eyebrow in curiosity, waiting for what was next.

“I’m going to say something, but don’t be upset,” Kuang Jinxin suddenly said.

Chi Yingxue’s interest peaked. “Go ahead, say it.”

“You haven’t stayed long in your previous teams, and I don’t think it’s necessarily because of Yan Wang,” Kuang Jinxin stated his judgment without any criticism.

Chi Yingxue’s smile gradually faded, but he inexplicably wanted to hear more.

“They want to escape from here, to be free,” Kuang Jinxin said. “But you want to play.”

Chi Yingxue fell silent, his eyes darkening. The air pressure around his body dropped significantly. “He even skimped on the play. At least, I want to see the scenery at the end.”

“Can you talk to Yan Wang?”

“…Huh?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Chi Yingxue’s brewing storm of low pressure halted midway.

“It’s like…” Kuang Jinxin struggled to find a suitable analogy. “Imagine closing your eyes and meditating. Can you connect with Yan Wang in your mind, like making a phone call, sending a WeChat message, or a voice or video call.”

“Sometimes… I can voice chat.” Chi Yingxue wasn’t even sure why he blurted out those last three words.

Kuang Jinxin’s eyes widened in surprise, not expecting a real connection, and immediately said, “Then tell him, he can’t always be so capricious, tricking teammates, opponents, and even himself. It’s too foolish.”

“……” Chi Yingxue took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’ll try to convey your message.”

Kuang Jinxin sincerely said, “Thank you.”

Chi Yingxue, as if compelled by a ghost, asked, “Don’t you have anything you want to ‘educate’ me about?”

Kuang Jinxin really didn’t. This new teammate had attitude, confidence, a firm entertainment orientation, and goals. Someone who knew what they were doing and enjoyed it seemed more mature than the one on the Ferris wheel. He might not agree with some of his views, but he felt it wasn’t his place to offer “education” or “advice”.

In the quiet eye contact, Chi Yingxue’s eyes slowly narrowed, not liking this reality for no reason. “Really, not even a little?”

Kuang Jinxin was troubled, not understanding why mentioning the reason for leaving the team didn’t anger him, but now he seemed unhappy.

“Light colors.” Kuang Jinxin scrambled for a suggestion, sincerely. “You look good in light colors.”

Chi Yingxue was stunned for a moment, then responded with mixed feelings. “Oh.”

Kuang Jinxin turned and went back without Chi Yingxue noticing. Lost in thought for who knows how long, when he refocused, Xu Wang’s face was in front of him.

Chi Yingxue was startled, managing not to move, but his eyes flickered noticeably.

“I’m not as cute as Xiao Kuang, but you don’t have to show such obvious terror,” Xu Wang said dryly, handing the epiphytic flower to Chi Yingxue. “Take care of this. It’s up to you now.”

“Me?” The damp bark connected to the flower’s roots felt cool against his palm.

“You want to improvise, right?” Xu Wang said, “Perfect, we also don’t know how to use this flower, so you adapt as necessary.”

“This is the most crucial prop.” Chi Yingxue didn’t like tactics, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand the situation.

“So it should be given to the person with the strongest fighting ability,” Xu Wang stated matter-of-factly.

Chi Yingxue stared at him, trying to find calculation in his face or eyes. “Xiao Kuang said I don’t fit in.”

But he failed because Xu Wang straightforwardly nodded. “Yeah.”

Chi Yingxue: “……”

“But being unsociable has its advantages,” Xu Wang said slyly. “Less politeness and face-saving, more direct communication.”

Chi Yingxue raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

Xu Wang patted his shoulder solemnly. “Your only strengths are your looks and fighting ability. Protect the former and utilize the latter. Even if you annoy others, you’ll still be considered a treasure of the team.”

Chi Yingxue: “……”

“Oh right, you don’t need to worry about other tactics, but there’s one you must remember, willing or not.” Xu Wang suddenly turned serious. “Plan P.”

P?

Perhaps still dwelling on Kuang Jinxin’s comment about “you want to play”, Chi Yingxue’s first thought was, “P-L-A-Y? Play?”

Xu Wang was somewhat disappointed in their lack of understanding. “P-A-O*, run.”

*This is the pinyin for (跑) which means to run away/escape.

Chi Yingxue: “……”

For a while after seeing his new captain leave, Chi Yingxue thought of nothing and just stared blankly at the wall.

By chance, he was the first to notice a shadow moving across the corner of the wall.

“It’s here,” he warned immediately.

All companions sprang to action, on high alert.

The shadow disappeared into the kitchen.

The five, protecting Cornina, entered the kitchen together.

Against the wall where the shelf was placed, it was as red as burning coal.

The wooden shelf started to emit a charred smell, its edges blackening.

Xu Wang turned to signal Chi Yingxue but found him already holding up the epiphytic flower towards the shelf.

Chi Yingxue was quicker than he expected.

Unfortunately, nothing was triggered.

The burning red on the wall slowly formed a ghostly figure, and from a distant, unknown place, a hellish wail sounded—

“The witch… must… be burned…”

The ghostly figure separated from the wall, flew to the ceiling, then dived down, heading straight for Cornina, who was protected by the five!

The epiphytic flower still showed no reaction, clearly indicating the fourth scenario, delayed activation of the prop, automatically initiating “Plan Delta”.

Without needing Wu Sheng’s shout, Kuang Jinxin was already on it—[(Offense) Ferocious Spirit*]!

*(凶神恶煞) Idiom referring to a ferocious god/demon/evil spirit but now later used to describe a very ferocious person.

Just as Amy’s ghost swooped down, a blue-faced, fanged ghost appeared above the five, confronting Amy’s ghost!

One fiery red, one dark blue—the two fierce spirits instantly entangled in an East-West showdown, ghost against ghost.

As they fought, Amy’s ghost figure grew fiercer, and the temperature in the kitchen soared, scorching hot!

Chi Yingxue held the epiphytic flower like a model, not knowing when it would react. He was already bored, and now he couldn’t even calm down to keep his cool.

Suddenly, a cold breeze began to blow.

Chi Yingxue froze, hearing the notification in his ear—

[Owl: Someone used [(Defense) Ice Age] on you~~]

The walls, which were baked red, were slowly covered with a layer of frost, which quickly melted under the heat, only to be replaced by new frost.

Chi Yingxue looked at his new teammates.

Kuang Jinxin was concentrating on controlling the blue-faced ghost in the air.

Xu Wang was focusing on the wall, sweat already forming on his forehead.

The [Ice Age] slowed down the heating of the kitchen but couldn’t cool it down.

The [Ferocious Spirit] was visibly losing ground.

The power of their stationery was significantly weakened in the mission line.

Chi Yingxue looked at the flower in his hand, intuitively feeling it would be key in the end, but how? Who knows.

The petals had already wilted in the heat.

Chi Yingxue sighed, relieving his sore arm and switching the flower to the other hand, continuing to elegantly hold it, waiting for the mission line’s call.

“Patch S!” Wu Sheng shouted, bringing Chi Yingxue back from his reverie.

The blue-faced ghost had vanished, and Amy’s ghost was now more fiercely ablaze, with flames starting in the corner of the wall causing the [Ice Age] to rapidly fade.

[Owl: Someone used [(Offense) Strong Wind Blows] on you~~]

[Owl: Someone used [(Defense) Shelter From the Storm] on you~~]

The first notification was for the evil spirit.

The second was for the five companions.

Chi Yingxue couldn’t hear the first one but felt a sudden gust of wind, nearly getting lifted off the ground, but it stopped almost instantly around the five of them.

The real windstorm was for the evil spirit.

The wind acted like a barrier, preventing the evil spirit from getting close.

Chi Yingxue, standing next to Qian Ai, clearly saw him activate another stationery: [(Offense) Mass’s Gospel]!

A glowing bible suddenly appeared in mid-air, floating in front of the evil spirit, which was surrounded by the fierce wind, rendering it unable to escape, almost as if it was being forced to listen!

The next moment, the whispers of the gospel filled the kitchen.

The evil spirit howled in pain amidst the gospel’s sound, its fiery form twisting and contorting!

Ghost against ghost, ice against fire, gospel purifying the evil spirit… Chi Yingxue didn’t like formulaic battles, but objectively speaking, Wu Sheng’s highly targeted deployment greatly enhanced the use of their stationery and their collective fighting power.

Chi Yingxue had been part of teams that freely improvised, usually lacking in strength and overconfident. Sometimes, he even wanted to send them home on behalf of the NPCs.

The light of the bible, at some point, dimmed.

Chi Yingxue looked up, frowning slightly in the glaring firelight.

Not good.

Stationery could harm the evil spirit, but only to a limited extent. No matter how long the stalemate lasted, the evil spirit always gained the upper hand.

Plan D was about delaying until the key prop activated.

So the stalemate itself was the purpose of this battle.

But when would the prop activate?

The four fighting companions didn’t rush him, not even casting an anxious glance, but Chi Yingxue was growing impatient himself.

He regretted taking on this task.

Without the flower, he could do whatever he wanted, but now he was completely stuck.

“Xiao Kuang—!” Qian Ai suddenly shouted.

Chi Yingxue stumbled backward after being bumped, and when he looked up, the formation had already broken. Kuang Jinxin was tackled by the evil spirit, protecting Cornina beneath him, while the evil spirit burned his back!

Qian Ai used some stationery, producing a chalice in his hand, and swung it at the evil spirit!

The evil spirit momentarily left, and the chalice whizzed over Kuang Jinxin’s back, missing its target!

But it did rescue Kuang Jinxin from the burning.

The four were out of formation, using their stationery to the fullest in a struggle against the evil spirit!

Chi Yingxue was the most relaxed.

He didn’t know if it was because he was holding the epiphytic flower, but the evil spirit never came for him.

Wait? If the evil spirit was afraid of the epiphytic flower itself, why not give it directly to Cornina and let it protect its actual target?

Chi Yingxue glanced at Xu Wang, fighting fiercely, unable to believe he would make such a basic mistake.

Approaching the corner, the girl was shivering in fear.

Chi Yingxue offered her the pale blue flower, commanding, “Hold this.”

Cornina’s already scared face turned more terrified as she almost shook her head off. “No—take it away—”

Chi Yingxue was stunned by this reaction.

Xu Wang, noticing his new teammate’s actions, said in frustration, “We would have given it earlier if we could. She’s afraid of everything related to magic!”

A cluster of flowers beloved by humans—does that count as related to magic?

Chi Yingxue didn’t know.

All he knew was that this was the first piece of communication he had received since the battle began.

[“You wanted to improvise, right? Well, we don’t know how to use this flower either, so just adapt as you see fit…”]

[“That’s why we need to hand it over to the person with the strongest combat ability…”]

It sounded good in theory.

But what about in practice? Now, the epiphytic flower was completely inert, just sitting there with him, like a piece of decoration.

Chi Yingxue sneered internally, but as he watched the four people in front of him retreating step by step and the epiphytic flower in his hand remaining silent, he felt increasingly frustrated.

He could tolerate a boring fight, but if this went on, those four would just be sent home!

His eyes, reflecting the light of the fire, gradually darkened, becoming as black as the night.

Chi Yingxue slowly turned around, positioning himself in front of Cornina, and softly called out, “Hey, Amy.”

In the roaring heatwave, his voice was very soft.

The evil spirit, chasing after Qian Ai, seemed to hear him, pausing ever so slightly.

[Owl: Someone has used [(Defense) Treading the Clouds*] on you~~]

*(腾云驾雾) Idiom referring to riding on the clouds and fog, like how immortals do. It also describes the behavior of a person who’s in an abnormal physical or mental state or describes supernatural abilities or skills.

Chi Yingxue listened quietly to his defense stationery taking effect, holding his breath and concentrating as a swirling white mist slowly gathered at his feet.

Suddenly, without warning, he soared into the air like an arrow released from its bow, charging straight towards the evil spirit!

The evil spirit sensed the danger and tried to dodge, but its speed suddenly slowed, as if surrounded by a faint silhouette of silk threads!

Chi Yingxue didn’t know which teammate’s stationery produced these threads, but he was very satisfied with the effect.

In an instant, he reached the evil spirit, and without hesitation, he slammed the epiphyte flower, which he had been holding in his palm for a long time, right into the face of the evil spirit!

If that hollow space could be considered a face!

The four teammates below held their breath.

The moment the evil spirit was hit by the epiphyte flower, it suddenly turned into a physical form—the burnt Amy!

The evil spirit, with its arm already charred and shrunken, crashed into the wall with a “bang” under Chi Yingxue’s palm!

The golden threads around it faintly glowed, restraining her resistance!

Chi Yingxue withdrew his hand, causing the epiphyte flower to fall softly to the ground, its buds and petals completely smashed.

The teammates, including Chi Yingxue, were stunned, but he quickly recovered, clicked on his arm, and the next second, he held a cross gleaming with a cold light!

Before the four below could react, the sharp end of the cross was already plunged into the heart of the charred corpse by Chi Yingxue!

Amy struggled fiercely, but Chi Yingxue’s wrist, gripping the cross, was immovable, almost nailing her to the wall!

No one paid attention to the epiphyte flower on the ground anymore.

But at this moment, it emitted a faint blue light and then slowly floated up, regaining its previous appearance. The opened buds emitted a faint fragrance, and the buds yet to bloom were slowly unfolding!

Amy stopped struggling. Her empty eye sockets were fixated on the floating epiphyte flower, and in her eerie, hoarse voice, filled with unwilling resentment and curses, she said—

“You can protect her for a moment… but not for eternity… Next time, I will find her first…”

The evil spirit slowly vanished in the increasingly strong pale blue light. It wasn’t destroyed, but merely lying dormant, waiting for the day to return.

Chi Yingxue realized his body was becoming transparent.

He instinctively looked down, and the four new teammates below were also becoming transparent.

Were they leaving the oil painting?

Chi Yingxue couldn’t be sure, but he knew the four below were all looking up at him, their eyes filled with various “explicit emotions”, which made him uncomfortable.

Qian Ai, the conflicted type—I acknowledge your strength, but I still don’t think highly of you.

Kuang Jinxin, the enthusiastic type—You’re even more impressive than I imagined.

Wu Sheng, the pleasant surprise type—This classmate, I think you can play a smart strategy.

Xu Wang, the old and comforting type—I knew I was right about you.

This was a team overflowing with emotions, incredibly so.

In the silent exchange of glances, Captain Xu turned his back, quietly exited his [Stationery Box], as if he never used a stationery called [(Defense) Awe-Inspiring* Golden Silk], hiding his contribution.

*(浩然正气) Idiom referring to upright and awe-inspiring.

……

Two hours earlier, on the way back to Cornina’s cabin.

Wu Sheng: “You’re giving the epiphyte flower to Chi Yingxue?”

Xu Wang: “We don’t know how to use it anyway.”

Wu Sheng: “It’d be fine if it activates on its own, but what if it requires the user to figure out a way?”

Xu Wang: “That would be ideal.”

Wu Sheng: “You have that much confidence in him?”

Xu Wang: “Not at all.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Xu Wang: “He’s even more aloof than the Chi Yingxue from the amusement park. Such a person finds it hard to truly see others as teammates.”

Wu Sheng: “Then why agree to add him to the team?”

Xu Wang: “I can’t give up on his combat ability… and his face.”

Wu Sheng: “Could you repeat the part, but louder?”

Xu Wang: “So I still want to try and see if I can inspire some camaraderie in him.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Xu Wang: “Someone has to trust first. When the team is fully assembled, if I can do this, maybe he won’t leave.”

Wu Sheng: “Impossible. He’s obsessed with Li Zijin.”

Xu Wang: “……”

“If it fails,” Xu Wang looked at his advisor with a suddenly pitiful expression, “You can’t blame me.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Where does this “you” come from? It’s only him being emotionally manipulated here!

Not wanting to see another pitiful face, Wu Sheng led his team captain to imagine a bright future. “What if it works?”

“If it works…” Xu Wang looked up at the starry sky, suddenly afraid to think further.

If Chi Yingxue really had enough combat power to decisively defeat Li Zijin’s entire team and truly considered his teammates as partners, then maybe, they would be invincible.

Combat power needs to be supported by belief.

No matter how much fun they have, it can’t compare to the desire to march forward alongside your companions.


Kinky Thoughts:

Speaking of ferocious spirit (凶神恶煞), you can check out another project by my favorite author called Evil As Humans, which is named after the idiom. I highly recommend it.


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

Midnight Owl Ch82

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 82: Malice

Cornina’s cabin.

“…So, that’s all your dark history.” Qian Ai took the thermos from Kuang Jinxin, drained the warm tea inside to soothe his throat after talking for so long, and then advised his teammate, “Next time, could you add some goji berries?”

Chi Yingxue slightly frowned. “Did I really push Xiao Qian?”

“No, you and I perished together,” Kuang Jinxin corrected, putting the thermos back into his backpack.

Chi Yingxue’s disapproval deepened, and after a moment, he nodded as if sighing. “That’s Yan Wang’s style.”

“Don’t think it’s over just by saying you don’t remember.” Qian Ai felt compelled to remind his teammate. “You and Yan Wang are essentially using the same account. If he kills someone, you are just as culpable.”

Split personalities or whatever, Qian Ai didn’t understand. He believed one should be responsible for their actions. At the very least, he needed to make Chi Yingxue aware of what his other self had done. If he joined the team without any psychological burden, Kuang Jinxin might tolerate it, but Qian Ai couldn’t.

“I apologize on behalf of Yan Wang.” Chi Yingxue looked at Kuang Jinxin, losing his casual demeanor, and spoke earnestly.

Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai thought differently. He didn’t know why, but he naturally treated Yan Wang and Chi Yingxue as two different people. “It’s not your fault.”

Chi Yingxue thought it was a retort, but upon closer inspection, he realized Kuang Jinxin’s eyes held no resentment or anger, only hidden confusion.

All along the way, his eyes were filled with these question marks.

Unusually, Chi Yingxue felt a hint of curiosity. “Is there something you want to ask?”

Kuang Jinxin had many questions, but since they were talking about the Ferris wheel, he asked, “Do you know why Yan Wang jumped with me? Do you understand his reasoning?”

Chi Yingxue paused. Something flashed in his eyes, but it was too quick to discern.

“I don’t know,” he said with a resigned smile. “Yan Wang’s personality has always been unstable. No one knows what goes on in his mind.”

“Not even you?” Qian Ai was surprised.

Chi Yingxue sighed softly. “All I know is that whenever he appears, no matter how well a team works together, he can ruin everything.”

“That’s for sure. Who would dare accept someone like that?” Qian Ai felt a sense of kinship, but then remembered the subject of their mockery was right there, agreeing with them, which added a weird twist.

“Do you… hate Yan Wang?” Kuang Jinxin asked softly, as if worried that speaking too loudly would let Yan Wang hear.

Chi Yingxue quietly looked at him for a while, then suddenly raised his hand, gently touching his cheek, his thumb tracing his brow bone, whispering, “Would you like someone if you had to fight with them for the right to live?”

Kuang Jinxin was stunned, motionless, even forgetting to breathe.

He suddenly felt that Chi Yingxue wasn’t looking at him but rather at the reflection of another Chi Yingxue in his pupils.

“What are you doing!” Qian Ai slapped Chi Yingxue’s hand away and pulled Kuang Jinxin over. His face scrunched up in disgust. “Talk if you have something to say. Don’t be creepy and touchy!”

Chi Yingxue looked at his suddenly reddened hand, his gaze becoming somewhat vacant, as if he had lost part of his spirit.

“Come on, I just hit you once. You don’t have to overact like that…” The sudden silence made Qian Ai uneasy.

Chi Yingxue suddenly opened the [Roster], tilting his head to look at it for a few seconds.

Then, he slowly raised his eyes, his gaze sliding past him to fall on Kuang Jinxin’s face.

“Kuang… Jinxin?” His tone was very light, with a rising inflection at the end, casually enticing.

Qian Ai swallowed, pulling Kuang Jinxin back with him. “Stop this trickery or I’ll kick you out—”

Chi Yingxue curled his mouth, his eyes flashing mischievously, like a child thinking of a clever prank.

“Xiao Sijin.” He cheerfully declared Kuang Jinxin’s new nickname without any intention of seeking his approval.

Kuang Jinxin stared at him, stunned. More than getting a nickname, he was more concerned about Chi Yingxue, feeling that the person in front of him had changed.

“Are you… Yan Wang?” he asked cautiously.

For a moment, Chi Yingxue’s smile froze in his eyes.

The next instant, a whirlwind of emotions surged in his beautiful eyes—joy, anger, confusion, and realization—all unrelated and crudely mixed together, creating a bewildering blend of colors.

“Get away—” Chi Yingxue suddenly yelled, his face clouded with fury.

It was unclear whether he was yelling at others or at the other self within him.

In any case, Qian Ai immediately scooped up Kuang Jinxin, transforming into “Raging Lightning Qian”, and zipped to the corner of the room. If the crack in the wall was wide enough, he would have squeezed in.

“This fucking transformation…” At that moment, Qian Ai found himself missing the evil spirit. At least their target was clear, their methods direct, and the little flames they carried dispelled the darkness!

Chi Yingxue abruptly stood up, looking around like a cornered beast, his movements frantic but his eyes dark and threatening.

“A wardrobe,” he said in a terrifying, deep voice, as if struggling fiercely with an internal force. “Is there a wardrobe?”

“Upstairs bedroom!” If he wanted gold bars right now, Qian Ai would have melted them for him.

Chi Yingxue sprinted upstairs.

Soon, there was a commotion above, followed by a sound like a wardrobe door closing with a “bang—”

The world became peaceful.

Qian Ai held Kuang Jinxin in his arms for a long time, not letting go.

