Chapter 67#
Wandering Photos 13#
“I love you too. And I’ll always love you.”
Chu Chenli pulled his hand free, took advantage of their position to ruffle Mu Yanshen’s hair, then touched his cheek, offering him a gentle smile.
Mu Yanshen couldn’t look away, but his heart slowly sank into deep water.
He didn’t need a special clarification—he understood clearly that the “love” Chu Chenli spoke of was not the same as his own.
But that was also the truth. Chu Chenli loved him, loved He Ziyue, and loved Hua Jin.
He loved every friend equally.
Mu Yanshen was at best just like He Ziyue and Hua Jin—one of the few he favored relatively more—but not enough to be described as “romantic love.”
However, Chu Chenli wasn’t trying to brush off the question with a mismatched answer either.
He squeezed in and sat down next to Mu Yanshen, then said to him, “I want some water.”
Mu Yanshen obediently got up and went to the kitchen to pour him a glass, then handed it to him.
Chu Chenli held the cup, feeling the warmth of the glass against his palm, and said to Mu Yanshen, “It hasn’t been long since I officially broke up with Ye Lanzhou.”
There was a hint of questioning in that statement.
Mu Yanshen hummed in acknowledgment, indicating he remembered that.
Chu Chenli then asked him, “Do you think I loved him?”
He must have loved him.
Once, it was the sole obsession he had staked his life on. How could it not be love?
But Mu Yanshen inexplicably didn’t want to answer that question, so he said, “I don’t know.”
Maybe it was just his illusion all along.
Mu Yanshen swallowed the rest of his thoughts.
Chu Chenli stared at the faint wisps of steam rising above the teacup and said slowly, “I don’t know either.”
“It’s like the love in stories—it’s all about rushing toward each other after countless hardships. As for the more ordinary, adult love, what distinguishes it from friendship and familial love seems to be desire—kissing, holding hands, sleeping together… None of that has ever happened to me.”
As he brought up this topic, Chu Chenli’s face remained calm and unflustered.
He had read many books and probably had more theoretical knowledge than most, but none of those texts had ever described that he should feel shy at a moment like this.
Besides, Mu Yanshen was the one who started this topic, so he didn’t feel the need to avoid it.
“Then why did you get together in the first place?” Mu Yanshen asked.
“Because the love in fairy tales is pure—just a hug is enough.” Chu Chenli smiled a little.
“Huh?” Mu Yanshen was puzzled.
“In the apocalypse, with no end in sight to the disasters, love is as luxury (luxurious) as hope.” Chu Chenli thought for a moment and said, “And when he came over, took my hand, and said he liked me, I didn’t dislike it.”
The love story between him and Ye Lanzhou was actually very simple.
One confession, one acceptance, and they became lovers.
At first, it was just “not disliking.” Later, under the premise of being lovers, Chu Chenli gradually realized that he really liked Ye Lanzhou.
He could even say he loved him.
If he didn’t have such sincere feelings of “liking” or “love,” why would he have missed him for a full ten years, even at the brink of life and death, thinking only, “I wish I could see him one more time”?
But those mundane, adult desires—Chu Chenli had never experienced them.
The deepest wish he had ever entertained was a fantasy: imagining their future, where, when both their hair was white and they were old and frail, they might still sit together in a courtyard, basking in the warm, gentle sun, and finally close their eyes together with their fingers intertwined, never to be separated even in the underworld.
But none of his past precognitive dreams had ever featured Ye Lanzhou’s presence, and deep down he knew there was no real “future” between them, so he rarely entertained those fantasies.
Until he entered the game, all he felt was relief—relief that he was the one who had been transported to another world, not Ye Lanzhou, who might have died young in some unknown corner.
During the game, players were more or less forced to face adult situations—sometimes it was the game content, sometimes it came from teammates who paired up.
Adults inevitably had their… physiological needs.
Only the younger ones were mocked for having overly innocent views on love. Mu Yanshen was originally a game NPC, and it was uncertain whether his body structure was even the same as a human’s—that was another story—but Chu Chenli and Hua Jin had been asked outright if they were asexual.
Hua Jin, blushing furiously, had managed to change the subject. When life and death were on the line, who had time for those things?
Only Chu Chenli, without changing his expression, had said, with an air of innocence, “Maybe I am.”
Others thought he just didn’t understand. After being scolded by Shen Xuanyi, they didn’t dare talk nonsense anymore, but Chu Chenli didn’t really care.
But having heard and seen more, he gradually realized that he seemed to be the anomaly.
For most people, “love” seemed to be tied to “desire.”
Unfortunately, he still hadn’t figured it out. With teammates depending on him, worrying about their safety and future took priority; he had no urgent longing for love.
He thought that the few teammates who had returned alive felt the same as him.
For a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if Mu Yanshen was being serious—not that he suspected the other was trying to fool him; Chu Chenli didn’t doubt that Mu Yanshen liked him a lot.
But given the other’s age and background, perhaps little Mu had also mixed something up.
But Mu Yanshen asked him, “A’li, is it just with Ye Lanzhou that you’re like this, or…”
Chu Chenli looked at him questioningly. “What?”
Mu Yanshen’s gaze slowly slid from his eyes down, then paused somewhere, and he suddenly asked, “Can I kiss you?”
…
The next morning.
Hua Jin, suffering from a hangover, trudged into the main medical building.
Good news: the nurse on duty told him there were no emergency patients admitted today, so he could rest a bit.
So Hua Jin first ducked into the break room, brewed himself a cup of honey water, and then slowly walked back to his temporary office.
