Chapter 107 - 2#

But it still agreed: “Okay.”

Su Ruhui held the cat in one arm and the stinky tofu in the other, so moved she felt like crying. A cat to hold and stinky tofu to eat—was there a better life in the world than this?

“Do you want me to call you ‘Big Baby’?” Sang Baobao suddenly said.

Su Ruhui spat out the stinky tofu she had just put in her mouth.

“Or…” Sang Baobao said expressionlessly, “Sweetheart.”

This guy knew every word Su Ruhui had said in prison, and Su Ruhui couldn’t help but marvel at his reach.

“No, no.” Su Ruhui shook her head like a rattle drum. “Sang Ge, can you please not take the nonsense I spout seriously?”

“But most of what you say is in that style.” Sang Baobao sounded a bit helpless.

Su Ruhui decided to change the subject, holding up the stinky tofu to Sang Baobao’s face. “Want a piece? I’ll feed it to you mouth-to-mouth.”

“…No.”

Metaverse.

Tan Taijing’s carriage rumbled through the forest. This was the second location Hui’er had marked on the map. Disguised as an ordinary person, he had dyed his hair black and come specifically to check it out. The guards accompanied the carriage forward. Dappled tree shadows fell on the cloth curtain. Suddenly a fair hand lifted the curtain, revealing a familiar, bright face.

“Brother, what a coincidence.” Tan Taixun grinned.

Tan Taijing frowned. “Why are you here?”

Six months ago, Tan Taijing personally led troops across four dharma gates to the Snow Realm Pole. Hui’er said there was a secret there. He crossed the ruined royal city and found a coffin made of ice and snow in the holy temple. Inside lay Tan Taixun. People attributed this miracle to unknown demon clan secret arts. The secret sect astrologers flipped through records, saying that back then, Tan Taixun’s heart had been dug out, and her resurrection must be related to that removed heart.

Only Tan Taijing knew that perhaps all of this was Hui’er’s doing.

When Hui’er was first born, Su Guanyu often spoke nonsense, saying Hui’er was no ordinary person. Now, Tan Taijing had his own suspicions. Perhaps the one who truly understood the truth was precisely the madman. But Tan Taijing no longer cared. Even if there were worlds beyond this world, what did it have to do with him?

“That’s what I should be asking you,” Tan Taixun said, riding her horse alongside the carriage. “You’ve come here three times in the last month. Your sister here was trapped in the Snow Realm for over thirty years, my husband went mad and died without a proper corpse, my own son abandoned me for a kitten, and instead of properly catching up with me and granting me eighty or a hundred male concubines to comfort me, you come running to this backwater corner of Jiangzhou.”

Tan Taijing said flatly, “Male concubines—absolutely not.”

The carriage moved forward, soon reaching the gates of Jiangzhou City. Suddenly, a commotion arose ahead. A scout stopped the carriage, knelt on the ground, and reported: “There’s a bandit ahead blocking the road. A young gentleman is trapped by them.”

Tan Taijing frowned. In this era of peace and prosperity, how could there still be bandits?

A voice drifted over from afar, sounding mild and easygoing. “I carry nothing of value, I only wish to head north to the border capital. Please, allow me passage.”

“No money, no way!” The bandits swung their knives and shouted.

Tan Taijing recognized the voice and turned his head, indeed seeing Tan Taixun’s dazed profile.

“Go,” he said.

Tan Taixun dismissed her attendants, rode forward alone, and rounded the bend. A blue-curtained carriage was surrounded by fierce-looking bandits. The wind blew, lifting a corner of the curtain, revealing a glimpse of the pale jaw of the gentleman seated inside.

The bandits spotted Tan Taixun approaching on horseback and were about to say, “Another unlucky one,” when they saw snowflakes condensing in the woman’s palm. Their faces filled with terror.

“Secret arts user! Don’t think we’re afraid of you just because you have secret arts,” a bandit shouted, pointing his knife at her. “We outnumber you. You might not win. Mind your own business!”

Tan Taixun ignored them, rode up to the carriage, and asked with a smile, “A delicate thing like you—why go to the border capital?”

“I heard the Suwu Princess is fond of handsome men, and her consort Su Guanyu died twenty years ago,” said the person inside the carriage. “I fear the princess is lonely, so I’ve come to offer my services.”