Kuang Jinxin struggled to lift his head, asking, “Are you trying to protect me, or are you scared and need to hold onto something?”

Qian Ai: “……”

Reluctantly releasing his teammate, Qian Ai skipped the question and issued an order. “From now on, don’t go within a meter of Chi Yingxue!”

Kuang Jinxin knew Qian Ai was worried but still found it difficult. “What about during battles?”

“Even more so,” Qian Ai answered without hesitation. “Let the opponents go near him. It’s guaranteed to scare one to death or drive a pair insane.”

Kuang Jinxin imagined the scenario and laughed. “If Yan Wang knew you thought of him like that, he would definitely be angry.”

Qian Ai took a moment to digest and catch up with Kuang Jinxin’s separate perceptions of Chi Yingxue and Yan Wang, curiously asking, “So Chi Yingxue wouldn’t get angry?”

“He wouldn’t,” Kuang Jinxin said, then thought for a moment before shaking his head. “He doesn’t care about these things.”

Footsteps came from the stairway.

Qian Ai stood in front of Kuang Jinxin, fully alert.

Chi Yingxue walked down slowly, looking pale with slightly white lips, but had calmed down. Seeing their guarded expressions, he smiled sheepishly, half apologizing and half explaining. “I talked too much about his bad side, and he got upset.”

“We can be overheard?” Qian Ai was shocked, momentarily forgetting the scare he just had. His curiosity piqued again.

Chi Yingxue nodded slightly. “Whenever he wants, he can hear.”

Kuang Jinxin asked, “And then, does he remember?”

Chi Yingxue looked at him leisurely, as if he knew what he was going to ask. “Yes. But when we switch, when he comes forward and I recede, I can’t hear, see, and, of course, have no memory of it.”

Having his thoughts seen through didn’t make Kuang Jinxin uncomfortable. He earnestly asked, “Why?”

Chi Yingxue shrugged. “He’s more domineering than I am.”

Kuang Jinxin stated, “But you are the main personality.”

“Exactly because the main personality is weak, avoiding, and afraid to face pain, a secondary personality is born,” Chi Yingxue said with a smile, but his eyes were cold. “The main personality is the most useless.”

“The mushroom soup is ready—” Cornina came in with the same pot as yesterday, brimming with enthusiasm.

Qian Ai pulled Kuang Jinxin back a step, feeling queasy just from the smell, as if seeing little figures dancing in the steam rising from the pot.

Chi Yingxue, who had been briefed on the mushroom soup by his new teammates, had no interest in taking risks and helped Cornina set the soup down before gently saying, “We’ll handle it. You can do something else.”

Cornina insisted, “I’ll serve it for you.”

Chi Yingxue didn’t mind, and, seeing her persistence, let her be.

After serving the soup, Cornina returned to the kitchen.

The aroma filled the living room. This was a huge test for Qian Ai, who was prepared, pulling out a tiny glass bottle with a green liquid from his pocket.

The brain-awakening artifact—menthol oil.

With the little green bottle in hand, all smell and temptation were gone. One sniff can dispel poison and revitalize the spirit.

While Kuang Jinxin indulged in the fragrance of the menthol oil, Kuang Jinxin noticed the bloodstain on Chi Yingxue’s cuff.

It wasn’t there when he had run upstairs just before.

“What method did you use to stop him?” Kuang Jinxin could confirm that the person in front of him was still Chi Yingxue. The Yan Wang that briefly emerged was pushed back again.

Chi Yingxue frowned at the smell of the oil, then became lost in thought for a moment.

“Is he afraid of the wardrobe?” Kuang Jinxin asked more specifically.

“No.” Chi Yingxue lifted his head, smiling a bit. “He’s afraid of the dark.”

“Afraid of the dark?” Kuang Jinxin didn’t expect such an answer, murmuring to himself. “Sounds like a child.”

“A naughty child,” Chi Yingxue said, like a worn-out adult admonishing a naïve young man. “You wouldn’t like him.”

Kuang Jinxin suddenly became quiet, staring at Chi Yingxue’s cuff.

Chi Yingxue followed his gaze and saw the red stain.

After a long silence, he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a fresh wound on the inside of his forearm, as if scratched with a nail or something else not very sharp. The wound was rough.

“Darkness is for him, pain is for me.” Chi Yingxue looked up, his eyes gentle and smiling. “That’s my method.”

Kuang Jinxin had no more questions and settled back into the corner.

Qian Ai, sniffing the menthol oil and listening to this esoteric conversation, was reluctantly calm amidst his irritation.

Chi Yingxue sat at the table, guarding the pot of poisonous mushroom soup, resting his cheek on his hand, gazing at the moonlight outside the window.

When Xu Wang and Wu Sheng returned, this was the scene they encountered.

The three teammates looked towards the door as they heard the noise. Kuang Jinxin, like an eager puppy, was the first to get up and rush over, his eyes shining brightly, full of expectation. “Captain, Sheng Ge, did you find anything?”

“We found a lot.” Xu Wang walked into the living room with a joyous expression, sat down on the floor, and carefully presented a small bunch of pale blue flowers.

The bunch had seven or eight stems, each bearing five or six pale blue flowers. Some were fully bloomed, while others were still buds. The stems were entwined, sharing a single root, but instead of soil, there was a small piece of bark.

Wu Sheng called Cornina out of the kitchen and joined their teammates in a circle.

“It was this flower that put out the fire and saved you,” Xu Wang said to Cornina.

Cornina looked at the flowers, still clueless. “Where does this flower grow? I really don’t remember ever seeing it.”

“You haven’t seen it,” Xu Wang replied. “It grows on the tree in the small square.”

“On the tree?” Cornina asked.

“Yes, on a very high part of the trunk, hidden by leaves and branches. It took us a long time to find it,” Xu Wang explained.

“He climbed on my shoulders to find it.” Advisor Wu, who had been silent since entering, spoke for the first time to add a detail.

Xu Wang ignored him, but this didn’t prevent him from utilizing his knowledge. “This is an epiphytic flower, living on rocks or tree trunks. It doesn’t need soil, surviving on dew and rainwater.”

Advisor Wu insisted on making his presence felt. “When we tried to pluck it from the tree, we were attacked by the branches.”

Finally, their efforts paid off. Cornina looked at him fearfully, her voice trembling. “The tree… attacked you?”

“Yes, like it was alive, swinging branches at us,” Wu Sheng confirmed.

Cornina was both shocked and frightened. “The tree by the square has been there since I was born. It never did anything strange…”

“But when we were attacked and fell to the ground, the flowers fell by themselves,” Xu Wang said. “I think it wanted us to bring it to you.”

Cornina couldn’t absorb anymore, completely stunned.

Xu Wang and Wu Sheng exchanged a look of disappointment, having hoped that bringing the flower would trigger some storyline. Now, it seemed too optimistic.

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin were still digesting the “epiphytic flower” and “tree attacking people” information, while Chi Yingxue asked, “Is that all the clues?”

Xu Wang said, “There’s more.”

“What else?” Chi Yingxue asked.

Xu Wang didn’t rush to respond.

Chi Yingxue patiently waited, his eyes focused, as if at that moment, his world only contained clues and the answer.

Xu Wang felt confident in his ability to read people and saw no malice or anything else in Chi Yingxue.

“There are two more things,” Xu Wang began, sharing the findings with the team. “We went to find York…”

The three teammates listened attentively, and even Cornina raised her head abruptly.

Xu Wang looked at her. “York said he actually likes you too, but Amy told him you didn’t like him.”

“That’s impossible. I even asked Amy to confess for me…” Cornina suddenly covered her mouth. Realizing the truth, her eyes incredulously welled up.

“Yes, Amy didn’t confess for you. Instead, she told York you rejected him,” Xu Wang continued. “And on the night Amy lied to York, she was attacked by the petals…”

Cornina looked at the flowers on the floor.

“Yes, these flowers,” Xu Wang sighed. “I don’t know if it’s male or female, or maybe it doesn’t have a gender, but obviously, it likes you. After attacking Amy, it floated away, finally landing on the roof of your house.”

“My house?”

“And unfortunately, Amy secretly followed, so she concluded that you could do magic—that you were a witch.”

Cornina trembled suddenly, wrapping her arms around herself, and after a while, the shaking lessened.

Xu Wang knew what the girl was thinking. “Amy accused you to the villagers.”

In that era, being associated with magic or witchcraft was a mortal sin, inciting fear in the ignorant.

“Did York know all this?” Chi Yingxue, who hadn’t experienced yesterday, caught up with the story quickly. His reaction was fast and logical, surprising Xu Wang.

“York didn’t know, but a priest in the village did,” Xu Wang said. “That’s the second thing I wanted to tell you. After accusing you, Amy went to confess to the priest, telling him everything.”

Kuang Jinxin didn’t understand. “If Amy thought accusing a witch was right, why confess?”

“Because she lied to York,” Qian Ai suspected that Kuang Jinxin hadn’t listened to the first half of the class.

Xu Wang added, “The priest said that her fear was born out of jealousy. Her accusations, apart from fear, were also selfish. She was well aware of her own sins.”

Wu Sheng remained silent. This domain wasn’t his field of study.

Chi Yingxue laughed out loud for the first time since joining the team, unreservedly. His mouth curved up wildly, along with his bent eyebrows, creating a brilliant smile.

After laughing, he looked at them with eyes like those of someone observing a group of naïve and ignorant children. “Evil people will never repent for their evil deeds. Their prayers and confessions are only to justify continuing their wrongdoing.”


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

Suddenly Trending Ch76

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 76

From the moment Shi Jiuting entered the set, Wang Xi recognized him, but since he headed straight towards the male lead without looking around, she didn’t find it appropriate to forcefully approach him.

Only when Shi Jiuting retreated to the side of the set, casually observing, did Wang Xi approach and politely greeted, “President Shi, hello.”

Shi Jiuting tilted his head slightly, eyeing the competent woman who appeared out of nowhere, but still politely rose and asked, “You are…?”

“Dream Without Limits, Wang Xi. We’ve spoken on the phone,” Wang Xi said, taking out her business card and handing it to him.

Shi Jiuting took the card, glanced at it briefly, and remembered, “Ms.1 Wang?”

“Not at all,” Wang Xi hurriedly replied. “You can call me Xiao Wang or Wang Xi1.”

1Clarity: He’s using (总) to address her here, which can be like “President, Chief, Director, ect.”. Wang Xi is showing humility by “lowering” her status and basically saying, “I don’t dare accept such honor of being referred to that kind of address.”

Shi Jiuting glanced at the agent, who seemed to be around his age or perhaps a year or two older and found it difficult to address her as “Xiao Wang”. So, he vaguely responded with a noncommittal “Mm, okay.”

Wang Xi didn’t dwell on the formality and went straight to the point. “I’ve been wanting to invite you to dinner to thank you in person for giving Ran Lin this opportunity.”

Shi Jiuting smiled, not denying his role in providing the opportunity for Ran Lin, and simply stated, “Opportunities come, but it takes real skill to seize them.”

Shi Jiuting always gave this impression over the phone: no pleasantries, no insincerity, direct and clear in just a few words, avoiding unnecessary flattery. As an agent, Wang Xi preferred dealing with such straightforward investors; it was less tiring.

“Since you’re here, President Shi, Ran Lin, and I would like to invite you to dinner tonight…”

Before Wang Xi could finish, Shi Jiuting politely gestured with his hand to stop her.

“Filming is already exhausting, and I shouldn’t deprive actors of their precious rest time. If entertaining me affects tomorrow’s work, then my visit here would really be more trouble than it’s worth.”

His refusal was both irrefutable and soothing to hear—a sign of his adeptness.

Wang Xi didn’t press further. She had mentioned it several times over the phone and now again in person; her sincerity was clear. If he genuinely didn’t want to dine, then she would not insist.

As they spoke, the set was ready for the next scene.

Shi Jiuting settled back down, and Wang Xi chose a nearby chair to sit, so as not to walk back and forth and disturb the shooting.

The second scene is still underwater, but this time it involves Ran Lin, who has sunk to the bottom, receiving vital energy from the little white jiao* and then, in turn, helping the white jiao escape its plight. Thus, Ran Lin needs to “break the chains and shackles binding the white jiao” while underwater.

*Clarity: The author has switched to using jiao instead of dragon.

As the clapperboard sounded, Ran Lin dove back into the water without hesitation.

From Wang Xi and Shi Jiuting’s perspective, they could only see the rippling water surface. In other words, except for the photographer shooting from the underwater window, everyone in the studio could only see the surface and not the actor—except for the director.

The monitor vividly displayed Ran Lin’s underwater performance, with Director Huang watching intently, not missing a single frame.

Even though the lifeguard was ready by the pool, Wang Xi couldn’t help but clench her fists.

Time seemed to stretch on, and what was less than a minute felt like an eternity.

Finally, with a splash, their actor resurfaced.

Wang Xi exhaled a breath of relief as if she had been the one holding her breath underwater.

Another successful take The director was satisfied, and Ran Lin was helped ashore and wrapped in a towel as the set buzzed back to life.

“You’re more nervous than the actors.” A teasing voice came from beside her.

Wang Xi looked towards Shi Jiuting and replied with a bitter smile, “He knows what he’s doing. I don’t, and those who don’t know are naturally more anxious than those who do.”

“That makes sense.” Shi Jiuting not only agreed but nodded seriously. “No wonder when I heard you mention Han Ze was coming to visit, no matter how busy I was, I had to come and take a look because you’re familiar with the situation and Han Ze, but I’m not.”

Wang Xi understood his point and didn’t play dumb. “Now that you’ve seen the set, the only uncertain factor left is Han Ze.”

“I’m giving face to Dream Without Limits, you, and Ran Lin,” Shi Jiuting said with a meaningful look at Wang Xi. “Don’t make me regret that doing less is better than doing more.”

Wang Xi braved a smile, knowing there was no turning back now. She couldn’t very well say, “Perhaps you should reconsider. Don’t do this for our sake to accommodate Han Ze,” especially since Han Ze and Ran Lin were both under Dream Without Limits. It was a shared fate of glory or downfall.

However, upon further thought, Han Ze at most would be self-promoting, unlikely foolish enough to harm the movie version since it would bring no real benefit to him, or the drama series already aired and would only create enemies.

Shi Jiuting left the topic at that, avoiding further discussion on the slightly awkward subject, and instead reached for a slender, long box leaning against the chair and handed it to Wang Xi. “I need to trouble you with this.”

The box was only half a palm wide but about sixty to seventy centimeters long, unmarked but entirely painted with a traditional landscape, overly elaborate for mere packaging.

A scroll?

A cane?

A sword?

The box, light but with some weight, left Wang Xi guessing its contents based on its shape, leading to more and more outrageous assumptions. She looked up, puzzled, at Shi Jiuting.

He only smiled and nodded slightly.

Wang Xi internally rolled her eyes. She wasn’t a mind reader. She didn’t know whether this person’s nod meant, “You guessed right,” “You may open it,” or “Just accept it without worry.” Surely, some narration was needed for such a mysterious box!

With no other option, Wang Xi asked, “What you just mentioned troubling me with is…”

“I hope you’ll have it signed by Ran Lin,” Shi Jiuting said, touching his nose, seemingly a bit embarrassed. “And then trouble you to return it to me.”

Wang Xi, caught off guard, held the slender box. “May I open it to see?”

“Of course,” Shi Jiuting replied.

The box didn’t open at either end but was capped all around, so Wang Xi held the ends between her palms, lifted the box slightly, then gently shook it down, separating the lid from the box. Once the lid was entirely removed, Wang Xi finally saw the contents inside—

A traditional oil-paper umbrella.

In the past, when Wang Xi managed Han Ze, she also helped obtain his autograph on various items for VIP fans—photos, T-shirts, basketballs, and more. However, all these items paled in comparison to the oil-paper umbrella before her.

With the box open, Wang Xi didn’t hesitate and took out the umbrella, gently untied the silk cord, and slowly opened it. The surface of the umbrella featured a painting of proud red plum blossoms braving the snow, accompanied by a small poem with elegant script—Three knocks form a golden orchid friendship, a single sword observes the falling flowers.

Wang Xi finally understood that this was merchandise from <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.

Suppressing her urge to comment, Wang Xi carefully closed the umbrella back up. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Ran Lin signs it beautifully.”

Shi Jiuting seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, albeit subtly, as he watched Wang Xi close the box, smiling helplessly. “It’s my daughter’s request; I have no choice but to comply.”

Wang Xi was taken aback, as the information she had previously obtained had always indicated that Shi Jiuting was a fan of <Sword of Fallen Flowers>, particularly of the character Fang Xian, leading to his desire for Ran Lin to star in <Chronicles of Winter>. It seemed the intelligence was inaccurate.

Shi Jiuting always protected his family privacy well, so all that was known was that his daughter was about junior high school age.

Being a “good father” definitely scored points in his favor, so Wang Xi viewed Shi Jiuting more favorably and spoke with less formality and more warmth. “You can count on us.”

When Ran Lin wrapped up for lunch, Shi Jiuting had already left, leaving only an assistant to wait.

So, before Ran Lin could even eat his meal, he was pulled aside by his agent to a quiet spot—to sign the umbrella.

It was the first time Ran Lin had been asked to sign an umbrella, and he curiously admired it for a while before finding a spot that wouldn’t detract from its overall beauty and signing his name.

Afterward, as if remembering something, he asked his agent, “Xi Jie, did President Shi just come to visit? Did he say anything?”

Of course, Shi Jiuting had given a clear reminder not to let Han Ze’s visit become a nuisance, but these were things for her, the agent, to handle and not relevant to Ran Lin, so ultimately Wang Xi shook her head. “He didn’t say much. Just told you to focus on your acting.”

Ran Lin nodded, not suspecting anything amiss.

But looking at the umbrella again, he still felt a sense of dissonance. Shi Jiuting, dressed in a stylish biker jacket, exuded a cool, distinct aura, yet he had asked for an autograph on a gentle Jiangnan-style oil-paper umbrella, which seemed oddly mismatched.

“We all misunderstood,” Wang Xi said, noticing her artist’s perplexed expression and deciding to clarify. “It’s his daughter who is your real fan. Probably part of his motive for having you act in <Chronicles of Winter> was to please her.”

“That’s quite an investment…” Ran Lin was taken aback by the depth of fatherly love, considering the substantial investment in <Chronicles of Winter>.

“He’s not foolish,” Wang Xi said. “He also had the director and producer oversee things. Of course, it’s great if you can do it, but if you really can’t, he wouldn’t joke around with real money.”

Ran Lin pondered this and still felt impressed. “If all my fans were of this caliber, I could struggle twenty years less.”

Wang Xi packed up the umbrella and retied the ribbon, laughing off any further dreaming. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Focus on hard work and earning your keep.”

……

Two days after Shi Jiuting’s visit, Han Ze arrived.

He seemed to have precisely timed his visit, possibly coordinating with the unit manager, as he arrived with the lunch delivery. Along with the meals, he brought hot drinks and pre-cut boxed fruits.

In the cold of winter, a hot drink was quite comforting, and a bit of fruit after the meal was delightful.

The crew welcomed this practical and straightforward form of support, and the atmosphere was jovial, with Han Ze’s visit almost taking on the air of the male lead.

Ran Lin and Wang Xi watched from the sidelines, unable to lend a hand, unsure if Han Ze was there to visit them or the crew.

But they didn’t mind. Han Ze’s presence brought prestige to Dream Without Limits, which in turn reflected well on Ran Lin. If he could maintain this positive impression consistently, it would be beneficial.

Finally, when the hustle settled down, Han Ze found a moment to greet Ran Lin and Wang Xi, accompanied by his new agent, Deng Minru.

“You’ve worked hard,” Han Ze said, giving Ran Lin a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

Ran Lin shook his head. “Not at all. Thank you for visiting.”

“As fellow apprentices, no need for formalities,” Han Ze replied.

Wang Xi felt that further pleasantries might lead to awkwardness, as there wasn’t much else to say, so she cut straight to the point. “Since media visits for the film aren’t open yet, interviews will need to be conducted nearby.”

“No problem,” Deng Minru responded, understandingly.

Wang Xi nodded, got a crew member to help, and the group moved to a nearby area that wouldn’t interfere with the set.

The so-called interview was actually prearranged by both parties, consisting of formalities and pleasantries. For example, the reasons for Han Ze’s visit were discussed, such as the rarity of actors from the same company playing roles from the same original work, coupled with their good relationship, making his support a necessity. Additionally, both sides would discuss their expectations for the future product from their respective roles in the performance. Of course, the conversation would inevitably lead to revealing that the drama version of <Chronicles of Winter> was set to air in June, followed by both individuals naturally offering blessings for each other’s versions.

The entire set visit lasted only about an hour, all during lunch break, without affecting the shooting schedule. The process and interview were standard procedure, and Han Ze didn’t cause any disruptions. When the time came to bid farewell to this “colleague”, both Ran Lin and Wang Xi simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.

But the calmer the visit seemed, the more unsettling it was upon reflection.

“Everything’s okay, right?” Ran Lin asked his agent apprehensively.

“It should be fine,” Wang Xi replied, then thought for a moment and added, “Let’s see what his press release says in the next day or two.”

Wang Xi underestimated Deng Minru’s efficiency. It wasn’t until early March, after Ran Lin had completed shooting in Hengdian and Xinjiang and moved to the second location in Guangdong, that the press release finally arrived.

[Chronicles of Winter: One Story, Two Stellar Roles, Xiao Shitou Visits Xiao Shitou!]

Despite being a bit late, the press release spread like wildfire across the internet, making “Han Ze’s Chronicles of Winter” a trending topic. Opening the trend revealed the set visit’s press release and videos. Additionally, “Chronicles of Winter airing in June” also became a hot topic.