The office was pitch black—probably some nurse had closed all the curtains before leaving.
Hua Jin felt for the light switch by the door, turned on the light, and then walked toward the window to open the curtains.
Just as he touched the edge of the curtain, he noticed the other side move.
He was so startled he nearly yanked the whole curtain down.
After a moment, he realized that this place wasn’t accessible to just anyone.
Hua Jin took another sip of honey water to calm himself, then pulled the curtains open with a single yank, and…
He found Mu Yanshen sulking in the corner.
Hua Jin: “…”
Mu Yanshen sat in the corner, his back against the wall, his face turned toward the window. For a moment, Hua Jin couldn’t tell if he was asleep.
After hesitating for a bit, Hua Jin walked over and lightly kicked his leg. “What are you doing here?”
Mu Yanshen wasn’t asleep; he was just zoning out, staring into space.
After being kicked, he snapped out of it, switching to support his other cheek with the other arm, and turned his gaze back to Hua Jin.
Hua Jin was startled by the dark circles under his eyes. “Did you not sleep last night? Were you out stealing?”
Mu Yanshen’s eyes were still vacant as he replied woodenly, “I confessed to Ge.”
Hua Jin: …?
Hua Jin quickly took another sip of honey water to steady himself, then asked cautiously, “…And then?”
What he really wanted to ask was whether he got rejected.
But seeing Mu Yanshen so unusually dejected, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Little Mu’s appearance was too deceptive—looking so pitiful. If he stabbed his heart further, Hua Jin felt he’d be bullying a child.
Hua Jin couldn’t help but touch his own conscience, but his curiosity about gossip won out.
Mu Yanshen continued, “I kissed him.”
Hua Jin: “Pfft—”
The honey water he’d just taken in sprayed toward Mu Yanshen.
Although Mu Yanshen instinctively dodged, huddled in the corner as he was, he couldn’t avoid it all.
Mu Yanshen: “…”
“Sorry… cough cough…” Hua Jin coughed violently, fumbling around on the cabinet beside him until he found a box of tissues and handed it to Mu Yanshen.
Mu Yanshen pulled out a tissue to wipe off the water on his clothes, and this finally snapped him fully back to reality, a look of disgust appearing on his face.
It took Hua Jin a while to stop coughing, and he looked Mu Yanshen up and down, his expression a mix of admiration and shock. “…You’re still alive?”
“…” Mu Yanshen’s mouth twitched. “A’li isn’t that violent.”
“He really isn’t,” Hua Jin nodded in agreement, but then immediately added, “But you are.”
In his imagination, Mu Yanshen had probably launched a sneak attack, and Chu Chenli, caught off guard by such an unfamiliar assault, might have instinctively retaliated.
Mu Yanshen rubbed his face tiredly, no longer in the mood to argue. “I got his consent.”
Actually, he was a bit afraid that Chu Chenli would slam him into the wall.
“And then? No feelings, so he rejected you?” Hua Jin guessed.
Mainly, given Mu Yanshen’s current reaction, it was hard to believe he had gotten what he wanted.
He looked utterly depressed.
“He didn’t reject me.” Mu Yanshen said, his face showing even more bewilderment. “He said that if I really wanted… he wouldn’t refuse my request. But…”
“But what?”
“But I’m wondering if I’m asking for too much.”
They were already the closest of companions…
The more accommodating Chu Chenli was, the more Mu Yanshen, who never liked to suffer losses, began to retreat.
Lost in confusion, Mu Yanshen had ultimately stopped in his tracks.
And, quite unusually, now he was the one avoiding Chu Chenli.
Seeing this reaction, Hua Jin realized something was indeed off.
He pulled up a chair and sat opposite Mu Yanshen, assuming a posture for a long talk. “Since you came to me, why don’t you first tell me exactly how your conversation went.”
Of course, this was out of concern for a teammate—definitely not just for gossip.
Definitely not.
…
He Ziyue ran into Chu Chenli on her way to the data center.
If she remembered correctly, today was supposed to be his one-on-one training session with Xiao Bai.
He Ziyue yawned and instinctively glanced behind Chu Chenli. “Little Mu didn’t come with you?”
Chu Chenli shook his head. “Haven’t you seen Little Mu?”
He Ziyue shook her head.
Chu Chenli thought for a moment and figured it out. “Then he’s probably gone to find A’jin.”
He Ziyue muttered, “That’s rare. Usually it’s you looking for him.”
Chu Chenli was taken aback by that. “Is it strange?”
He Ziyue nodded. “When you think about it carefully, it’s not that strange, but my gut impression is always that Little Mu is the one chasing after you.”
But in fact, Chu Chenli had gone looking for Mu Yanshen quite a few times too.
It was just that most of the time it was when the team was split up, and Chu Chenli went to rescue people—though in many cases, Mu Yanshen didn’t actually need rescuing.
Chu Chenli smiled and said, “Maybe I don’t show him enough concern usually.”
He Ziyue thought that sounded odd.
“He’s not a child anymore. Even if we count from when we first met,” she counted on her fingers, “he was at least in the upper grades of elementary school. A’li, sometimes you shouldn’t be too indulgent with him. It’s like raising a mischievous kid—you can’t just give in all the time, or they’ll end up tearing the roof off…”
Chu Chenli pondered for a moment, then nodded. “I understand.”
With that, he waved at He Ziyue and turned to leave.
He Ziyue was stunned. Understand what?
But she only had time to ask, “Where are you going?”
Chu Chenli, already at the corner, replied, “To find Xiao Bai for training.”