“Quite confident,” Tan Taixun laughed. “Open the curtain and let me see you. What kind of extraordinary beauty are you? How do you compare to Su Guanyu?”

A pale hand lifted the cloth curtain, and the person inside raised a clean, handsome face. The bandits below immediately held their breath. No one had ever seen a man like this. Sitting still, he was like a white epiphyllum carved on a mural. When he moved, the epiphyllum bloomed, and all the splendor of the world could not surpass the peerless beauty between his brows.

“Not bad,” Tan Taixun judged with restraint.

“If I offer myself to you,” he said with a light laugh, “would you be willing to draw your sword and help me?”

Tan Taixun laughed heartily and spurred her horse forward. The gentleman inside the carriage bent down and stepped out. Just as Tan Taixun passed by, he took her outstretched hand, used her strength, and jumped steadily onto her horse. By the time the bandits around them reacted, the two had already ridden far away.

“I thought you were dead,” Tan Taixun said. “I’ve been a widow for twenty years for you. I only recently planned to take a new lover.”

“Ah Xun, where did you keep your widowhood? In the snowflake data dump?” Su Guanyu sighed softly. “Hui’er could bring you back to life; naturally, he could bring me back. Both of us are code written by his own hand. Death is equivalent to deleting that code. Now that he has all the permissions in the Metaverse, he can access the server database anytime. A simple restore operation, and we can return to this realm.”

“Oh no, oh no, are you going crazy again?” Tan Taixun couldn’t understand his words. “Sigh… Maybe I’ll just pretend you’re dead.”

Su Guanyu smiled gently. “Can you really bear to?”

“So what now? Didn’t you say this world was fake and that you didn’t want to stay here?” Tan Taixun asked.

Su Guanyu wrapped his arms around her waist and gazed into the distant sunset.

“I’m not leaving,” he said softly. “The world where you are is the world I want to go to.”

The two of them had clearly forgotten Tan Taijing, who was waiting in the forest. Tan Taijing sat in the carriage for a long time, then sent a guard to investigate. The guard reported that the place was empty, and Princess Xun was nowhere to be found.

Tan Taijing: “…”

People should not have sisters, he thought.

Seeing that it was getting late, Tan Taijing’s carriage entered Jiangzhou City. The sun was setting, the city market had closed, and the shadows of people were scattered.

The wind blew open the cloth curtain. Outside, a familiar figure in crimson seemed to brush past the carriage. Tan Taijing frowned and lifted the curtain, but only saw passersby coming and going and vendors packing up their stalls.

He watched silently for a moment, then let the curtain fall and allowed the carriage to continue.

Not far behind the carriage, at a street corner, a woman in a bamboo hat stood gazing at the departing carriage.

“Sister Xueya, what are you looking at?” Beside her, a little girl missing an arm tugged at her hem with her remaining right hand.

The little girl was called Baoniu. Her parents had abandoned her. If Sister Xueya hadn’t found her, she would have starved to death on the streets.

She stared with big, round eyes, drooling. “Sister, what are we eating today?”

Jiang Xueya snapped back to reality, smiled brightly, took Baoniu’s hand, and headed home.

“Today we’re having sweet and sour pork ribs. Sister will cook for Baoniu herself.”

“Yay!”

It was late summer. The wind around them carried a warm, drowsy scent. The sky was so high and so pale. They walked unsteadily through the sunset, heading in the opposite direction of the carriage, going farther and farther away, until they disappeared into the hazy glow of the evening clouds.

The carriage stopped at the end of the market. Tan Taijing watched the one tall and one short figure, silent.

Hui’er was ultimately a soft-hearted child. He had given everyone a perfect ending.

“Great Sect Master, shall we head in that direction?” a guard asked respectfully.

“No,” he said, letting the curtain fall and closing his eyes in quiet meditation. “Return to the Beichen Palace.”

This was Hui’er’s final wish and hope before leaving. Why should he interfere?

“Yes.”

The carriage entered the dharma gate, never to return. Tan Taijing sat inside, raised his hand, and touched the mottled sunset filtering through the cloth curtain.

Jiang Xueya, I hope that in this new start, you can have your own perfect life.

Real World.