In the trending topics and discussions about <Chronicles of Winter>, no one specifically emphasized whether it was the film or the drama version, but the information was mostly focused on the drama version.

This was natural, as Han Ze’s visit was primarily intended to generate buzz for himself and the drama version, something Wang Xi and the film’s team were well aware of before the visit. Moreover, the final interview didn’t cut out any information related to Ran Lin and the film version, including Han Ze’s wishes for the film’s success. Thus, while the buzz was more drama-focused, it also provided some free publicity for the film version.

Naturally, comparisons between the two versions were inevitable—

[Smoking Blue Cloud: Personally, Han Ze fits my image of Xiao Shitou more.]

[If I Can’t Write Calligraphy, I’m a Loser: I prefer Ran Lin; he feels more youthful.]

Fans of both versions and most neutral observers preferred to spread positive vibes—

[Ze_520: Both versions of Xiao Shitou have their merits. Let’s not start any fan wars.]

[Blazing Flame of Bear: Wishing both the drama and film versions success!]

[Yao Isn’t Far Away: As a neutral party, I love seeing harmony and joy, especially since it’s about brothers visiting each other’s sets and blessing each other. Please, some people, don’t be too dramatic and incite conflicts.]

Of course, Han Ze’s visit was intended for publicity, and many netizens’ comments confirmed the necessity of it—

[Respect for Filial Piety: Is <Chronicles of Winter> novel any good? Should I catch up before the drama airs?]

[I’m Already a Couch Potato: Read the novel. Almost forgot the plot, but remember it being quite good. Looking forward to the drama!]

[Little Yellow Duck Dada: Book fan here. Please don’t ruin the original!]

[Outsider of Snow Mountain Flying Fox: Airing in June, that’s a long wait…]

[Alicia: When will the teaser be released? Even stills would do! 🤩 🤩 ❤️ ❤️]

By this time, Wang Xi had already returned to Beijing, and Ran Lin had logged off Weibo, sending a voice message to his agent, “Xi Jie, did you see Han Ze’s trending topic? Seems like no issues.”

His agent replied swiftly, “Yeah, he kept it clean.”

Ran Lin chuckled. “Are you also browsing Weibo?”

Wang Xi: “Of course, I’ve made a promise to Shi Jiuting’s side; if anything goes wrong, I’m the first one responsible.”

Ran Lin: “Now we can rest easy.”

Wang Xi: “Wrong, it’s normal for me to worry. What are you worrying about? You should spend your time on the script instead of browsing Weibo.”

Ran Lin: “The script is already etched in my brain. I’m even dreaming of beating up the Northern Emperor.”

Wang Xi’s voice message carried laughter. “Good, keep it up.”

After finishing the conversation, Ran Lin took a quick shower.

The temperature in Guangdong at the end of February was almost like April in Beijing, slightly cool but overall comfortable.

After showering, Ran Lin felt refreshed and lay on the bed, scrolling through the photos Liu Wanwan took for him during the day. He selected a satisfying one, about to send it to Lu Yiyao, but received a message from him first—

[Han Ze visited your set?]

Lu Yiyao had started shooting a comedy film after the new year, a contract that was signed long ago with the intention of exploring Lu Yiyao’s comedic talent and possibly broadening his acting range. The director was known for making hit comedy films in recent years.

But now, it seemed like this would be Lu Yiyao’s last movie.

However, as it was his last, Lu Yiyao was especially serious, wanting to end his acting career on a high note. Ran Lin could sense his dedication and thus always shared good news, avoiding any distractions for his partner.

He didn’t mention Han Ze’s set visit, something that would fall under “distractions”.

[He came last month. Just made a brief appearance, nothing much.]—Ran Lin replied truthfully.

After sending the message, Ran Lin quickly shared the selected photo as well.

In the endlessly golden rapeseed fields, his character, Xiao Shitou, was running innocently and joyfully with Jiang Yi’s character, Ah Jin.

Indeed, compared to the uneventful visit from Han Ze, this photo had more impact.

Teacher Lu sent a voice message. “Are you showing off your love with the female lead in front of me?”

The intonation at the end of “showing off love” had a dangerous rise.

Ran Lin, flustered, replied via voice message, “Please ignore the female lead. Focus on me and the rapeseed field!”

The voice message from the other end carried a suppressed chuckle. “What scene is this?”

Ran Lin, realizing they hadn’t switched to video call yet, understood that Lu Yiyao was probably still on set or somewhere else inconvenient for video, likely hiding in a quiet corner with his earphones on, so he continued typing—[It’s the sweet clover field in the village.]

Without speaking, Lu Yiyao sent another voice message—[Looks good.]

Ran Lin—[Of course it looks good. I heard the crew looked at several locations before choosing this one.]

Lu Yiyao, amused by his lover’s response, felt Ran Lin looked stunning standing amidst the brilliant rapeseed fields.

But as much as he thought it, he didn’t correct it.

If counted from the confession at last year’s Republic party, it had been exactly one year. He felt he had used up all his romantic words in that year, especially at the beginning of their relationship, when the desire to express his feelings seemed to surge from the depths of his soul. He had never considered himself particularly eloquent, but it came naturally then. And he always felt that if you love someone, you should express it repeatedly.

But now, compared to sweet nothings, he preferred to do something tangible—to work towards their future.

No matter how many sweet words are said, or love expressed, without practical support, it’s all fleeting and illusory.

The crew called Lu Yiyao, and he quickly sent one last message—[Back to work. Can’t talk now. Rest early.]

The reply was a picture goodnight—Tigger wearing a sleeping cap.

……

Throughout March, Ran Lin traveled with the production team across Guangdong, Zhangjiajie, and Yunnan to complete all the exterior shots for <Chronicles of Winter>. On March 30th, the filming wrapped up.

At the wrap party, Jiang Yi insisted on a BFF selfie with him, and somehow Ran Lin got labeled with that attribute. Their photo ended up as one of the nine squares on Jiang Yi’s Weibo, surrounded by other group shots and images from the party, culminating in a wrap-up post.

Ran Lin retweeted it, thanking the crew for months of hard work and expressing anticipation for the movie’s release next year.

Almost immediately after the wrap party, Ran Lin took barely any rest, staying in Beijing for just a day before rushing to the set of <Dyeing Fire>.

<Dyeing Fire> began shooting on April 3rd, but Ran Lin arrived on the afternoon of April 1st.

Unlike his previous life experience journey, this was the real deal, and naturally, the production had arranged hotel accommodations for the actors. Still, Ran Lin opted for the high-speed train, accompanied only by Liu Wanwan, and hopped onto the production team’s vehicle upon arrival.

It was a drizzly day with slightly overcast skies. It wasn’t too gloomy, with the tender leaves on trees along the road still distinctly visible. Compared to the bleakness when he left, Wuhan in the spring rain was brimming with vitality.

It was said that Gu Jie had stayed in the area without leaving, just moving into the hotel after his short-term rental expired. Unable to wait to surprise his friend, Ran Lin immediately called Gu Jie.

The phone rang for a while before being answered, “Hello?”

“Busy?” Ran Lin asked.

“No, just fell asleep.”

“Sleeping in the middle of the day?”

“Have you never heard? Rainy days and napping are the perfect match.”

“……” Ran Lin felt sure that Gu Jie had invented that saying himself.

But considering that Gu Jie had been here for half a year, whether experiencing life or memorizing scripts, he should have done all the necessary preparations. Taking an afternoon nap to rejuvenate before the shoot starts seemed quite sensible.

With that in mind, Ran Lin decided not to tease anymore and simply stated, “I’m here.”

It took a moment for the other end to process before asking, “Here where?”

“In Wuhan,” Ran Lin said exasperatedly. “Almost at the hotel.”

Gu Jie: “Didn’t you just wrap up the day before yesterday?”

Ran Lin: “Yeah, rested yesterday, and came over today.”

Gu Jie: “No way!”

Ran Lin: “Huh?”

Gu Jie: “You’re trying to fool me, right? Look, I’m telling you, I won’t fall for it again. It’s raining in Wuhan right now, so don’t expect me to foolishly wait for you in the rain!”

Gu Jie sounded genuinely indignant, his earnestness not seeming like a joke, especially considering it was Gu Jie, a man not known for joking.

Ran Lin widened his eyes in realization—today was April Fool’s Day!

No wonder Gu Jie said he wouldn’t fall for it again… Wait, again?

“Who was the last villain?” To coax out the truth, Ran Lin decided to play along with the “deceiver” role.

After a brief silence, Gu Jie said, “I refuse to recall…”

Ran Lin thought for a moment and guessed, “Xia Xinran?”

“……” The complete silence on the other end confirmed his suspicion.

“He fooled you into waiting for him in the rain?” Ran Lin pressed on.

Finally, Gu Jie couldn’t contain his frustration. “He called saying he was visiting the set and was already below my hotel window. He told me to open the window and look for him. I did and saw no one there. He said the rain might be obscuring my view and asked me to shout his name because he couldn’t see my window either. So, I ended up shouting ‘Xia Xinran’ several times…”

Ran Lin: “Each time louder?”

Gu Jie: “Until the security guard came out, standing below asking if I needed help.”

Ran Lin: “…”

Gu Jie sighed, clearly hurt. “I thought you guys were different.”

“Thanks, Ping Ge.” Ran Lin thanked the life director he had just met, then got out of the car, holding the phone in one hand and his luggage in the other under the umbrella Liu Wanwan was holding. He looked up at the dense hotel windows, feeling equally aggrieved. “I’m actually under your hotel right now, but you probably don’t believe me…”

After handing over the room card instructions to Liu Wanwan, the life director left. Ran Lin looked up and was about to enter the hotel with Liu Wanwan when he heard, “Is that little yellow umbrella yours?”

Ran Lin, not being able to discern which window was open, replied exasperatedly, “The little yellow umbrella is my assistant’s. Do you really think I’d carry a little yellow duck one?”

“You really arrived this early!” Gu Jie’s tone shifted from skepticism to surprise. “I knew you were different from Xia Xinran; you wouldn’t just join in the April Fool’s joke.”

Ran Lin frowned. ‘Had Gu Jie ever said that?’

The rain seemed to have stopped, as Ran Lin couldn’t hear the sound of raindrops on the umbrella anymore, but he still entered the hotel lobby with the umbrella up, walking with Liu Wanwan to the seventh floor.

As the elevator doors slowly opened with a ding, Ran Lin swallowed and hesitated to step out.

Gu Jie, blocking the elevator doors with open arms in a welcoming gesture, looked puzzled. “I came especially to meet you, and you give me that look?”

“If you hadn’t said you were coming to meet me, I might have thought you were here to collect protection money.” Ran Lin teased as he stepped out of the elevator, pulling his suitcase, and finally gave Gu Jie a hug.

Gu Jie was slightly displeased at not being hugged immediately but accepted it nonetheless.

Liu Wanwan, observing the two friends’ playful banter, decided to leave them to their reunion and took Ran Lin’s luggage. “Ran Ge, I’ll take this to your room.”

Ran Lin, dressed casually with no intention of changing, handed over his luggage to Liu Wanwan and went straight to Gu Jie’s room with him.

Gu Jie’s room was surprisingly neat, without clothes or clutter thrown everywhere. There was just a suitcase in the corner and a few simple exercise equipment against another wall.

“Time flies too fast,” Ran Lin said, opening the window as the rain had almost stopped. The air was still cloudy and cool, but the breeze was refreshing and comfortable. “It feels like I just left and now I’m back.”

“That’s because you’ve been busy,” Gu Jie offered Ran Lin a Red Bull. “I’ve been vacationing here. I even went home for a month during New Year’s. It feels like I’ve made up for all the holidays I’ve missed in the past half-year.”

Ran Lin envied him but teased, “Sounds like you’re ready to retire from acting.”

“Not that fortunate. It’s just <Dyeing Fire’s> shooting schedule kept changing. I didn’t want to commit to other contracts and cause scheduling conflicts. Now that it’s confirmed to start in April and wrap up by the end of July, at worst, it’ll stretch into August. I’ve already had my agent fill up my schedule from September to the end of the year.”

“What about next year?” Ran Lin was curious.

Gu Jie shrugged. “I’ll see next year. I don’t like to fill up my schedule too much in advance. It’s too frustrating if a good project comes up and I don’t have the availability.”

Ran Lin sat in a chair by the window, enjoying the breeze and looking at Gu Jie. He felt the hectic pace he’d gotten used to during the shooting of <Chronicles of Winter> was slowly relaxing, much like the city around him and the friend before him, all unfolding leisurely in the spring rain.

“How did the shooting of <Chronicles of Winter> go?” Gu Jie asked, opening his Red Bull and taking a sip, lazily inquiring about his friend’s recent work.

“Pretty good,” Ran Lin said truthfully. “If the post-production doesn’t mess it up, it should be fine.”

Gu Jie sat cross-legged on the bed, one hand holding the Red Bull, the other massaging his neck. “What counts as not messing it up?”

Ran Lin listed on his fingers, “Cheap special effects, online game-like visuals, or outsourcing it to a foreign special effects team who just use some ready-made elements from their library. Especially if it’s supposed to be an Eastern fantasy but ends up looking like a Western fantasy with castles, glaciers, dragons, and especially if the dragons have wings, then all the money spent on special effects is wasted.”

Gu Jie initially wanted to suggest that Ran Lin might be expecting too much from domestic special effects films, but as Ran Lin continued, he understood the underlying disappointment. If a so-called domestic fantasy film, touted as Eastern fantasy, features Western-style dragons, that would be quite disheartening.

So, what he ended up saying was, “Aren’t you a bit too pessimistic about the quality of domestic special effects films?”

Deep down, Ran Lin hoped <Chronicles of Winter> would break new ground for domestic fantasy films, but the past disappointments made it hard to be optimistic about the future.

Facing Gu Jie, Ran Lin spoke his mind. “The best outcome would be to produce a real blockbuster. If that’s not possible, I hope it’s at least not too embarrassing. Otherwise, if the film version is compared to the drama version and gets completely overshadowed, Han Ze will definitely take the opportunity to gloat in front of me.”

Gu Jie paused, recalling that Han Ze had visited Ran Lin’s set, which made the hot search and stayed a trending topic for days. He had assumed the two were on good terms but Ran Lin’s tone suggested otherwise. “You two don’t get along?”

Ran Lin thought about his relationship with Han Ze, which had been complicated from the start. “At first, he was hostile to me, and now I’ve gotten competitive too. I don’t want to lose to him.”

Gu Jie didn’t understand. “Then why did he visit your set?”

Ran Lin explained, “For publicity. His TV series airs in June, so he’s warming it up.”

Gu Jie frowned. “Isn’t that tiring?”

It was only an hour-long visit, not physically exhausting, but Ran Lin knew Gu Jie was referring to the mental fatigue of constantly scheming for publicity. Of course, it’s tiring.

But for Han Ze, who had been struggling for the past two years and was eager to make a comeback with <Chronicles of Winter>, a little scheming was nothing.

Ran Lin shared these thoughts with Gu Jie, and they didn’t dwell much on the subject afterward, moving on to talk about <Dyeing Fire>.

……

<Dyeing Fire> was scheduled to shoot over four months, starting on April 3rd and wrapping up on July 30th.

The original actress for the supporting role had to drop out due to the repeatedly delayed shooting schedule, only informing the production in late March. The director, in a panic, tried several other actresses, none of whom fit the role, and had to adjust the shooting schedule hastily, prioritizing the male actors’ scenes.

So, for all of April and the first half of May, Ran Lin was busy shooting scenes with Gu Jie.

With the rapport built from their previous life experience together, the two synced well, and the shooting went smoothly. Before they knew it, it was late May.

May 20th, a prime time for confessions*.

*Clarity: Chinese Valentine’s Day.

Just after midnight, Lu Yiyao sent a homemade sticker featuring a husky kissing a cat, with shiny text around it crafted by Teacher Lu himself—“One kiss and you’re mine.”

Knowing it was Teacher Lu’s creation because of the little dog paw watermark he loved to include in his own stickers, Ran Lin received it in the morning and replied with a sticker—[Daydreaming.jpg]

Lu Yiyao didn’t respond, obviously busy.

Ran Lin didn’t waste any time, put down his phone and quickly washed up. Then when Liu Wanwan came over and knocked on the door, he quickly followed his assistant downstairs to the set.


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

Suddenly Trending Ch75

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 75

Hengdian, January.

It was exactly one year since Ran Lin left after wrapping up <Sword of Fallen Petals>. Now he had returned for <Chronicles of Winter>, completing a full year’s cycle.

Hengdian remained the bustling hub it always was, filled with busy production crews, hustling extras, and small-time merchants. This winter had yet to see snow, so the bluestone paths remained unchanged, as did the black tile roofs. It felt as if he had only left yesterday, and now, as the sun melted the snow, he was back again.

However, most of the filming for the previous <Sword of Fallen Flowers> took place on built sets within the film base, featuring various pavilions, corridors, and waterside gazebos, all constructed to bring the ancient martial arts world to life.

But <Chronicles of Winter> relied heavily on post-production for many of its scenes, meaning less on-site and more studio filming. Additionally, much of the location shooting wasn’t in Hengdian but was planned in various other locations, including Guangdong, Zhangjiajie, and Xinjiang, after completing the Hengdian portions.

The studios in Hengdian were well-equipped to simulate forests, caves, underwater scenes, or any special designs like celestial realms, palaces, and ancient tombs, with green screens surrounding the sets.

Ran Lin’s first day on set for <Chronicles of Winter> involved a scene where Xiao Shitou and Ah Jin rescue a scholar at the bottom of a high cliff.

The girl playing Ah Jin was Jiang Yi, a rising star in the industry. Even as a student at the Film Academy, she had been involved in many TV dramas, gaining considerable popularity. Her first post-graduation role in a critically and commercially successful film as the second female lead solidified her entrance into the cinema, thereafter focusing on movies and becoming a rare newcomer with popularity, box office draw, and acting skills.

<Chronicles of Winter> was Jiang Yi’s fifth film and her second as the leading actress.

Ran Lin had never interacted with her before but had looked up information when he learned she would be his co-star. Aside from the usual promotional materials, there were some negative rumors about her being difficult and unprofessional. These rumors never solidified into a firm public image, and Jiang Yi’s team never issued any denials, leaving them to circulate occasionally among anti-fans and gossipers.

Ran Lin never judge people based on internet chatter, especially those he was about to work closely with. He preferred to trust his own eyes.

Their first meeting at the opening ceremony was brief, so today’s filming was their real introduction.

Arriving half an hour early at the studio, Ran Lin, after getting makeup done, saw that the green screens were already set up, props were in place, and the lighting and camera crew were making final adjustments.

Spotting the director, Ran Lin immediately went over to greet him. “Director Huang, good morning.”

The director briefly assessed his look, then nodded in satisfaction. “Morning. Go rest over there for now. We’ll start shooting in half an hour.”

Nodding, Ran Lin didn’t want to disturb the director further and headed towards the actors’ resting area. Before he got there, he noticed a petite figure sitting alone, engrossed in the script, without even her assistant nearby.

“Good morning,” Ran Lin greeted first. The actress looked up from her script, squinting slightly until he approached, then stood up, letting go of the script with a bright smile. “Hello, Xiao Shitou.”

Jiang Yi in person was as stunning as on screen, if not more so. Her oval face looked even more delicate due to her slender frame, with naturally blended features and a soft makeup look that enhanced her fresh and elegant beauty.

The slight awkwardness melted away with Jiang Yi’s casual address. Smiling, Ran Lin responded, “Let’s start over. Good morning, Ah Jin. I look forward to working with you from today onwards.”

With a handshake and a friendly exchange, the two actors found comfort in each other’s professional ease.

Liu Wanwan chose a spot to sit where she wouldn’t interrupt her boss’ conversation with the co-star, occasionally stealing glances at Jiang Yi to compare her real-life demeanor with her online persona, which was notably different. The internet depicted her as temperamental and hard to work with, yet in just the few minutes of conversation with Ran Lin, her smile hadn’t faded once, portraying her as someone quite pleasant to be around.

“Why are you here so early?” Ran Lin asked, noting that he was already half an hour early, and Jiang Yi seemed to have arrived even earlier.

“Getting familiar with the environment,” Jiang Yi explained, “especially since we’ll be ‘playing’ at the bottom of a cliff later, in a dangerous area. It’s best to be prepared.”

Ran Lin chuckled, looking at the rock props nearby. “Aren’t those made of foam?”

“You’re too naïve.” Jiang Yi sighed, perhaps recalling some harsh experiences. “Once you’re suspended by wires and the wind machines start, you’ll lose control. Being battered around by the wind and getting bruised is the least of your worries. I got hit by a falling rock once.”

Ran Lin’s eyes widened. “What happened then? Were you okay?”

“I was fine,” Jiang Yi reassured. “It was just cardboard; didn’t hurt, just scared me.”

Ran Lin, recalling Jiang Yi’s filmography filled with ancient settings, teased, “Maybe next time you could try a down-to-earth romance. Keep your feet on the ground.”

“Hopefully,” she sighed, her voice soon becoming chipper as she looked around. “Why hasn’t Xiao Ma Ge arrived yet? Did you see him when you were getting makeup done?”

Ran Lin always felt a momentary drop in the other’s spirits when they said, “Hopefully.”

Suddenly, he remembered that when he was looking up information about the other person online, he had read an interview with Jiang Yi. One of the questions was, “Many audiences say you can only act in ancient costume dramas. What do you think about this?” Jiang Yi’s response was sincere and somewhat helpless. She said she really wanted to act in modern dramas, but since her debut, almost all the scripts offered to her were for ancient dramas. In the early TV series she filmed, there were occasionally modern dramas, but none were as well-known as her ancient dramas. After graduating, she started filming movies and got completely immersed in ancient costume roles. At the end of her response, she expressed hope that the interview program could help appeal to directors to consider her for modern dramas as well.

The interview was one and a half years ago, and it seemed that the appeal didn’t have much effect.

Ran Lin could understand her feelings because, after <Sword of Fallen Flowers>. 90% of the new scripts offered to him were wuxia, and the roles were similar to Fang Xian. He knew it would be very difficult to surpass Fang Xian because the success of that character was the result of a collaboration between a great script, director, crew, and co-actors. But rejecting these roles meant losing 90% of the opportunities. So he persevered, and nearly a year passed without any roles until he signed <Chronicles of Winter>. After that, he started getting more offers, and now his schedule for the year—no, it was already January, so this year—was fully booked.

However, Jiang Yi still had more scripts to choose from than he did, so even without leaving the ancient costume genre, every movie character she played was distinctly different. There were roles that were cute and charming, dark and sharp, gentle and demure, or straightforward and carefree, ensuring that the audience wouldn’t feel like “the actor is always repeating herself”.

The “Xiao Ma Ge” Jiang Yi had just asked about was Ma Bin, the male supporting actor playing the scholar. They had worked together in a movie before and were alumni from the same acting department, so their relationship had been good since their last collaboration, often interacting on Weibo. However, because their interactions were so open and Ma Bin was known for his jokes and lively online presence, no rumors started between him and Jiang Yi, much to many fans’ hopes.

“He’s still getting his makeup done,” Ran Lin recalled seeing Ma Bin’s forlorn face in the makeup room and laughed unkindly. “Poor Mr. Ma, he must look utterly pitiful and breathless.”

“From what you’re saying…” Jiang Yi sighed and then slowly grinned. “I’m even more looking forward to it.”

Twenty minutes later, the poor, downtrodden scholar arrived. Ma Bin, usually with a clear and scholarly demeanor, now appeared in tattered clothes and several bloody scrapes across his face from rocks, creating a truly pitiful sight.

Jiang Yi skipped the pleasantries and burst into laughter. Ma Bin gave her a disdainful look, too lazy to bother with his heartless junior, but extended a hand of friendship to Ran Lin instead. “Hello.”

Ran Lin had already stood up by the time Ma Bin approached and immediately returned the greeting. “Hello, I’m Ran Lin.”

Ma Bin had only arrived at Hengdian the previous night and hadn’t attended the opening ceremony, so this was the first time he and Ran Lin had met face to face.

“I’ve seen your <Sword of Fallen Flowers>,” Ma Bin said. “It was fantastic.”

“I’ve also seen your <Emerald Mountains and Green Rain>,” Ran Lin replied courteously. “It was beautifully shot.”

“Can we skip the mutual flattery?” Jiang Yi interjected, laughing. She picked up the script she was reading before and suggested to the two actors. “Why don’t we rehearse our lines before we start filming?”

The two agreed happily.

Actually, for today’s scenes, all three had already memorized their lines, so when they actually started rehearsing, they didn’t even need the script. Everything went smoothly, and with no physical positioning or actions required, they conveyed all the emotions as they would in a real performance, with no one breaking character, not even Ma Bin, who was especially serious and “breathlessly pitiable”.

When the director’s assistant came to notify them that it was time to start filming, the trio had already rehearsed up to the second scene.

As Ma Bin doused himself with a bucket of water and lay down in the artificial stream, the filming of <Chronicles of Winter> officially began.

……

Throughout the entire January, Ran Lin spent his time in the green studio. His co-stars ranged from Jiang Yi and Ma Bin to green-suited stand-ins and various others, changing constantly.

Many of the scenes required post-production computer graphics, so Ran Lin had to imagine all sorts of mountain spirits and demons, sometimes even creating his own conceptual drawings to help get into character during scenes.

Jiang Yi was a simple and lively girl, nothing like the diva or foul-tempered personality some online rumors suggested. She took her acting very seriously and was highly professional, whether it meant hanging from wires or wearing thin clothes in water. Unless a stunt was too difficult and required a professional double, she would always do it herself without complaint.

Ma Bin, on the other hand, was the mood-maker of the crew—a thirty-year-old with the heart of a three-year-old. At the director’s call, he would immediately transform into the wise and clear-headed scholar, but once the director yelled cut, his playful nature would return.

Unfortunately, his role wasn’t large, and after about twenty days, he finished his part. After he left, various celestial beings and deities entered the set, and the filming moved from the ground to the heavens. As a result, Ran Lin spent most of his time against a green screen, suspended on wires, becoming quite accustomed to performing various stunts mid-air, from flying amidst clouds to fierce combat.

On the day Wang Xi visited the set, Ran Lin was demolishing the “Sweet Wine Pond” in the Nine Heavens as part of his scene.

As the director yelled “cut”, he immediately stopped, though his chest still heaved from the intensity of the scene. It wasn’t until Liu Wanwan draped a warm coat over his shoulders that he began to calm down.

The cold was pressing in Hengdian by the end of January. Wang Xi arrived in a beige cashmere coat and tall, high-heeled boots, exuding both efficiency and femininity.

“Xi Jie, how come you’re here?” Ran Lin hadn’t received any calls beforehand, so he was surprised to see Wang Xi, who should be busy in her Beijing office, appear on the set.

“I came to see how you’re doing,” Wang Xi said. “Is everything going smoothly?”

“Pretty smoothly,” Ran Lin replied. “If nothing unexpected happens, we’ll go shoot on location in mid-February, probably starting in Xinjiang.”

Wang Xi nodded and looked around the still busy studio. “How many scenes left?”

It was six in the evening by then, and Ran Lin knew that what Wang Xi really wanted to know was when they would wrap up for the day, so he said, “Just one scene left. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Wang Xi replied. “Let’s have dinner together after wrap-up.”

Ran Lin felt something was off and sensed that Wang Xi had something on her mind—that her visit wasn’t just a simple set visit. But before he could ask, the next scene was ready to be shot, and Ran Lin had to put aside his questions, clear his mind, and re-enter the world of his character.

Finally, when they wrapped up, the three of them headed to a homely restaurant in the evening light and settled into a private room. After ordering, the waiter left, and Ran Lin stood up to pour tea for the two ladies.

Wang Xi, preoccupied with her thoughts, didn’t notice, but Liu Wanwan quickly stood up, reaching for the teapot. “Let me do it, Ran Ge—”

Ran Lin, startled by his assistant’s eagerness, quickly moved away with the pot, laughing. “It’s freshly boiled water. You could get scalded.”

“I can’t let you pour water for me,” she replied. Despite their good relationship, she was the assistant, and it didn’t seem right to let her boss serve her.

“Don’t be so formal with me,” Ran Lin said sincerely. “You’ve been taking care of everything while I’m busy filming. If you still make a fuss about who pours the water, I’ll really be upset.”

“Thanks, Ran Ge,” Liu Wanwan replied with a giggle, her cheeks flushing.

Wang Xi snapped back from her thoughts and envied the carefree artist and assistant before her. But the news she had to deliver next would likely dampen their spirits—

“Han Ze is coming to visit the set.”

Ran Lin nearly spilled the hot tea at this news.

“What did you say, Xi Jie?” he asked, placing the teapot back down, wondering if he had misheard.

“Han Ze is coming for a set visit,” Wang Xi repeated with a shrug.

Ran Lin was completely baffled, a whirlwind of questions in his mind, but he picked the simplest one. “Has he wrapped up his part?”

“He wrapped up in December.”

“But he’s the lead in the drama version, and visiting the film version’s set—won’t that be awkward?”

“It depends on how you look at it,” Wang Xi analyzed. “The drama version is set to air in June, and the film won’t be out until February next year, so there’s no direct competition between the two. On the contrary, if the drama does well, it could have a positive effect on the film, attracting viewers who liked the drama version to see the film. The film’s producers also don’t want any hostility or disparagement between the two versions, as it would only hurt both.”

Set visits need the consent of the visited crew. It’s not just a matter of showing up unannounced. So with Wang Xi’s words, Ran Lin began to understand. “Has Han Ze already communicated with the crew here?”

“Yes,” Wang Xi sighed. “The film crew thinks it would be beneficial to have a harmonious public image of both versions—a win-win situation. Plus, to be honest, they’re not very concerned about the drama version; the real competition for the film <Chronicles of Winter> is with other films releasing around the same time. All promotional resources and competitive tactics are reserved for then.”

“If they think it’s a good idea and it’s not a big deal…” Ran Lin looked puzzledly at his agent. “Why do you look so down, Xi Jie?”

“Because the company wants me to spearhead this.” Wang Xi grimaced.

If Han Ze wanted to visit the set, it was necessary for someone to communicate with the film version’s crew, so it made sense for the company to assign this task to Wang Xi. After all, as the lead actor in the film version, his agent would naturally have a way with the film’s crew and producers.

Moreover, if he remembered correctly, Wang Xi just mentioned that the film side had already agreed, which proved that she had successfully facilitated the arrangement.

“Didn’t you say it’s settled?” Ran Lin asked, not understanding her frustration.

“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” Wang Xi replied, reaching for her teacup only to find it still too hot and reluctantly putting it back down. “I was hoping they wouldn’t agree.”

“Why?” Ran Lin didn’t have a good impression of Han Ze, and the falling out between Wang Xi and Han Ze likely hadn’t ended pleasantly. But if Han Ze’s visit was truly beneficial to both sides without any harm, then from a professional standpoint, Wang Xi’s reaction didn’t make sense.

Wang Xi pondered for a moment and said, “As I mentioned earlier, the film version will be released later, so if the drama version has a positive impact, it will benefit the film version. But have you considered that when the drama version is airing, the film version won’t have any updates or movements, making it almost impossible to reciprocate the favor to the drama version? So why would Han Ze specifically want to visit the set?”

Ran Lin thought hard and finally understood, “He’s not visiting the film. He’s visiting me.”

“Right.” Wang Xi frowned. “I can imagine how the press release will go after his visit. A novel branching into both a film and drama version, both starring artists from the same company, and then the drama’s lead actor visiting the film’s lead actor, making a seemingly harmonious story in the competitive entertainment industry. If the film <Chronicles of Winter> becomes a hit, they can reuse this publicity, rekindling interest.”

“For the first time in my life, I’m being used for clout…” Ran Lin mused. “It’s quite novel.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Wang Xi retorted. “What clout do you have for someone to leech off? At most, you’re being dragged along for the hype.”

“You just said, if the film becomes a hit and he brings up old news for hype, he’d be riding on my popularity.”

“Well, that’s only if your film actually becomes a hit…”

Ran Lin sighed pitifully. “I’ve been ‘waiting on set, while the hype comes from above,’ can’t you say something supportive?”

Wang Xi couldn’t help but smile, but she still grumbled, “I’m not in a good mood right now. I can’t say anything nice.”

“Can’t the film crew see his visit is just a personal PR stunt?” Ran Lin felt that if Wang Xi could see through it, the film crew should be able to as well.

“Of course, they can see it. It’s not some clever tactic. But the hype is about you, and for the movie, the best-case scenario is that Han Ze, while promoting himself and the drama version, also inadvertently boosts the film’s popularity. The worst-case scenario is that he only promotes himself and the drama, leaving no impact on the film. In either case, there’s no reason for the film crew to deliberately make things difficult for him or Dreams Without Limits.”

Clearly, Wang Xi wasn’t happy about the situation from the beginning. The company must have put a lot of pressure on her to facilitate Han Ze’s set visit.

“Alright, Xi Jie. I don’t mind anymore, so you shouldn’t be upset either,” Ran Lin tried to console her. “Like you said, if his PR visit actually increases exposure for the film, that’s a good thing.”

“But just thinking about how you have to smile on the outside while despising it on the inside makes me feel so frustrated.” Wang Xi nearly furrowed her brow into deep lines. “I only manage you as my artist right now, you’re my treasure, you know. I’m looking forward to the day you shine. And here they are, wanting to use you for some quick hype. Why should they? Who’s responsible if it gets messed up!”

Ran Lin was touched, rarely complaining about Dreams Without Limits, with a mix of grievance and coquettishness. “Too bad the company’s leaders don’t treasure me like you do.”

Wang Xi looked at her artist and sighed lightly. “I’ve only just learned how to recognize true talent. But Dream Without Limits, I guess, will never learn in this lifetime.”

Listening to his agent’s words and understanding their tone, like discerning music from the sound of drums and gongs, suddenly reminded Ran Lin of their previous discussion about not renewing the contract. It was apparent that Wang Xi was no longer avoiding the implication of an eventual complete separation from Dream Without Limits.

At that time, although he knew he didn’t want to renew the contract, he hadn’t thought about where he would go after the termination. However, things were different now; Lu Yiyao had brought their futures together. Should he also inform Wang Xi about this?

But nothing was confirmed yet, and it also involved Lu Yiyao. If he spoke too soon and things changed…

“Actually, when I communicated with the crew about Han Ze’s visit, they did check with the investors,” Wang Xi continued, not noticing Ran Lin’s preoccupation. “After all, a TV drama and a movie are closely related, but the investors agreed immediately upon hearing it’s from the same company. They thought rejecting it might make things difficult for you within the company. So in this regard, they were actually looking out for you.”

Hearing this, Ran Lin’s thoughts were pulled back to the present. “Hearing you say that, I’m even more curious about the investor.”

From pre-production to the start of filming, the investor had never shown up, though Wang Xi had tried to arrange a meeting. But the person was genuinely busy and had never been available.

Ran Lin was just speaking offhandedly, considering the shooting schedule was already one-third complete and would wrap up in another two months. He hadn’t seen the investor so far and wasn’t really expecting to.

Unexpectedly, Wang Xi said, “Wish granted.”

Ran Lin was puzzled. “Huh?”

“In the next day or two, they might come for a set visit,” Wang Xi smiled. “They said they want to check things out before the drama’s lead actor arrives, to get a sense of the situation.”

Ran Lin was bemused. “Then I should thank Han Ze for this.”

Without Han Ze’s commotion, he might not have had the chance to meet the investor before the filming ended.

“That’s procrastination for you,” Wang Xi teased. “Always thinking it’s not urgent, no worries, it’s fine. But when outsiders are coming, they rush over to check things out.”

Ran Lin laughed, fully sensing Wang Xi’s resentment towards the elusive investor from her tone.

……

Two days later, a mix of rain and snow fell in Hengdian.

The snow was hardly visible—more like a fine drizzle that wet the roads and filled the air with moisture. It was a bit chilly and gloomy, but each breath felt refreshingly clean.

Inside the underwater photography studio, the semi-circular pool six meters deep was already filled with water. The pool had a constant temperature system, with the water around 25°C—not particularly warm, but much better than cold water.

The scene involved “Xiao Shitou”, newly arrived in the Ninth Heaven, being mocked and teased by the Wine Officer and celestial soldiers guarding the wine pond, accidentally falling into the Sweet Wine Pond. At the bottom of the pond was a small white dragon stripped of its scales. This dragon, originally a monster of the world, cultivated for a thousand years to ascend through tribulation to heaven. But white dragons are rare compared to the common black ones. So, on the day of its ascension, before it could rise to heaven, it was captured by a celestial general inspecting the sweet dandelion plantations and offered to the Emperor of the North. Deeming the white dragon useless, the Emperor was about to dispose of it when the Wine Officer requested it, arguing that the white dragon’s presence at the bottom of the pond would keep the wine pond from freezing in winter and drying out in summer, enhancing the wine’s flavor naturally compared to using magic to keep the Wine Palace spring-like all year. Thus, the white dragon was stripped of its scales and locked at the bottom of the pool.

As Xiao Shitou lost his footing and fell, the Wine Officer and the celestial soldiers believed he was certainly doomed. Due to the strict laws of the Ninth Heaven, they weren’t allowed to enter the wine pond, so they merely watched from the side, waiting for Xiao Shitou to vanish into thin air. Unexpectedly, when he reached the bottom of the pool, the white dragon transferred vital energy to him. Not only did he survive the great peril, but he also rescued the trapped white dragon. Riding on the back of the white dragon, he leapt out of the water’s surface and sped away like a swift wind.

At that moment, Ran Lin, dressed in rough cloth garments, stood at the edge of the pond, his hair unkempt and his face youthful. Opposite him were the Wine Officer in brocade clothes and the burly celestial soldiers.

With a click of the clapperboard, Ran Lin slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes no longer soft but filled with deep anger.

The Wine Officer sneered, “Foolish boy overestimating himself!”

As he finished speaking and turned with a flick of his sleeve, the celestial soldiers immediately stepped forward to pull him.

“Don’t touch me!” Ran Lin struggled fiercely.

The celestial soldiers, not known for being gentle, were rough and merciless.

Ran Lin stepped back, and suddenly, his footing gave way, and he fell backwards!

Splash—

The moment the water flooded over his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose, Ran Lin’s first sensation was fear.

He could swim, but he had never fallen into the water in this way before, and the fear was almost instinctive.

With fear came struggle, which was fortunate, as the script required him to struggle.

Ran Lin forced his eyes open, struggling helplessly on instinct while continuously exhaling the breath he had held before falling into the water, forming bubbles.

There was a large glass window below the pool to capture everything underwater, and every move he made was clearly recorded.

When he had struggled enough and almost ran out of breath, Ran Lin slowly stopped moving, relaxed his body, closed his eyes, and felt himself sinking deeper into the water.

Even though the water was only in the twenties degree Celsius, it felt very cold and icy to him.

In the script, the character “Xiao Shitou” loses consciousness after struggling in vain, eventually resting beside a white serpent.

In reality, Ran Lin was still conscious, but being conscious was more painful. His chest felt as if it was pressed by a huge stone, about to explode, yet he couldn’t move or swim up. He had to sink as much as possible, sinking until there was enough footage for post-production special effects and to position himself near a small white dragon at an appropriate spot.

Glug—

It seemed there was a muffled sound by his ear but Ran Lin couldn’t be sure.

He was out of air.

‘Director, I’m sorry. There’s only so much footage. Make do with editing,’ Ran Lin muttered in his heart, then immediately opened his eyes and prepared to swim upwards.

But as soon as he opened his eyes, he saw a handsome man. Before Ran Lin could react, his arm was seized, and he was quickly pulled to the surface.

“Whew—” As soon as Ran Lin surfaced, he gasped for air, but the handsome man didn’t let him stay in the water and immediately pulled him to the poolside, where the staff quickly dragged him ashore.

Finally feeling less discomfort in his lungs, Ran Lin remembered to look at the director, only to find himself surrounded by a circle of people, all looking worried and frightened.

Ran Lin was also startled and immediately asked, “What happened?”

“They thought you drowned, so I had to dive in to save you,” said the handsome man who had just pulled Ran Lin out, somewhat helplessly.

Only then did Ran Lin realize that the handsome man was the lifeguard assigned to the underwater studio. They had met before shooting began.

Ran Lin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, saying to the concerned staff, “I’m fine. I knew what I was doing. He came down just as I was thinking about swimming up.”

“You don’t have to sink to the bottom. Just do enough!” Director Huang, who had walked over from behind the monitors at some point, spoke in a stern tone, obviously scared as well.

Ran Lin quickly leaned out, raised his hand, and expressed his apology to the director. “I was thinking of getting more footage by staying under longer. I’ll be more careful next time!”

Seeing that the actor was okay, the staff dispersed to prepare for the next scene. Ran Lin, drying his head with a towel handed to him, grinned at the director.

Director Huang, having lost his temper to the teasing, sighed and said, “Acting requires dedication, but you don’t need to risk your life.”

Ran Lin didn’t agree or disagree, just widened his eyes, reddened from the sting of the water, and asked, “How was the effect just now?”

Director Huang was speechless, realizing he was preaching to the choir*.

*Playing the lute to a cow (对牛弹琴) Idiom referring to a situation where someone is offering nuanced or sophisticated argument or opinion to an unappreciative or incapable audience.

Forget it, directors always hope for actors to be more dedicated, but he had never seen one discourage an actor from going too far. He shrugged it off and said irritably, “Perfect. If you ask me, you shouldn’t be playing Xiao Shitou, but the white dragon1 trapped under the water!”

Ran Lin quipped, “Isn’t it supposed to be a jiao1?”

1Clarity: Ran Lin is making a joke here. White dragon is (小白龙). However, Ran Lin is referring to it as a jiao (蛟). It is also a type of dragon, but in Chinese legends, it’s actually not a “real dragon”. They have to cultivate and go through tribulations before actually ascending to become a “real dragon”. Ran Lin is referencing the story <Chronicles of Winter> where the white dragon is supposed to ascend to the heavens but failed because it was captured (thus, technically, it’s a jiao).

Director Huang realized that the longer the collaboration went on, the more his authority seemed to diminish. He wasn’t sure if it was just his inability to handle this type of actor or if his habit of occasionally throwing out a frog toy diminished his deterrence.

Suddenly, applause broke out.

Ran Lin and Director Huang turned to see a middle-aged man clapping with a slight smile.

The man looked to be in his early forties, wearing a brown biker-style leather jacket, dark jeans, and lace-up high-top leather shoes, looking like a street-fashion mature male celebrity.

“Director Huang,” the man spoke politely but was conversing with the director. “I just watched from the underwater window, and it was spectacular.”

Director Huang seemed to have met the man before, so he skipped the greetings and replied half-jokingly, half-seriously, “With an actor willing to commit, a director’s job is easier.”

“Ran Lin,” the man called out his name, clearly certain.

In a flash of insight, Ran Lin remembered what Wang Xi had said a few days ago about an investor visiting the set. The investor seemed to be the man before him.