During the month in prison, Su Ruhui did nothing but eat and sleep. Day and night meant little to him anymore; whenever he opened his eyes, he was eating something Sang Baobao had brought him. A month later, the trial began. Su Ruhui was taken out of prison and put into a hover prison van. Dozens of heavily armed soldiers escorted his convoy. Su Ruhui saw many monsters shaped like tigers, lions, and wolves—seemingly members of the Predator Strike Team. He sincerely admired Sang Chiyu; even tigers and leopards recognized this little cat as their boss. Truly, Sang Ge was Sang Ge.

Before the trial started, the interrogator walked up to Su Ruhui. This time, Su Ruhui finally got a good look at him—he was a rabbit monster. His long ears were tucked under his military-green cap, and his garnet-red eyes were very serious. “Mr. Su, I regret to inform you that the law will not allow someone like you to remain at large. I hope you will reflect carefully in prison.”

Su Ruhui said, “Brother Rabbit, you’re a good rabbit who does his duty, but you’re a bit dumb. Maybe that’s how all you rabbits are. I used to have a rabbit, and it could never learn to speak human.”

The interrogator’s face turned pale. He said nothing and walked into the audience.

The trial began. The prosecutor listed Su Ruhui’s crimes one by one. After lengthy evidence presentation and defense, the jury reached a verdict:

“Defendant Su Ruhui is sentenced to three thousand two hundred hours of community service. Location: Maoshan No. 3 Nursing Home.”

The interrogator in the audience widened his eyes and shouted that the verdict was unjust.

No one paid him any attention. The soldiers uncuffed Su Ruhui, and he walked out of the courtroom. Sang Chiyu was waiting for him outside. It had been a long time since Su Ruhui had seen Sang Chiyu in human form, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit nostalgic. He had cut his hair short, wore a black jacket, and sat straddling a big black motorcycle. The neon lights reflected on his cold, pale face, and his ice-blue eyes mirrored the dazzling light.

In that light was Su Ruhui.

Su Ruhui walked over. Sang Chiyu handed him a heavy helmet.

“Did you buy this motorcycle to compensate me?” Su Ruhui asked.

Before Sang Chiyu could answer, Su Ruhui caught sight of the rabbit interrogator walking out of the courtroom from the corner of his eye. His eyes were red, and he glared at Su Ruhui with indignation.

A mischievous idea struck Su Ruhui. He grabbed Sang Chiyu by the collar, pulled him closer, and in front of everyone—especially the rabbit interrogator—kissed Sang Chiyu on the lips.

Sang Chiyu wrapped his right arm around Su Ruhui’s waist and deepened the kiss. He knew Su Ruhui was doing it on purpose, and he played along.

“Colonel Sang! I thought you upheld justice and stood by principles. I never thought you’d be corrupted by Su Ruhui too!” the rabbit screamed in despair.

Su Ruhui blinked, smirking against Sang Chiyu’s lips. “Sang Ge, I think I’ve ruined your image in your fan’s eyes.”

Sang Chiyu turned to look at the interrogator, his expression cool and detached. “Sorry, I think you misunderstand me. My principle has always been to put my wife first.”

The rabbit was stunned for a moment, then covered his face and ran off crying, looking utterly forlorn.

Sang Chiyu turned back to Su Ruhui. “Where do you want to go?”

Su Ruhui smiled lightly. Back in this world and finally free, there was indeed a place he wanted to go.

“The mental hospital,” he said.

The highest-security ward of the mental hospital held the most dangerous patients. Su Ruhui’s real father—Su Guanyu—was in the innermost room. To prevent him from self-harming, there were no sharp objects in the room, and all furniture was padded with sponge. Su Ruhui looked at him through the glass. He was haggard, with white hair, barely any trace of his former handsomeness.

“Dad, I have a boyfriend now,” Su Ruhui said, pulling Sang Chiyu over. “Look, handsome, right? My Sang Ge is a promising officer. I got into some big trouble, and he helped me sort it all out. The only downside is that I can never divorce him. He’s too powerful. If I try to divorce him, I might never see you again.”

Sang Chiyu frowned. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Su Ruhui grinned.

Su Guanyu stared fixedly at Sang Chiyu, then smiled mysteriously. He pressed his face against the glass and said, “Come here, I’ll tell you a secret.”

Sang Chiyu met his eyes for a moment, then leaned his ear close to the glass.