“President Shi?” Ran Lin asked tentatively.

The man broke into a smile and said to the director, “See, Director Huang, I do have some reputation.”

Director Huang inwardly thought, ‘Of course, the investor would be memorable.’

But to be honest, he quite liked this investor since he gave the directors relatively more freedom and authority, especially regarding artistic creation, fully respecting the director’s vision. Overall, the collaboration was very pleasant.

Upon hearing this, Ran Lin understood he was right and quickly said, “Hello President Shi. I’m Ran Lin. Thank you very much for giving me this opportunity with the director…”

Mr. Shi waved it off, his smile warm. “No need for formalities. Your thanks are shown in your performance, which I’ve just seen.”

Ran Lin, halfway through speaking, felt warmth in his heart, and even his soaked body didn’t feel cold anymore.

“I’m just here to observe. Pretend I’m not here and carry on with your work. Don’t let me delay your progress,” Mr. Shi said before turning to sit in an inconspicuous corner of the set, legs crossed, truly looking like he was there for a casual visit.

Ran Lin hadn’t met many investors before. Lei Baishi was known for his drinking habits, Ding Kai had ulterior motives, and Peng Jing seemed more like a peer or a bad influence. Compared to them, President Shi was simply perfect.


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

Suddenly Trending Ch74

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 74

Click.

Gu Jie, the first to enter, pressed the wall switch, and the entryway suddenly lit up.

The intertwined hands quietly separated.

The four of them changed their shoes in the entryway. The living room was still dark, with moonlight streaming through the window, mostly falling on the floor, with a few strands on the sofa, casting a cold light everywhere, like the frost of early winter.

“It’s warmer inside…” Xia Xinran was the first to change into slippers, fumbling in the dark along the wall to find the living room light switch.

“Warm? Just don’t complain about the cold tonight.” Gu Jie, the second to enter the living room, stepped forward and accurately turned on the pendant light. “Ran Lin is now wrapping himself in a blanket every day, even reading scripts wrapped up like a dumpling.”

The living room’s pendant light was an old-fashioned design, with three budding flowers, the petals formed by yellow-white frosted glass shades, and three light bulbs as the stamens. Although the bulbs were now energy-saving spiral ones, the white light through the frosted glass turned into a light with a hint of yellow, filled with a nostalgic sense of the times.

Ran Lin, the third to enter the living room, sighed at Gu Jie under the dim yellow light. “Why always use me as a bad example?”

“The example is too vivid. Can’t help it,” Gu Jie joked while picking up the remote to turn on the air conditioner. Soon, a slightly cool breeze accompanied by a humming noise blew out, gradually warming up.

“Wrapped in a blanket?” Lu Yiyao, who had entered without notice, now stood behind Ran Lin.

His voice was low and soft, not so much chatting with friends as murmuring to Ran Lin alone.

Ran Lin’s ears heated up, not turning back to address him but instead asking Xia Xinran directly. “Where do you want to sleep?”

During dinner, the two newcomers expressed their “eco-friendly” visit, so they didn’t book a hotel and decided to stay together. But how exactly they would fit wasn’t discussed in detail by Xia Xinran, who had given Ran Lin a knowing look. With Ran Lin feeling guilty, he didn’t dare to ask further. Lu Yiyao smiled and ate quietly, while Gu Jie didn’t even think it was an issue, nodding continuously. The floor was too cold, and the sofa wasn’t long enough. However, both bedrooms had large enough beds, so squeezing in wouldn’t be a problem.

But now the question of “how to sleep” was right before them, and Ran Lin decided to resolve it quickly.

Xia Xinran glanced at him with a teasing look, clearly saying, “You know the answer,” then, without waiting for a response, headed towards one of the bedrooms. In a moment, he leaned against the bedroom door frame with a considerate smile. “Of course, I’m staying with Gu Jie. I have so much to talk to him after such a long time.”

Ran Lin nodded, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, but then a hint of helplessness. “If you want to chat with Gu Jie, why are you leaning on my bedroom door?”

Lu Yiyao, who was automatically heading towards Gu Jie’s bedroom, suddenly stopped, then nonchalantly turned around, pretending as if he hadn’t done anything.

Xia Xinran, embarrassed, hurriedly dashed towards Gu Jie’s bedroom and gave Lu Yiyao a look as they brushed past—Why didn’t you remind me I was going the wrong way!

Lu Yiyao raised an eyebrow—All the doors look the same. Who can keep track!

Xia Xinran—With that sense of direction, you shouldn’t even be allowed to date. Revoke your dating license!

Lu Yiyao—I’m dating, not driving1. Why do I need a sense of direction!

Xia Xinran—Not driving? Are you sure?1

1Clarity: It’s referencing car which is a euphemism for sex/explicit content.

Lu Yiyao—…Goodnight.

Visually, Xia Xinran was like a whirlwind, disappearing into Gu Jie’s bedroom in the blink of an eye.

But inexplicably, Ran Lin felt as if in that brief moment of shoulder brushing and eye contact between Xia Xinran and Lu Yiyao, a lot of information was exchanged…

Was it just his imagination?

Ran Lin frowned in confusion, puzzled.

Suddenly, a weight landed on his shoulder, and before he could look up, he was pulled into Lu Yiyao’s embrace.

The man didn’t hold back at all, and Ran Lin felt himself tightly clasped with one arm, his body pressed against Lu Yiyao’s side, his neck and shoulder constricted by an arm.

But to Gu Jie, it looked like a standard brotherly back-slapping moment, especially since Lu Yiyao was smiling brightly at him, obviously conveying a clear message.

Gu Jie immediately nodded understandingly. “Got it, it’s rare for you guys to get together; you must have lots to talk about.” After tossing his coat on the sofa and nodding towards the bathroom, he announced, “Then I’m going to shower, okay?”

Only Gu Jie would call a December shower a “shower”. Intimidated by his boldness, Lu Yiyao involuntarily nodded. “Please.”

Gu Jie strode into the bathroom, then closed the door behind him with a moderate thud.

Two seconds later, Xia Xinran peeked out from Gu Jie’s bedroom, sighing softly to the remaining pair in the living room. “I feel a bit guilty deceiving such an honest guy. What should I do…”

Before Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin could respond, the bathroom door suddenly opened again. “Oh, Xia Xinran—”

Gu Jie thought Xia Xinran was inside, so he called out loudly, only to realize the man was leaning out from the doorway, looking utterly bewildered.

“What?” Xia Xinran finally regained his senses, looking over irritably.

Gu Jie smiled, a rare display of friendliness. “I didn’t bring my sit-up equipment this time. Though I can still do it without equipment, it just doesn’t feel as effective…”

“So?” Xia Xinran had a bad feeling.

“So later, can you help me hold my legs a bit?” Gu Jie requested. “Don’t worry, I won’t do much, just two sets, very quick!”

Xia Xinran: “Weren’t you going to take a shower?”

Gu Jie: “I’ll do it after.”

Xia Xinran: “Who exercises after a shower!”

Gu Jie: “Just two sets, like walking a few steps, barely any effort; won’t even sweat.”

Xia Xinran: “But why do you need to exercise right before bed?”

Gu Jie: “Warm-up before sleep.”

Xia Xinran: “…”

Xia Xinran’s guilt popped like a soap bubble, leaving only a sense of powerless ridicule that lingered like a shadow.

Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao’s heads turned back and forth with the conversation, finally resting on Xia Xinran’s inexplicable face.

For safety, Lu Yiyao decisively took Ran Lin back to his room.

As the door closed behind them, Ran Lin thought he heard Xia Xinran’s sincere plea for a reconsideration of room arrangements.

Ran Lin’s bedroom was unlit, with the curtains tightly drawn. Once the door was closed, blocking the light from the living room, the world turned dark again.

Ran Lin blinked a couple of times, but opening or closing his eyes made no difference; it was pitch black.

The room was very quiet, so quiet that only Lu Yiyao’s breathing could be heard next to him.

The arm slung around his neck was heavy, and Ran Lin said irritably, “Hey, you can loosen…umph!”

Before Ran Lin could finish speaking, he was pressed against the wall by a great force, and then a fervent kiss landed on him.

At first, Ran Lin wondered if Lu Yiyao had brought night vision contacts, as he precisely captured his lips. But such mood-killing thoughts vanished in an instant under Lu Yiyao’s overpowering assault.

Lu Yiyao kissed forcefully, almost biting off his lips. Ran Lin wanted to respond, but the others didn’t need or allow any space for it. Whether he resisted or cooperated, nothing he did could disrupt or hinder the person ravaging him.

Not knowing how long they kissed, Ran Lin felt like he was about to collapse, his strength seemingly drawn out, his legs growing weak. If not for Lu Yiyao pressing him, he might have slid down the wall like a puddle of jelly…

Suddenly, the world spun around.

Ran Lin felt like he was being carried, but before he could understand what was happening, he was on the bed with Lu Yiyao’s body pressing down on him.

He instinctively wanted to embrace the other, but suddenly one wrist was pinned above his head, followed by the other, both hands crossed and pressed above the pillow.

Ran Lin was slightly resentful.

Because the other could suppress his crossed hands with just one.

“Hey…” Ran Lin tried to protest but kept his voice down, fearing being heard outside, so it sounded utterly weak.

“Shh.” Lu Yiyao blew air close to his face. “No talking.”

Ran Lin struggled a bit, but his wrists were pressed tighter, and he muttered resentfully, “Why…”

In the slowly adapting darkness, Lu Yiyao’s peach blossom eyes glowed with ambiguous desire, and his voice was husky and sexy. “Because you like me.”

The articulate always have the upper hand.

Having given up struggling, Ran Lin seriously considered whether to buy a book on sweet talk after going back.

The room was cold, with no heating, and the air conditioner in the living room was blocked, leaving only the cold night breeze seeping in.

But the room was also very hot. Ran Lin almost bit his lip to keep from making any noise.

Sensing Ran Lin’s imminent surrender, Lu Yiyao no longer suppressed his wrists but covered his mouth.

Almost the moment his hand covered Ran Lin’s mouth, Lu Yiyao’s other hand ventured without hesitation…

Bang bang.

A loud knock on the door echoed.

Then Gu Jie’s voice penetrated through the door. “I’m done showering. You guys can go next—”

His voice cut through the chaos like a divine intervention, bringing clarity.

Lu Yiyao jolted.

Ran Lin’s passion froze.

“Okay—” Lu Yiyao’s voice, feigning naturalness, carried a slight hoarseness.

But to the oblivious Gu Jie, it was sufficient. Receiving the response, he turned and left, completely unaware of the tiny gap beneath the door in the pitch-black room, let alone the high-end question of “why are they still in the dark after so long?”

As the footsteps faded, Lu Yiyao sighed in relief and frustration.

Ran Lin took down the hand covering his mouth, gently kissed it, and teasingly asked, “Want to continue?”

Lu Yiyao slapped his forehead irritably. “Be brave and provoke me when it’s time for action next time…” His voice dipped low again, drawing close to Ran Lin with a mischievous tone. “I’ll be more excited…”

Feeling the danger about to return, Ran Lin wisely kept quiet.

Lu Yiyao disdainfully glanced at his lover in the darkness, intending to scold him for only being brave with words, but his affection got the better of him. Eventually, he leaned in for a light peck, devoid of any desire, just filled with the joy of reunion.

The physical heat slowly subsided, while the emotional warmth was safely tucked away by Lu Yiyao.

He truly wanted to touch Ran Lin freely, to make him moan and beg under him, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to rush.

At least, not here.

Even if Gu Jie hadn’t knocked on the door, he hadn’t intended to go all the way.

Their first time, and every time after, he wanted it to be warm and completely relaxed, without having to worry about someone knocking on the door or Ran Lin having to suppress his voice.

He wanted to give Ran Lin the best of everything.

Turning on the bedroom light finally, the sudden illumination made Ran Lin instinctively shield his eyes.

Lu Yiyao returned to his side, enveloping him in his embrace to shield him from the light.

Ran Lin’s head rested against Lu Yiyao’s chest, his heartbeat reverberating through his skull.

Ran Lin unconsciously curved his mouth into a smile.

Even though his lover turned into a seasoned rogue when it came to intimacy, the heartbeat couldn’t lie.

Even after all this time, with the light on, his heart was still racing—rapid and fierce.

Bang bang bang!

“Teacher Lu, Ran Lin, if you’re not showering, I’m going first—” This time it wasn’t Gu Jie, but Xia Xinran.

Lu Yiyao felt the two were doing it on purpose, always appearing just when the mood got better… Were they like warning bullets for high-energy scenes?

“Go ahead and shower.” Lu Yiyao, less polite to the insider, directly sent him off.

Outside, Xia Xinran was like a mischievous groundhog.

The sound of water from the bathroom reached them despite the distance, clear and continuous.

Lu Yiyao sighed helplessly. “There’s no soundproofing at all.”

“Just keep your voice down,” Ran Lin advised, experienced. “As long as we don’t speak loudly, they can only hear that we’re talking but not make out the words. Otherwise, with all the video calls we’ve had, we would have been caught long ago.”

“Actually… perhaps not.” Lu Yiyao’s mood was complex.

Ran Lin, thinking of Gu Jie’s earnest face, couldn’t help but agree with his lover. “Indeed.”

Misdeeds are always done under the cloak of darkness, but now with the lights brightly on and the room clear, the two of them lay quietly together, their hearts gradually settling and ceasing their restlessness.

“Didn’t I just hold you like this last time and fall asleep while talking?” Lu Yiyao suddenly remembered a painful memory.

Ran Lin couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Lu Yiyao still resented the past.

Last time everything was perfect—mood, environment, soundproofing, bed, even the bedside table was stocked with considerate little items and props. They could have tried all sorts of things.

Instead, he fell asleep.

The memory still made him beat his chest in frustration!

“You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to,” Ran Lin murmured quietly.

Unprepared for such a response, Lu Yiyao’s heart softened, and he hugged Ran Lin a bit tighter.

Actually, that night, Ran Lin had secretly pinched Lu Yiyao twice, but the man just turned over and continued sleeping.

But he couldn’t tell Lu Yiyao that; it would make him seem too unreserved.

So, Ran Lin decided to maintain his “gentle and considerate” persona to the end.

“Did you ask Xia Xinran to come with you?” Suddenly, Ran Lin remembered a question that had been nagging at him.

At dinner, Xia Xinran had claimed they both spontaneously decided to visit the set, a story believable only to Gu Jie.

Sure enough, Lu Yiyao straightforwardly admitted, “Yeah, I just wanted to try asking him if he was free and willing, and he agreed immediately, seeming even more eager than me.”

Ran Lin could easily imagine it.

Xia Xinran was both someone who loved being in the thick of things and a truly loyal friend. While outsiders might only see his more prominent trait, as a friend, he had the right to speak.

“We should really thank him,” Ran Lin sincerely said.

“Don’t worry about him,” Lu Yiyao replied. “He had already negotiated his compensation before coming.”

Ran Lin was puzzled. “What compensation?”

Lu Yiyao: “Can’t say.”

Ran Lin: “…”

Why was there an ominous feeling that Lu Yiyao had agreed to an unfair treaty?

“Actually, even if he hadn’t agreed, I would have come by myself.” Lu Yiyao turned the person lying against him to face each other, looking deeply into Ran Lin’s eyes. “I couldn’t wait that long. Ever since I wrapped up my filming, I’ve been thinking about seeing you every day.”

“I missed you too.” Ran Lin’s eyes tinged with the ache of longing—those four words carried so much unspoken emotion.

Lu Yiyao gave back his own four words. “Didn’t look like it.”

Ran Lin was speechless, the rising warmth in his eyes forcefully pushed back.

Teacher Lu continued to complain, “When I was filming <Split Moon>, you didn’t even mention visiting the set. As time went on, we even talked less. I thought you had moved on.”

Ran Lin was incredulous. “Who would I move on to?”

Lu Yiyao had a ready blacklist. “Tang Xiaoyu.”

Ran Lin: “……”

Lu Yiyao: “You shot an advertisement for the <Sword of Fallen Flowers> game with him, and then you started interacting a lot on Weibo…”

Ran Lin: “Teacher Lu, are you sure you were fully invested in your film?”

Lu Yiyao: “Everyone needs a break now and then.”

Ran Lin: “So you spent your breaks stalking my Weibo?”

Lu Yiyao: “It’s ‘loving observation from the shadows’.”

Ran Lin: “……”

Clearly, during their long separation, his lover had accumulated endless grievances.

Ran Lin irritably took Lu Yiyao’s hand and brought it to his mouth. “Listen carefully…”

“I, Ran Lin, only like Lu Yiyao.”

After saying so, he pressed a kiss to Lu Yiyao’s hand.

Continuing—

“In my eyes, Lu Yiyao is narcissistic, repressed, over-imaginative, says too little, is always caught up in his inner drama, and even makes his own memes to the point of boredom…”

“Hold on!” Lu Yiyao swallowed, earnestly interrupting. “If there’s a ‘but’ coming, I’ll keep listening. If not, can I request we end this conversation early?”

Ran Lin drawled out, “But—”

Lu Yiyao’s heart finally settled.

“He’s serious…”

A kiss on the hand.

“He’s professional…”

Another kiss.

“He’s responsible to others and himself.”

“He may not be warm to everyone, but he’ll never kick someone when they’re down.”

“He might compromise with reality, but he always has his principles.”

With each phrase, Ran Lin kissed Lu Yiyao’s hand.

Finally, he pressed a gentle kiss on the other’s lips—

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met.”

……

Xia Xinran, who had just had a quick wash and was now sneakily eavesdropping at the door, was disappointed. He had expected a fiery encounter, but all he got was a quiet conversation with indistinct words.

Are you two here to discuss life?

Close the door and get on with it!

After enduring a few more minutes and seeing no end to their “night talk”, the frustrated single classmate Xia Xinran finally straightened his aching legs and begrudgingly returned to his room.

As for Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao, after exchanging long pent-up sweet nothings, they reluctantly parted to freshen up in turns.

Lu Yiyao was the first to shower and immediately dived into the bed, using his body heat to pre-warm the cold sheets.

By the time Ran Lin got back into bed, it was already warm.

He obediently lay down, clinging to Lu Yiyao like an octopus, turning the warmth into coziness.

Ran Lin was already feeling sleepy, but he didn’t want to waste their limited time together sleeping. Lu Yiyao was only here for three days, and the only time they had to themselves was at night.

Lu Yiyao, on the other hand, had far more complicated thoughts.

He had intended to ease his longing with some intimacy today, leaving the real matter for tomorrow. But now, in the stillness of the night, he suddenly couldn’t hide his words anymore.

The urge to pour out his heart came suddenly and fiercely, almost unable to wait another minute. He wanted to share all his thoughts with Ran Lin right then and there.

Suddenly, his frown was smoothed out by gentle fingers.

Lu Yiyao snapped back to reality to meet Ran Lin’s bemused face. “If you really don’t like me hugging you like this, I won’t do it. You don’t have to endure it as if you’re bearing a deep grudge.”

Lu Yiyao pulled the blanket tighter, cocooning Ran Lin more securely, before whispering, “I’m thinking about starting my own company.”

The topic suddenly became serious. Ran Lin, momentarily taken aback, moved aside from Lu Yiyao to allow for a better face-to-face conversation. “Don’t you already have your own studio?”

The blanket, disturbed by Ran Lin’s movement, let in a draft of cold air.

Lu Yiyao quickly closed the gap before explaining. “Not a studio. I mean an entertainment company. I’m thinking about becoming a boss.”

“……” The weight of this revelation hung in the air, leaving Ran Lin momentarily stunned.

Lu Yiyao pinched his lover’s cheek, finding Ran Lin’s bewildered look endlessly adorable.

“No more acting?” Ran Lin managed to pick out the most immediate question amidst his scattered thoughts.

“I don’t think so.” Lu Yiyao had thought it through clearly, so there was no hesitation.

“What about guest appearances?” Ran Lin asked, then immediately realized how trivial this question was in the grand scheme!

Lu Yiyao found the question refreshing, considering it seriously for the first time since deciding to change careers. After a while, he answered, “It depends on how deep the friendship is.”

Ran Lin didn’t expect him to actually ponder the question, giving a sense of reality to the notion of his lover switching careers. But the bigger question loomed. “Why don’t you want to be an actor anymore?”

“Isn’t being a boss good?” Lu Yiyao grinned. “Still in the entertainment industry, I’d say it’s a triple jump in class status.”

As Ran Lin’s thoughts began to order themselves, he understood that being a boss was naturally better, both in terms of profit and personal satisfaction. If the entertainment industry was a pyramid, then the bosses with capital and influence were certainly at the top.

But—

“Don’t you find it a waste? You’ve been acting for so long, to just give it up?” Ran Lin’s query was not out of skepticism or opposition but a personal reflection. If it were him, he would find it a regrettable loss.

“What if I tell you I don’t find it a waste, and I’m actually relieved to have finally found what I want to do?” Lu Yiyao asked, “Would you think I’m frivolous about my career?”

Lu Yiyao’s voice was calm and firm, but Ran Lin still detected a hint of apprehension.

It wasn’t apprehension about his new career path, but whether his partner could accept such a sudden change in direction.

But was it really a sudden change?

Ran Lin didn’t think so.

No one knew his boyfriend better than he did—Lu Yiyao was never one to make rash decisions. Everything he said and did was thoroughly considered beforehand, ensuring he could bear the responsibility.

“When did you decide?” Instead of answering Lu Yiyao’s question, Ran Lin asked another.

“Before shooting <Split Moon>,” Lu Yiyao candidly replied.

Ran Lin: “Have you talked to Hong Jie about it?”

“Yes, she’s stopped taking new contracts for me,” Lu Yiyao said. “I’ve also told my mom and sister; it’s all good. My family has always wanted me to go into business. I haven’t told my dad yet, but I think he’ll be singing Peking opera out of joy when he finds out.”

Ran Lin noted that Lu Yiyao always found a chance to sardonically mention his father.

“If this is truly what you want to do,” Ran Lin turned serious after a smile, “then I’m happy you’ve found it. I don’t think you’re being frivolous about your career. I believe you’ll do well, whether in acting or running a company…”

“But?” Lu Yiyao anticipated the turn in conversation.

Caught off guard by the accurate prediction, Ran Lin gave him a slight glare. “But there has to be a catalyst for such a change. You can’t tell me you just sat there one day, thought it over, and suddenly found the path you want to pursue, right?”

Lu Yiyao looked intently at him. “What if I said that catalyst was you?”

Ran Lin was taken aback, struggling to respond. “I can’t bear that responsibility…”

Lu Yiyao leaned in close, so close Ran Lin could see the flutter of his eyelashes. “I would have found this path eventually; you just helped me find it sooner. So, you don’t need to bear anything. It’s my life, my path. I’ll bear it myself.”

Ran Lin met his gaze, half convinced.

Lu Yiyao continued, “Don’t renew the contract when it’s up; sign with my company.”

“…?” From half-belief to complete doubt, Ran Lin frowned deeply. “So it’s still all for me.”

Lu Yiyao, unruffled, simply said, “What if I say that even without you, someday in the future, I would have found out on my own that what I really wanted wasn’t to be an actor in the entertainment industry, but to do business in it? How would you feel about that?”

Ran Lin: “……”

The question felt like a trap because the mere thought of it was quite unsettling!

If it were predestined for Lu Yiyao to change careers, then having himself as the catalyst seemed preferable, at least making him feel somewhat significant…

“You might indeed be naturally suited for business,” Ran Lin grumbled, glaring at Lu Yiyao. “You’re quite the smooth talker.”

Lu Yiyao’s heart settled, and his expression relaxed unconsciously. “Then let’s settle on that.”

Ran Lin blinked in confusion. “Settle on… what?”

Lu Yiyao: “Sign with my company when your contract expires.”

Ran Lin: “That’s a whole new topic!”

Lu Yiyao: “…”

His attempt to fish in troubled waters* failed, and Lu Yiyao sighed, barely audibly, but soon rallied himself.

*(浑水摸鱼) Idiom referring to someone taking advantage of a chaotic or confusing situation for personal gain.

Pulling Ran Lin back into his embrace, he switched to a gentler tactic. “Think about it. If I want to grow and strengthen my company, not only do I need to have a good eye for investment, ensuring that the projects I invest in have more gains and fewer losses, but I also need artists under my label who can stand firm and support themselves. Good projects and good artists are the two most important pillars of a successful entertainment company. I’ll take care of having a good eye; the risk lies with the artists. Of course, I want to sign someone whose background I know well and who has a promising future…”

Knowing full well that these were sugar-coated shells that he should avoid, Ran Lin found himself delightfully hit, body and soul, with only a sliver of rationality remaining in his brain, unable to even command a single finger.

“You don’t want to renew your contract with your current company either, right? Since you have to switch anyway, why not jump to your own place…”

“Once you come over to my side, no one will force you to take on roles you dislike anymore. Your future prospects, popularity, market response… none of that will be your concern. You just need to focus on acting well…”

“Plus, I prefer to independently produce dramas to create quality works. So in these projects, if there’s a suitable role for you or if you feel the urge to act, it will be yours. But just because you’re the boss’ wife, don’t slack off…”

“What?” Ran Lin, who had been quietly listening, suddenly spoke up. “What did you just say?”

Lu Yiyao was startled. His first thought was he misspoke, considering he had just rattled off a lot in a row. “…slack off?”

Ran Lin frowned. “Backtrack a bit.”

Lu Yiyao strained his memory. “No one else… it’s you?”

Ran Lin glared. “After that.”

With his brain nearly overheating, Lu Yiyao finally identified the suspect phrase tentatively. “Boss’ wife?”

Ran Lin suddenly grabbed the blanket, covered his face, and started rolling around the bed.

Exposed to the cold air unexpectedly, Lu Yiyao sneezed and then watched the “blanket ball” rolling around, feeling an almost uncontrollable urge to pounce on it…

Next time, he would find a place where they could freely indulge!

……

The next morning, Ran Lin woke up to a long-missed warmth and saw Lu Yiyao fiddling with his phone.

Ran Lin yawned sleepily. “Are you checking if I have any inappropriate same-sex relationships?”

Lu Yiyao didn’t even glance at him, still struggling with the phone, his voice tinged with irritation. “I’m turning off the insane eight alarms someone set.”

“Right, why didn’t the alarm go off?” Ran Lin finally sensed something amiss.

“Who says it didn’t?” Lu Yiyao finally turned off the last alarm, his eyes dark with circles. “I woke up at the first ring.”

Ran Lin: “And then you angrily turned off all the alarms as revenge?”

Lu Yiyao: “I wanted you to sleep a little longer.”

Ran Lin: “…”

Lu Yiyao: “If you don’t come and kiss me, it’s going to be a bit awkward.”

This was the first time he had seen someone take advantage of someone so openly.

Ran Lin rolled his eyes but gave his partner a morning kiss, adding a touch of flavor to the gesture.

They had talked late into the night, naturally resting as the conversation wound down. Lu Yiyao had been so preoccupied with discussing the career change and how to pull Ran Lin over to his side that he hadn’t considered the reverse problem.

Now, watching his lover put on clothes, he blurted out without warning. “What if my company doesn’t do well and, instead of elevating you, drags down your accumulated popularity? What then?”

Ran Lin put on his hoodie, fully dressed, and turned back, looking bemused at Lu Yiyao. “What else can be done? I’m the boss, so of course, I’ll share the company’s fate.”

Lu Yiyao frowned slightly. “If I’m not mistaken, it should be the boss’ wife, right…”

Ran Lin walked over, patted his still-confused partner’s shoulder, transferring the warmth of his palm. “Then you remembered wrong.”

Lu Yiyao watched the figure heading to the bathroom, both amused and exasperated.

Why run if you’re not guilty!

Meanwhile, Ran Lin in the bathroom was also restless.

Because Lu Yiyao’s question had given him a wake-up call—what if he ends up dragging down Lu Yiyao’s company?

Lu Yiyao wanted to protect him from the storm, but he wished even more to make Lu Yiyao proud.

So starting now, he had to work even harder, to be a sturdy, proud-standing, robust money tree!

“Do you have to be so intense about brushing your teeth?” Xia Xinran, also in the bathroom for his morning routine, was startled by Ran Lin’s vigor.

Ran Lin gurgled and spat out the water, shaking his head at his friend. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“How could I not?” Xia Xinran retorted, his mouth curling despite not getting the juicy details the night before. He could guess. “Isn’t it just that you got all fired up1 and couldn’t go all the way?”

Ran Lin: “…”

What he had been thinking and what his friend said seemed to be on completely different wavelengths.

Ran Lin mused, somewhat unsure.

“What’s this ‘all fired up1‘ about?” Gu Jie asked, who happened to pass by the bathroom.

Ran Lin froze.

Xia Xinran was momentarily speechless.

Gu Jie suddenly understood on his own. “Ah, reminiscing about that time in Sanya trying to start a fire, right? That episode was indeed a pit. Despite all the friction, no fire was seen1.”

1So Xia Xinran was using (擦出火) which literally means “create fire” but in the context, it was more like “You got all fired/worked up last night.” Gu Jie, being so oblivious, thought they were actually talking about creating fire instead metaphorically, which is why he responded like so (referring to the variety show where Lu Yiyao failed to light a fire..

Ran Lin: “…”

Xia Xinran: “…”

“What are you all chatting about here?” Lu Yiyao, coming out of the bedroom, curiously joined in.

“Good morning,” Gu Jie greeted him enthusiastically, “Talking about that ‘Drifting’ episode in Sanya.”

Lu Yiyao wondered, “Why suddenly talk about that?”

Gu Jie shrugged, looking towards Ran Lin and Xia Xinran. “You’d have to ask them.”

Lu Yiyao’s gaze turned quizzically to them.

Ran Lin: “It’s just…”

Xia Xinran: “On a whim!”

……

The three days flew by, and with the departure of the visiting friends, the days seemed to speed up even more.

Mid-December arrived in a blink, and Ran Lin needed to return to prepare for <Chronicles of Winter>. Gu Jie, without any appointments, decided to stay a bit longer.

Before leaving Wuhan, Ran Lin, Gu Jie, and Director He had a meal together. This time, Director He treated them to a banquet of authentic Wuhan cuisine in the city center.

Again, they opted for tea, but this time the conversation wasn’t limited to <Dyeing Fire>. They chatted about everything under the sun, and Director He even inadvertently revealed some industry secrets.

As the meal concluded, Ran Lin, substituting tea for wine, toasted Director He.

Director He rarely accepted such gestures, so he obliged and included Gu Jie in the toast.

The three teacups clinked together—

“See you in April!”

April was still far off, but January was just around the corner. Back in Beijing not long after, Ran Lin, having just transformed from a disheveled youth back into a clean and tidy male artist, began shooting the film version of <Chronicles of Winter>.


Kinky Thoughts:

I totally ship Gu Jie x Xia Xinran… Preferably with Gu Jie being the shou. I can imagine he’d be a great power bottom… though Xia Xinran could too TBH.


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

Midnight Owl Ch81

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 81: Return

Split personalities?

Xu Wang had prepared numerous ways to reject Chi Yingxue, ranging from sarcasm, realism, harsh scolding, to feigned politeness. Yet, he was caught off guard by this fantastical excuse.

What was more, Chi Yingxue seemed utterly serious. His expression was earnest, and his eyes were as clear as water.

“You’re really good at passing the buck…” Qian Ai, putting aside personal grudges, couldn’t help but admire the creativity. It wasn’t just about having wild ideas; it required acting skills.

Chi Yingxue ignored him, focusing only on Xu Wang.

After a long stare, Xu Wang chose caution. “We can’t trust you.”

Chi Yingxue’s emotions receded, his gaze becoming calm. “No one can see through someone else instantly. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be recruiting again today.”

Xu Wang’s eyes darkened. “Are you spying on us?”

“If you must use that term, then yes, I’m observing everyone,” Chi Yingxue admitted frankly. “I was looking for a team with a saved progress that wanted to change members, and you fit the bill.”

So he hadn’t joined any team yesterday, just waiting for today?

Xu Wang: “Why?”

“A team that can reach save points won’t be weak. Wanting to change members implies strict requirements for teammates,” Chi Yingxue explained. “I like teams with high standards and strict demands.”

Xu Wang silently turned to his teammates.

Wu Sheng spoke pragmatically. “Pursuing efficiency is a virtue.” Then he quickly embraced his true feelings. “I won’t comment on his character.”

Qian Ai expressed regret with a smile. “Unfortunately, we don’t meet his criteria.”

Kuang Jinxin, after getting Xu Wang’s nod, turned to Chi Yingxue, sharing the truth. “Our previous member left to follow his idol.”

“Idol?” Chi Yingxue frowned, seemingly unfamiliar with the term.

For matters of fandom, they turned to Qian Ai. “An idol, beloved, true love.”

Kuang Jinxin nodded vigorously. “If you’re looking for a strict team, we’re not it.”

Chi Yingxue’s eyebrows raised slightly, curious for details.

Kuang Jinxin explained earnestly, “We are a team that seeks joy in overcoming challenges.”

“……” Chi Yingxue’s expression mirrored the four of them when they first heard about his split personality.

With both sides’ intentions clear, Xu Wang took a symbolic step back, his stance evident. “We don’t know when ‘Yan Wang’ might emerge, if he truly exists. We don’t want to take that risk.”

If they couldn’t believe Chi Yingxue’s story, there was no point in discussing it further. But even if they did, it was a gamble.

Chi Yingxue looked at them for a while before speaking again. “I don’t like someone else occupying my body, so I’ve always sought a way to prevent Yan Wang from emerging.”

When he referred to “someone else”, Xu Wang saw no unnatural emotions in his eyes.

He genuinely considered “Yan Wang” a separate person, not just another side of himself.

“If I say I’ve found a way to prevent Yan Wang from emerging,” Chi Yingxue’s voice brought back Xu Wang’s attention, “would you believe me this time?”

It wasn’t a plea, but an equal inquiry.

Xu Wang realized that Chi Yingxue had never wavered in his goal.

Even after being questioned and rejected, his calmness now carried more determination, like a pine tree on a mountaintop, standing tall regardless of the storms.

The same person, yet drastically different personalities. If this was an act, Xu Wang wanted to personally award him an Oscar.

“Give us three minutes.”

Leaving these words, Captain Xu pulled his teammates aside to discuss privately.

“One definitely costs money, the other could cost lives.” Xu Wang laid out their two options, seeking collective wisdom. “What do you think?”

“How about taking a day off?” Qian Ai offered a new perspective. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll have a plethora of good options…”

He paused, feeling something odd about his own suggestion.

“Bringing in any new member has its risks. A stranger with a single personality isn’t necessarily safer than someone with split personalities we’ve encountered.” Wu Sheng glanced at Chi Yingxue, who was still waiting nearby. “His capabilities and the attitude he’s shown so far…”

Xu Wang was surprised. “You want to add him?”

Wu Sheng sighed, looking at Xu Wang. “It’s you who wants to add him.”

Otherwise, they wouldn’t even need three seconds of discussion.

“If you vote yes, I’ll follow, but if he hurts you…” Wu Sheng paused for a second. “Or any of us again, we’ll kick him out, no discussion.”

Xu Wang knew that Wu Sheng cared about his friends, but he rarely saw such a straightforward expression of it.

A wave of emotion swept through his heart, warm and joyful.

“Alright.”

Qian Ai wasn’t sure if he was being oversensitive, but he always felt that Advisor Wu’s phrase “or any of us” sounded like a polite afterthought.

But regardless, he wanted to express his position. “I vote against.”

Two votes in favor, one against.

The three companions looked at Kuang Jinxin.

“To be honest, I’m quite curious about him…” Classmate Kuang said, looking at Qian Ai’s increasingly dark face, and swallowed. “Uh, I abstain.”

Qian Ai gritted his teeth. “Don’t worry about me.”

Kuang Jinxin shook his head seriously. “I vote to abstain, but we should still add him. Since the result won’t change, why intentionally make you angrier?”

Qian Ai: “……”

This kind of honesty is what makes people angry, okay?!

“Alright, that’s settled then.” Xu Wang clapped his hands. “He’s responsible for efficiency, we’re responsible for happiness.”

When Chi Yingxue clicked to accept the invitation to join the team, he didn’t know that his role had already been unilaterally decided.

“Aren’t you going to ask what method I’ve thought of to prevent Yan Wang from appearing?” He thought this was the most important step before joining the team.

“If this method doesn’t require our intervention, then there’s no need to speak of it.” Xu Wang looked at him, speaking very clearly. “Firstly, we can’t distinguish between truth and lies, and secondly, this is your privacy. There’s no need to report it. We just want a stable outcome.”

“Ding—”

[Roster]: Chi Yingxue joined the team.

“Ding—”

[Roster]: You have 5 minutes of exemption time. Choose [Retreat] or [Kick]. Countdown begins now.

Apart from Qian Ai, who struggled with this final opportunity for two seconds, the other four didn’t care.

The countdown to regret didn’t affect the mission line. After a few seconds, the five were automatically transmitted back to the save point, 1310.

Before the scene became clear, a voice was heard—

“Damn, they’re coming!”

Xu Wang could tell; that was Li Zijin’s voice.

But this tone… They’re treating them like Voldemort!

“Li Xia, pull her into the corridor—”

The first thing Xu Wang saw was Li Xia crazily dragging the faceless woman in white into the corridor as instructed by his team captain.

A big hole had been chiseled into the wall. Wei Menghan and his team weren’t in sight, but faint voices could still be heard from deep within the secret passage—

“Lei Zi, climb faster… I hear them…”

Wu Sheng, Qian Ai, and Kuang Jinxin stood still, some looking at the ceiling, some at the walls, pretending to understand nothing.

Chi Yingxue also didn’t move, but his eyebrows twitched slightly when he saw Han Buting’s team.

Xu Wang quickly explained to the new teammate, “Our reputation… is a bit complicated.”

Unexpectedly, Chi Yingxue smiled wryly. “My reputation isn’t great either.”

“Chi Yingxue?!” Li Zijin was at the back of his team. He was already stepping out the door, but then he heard a familiar voice, turned around, and widened his eyes.

Han Buting and Li Xia, who were busy leaving quickly, didn’t notice the change in Xu Wang’s team. But with Li Zijin’s shout, they looked back into the room from outside.

Then, they froze, looking back at Xu Wang and his team, mixing something else into their hatred.

“Quick, get rid of your ghosts.” Xu Wang waved his hands like shooing flies, feeling slightly guilty. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to add one of our former teammates, so we’re even.”

After all, it was about taking someone else’s former teammate. Whether it was unwanted or who left voluntarily, there’s always a sense of poaching.

Han Buting, Li Xia, Li Zijin: “……”

There might be a misunderstanding; the emotions mixed in their hatred were of relief.

“Whoosh—”

A beautiful flame ignited on the ceiling.

Han Buting’s team exchanged glances, and with a “bang,” they closed the door from outside. The coordination and speed were of the utmost survival instinct.

The inconspicuous door seemed like a boundary between two worlds. The fire and heat disappeared instantly, leaving only the quiet corridor and the fallen, faceless woman in white.

Han Buting used a prop to collect her, then said, “It’s not safe here. Go next door and wait.”

Today was different from yesterday. Only one ghost crawled out of the hole in the wall. The subsequent four ghosts didn’t appear at all. Wei Menghan’s team enjoyed the secret passage, while Han Buting’s team had to deal with the faceless woman first, holding onto the beautiful imagination that “the other team should have already entered the painting,” preparing to summon the four ghosts later.

As it turns out, all beautiful illusions are just that: illusions.

But that team added Chi Yingxue, which was… truly delightful.

“Haa—” The normally reserved Captain Han entered the safe 1309 and sighed towards the chandelier, feeling relieved and vindicated.

As for that phrase about adding a former teammate sooner or later, it was vague and selectively ignored.

Li Zijin also felt schadenfreude but was more puzzled. “Why did they add Chi Yingxue. Did they forget the amusement park incident?”

“Getting through the levels is more important than past grudges.” Li Xia sat down, counting the remaining yellow talismans.

Li Zijin: “But you can’t just add anyone, right?”

Li Xia: “Skills are more important than character.”

“Is this a matter of good or bad character?” Li Zijin was frustrated. “That’s a lunatic!”

Li Xia looked up, asking seriously, “Isn’t that in line with their team’s style?”

Li Zijin paused. Images of cupid, death’s gaze, poisonous mushrooms, vomiting, and original scripts flashed through his mind…

“I have no problems anymore.”

Confirmed through the soul, they were destined for each other.

……

1310. After [(Defense) Let the Storm Come in All its Fury], the room was in disarray.

“Next, we just wait for the painting to pull us in,” Xu Wang said to Chi Yingxue. “I’ll explain the specific mission line after we go in.”

From the moment he joined the team, the new teammate was automatically included in the main team’s mission line and saved by the “Owl”.

“Okay.” Chi Yingxue wiped his wet hair back, revealing a smooth and beautiful forehead.

Xu Wang appreciated the sight for a few seconds but was then patted on the shoulder by his advisor, instantly turning into shock, and continued the previous topic. “You bit them all to death?!”

Chi Yingxue was stunned for two seconds before catching up with his team captain’s leap in logic, explaining, “I was infected with the zombie virus and couldn’t control my actions.”

“You alone bit all three of them to death?” Wu Sheng confirmed the details again, very calmly, without any emotion.

“Yes.” Chi Yingxue answered.

Wu Sheng nodded. “Impressive.”

Chi Yingxue crossed his arms and laughed nonchalantly, sensing that the compliment wasn’t entirely genuine.

Xu Wang secretly sized up the new teammate, feeling that he was either genuinely magnanimous or truly indifferent. Whether it was Wu Sheng’s caution, Qian Ai’s obvious hostility, or Kuang Jinxin’s eager curiosity, Chi Yingxue saw it all but didn’t mind, nor did he show any desire to delve deeper.

This person was like the opposite of the previous Chi Yingxue, who would have stirred up everything around him, even waving to them from afar before plunging into the sea. But this one was like a climber, only looking at the mountain peak, indifferent to whether it was spring, summer, autumn, or winter around him.

The heatwave rose again with a shower of flaming petals.

In an instant, the five were in a medieval European village.

Like yesterday, the villagers hurried to the execution square, ignoring them.

“Captain, the [Stationary Box] can be used now!” Kuang Jinxin checked out of habit and was pleasantly surprised.

The teammates opened their [Stationary Box] together, and indeed, there was no gray; all icons were vibrant and complete.

Wu Sheng quickly compared the differences between the two days, and the answer was clear. “It doesn’t work with other teams. We must do the mission alone.”

Xu Wang suddenly felt wronged. “It’s not like we dragged them in yesterday…”

“They mentioned using some props yesterday,” Qian Ai vaguely remembered. “Something from the love line?”

Wu Sheng looked up, and at the small square, the wood under the cross was almost ready. “We must have missed something.”

The five headed to the execution site, familiar with the path. Xu Wang didn’t disturb his advisor’s thoughts. Instead, he took the time to give a “prelude” to the new teammate.