“This world is fake,” Su Guanyu said. “You’re all puppets! Kill the creator, and you’ll find the truth!”

Sang Chiyu looked at Su Ruhui. Su Ruhui smiled, but his expression was sad.

“His illness seems to be getting worse,” Su Ruhui said.

Suddenly, Su Guanyu slammed hard against the glass. The loud noise rang in Sang Chiyu’s ear. He quickly pulled back, frowning slightly. Immediately, medical staff rushed forward, pulled Su Guanyu onto the bed, and fastened him with restraints.

“Fake! It’s all fake! We’re all puppets!” Su Guanyu screamed wildly.

Su Ruhui made Sang Chiyu bend down, looked at his ear, and asked, “Are you okay?”

Sang Chiyu shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Sang Ge, do you think this world is fake?” Su Ruhui asked softly, looking at the white-haired madman inside.

Sang Chiyu held his hand. “I don’t care.”

They left the mental hospital and walked up a slope. Along the way, Su Ruhui was anxious and silent. The Su Guanyu in the Metaverse was the only one who knew the truth. Perhaps the Su Guanyu in reality was the same. Su Ruhui remembered the calculations he had done in the lab. No matter which calculation, Su Guanyu had a one hundred percent chance of going mad. That probability didn’t conform to common sense at all. Maybe Su Guanyu was right—reality wasn’t reality at all.

Ahead, layers of houses piled up toward the sky. A giant holographic projection of a celebrity twisted and danced among the steel buildings. Neon lights flickered endlessly. The whole world was dazzling yet unreal.

They stood by the railing, looking down. Hover cars streamed endlessly, pedestrians crowded the streets, and the world boiled like the sea.

“Tomorrow, we’re going back to the old mansion to meet my parents,” Sang Chiyu said, breaking Su Ruhui’s train of thought.

Su Ruhui felt a bit nervous. “Do they know that I tried to kill you before? And that I pulled you into the Metaverse?”

“Don’t worry,” Sang Chiyu said, rubbing his head. “I’ll help you.”

Su Ruhui didn’t quite trust him. This guy was a taciturn type—could he really smooth things over and put in a good word? Su Ruhui figured he’d have to rely on himself. He’d use his sweet-talking skills and flash his charming smile. He was so handsome and dashing—even if he had committed murder and arson and every evil deed, how could anyone not love him? Su Ruhui psyched himself up, full of confidence.

“The lab starts the day after tomorrow. I’ll take you to see the site,” Sang Chiyu added.

“Keep your word and pay your debts. Good man.” Su Ruhui patted his shoulder, very satisfied with his efficiency.

“The day after that…” Sang Chiyu wanted to say more.

Su Ruhui groaned. “Can I just lie around at home for a day? You’ve filled my schedule, and it sounds exhausting.”

Sang Chiyu pressed the back of his head, touched his forehead to Su Ruhui’s, and continued what he hadn’t finished.

“The day after that, we get married.”

Su Ruhui stopped breathing.

“That’s fast,” Su Ruhui stammered.

“Fast is good,” Sang Chiyu said, embracing him. “Would you rather wait a bit longer?”

Su Ruhui hugged him back. “I think fast is good too, but the day after tomorrow might be too rushed. We still need to invite guests and set up the venue.”

“Preparations started half a month ago,” Sang Chiyu said.

Su Ruhui laughed, burying his face in Sang Chiyu’s shoulder. “Sang Ge, you’re really fast. If only you were this fast in bed…”

Sang Chiyu: “…”

Sang Chiyu pushed him back slightly, gazing quietly into his eyes. Dazzling light shifted in their eyes, but only their reflected images remained unchanged.

Sang Chiyu said, “Su Ruhui, in this world, anything could be fake. But I promise you, my love for you will always be real. Whether in the Metaverse or reality, no matter where we are, whether it’s real or fake, I only want to be your lifelong partner.” He paused and asked, “Ah Hui, will you marry me?”

At that moment, it was as if time stopped flowing. The noisy world fell silent. The neon lights reflected in Su Ruhui’s shining eyes.

What did real or fake matter? The world with Sang Chiyu was the world he wanted. As long as Sang Chiyu held him and kissed him, all that was unreal became real.

“I will,” Su Ruhui said.

They kissed in the lights, and from then on, it was forever.

(The End)