Of course, this time Captain Xu didn’t use an “original script” and just conveyed their experience from yesterday, not adding any extra details.

Chi Yingxue listened quietly, understanding Han Buting’s team’s rapid retreat, and could probably even guess the feelings of the other team they didn’t meet in the secret passage.

“So, our mission is to deal with the evil spirit?” He needed to clarify the goal.

“For now, yes,” Xu Wang said. “But we can’t rule out new clues later.”

“Understood.” Chi Yingxue said, opening his [Stationary Box] to show Xu Wang. “This is all my stationery. Whether you prefer to combine them or use them individually, either is fine.”

Chi Yingxue’s [Stationery Box] had nine items in total. It was easy to remember after a glance, especially as the other party had no intention of limiting their time. The arm extended towards them remained still, as if saying, “Feel free to look”.

Xu Wang couldn’t quite describe his feelings.

There was definitely surprise, as the [Stationery Box] is a challenger’s lifeline, and showing it means opening one’s heart.

But Chi Yingxue’s words always gave Xu Wang a sense of “I’ve given you my things. Use them as you please.” If he truly considered them his people, there should be discussions and coordination, like what tactics I’m used to, what tactics you’re used to, how we should mesh…

Chi Yingxue raised his eyebrows slightly with a puzzled look in his eyes.

Xu Wang looked at his face and suddenly felt a bit guilty, thinking he might be too nitpicky.

“For tactical issues, consult our advisor.” Xu Wang pulled Wu Sheng over. “He’ll teach you our combat system.”

Chi Yingxue nodded to Wu Sheng. “Thanks.”

“No trouble.” Wu Sheng looked up at the sky. “But not right now.”

In the sky, light blue petals were flying towards the blazing cross.

Like yesterday, the fire beneath the cross weakened amidst the dancing petals, and the villagers scattered in all directions.

“Amy—”

Following the young man’s shout from under the tree, the girl with the torch rushed over again.

“Lao Qian.” Wu Sheng looked at his teammate. “Go keep an eye on York. Once he runs, follow him to see where he lives!”

The tactics changed abruptly, and Qian Ai was momentarily confused. “York?”

“The guy under the tree.” Kuang Jinxin remembered the name.

With many questions in mind but seeing Amy about to act recklessly, Qian Ai didn’t have time to ask and dashed towards the tree. Otherwise, York would soon run faster than a rabbit.

Just as Qian Ai reached the tree, Amy burst into flames.

After York ran away and Qian Ai followed, Amy had become a charred corpse.

With the shadow of the previous experience, the remaining three tried not to look. Chi Yingxue glanced twice with a calm expression.

Wu Sheng began explaining his thoughts. “The flow of time here is slower than outside the painting.”

With this statement, Kuang Jinxin and Chi Yingxue were still confused, but Xu Wang understood. “Because they want to give the challengers enough time to find the love line prop in here?”

“Right,” Wu Sheng said. “There’s at least four and a half hours until the evil spirit arrives. It can’t just be for us to eat a pot of poisonous mushroom soup.”

Xu Wang didn’t want to recall that part of the story. “What do you plan to do?”

“We’ll split into two groups. One group will go home with Cornina, and the other will look for clues and props in the village.”

“Reasonable division of labor, scientific tactics.”

“That’s it?”

“…How did the ‘Owl’ assign you to me!”

Satisfied, Advisor Wu rescued Cornina from the cross and then started chatting and advancing the plot.

Xu Wang tried to interject several times but couldn’t, so he just stood quietly beside, supporting his advisor with mental power.

Kuang Jinxin wanted to step forward, but seeing Chi Yingxue motionless, he turned and saw the latter watching their captain and advisor with a faint smile.

He was puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“In one sentence, they basically know what the other person wants to say.” Chi Yingxue withdrew his gaze, looking towards Kuang Jinxin. “The understanding between your captain and advisor is impressive.”

“There have been times of communication failure too. I’ve seen the captain get frustrated twice…” Kuang Jinxin responded halfway, then realizing something was off, his brow slowly furrowed, correcting himself, “It’s ours.”

Chi Yingxue titled his head slightly. “Huh?”

Kuang Jinxin looked straight into his eyes. “They are our captain and advisor.”

He emphasized the word “our” without any concealment.

Chi Yingxue understood, and his eyes and brows relaxed, showing a warm smile. “I accept the criticism and will make serious corrections.”

Kuang Jinxin looked at him somewhat confusedly, always feeling that his warmth was like mist-covered glass.

The Chi Yingxue from the amusement park was dangerous, but his emotions were tangible. Kuang Jinxin could still recall the displeasure of that Chi Yingxue when Li Zijin interrupted the fight, the inexplicable anger on the Ferris wheel, and the annoyance and anger when being taunted by his own advisor with the illusory stationery.

Wu Sheng’s conversation with Cornina this time wasn’t so formulaic. In addition to the necessary main storyline, he chatted about various things, firstly to probe the NPC’s information capacity, and secondly to wait for Qian Ai.

But until Qian Ai returned breathlessly, Wu Sheng hadn’t obtained any useful information. Cornina had very limited information provided to her, only related to the mission line itself, aside from the basic knowledge of a medieval village girl.

Hei Momo from 4/23 would exploit loopholes in the rules, Yuan Zai from 3/23’s save point would even ask, “What does the next level mean”, but Cornina didn’t show even a hint of curiosity.

Wu Sheng gave up on the idea of giving her a card.

With York’s residence confirmed, the next step was to split into two groups.

“I’ll look for clues in the village with Wu Sheng.” Xu Wang clarified the division of labor. “Lao Qian, you, Xiao Kuang, and Chi Yingxue, go home with Cornina.”

Qian Ai, still catching his breath, was startled. “The three of us?”

Xu Wang laughed. “You think you’re more suited for finding clues?”

Qian Ai: “Not really…”

“Then that settles it.” Xu Wang looked towards Kuang Jinxin. “Take care of Lao Qian. Don’t let him eat mushroom soup again.”

Kuang Jinxin immediately patted his chest. “Leave it to me!”

Qian Ai: “……”

How much of a glutton do people think I am!

Chi Yingxue complied with the arrangement, following Cornina with Kuang Jinxin.

Xu Wang quickly grabbed Qian Ai, who was lagging behind, and whispered another instruction. “Keep an eye on Xiao Kuang.”

Qian Ai followed his captain’s gaze and finally understood when he saw Chi Yingxue’s back.

“Don’t worry.” His last words were said with a sense of mission.

Watching his teammates and Cornina leave, Captain Xu wasn’t really at ease. If possible, he would feel safest going home with Cornina himself, in case Chi Yingxue tried any tricks, as he would definitely notice faster than Lao Qian.

But letting Lao Qian search for clues… That would be less reliable than leaving him to watch Chi Yingxue.

Wu Sheng knew what Xu Wang was worried about, and because he knew, he was more puzzled. “Why don’t we just take Chi Yingxue with us to look for clues—keep him close and watch him?”

Leaving Lao Qian and Xiao Kuang to go back to Cornina’s house would be safer.

“That would be too obvious in showing our distrust,” Xu Wang said. “Since you thought of it, how dull would Chi Yingxue have to be not to see it?”

“Are we supposed to pretend to be united and friendly when we’re already on guard?” Wu Sheng felt tired for him.

“This is a period of mutual assessment and adaptation,” Xu Wang stated seriously. “If we can get through it, then the unity and friendship will be genuine.”

“Is Chi Yingxue also assessing us?”

“Of course.”

Seeing Wu Sheng still unconvinced, Xu Wang didn’t bother with more words, simply concluding, “Getting along with people is an art. If everyone were as straightforward and blunt as you, we’d disperse before forming a bond.”

Wu Sheng frowned. “I do have a few friends.”

“Then cherish them.” Xu Wang turned, heading towards the first stop in their search for clues—under the tree. “You’re spared the effort, all taken care of by the other party…”


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

Midnight Owl Ch80

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 80: Banquet Hall

The night was pitch black, with the moon hiding behind dark clouds, refusing to let even a sliver of light shine through.

On a secluded path in Anyang City, fifteen people suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere. Some carried backpacks; others were lightly dressed, each in different attire, resembling a hastily assembled group of individual travelers.

But without exception, they all stood gasping for breath. Some were still stiff, while others were slightly recovered, yet the pain in their eyes was clearly visible.

The truth of a matter sometimes lies not in the outcome but in the process. A pain akin to death, more terrifying than death itself.

Han Buting was the first to straighten up, his expression grim. For a moment, Xu Wang thought he was really about to start a fight. But in the end, Han Buting just gave them a deep look, as if to etch them into his memory with a red pen, drawing a circle and a slash across it, before silently turning away and disappearing into the vast night with his team.

Xu Wang watched the five figures, pretending to be strong, grow smaller in the distance, feeling an inexplicable sense of pity.

The last trace of suffocating terror dissipated in the cold wind. Wu Sheng’s first action was to check his phone, which clearly showed Beijing time: 03:18.

Before the evil spirit appeared, he had checked his phone, and it was already past five o’clock…

At the roadside, just recovering, Kuang Jinxin, quick-witted, hailed a taxi and called out to Wei Menghan’s team. “You guys go first.”

Wei Menghan shook his head. “We’ll walk, to get some fresh air.”

Kuang Jinxin said earnestly, “Stop acting tough. You’re all vomiting and burning up. We should all get some rest as soon as possible.”

Wei Menghan: “……”

Kuang Jinxin’s sincere advice was too blunt, evoking a heart-wrenching sadness.

“Forget about us.” Ji Yunlei, abandoning his team captain’s usual tact, said carelessly, “We’re upset from all the trouble tonight. We’ll find some fun before going back.”

“What fun?” Qian Ai interjected, his tone curious and subtly rising, his mind racing with countless possibilities.

Ji Yunlei thought for a second and casually suggested, “Hotpot or barbecue would be fine.”

Qian Ai: “……”

For the first time in his life, Qian Ai wavered in his commitment to his food vlogging career. Because that night, he saw faith in an expressionless face.

The taxi couldn’t fit five people, so Qian Ai, Kuang Jinxin, and Qi Shan went first.

Wei Menghan led his team, bidding farewell to Xu Wang and Wu Sheng. “Prepare yourselves mentally. We’ll see you tomorrow, and it’ll be our turn to drag you into the secret passage.”

Wu Sheng welcomed the challenge. “I wish you success.”

Xu Wang wasn’t focused on the mission, still thinking about Ji Yunlei’s idea of fun. “You just threw up. Don’t eat anything too greasy. Maybe have some clay pot porridge.”

Wei Menghan shook his head. “Clay pot porridge is only good in Guangdong or Fujian.”

Xu Wang: “…Goodbye.”

Ten minutes later, Wu Sheng and Xu Wang finally hailed another taxi.

They sat in the back seat, and for two or three minutes after the car started, no one spoke.

Wu Sheng was reviewing the mission. He went through all the events, clues, NPC dialogues, and details of the night, highlighting important points and marking questions.

After finishing his review, he turned to find Xu Wang still staring out of the window, lost in thought. His gaze was serious, and his expression was grave, clearly pondering something.

Xu Wang usually didn’t focus on tactical considerations or mission strategies. When he started to think seriously, it usually meant trouble for someone.

“What bad idea are you cooking up now?” Wu Sheng asked, his tone full of disdain, but his lips curled in a smile.

Xu Wang turned to him. His gaze was fixed, as if he’d reached a conclusion. “Qi Shan knows Li Zijin.”

“Qi Shan? Li Zijin?” Wu Sheng was clueless about how these two were connected.

“Didn’t you notice Qi Shan always looking at Li Zijin?”

“……” He really didn’t. His focus had been solely on the mission, hoping to observe how NPCs pursued love and find practical methods. But all he saw was negativity and not a hint of romance.

“Forget it.” Xu Wang realized he had chosen the wrong discussion partner. His advisor’s research focus was never on the delicate realm of human emotions. “Let’s drop it.”

Wu Sheng felt a sense of frustration, as if regretting his specialized focus.

Regarding Qi Shan and Li Zijin, Xu Wang couldn’t figure out more on the way. Unexpectedly, when they returned to the hotel, Qi Shan was waiting for them in the lobby.

Xu Wang was surprised and had a premonition but didn’t show it. “Why didn’t you go back?”

Qi Shan’s hotel wasn’t this one. According to the original plan, Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai were to get off here first, and he would travel a bit further.

“I wanted to say sorry.” Qi Shan got straight to the point.

Wu Sheng frowned but remained silent.

Xu Wang smiled faintly, with understanding. “Let’s go upstairs to talk.”

The three of them went to Xu Wang and Wu Sheng’s standard room. Once inside, Wu Sheng sat in a corner, clearly indicating he wouldn’t join the conversation.

Although Qi Shan said he was waiting for both of them, Xu Wang was the team captain, while his role was to guard.

Xu Wang offered Qi Shan a stool and a bottle of water prepared by the hotel before sitting down himself.

Since the new teammate was straightforward, Xu Wang was too. “You want to leave the team?”

Qi Shan held the water but didn’t open it, paused for two seconds, then nodded.

Xu Wang asked, “Because of Li Zijin?”

Qi Shan was startled, then touched his nose a bit embarrassedly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Xu Wang said honestly. “I was worried all night you would rush over to him.”

Qi Shan laughed, finally speaking his mind. “He’s my idol.”

“…” This term was new to Captain Xu, who had never been into idol-chasing.

“I’ve been a fan of several professional eSports players.” Qi Shan shared his journey of fandom. “Jumping from one to another until I settled on him…”

“Three years ago, he was just sixteen, known for his flashy playstyle, and gained fame from a single battle!”

“His talent is overwhelming—speed, awareness, reaction—all top-notch. Just a bit lacking in patience, but that can be honed…”

“Last year and the year before were his most glorious times. I followed every match, even the warm-ups, and I’ve been to live events to cheer…”

Qi Shan spoke faster, his eyes shining with fervor. Clearly, he was a die-hard eSports fan and an overage fanboy of Li Zijin.

When Xu Wang first saw Qi Shan, he only noticed his sunny and handsome appearance. Now, he understood this classmate’s soul.

“That…” Xu Wang wanted to bring the conversation back to the issue of leaving the team, but Qi Shan calmed himself first.

“He retired at the beginning of this year.” Qi Shan’s passion hadn’t fully subsided, but it was tinged with a hint of melancholy. “At nineteen, the prime age for an eSports player.”

Qi Shan smiled bitterly, as if feeling sorry for Li Zijin. “I couldn’t understand why at the time. He hadn’t encountered any issues—just didn’t perform well in the last two matches…”

Xu Wang knew he had found his answer now. And because of that, he felt even more regret for Li Zijin.

He himself had resigned, while Wu Sheng’s company hadn’t dared to take on new projects for a month. This was the erosion of the “Owl” on real life, but behind this erosion lay mental pressure. Mao Qiping, who had adapted to a life intertwined with two worlds, still showed deep fatigue when talking about reality.

Let alone the nineteen-year-old Li Zijin.

A brief silence made the atmosphere heavy. Xu Wang redirected the conversation. “Have you discussed this with their team?”

Qi Shan shook his head. “I have to leave our team first to pursue a new one. Otherwise, it would be like two-timing.”

Xu Wang joked, “Leaving us to join them immediately, this is called seamless transition, and it’s also two-timing.”

Qi Shan paused for two seconds, then laughed, admitting, “You’re right.”

“You want to stay in this level, right?” Xu Wang opened his water bottle and took a sip. Even at room temperature, the water felt cold.

Qi Shan was surprised by his sharpness. He thought the new captain was just good with words.

“This is the first level that requires a five-person team.” Xu Wang held his water bottle, looking at him. “If I were you, I would also choose to wait here.”

Unless Han Buting’s team moved forward, if they ever came back before this level, they would have to recruit new members again.

“I indeed want to stay at this level,” Qi Shan admitted his own intentions. “But if you still trust me, I will seriously complete the rest of tomorrow’s love line.”

“I believe you’ll do your best,” Xu Wang said. “But I’m afraid there won’t be any solo players or teams needing members at the next level, and we’ll still be tied together.”

Qi Shan understood his meaning, smiling unexpectedly. “Are you so confident that you’ll finish tomorrow?”

Xu Wang glanced at Wu Sheng and nodded seriously. “Our team lacks many things, but not confidence.”

One wanting to stay on 6/23, the other eager to find new teammates and build rapport, they reached an amicable agreement.

When leaving, Qi Shan pulled out a sketch from his pocket and gave it to Xu Wang. It was hastily done on A4 paper with a water pen, but Xu Wang clearly recognized himself, Wu Sheng, Kuang Jinxin, and Qian Ai.

A team sketch of four people, without Qi Shan.

“I just drew it while waiting for you on the first floor, using borrowed paper and pen. If you don’t like it, blame the tools,” Qi Shan joked.

Xu Wang took the sketch, feeling it was like a parting gift, carrying a subtle sense of ceremony.

Looking at the sketch, he asked what he had always wondered. “What about your previous team?”

“They disbanded,” Qi Shan said lightly. “Some wanted to go home. Others went to the Endless Sea to make money.”

Xu Wang didn’t probe further.

Qi Shan sounded indifferent, but Xu Wang understood the pain of imagining his teammates Wu Sheng, Kuang Jinxin, Qian Ai, saying, “Captain, we’re done. We want to disband.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Qi Shan asked his last question. “Why didn’t you ask me what stationery I had during the first half of the level when it was allowed?”

Asking about stationery and forming strategies was standard practice.

Xu Wang paused, feeling complex emotions. “We were waiting for you to tell us.”

They looked at each other and laughed silently.

Trust between people depends on fate, but it’s built through time and adjustment.

After sending Qi Shan off, Xu Wang collapsed into bed, physically and mentally exhausted. His head was aching, almost making him want to crumple the blanket into a ball.

Even the usually slow Wu Sheng accurately commented. “Graceful in public, heartache in private.”

“What else could I do.” Xu Wang twisted his head from under the blanket, feeling wronged. “I can’t stop someone from pursuing their dream…”

“Stopping for a day isn’t stopping for a lifetime.” Wu Sheng couldn’t stand to see him like this, almost wanting to bring Qi Shan back.

“If you met Newton, you’d change your mind faster than him.”

“First, I won’t meet Newton, and second, even if I did, I wouldn’t leave the team.”

Wu Sheng’s answer was serious, despite the joking comparison.

Xu Wang looked at him, feeling an unexpected anticipation, and asked softly, “Why?”

Wu Sheng didn’t need to think. “With Newton on the team, I wouldn’t be the brains anymore.”

Until bedtime, Captain Xu’s face remained as dark as the bottom of a pot.

Advisor Wu thought, indeed, the failure of recruitment had dealt a great blow to their captain.

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin both dreamt in their sleep about the level, one of little people eating all over the world, the other of little people drinking tea. Essentially, they revisited the illusion of the small people in their dreams.

Waking up in cold sweat, they were informed that their new teammate had a change of heart.

On the second day of 6/23, Jin and Qian experienced “one surprise after another”.

Until the next midnight arrived, they were still somewhat dazed.

After a sense of weightlessness, the five companions appeared in Room 1310.

Neither Han Buting’s team nor Wei Menghan’s team appeared, probably still spending those two minutes trying to avoid them.

The room was as intact as ever—no secret passages, no demons or ghosts, and the oil painting hung properly on the wall.

The five were intact, but their glances at each other carried a hint of awkwardness.

The expected “Ding—” sound came.

Xu Wang looked at his arm, as expected.

[Roster]: You have 5 minutes of exemption time. Choose [Retreat] or [Kick]. Countdown begins now.

When they successfully formed a five-person team yesterday, the Owl also gave a similar prompt, but perhaps because it was their first time forming a five-person team, the instructions were more detailed, clarifying that at every level with all five members, there’s a 5-minute exemption time. Kicking or retreating after this period is considered a collective failure.

At that time, they had just teamed up with Qi Shan and didn’t pay much attention.

Little did they know it would come in handy today.

Xu Wang didn’t speak but gestured towards his arm to Qi Shan.

Qi Shan understood, giving them an apologetic look, then clicked to leave the team.

The world turned black for a moment.

The five disappeared together and soon reappeared in the banquet hall.

The guests were still mingling, the sounds of laughter and conversation unchanged.

Other challengers scattered in the banquet hall thought they had just entered from reality, some giving them a glance, others not even lifting their heads.

When they dispersed, the [Roster] notification was only audible to them amidst the noise.

The four companions received the same message: [Team members insufficient (4/5). Recruit more?]

Xu Wang instinctively looked up at Qi Shan, who was also reading the notification on his arm.

Qi Shan’s message was probably the one Sun Jiang had received before—A lonely boat never reaches the shore.

Despite the somber sentiment, Qi Shan’s eyes shone with light and direction.

Life is like that; having a direction makes everything seem bright.

Xu Wang withdrew his gaze and, along with his companions, clicked to confirm recruitment. The candidate list opened up:

6/23 Chi Yingxue [Invite]

6/23 Qi Shan [Invite]

6/23 Wang Chuming [Invite]

…Even less than yesterday.

Yesterday was a shortage. Today there’s hardly anything left.

Three choices, but two weren’t viable. Xu Wang felt a sense of destiny looking at Wang Chuming.

“Wang Chuming?” Wu Sheng didn’t sense anything particular and spoke in terms of data and facts. “He was voted out with Chen Xu yesterday.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Wu Sheng’s reminder made it seem indeed so. Joining and then leaving—it was worth pondering. Did he leave within five minutes? Or was it like Qi Shan, walking away after the save? It’s unlikely that they both encountered guiding lighthouses on their ideal paths…

This is what helplessness is: knowing it might be a trap, yet still choosing. After all, one is a possibility, the other a clear pitfall.

After a brief discussion, they sent an invitation to Wang Chuming.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Half a minute.

One minute…

The recruitment invitation sank like a stone in the sea.

As they wondered, a young man in a military green coat approached with a strong, brisk walk, his presence preceding him.

The four companions looked up.

The man smiled brightly, his teeth gleaming. “Wang Chuming.”

Xu Wang understood why he didn’t accept the invitation. “Came for an on-site assessment?”

“More like letting you assess me,” Wang Chuming said cheerfully. “If it’s suitable, we team up. Joining and then leaving wastes everyone’s time.”

Xu Wang sensed the undertone and was straightforward. “We’re just ordinary people wanting to get through the levels. If you have any conditions, you can mention them upfront.”

Wang Chuming observed them, realizing why the conversation wasn’t hitting the mark. He thought they would recognize his identity instantly, but apparently, they weren’t veterans of the “Owl”.

“I’m a mercenary,” Wang Chuming stated bluntly.

Xu Wang was even more confused. “Mercenary?”

Was this about his real-life identity, or was there a special setting in the Owl?

“I get paid to help people through levels,” Wang Chuming elaborated. “From this level onwards, there are more like me.”

Xu Wang turned to his companions—so this was a thing?

Their looks reflected amazement—there were business opportunities abound if they look.

Compared to Mao Qiping’s project lists, Wang Chuming’s rates were straightforward, given the simplicity of the job. “Payment per session is a thousand, with a five-thousand bonus for successful completion. Or a monthly rate of fifty thousand—bonus not included for success. This applies to both levels and the Endless Sea. Any cash rewards from the Owl during the process are yours.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

“I’m not overcharging.” Wang Chuming smiled wryly at their silence. “A cash box can contain thousands. My fee is just a drop in the bucket.”

Qian Ai: “……”

But there are boxes with just a few hundred!

“It’s not about the money.” Xu Wang paused before saying, “We’re still looking for teammates.”

Wang Chuming shook his head. “You might find that mercenaries are more useful after all.” He paused. “Many teams ahead are just paying for progress.”

Xu Wang agreed. “It’s hard to know what’s in people’s hearts… A straightforward employment relationship is often more efficient…”

Wang Chuming raised an eyebrow.

Xu Wang was half-joking and half-serious. “But without suffering a big loss, one always harbors hopes.”

Wang Chuming nodded, understanding.

Having been in the Owl for over a year, he’d seen many teams start with enthusiasm, but few finished with the original members. It’s a long race with an unseen end; people drop out or give up.

The invitation expired, and since Wang Chuming didn’t accept, it was automatically terminated.

He moved on to chat with other teams needing members, leaving the four companions standing, feeling a bit forlorn.

Xu Wang looked at his teammates. “I regret it now.”

Kuang Jinxin was stunned. “Huh?”

Xu Wang said, “Five thousand for one time. At least just to get through this once.”

Qian Ai grimaced. “Then you should have kept Qi Shan for another day! Five thousand? You’re too whimsical with spending!”

Xu Wang: “……”

He could be criticized, but not from this angle…

“Ding—”

[Roster]: Chi Yingxue requests to join the team. Do you agree?

The four looked at their arms, simultaneously astonished.

Xu Wang, Wu Sheng, and Qian Ai thought they were hallucinating. Only Kuang Jinxin felt it was expected, typical of Chi Yingxue—unpredictable and secretive.

“Sorry, I took the liberty.” A familiar yet slightly strange voice came from behind. “Can we talk?”

They turned to face Chi Yingxue, politely smiling, dressed as unassumingly as the day before, looking like a handsome gentleman. His features were cold. Even in the Endless Sea and their two encounters in 3/23, when he smiled, it was like the moonlight.

But now, his smile was warm, like the moonlight reflected in water, carrying a human touch.

“How do you want to talk?” Xu Wang asked.

Chi Yingxue lowered his eyes, as if pondering, then looked up. “We’ve crossed paths before, haven’t we?”

“No.” Qian Ai couldn’t hold back. “If you’re going to play dumb, it’s pointless. Don’t you know what you’ve done?”

Chi Yingxue sighed. “Seems I don’t need to ask. Yan Wang caused trouble again.”

“Yan Wang?” Kuang Jinxin scrutinized Chi Yingxue, looking the same as before but feeling different. Who was Yan Wang?

Chi Yingxue took a deep breath and smiled with resignation. “I have a split personality. Yan Wang is my alter ego.”


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

Full Server First Kill Ch129

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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


Chapter 129: Night of the Demon King

The Demon King, corruption, and pain, with the salty scent of the sea breeze, surrounded the area.

No other creatures had survived there, whether the Demon King was present or not, as deathly silence had always ruled everything. The only sound had been the sea—so gentle it was almost negligible, with waves sounding like feathers plucking at eardrums.

The recent battle felt like a dream, Teest thought.

Looking directly at the Demon King had filled his mind with noise until he had thrust that sword under the effect of [King of Eternal Sleep], the sense of unrealness of the illusion still lingering.

Years ago, he had walked in the shadows of the city, hunting the high ranks of human religion. Now, his sword had pierced through the Demon King’s skull.

At that moment, Teest had only had two vague thoughts—

Nol wasn’t suited to be a killer. He would have been sad.

Giving prey a swift end was the virtue of a hunter, and also the sweetest strike.

The sword had two edges, and the knight had two opposing thoughts. That was normal, right?

Beside the grieving Nol, Teest couldn’t help but tremble with excitement throughout his body. This thrill was stronger than his first successful hunt, and in the extreme fatigue and weakness, Teest couldn’t perfectly conceal it.

Since approaching the Brick Mountains, the continuous pain and discomfort vanished with the demise of the Demon King.

At that moment, he had seen the ‘moon’.

Four eyeballs had been rolling around, emitting a pressure similar to the Demon King’s… No, they were more vivid, stronger than the dead Demon King. Teest had thought hazily, his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth bleeding again. His thoughts, like solidified syrup, had been shattered by this pressure, becoming scattered and sticky.

Ah…

Another ‘God’.

Three destroyed worlds, three fallen creators. The strange existence peering from the sky, and beside… Beside inheriting the Remnant Will of the World, creating their own ancestors’ ‘God’.

The ‘God’ who had led him to see all this, the ‘God’ he had marked.

Teest had staggered forward half a step, hugging Nol from behind. Nol wasn’t robust to begin with, and now was even more frail with his damaged body. Compared to Teest’s burning body, Nol’s temperature had felt icy cold.

The Mad Monk’s broken clothes revealed pink skin and a thin layer of goosebumps, his breath condensing into white vapor in the cold night air.

Teest hugged Nol tightly, looking again at the sky where the eyeballs chaotically turned—they had seemed dissatisfied with their findings, looking in different directions, occasionally turning back.

A chaotic battlefield, two bloodied people, and the strange, terrifying four moons.

The weird pressure had fluctuated in intensity. Teest hugged Nol tighter, his chin resting on Nol’s shoulder. Just by their posture, they looked like an ordinary couple enjoying the moon by the sea.

…Could he ever have been this satisfied in his life?

“Let’s rest for a while.” Teest’s lips brushed against Nol’s earlobe. “With [God’s Forsaken], we just need to hold on until it disappears.”

Nol stirred as if awakening, turning his head to look at the three people a few hundred meters away—from Anakin to Painter, all three with their heads down and eyes closed, not daring to breathe. The moon’s suppression on them had seemed much stronger than here.

Nol’s gaze had returned to the moon.

In the past, he might have crumbled in fear. Now, he had looked at them steadfastly, his heart boiling with hostility. The oppressive feeling had poured down. For the moment, it hadn’t been enough to make Nol bleed, only able to forcibly jumble his thoughts. Nol’s head buzzed, and he suppressed the urge to vomit, gripping his remaining hand tight while his blue eyes filled with rage.

He was going to disappoint his three “predecessors”.

Countless innocents were involved and killed, his creation’s destiny twisted beyond recognition, and his compatriots were trapped in death for over two thousand years. Merely finding a way to bring everyone home… No, it hadn’t been enough—mere “truth” couldn’t satisfy him anymore.

Whether this world had been a malicious incubator or a stage for monsters to find amusement, he wanted to make them pay.

It had been a crazy idea, but that was fine. He had a companion crazy enough.

Nol weakly raised his hand. His fingers trembled, but his action was firm.

He didn’t know how to use the newly acquired authority as there was no new skill appearing in his skill bar. The system wasn’t considerate enough to give him a manual. His physical and magical power had been nearly depleted, but…

The skill bar [To My Compatriot] flickered with a faint golden light; its content was no longer the same.

[To My Compatriots: Go Home]

[This is a little token.]

[It is recommended to merge this skill.]

This time, the system didn’t make a sound. Ever since reading the Demon King’s last words, it had maintained a suspicious silence. Nol just watched [To My Compatriot] and [Lullaby] silently disappear, and new words emerged on their own.

The new skill’s description was short.

[Creator: This is your world. Protect it.]

Nol activated it without hesitation.

The effect of [Creator] was somewhat like [Lullaby], with a pale blue-white grid and cursor clinging to the surface of things reappearing. The difference was, the adjustment to the environment no longer required him to expend such exaggerated amounts of mana… As if the invisible barriers that had been there originally had vanished like smoke.

Nol faintly felt that he might be able to use this skill to create things that didn’t originally exist. Unfortunately, his mana was running low, so he couldn’t attempt it.

He only did one thing.

The soil, restored to normal, seemed to come alive under Nol’s command, rising by itself and skillfully forming an arched mud hut, completely sheltering the three people nearby.

Then he burned part of his flesh and blood to extract a bit of mana, making a smaller hut for himself and Teest. They were closer to the coast, with more sand than soil, making the walls shimmer with a faint shimmering gray.

It was obviously not ordinary earth magic. The moment the roof blocked the moon, the oppressive feeling weakened a lot. However, the moonlight outside the window still carried a filthy blood color. They still needed to wait.

Nol was completely drained of strength, collapsing backward, fully leaning against Teest’s chest. He could feel Teest’s feverish chest and the hard wedding ring on that person’s chest.

“Now we can rest,” Nol said drowsily. Even though intense emotions were still stinging him, his body had completely reached its limit.

Without that indiscriminate oppressive feeling, Teest let out a long breath. He sat down on the snow-white beach, snapped his fingers, and threw a lighting orb towards the ceiling. Nol collapsed into Teest’s arms, motionless. He held the knight’s waist even tighter.

The pain that had troubled them for days was gone, and the bizarre moon’s oppressive feeling was almost nonexistent. Regardless of their emotions, at this moment, their bodies got long-awaited relief.

The slightly dim light illuminated the two, exposing all the wounds hidden by darkness—especially Nol, who had used himself as fuel, looked more like “remains” rather than an “injured person”. Teest’s hair was matted with sweat and blood, his body as if it had been whipped a thousand times.

Teest grimaced as he fumbled in his waist bag for a long time, pulling out a fist-sized ointment jar.

The surface of the jar glittered with gold and was studded with gems, obviously pilfered from some Eternalist. As soon as the lid was opened, it revealed the ointment inside, which was pale white like fat. It emitted a faint, sweet fragrance and an exceptionally strong magical aura.

Teest frowned and swallowed a large mouthful of the ointment, then scooped a bit with his fingertip, gently applying it to Nol’s wounds—Nol had turned back from a dragon to a human, completely naked, making this task not too difficult… except the messy black hair was somewhat in the way.

Where the ointment was applied, the skin and flesh swelled rapidly like a water-absorbing sponge. The wounds wriggled closed, turning into fair, smooth skin without leaving a trace.

The incomplete flesh turned into a smooth, firm back, gently undulating under his fingertips.

Nol closed his eyes and cast a purification spell on Teest with the little bit of mana he had recovered. Silver hair cascaded like a waterfall, brushing over Nol’s cheeks. For him, this was the sign that the calamity had ended.

As his fingertips moved, Teest’s body temperature not only didn’t decrease but climbed even higher. Under Nol’s compliance, his hand’s pressure grew stronger.

“Teest…” Nol couldn’t help but look up.

“Shh.” Teest pressed a finger to his lips, his fingertip touching Nol’s tongue. The ointment was so bitter that Nol’s whole body shivered.

“Now is the most beautiful moment of my life. Please be quiet.” Accompanied by the filthy moonlight, Teest’s voice was as light. “…Lord, God of Creation.”

This time Nol didn’t deny it.

The Demon King’s fate was clear enough. He wouldn’t shirk this definition anymore. This was his world, and he would protect it.

Nol slightly propped up his shoulders, seeing the other’s burning golden eyes.

Under the interference of the four “moons”, Teest’s thoughts were inevitably confused, his eyes having a drunken moistness. Those pupils held no pity, no sadness—only endless excitement, joy, and obsession.

The terrifying “God” stripped away the last layer of rationality. The Mad Monk’s most fundamental emotions were nakedly exposed before him.

Teest’s breathing was quicker than usual, his heart beating against his ribs like a drum. The pressure he applied on Nol was so strong, it would definitely leave bruises on the skin.

It was still the Teest he knew, his rock-solid twisted support. This guy, though joyfully plunging into the abyss, always managed to pull him out of the darkness.

“What a coincidence,” Nol responded softly. “This is the worst moment of my life.”

“That’s really a pity.” Teest’s feverish palm caressed Nol’s back, like a dragon coiling around its most beloved gem.

“Then please make it a little better.”

Nol leaned forward, kissing Teest’s lips, his palm pressing on the wedding ring on the other’s chest.

What did a little more craziness matter?

In a crumbling, insane world, regardless of whether the Mad Monk understood true love, regardless of whether this intense, fiery relationship had a name, it all didn’t matter anymore.

At some point, they had merged together, unable to separate from each other.

Teest looked at Nol in amazement, his unplaced infatuation suddenly finding an outlet. He held his breath joyously, like a burst of colorful paper firecrackers.

He grabbed the ring that Nol wore on his chest and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss and adding some biting. After the long kiss, they both gasped for breath, staring at each other with the rings pressing firmly in each other’s palms.

Their rapid breathing was louder than the sound of the waves. Teest’s gaze caressed Nol’s face. From his eyebrows to his lips, the intensity of his gaze was almost tangible. Nol’s lips were swollen, and Teest was no better off.

The Dracolich’s blood color was pale, making the living Teest’s complexion particularly rosy. In this place full of death and destruction, it was the most vibrant thing Nol had ever seen.

Nol couldn’t help but lean over and peck Teest’s lips again. At the same time, he slowly moved his hand that was pressing the ring downward along the chest and abdomen.

Outside the window, the moonlight grew more intense. Nol disdainfully glanced at it, and the soil moved on its own, blocking the window with a small hole. Then he slightly moved back, just about to adjust his position, when his back touched something—cold, slender, like a spider web spreading around.

Nol suddenly felt like laughing.

From the first night he met the Mad Monk, he occasionally wondered if these golden threads would one day bind him. As it turned out, that day did come, just in a different form than he expected.

There was only one problem… Like the other victims of the Mad Monk, he wouldn’t be an obedient prey. Nol increased the pressure of his hand, gently biting Teest’s shoulder. His tongue grazed the skin, warm and very soft.

The two rings collided, making a faint friction sound. Nol’s free hand was grabbed by Teest, who put his fingers in his mouth, delivering a rather unconventional hand-kissing gesture. “Say ‘I permit’,” Teest mumbled unclearly, his voice full of laughter and longing.

“…I permit.” Nol moved his lips towards the other’s left ear.

“Praise be to you, my generous master.”

When Nol tried to move his wrist again, he noticed the golden threads wrapped around his arm. In the cramped space, the golden light flickered, and he was firmly fixed in his original position. Teest embraced him, emitting a sigh of happiness.

Nol thought that this rash act would make his mind go blank for a moment, covering the lingering discomfort with new pain. But it was really like honey, thick and sticky, and his chaotic thoughts were gradually glued together, flowing slowly. It was more of a sweet and malicious comfort than indulgence or venting.

Teest’s touch was unexpectedly gentle, sometimes too light, and too slow—the Mad Monk always liked to watch his prey struggle, a bad habit he couldn’t change. But Nol had to admit, Teest really had a way with torture.

Whether it was pain or pleasure, he never missed the slightest nerve. Unfortunately, the famous Mad Monk still made a mistake. Perhaps he was too focused on sinking into it, the surrounding golden threads became looser. They dropped in beautiful arcs, gently hanging on Nol’s arms.

Nol moved his now free hands, holding his knight’s face, and planted fine, gentle kisses on his forehead.

“Evening… prayer,” he slurred, his fingers twining around silver hair, searching for the other’s lips again.

The lighting magic had failed at some point. The room was left with only hot, humid darkness and the ambiguous sounds of entwining.

……

The long night was ending, and a bright light shot through the hole. It was clear and pure, the subtle pressure disappearing completely.

There was always a time when the moon would disappear.

Nol lay on Teest, his knees and back covered with specks of white sand. Seeing the faint morning light, he took a deep breath of the now fresh air, ready to wake the sleeping Teest. But someone else was quicker—

[System calculation complete.]

The system’s voice exploded in their minds. Teest sat up abruptly, almost hitting Nol’s head. [The “Demon King” has been killed]

[Permission merge complete. Compatibility assessment and analysis of the “Demon King” completed. Reward settlement has been settled.]

Teest plucked his ears in confusion. He realized that Nol, the God of Creation, looked as bewildered as he was.

[Your special job level has reached its limit.]

[“Beyond the Law” qualification confirmed. Based on your characteristics and achievements, special job “Doom Knight” is open for transfer. Do you want to accept?]

[“Beyond the Law” qualification confirmed. Based on your characteristics and achievements, special job “Demon King” is open for evolution. Do you want to evolve?]

It didn’t sound too bad. Teest lazily nudged the still dazed Nol, and casually chose to accept the offer. However, Nol heard a different set of notifications in his ears.

[Your racial job evolution has reached its limit.]

Nol: “……”

This didn’t sound good. It felt like inheriting the hatred of two gods. However, the four spinning “moons” intruded into his mind again, and Nol, with a slight movement of his mouth, resolutely chose to evolve.

With a “ding”, the evolution was complete.

There were no exaggerated light effects or dramatic changes. Nol extended a hand, examining it under the light. Black dragon scales emerged on the back of his hand, then quietly disappeared—he still retained the form of a Dracolich.

…Could it be that “Demon King” was just a title that attracted hatred?

“The oppressive feeling…” Teest retracted his teeth and touched Nol’s shoulder. “Tone down the oppressive feeling, Lord Nol. I have a bit of a headache.”

Nol leaned against his warm knight. He was just about to open the pop-up window to take a closer look when he got a bite on the neck from Teest.

“Mm?”

Nol turned to look at Teest. In the darkness, the other’s golden eyes caused him a slight dizziness. The other must have also received a transfer qualification—Teest seemed unchanged, yet everything seemed different.

But since the Death Knight was a top-tier class, Nol wasn’t clear what Teest had transferred into.

“I’ll count one, two, three. Let’s reveal our stats together, how about that?”

Teest, with an unknown level of comprehension, quickly suppressed that different feeling. “Before we encounter the troubles outside, we need to get our stories straight.”

“…Okay.” How did you know we need to align our stories! Nol became alert.

Three seconds later.

Teest: “…”

Teest stared at the “Demon King” following his race. “……You always give me bigger surprises.”

“Doom Knight sounds good, doesn’t it?” Nol pinched the bridge of his nose. “At least the symbol of ‘death’ is neutral, but this…”

Doom Knight plus Mad Monk—no matter how one put it, it sounded dangerous. This absolutely couldn’t be known by Eugene—even Anakin must be kept in the dark.

…Although he himself wasn’t much better off.

Nol, feeling melancholy, stretched out his hand and tugged on Teest’s temple, trying to control the subtle “oppressive feeling”.

Teest’s expression suddenly stiffened, and Nol immediately let go. “Did I pull your hair too hard?”

“No.” Teest frowned, his expression rarely becoming serious.

“I just received this.” He called up a mission pop-up.

[★Main Quest “Demon King Subjugation” Officially Starts★]

[Under the guidance of God, the fearless heroes of Tahe have finally defeated the Demon King today. The ancient Demon King has fallen, but the evil shadow hasn’t yet dissipated. Strange phenomena have appeared in the Brick Mountains. A new Demon King has awakened, lurking in the darkness, plotting the next destruction.]

[Brave warriors from other worlds, your era has begun.]

[Quest Completion Condition: Find and subdue the new Demon King.]

[Quest Reward: God will fulfill your wish.]

[Quest automatically accepted.]

Nol fiddled with the virtual shadow of the pop-up. “Issued by the system?”

“Yes, but it stuttered several times, sounding particularly emotionless.” Teest shrugged and retracted the pop-up. “It seems it doesn’t completely obey your commands—what do you plan to do next?”

“I think it’s a good sign,” Nol said coldly. “Whatever those four moons are, they previously didn’t dare to confront the Demon King directly, and now they don’t want to deal with me themselves—they must be wary of something.”

“So what?” Teest’s eyes shone brightly.

“We continue to hide, continue to grow stronger, and continue to investigate the truth until we knock those bastards down from the sky,” Nol said firmly. “What about you? Any ideas?”

Teest’s smile became even brighter. “Of course!”

“Those eyes have a nice texture. I think hanging the body of a god in front of a church is definitely the most thrilling…” He paused strangely, his gaze sweeping over Nol’s lips.

“…No, the second most thrilling thing. What do you think?”


The author has something to say:

Congratulations to the married couple (???

Finally! The long 129! You’re just a tiny bit faster than the neighbors, yes.


Kinky Thoughts:

Yes, they did it, for those who are wondering.

This marks the end of this arc.


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