Chapter 77#

Su Ruhui, No Laughing#

“Screech—screech—”

Su Ruhui continuously heard the sound of something being sawed, a noise that made his scalp tingle. It was very close to him, as if someone were sawing wood right beside him. He felt an inexplicable fear, but when he finally woke up, he realized it had only been a dream.

He was lying prone on a stone platform. Around him were countless identical stone platforms, each with a flesh puppet lying upon it. His body was connected to many artificial cowhide meridians, the thickest of which was plugged directly into the back of his neck. These meridians were linked to a star array on the floor, allowing a steady stream of spiritual energy to flow into his body. He touched his throat; the wound had been stitched up, leaving a hideous scar. Hadn’t his old man said he could restore the wound to its original state? It seemed that fellow’s abilities were quite limited. However, surviving was already a stroke of luck; Su Ruhui couldn’t ask for too much.

He remembered this place; it was the Bliss Pavilion’s puppet workshop. Many years ago, he had been the master here, training a group of craftsmen and teaching them the art of puppet-making. Countless exquisite and beautiful Grade-One Flesh Puppets had been manufactured here and sent all over the world.

He tried to call out to the System, but his mind was deathly silent; he couldn’t even sense the System’s existence. Had his father succeeded? Had he truly defeated the System? Su Ruhui couldn’t say if he was happy or not; he just felt something was off.

— “Ties with those people have no meaning.”

What did those words mean? Su Ruhui remembered that in Shen Tu’s account, his father had said something similar: “What harm is there in destroying a meaningless life?” He felt a vague terror seeping out from the marrow of his bones. “Meaningless”—Su Ruhui suddenly recalled that Sang Chiyu had also said something like that.

In the past, Su Ruhui thought Sang Chiyu was unable to empathize with mortals because his species was different, and Sang Chiyu himself believed so. Yet reflecting on his experiences during this time, Sang Chiyu hadn’t shown any clear sense of belonging toward the demon race either. He drifted outside of both groups, caring for no one but Su Ruhui. He didn’t care about Tantai Jing’s affairs, and he didn’t even care about his own biological parents.

Why was it like this? Su Ruhui didn’t believe Sang Chiyu and Su Guanyu were naturally cold-hearted. Sang Chiyu could die for Su Ruhui, and Su Guanyu could trek ten thousand miles to avenge his wife. But why were they so indifferent toward everyone else?

System. Su Ruhui called out again.

Still no response.

Su Ruhui had no choice but to give up for now. He drifted back into a daze-like slumber. When he woke up again, he heard voices talking beside him.

“The craftsmen say his puppet body won’t hold up for much longer; it must be replaced as soon as possible.” It was Han Ye’s voice. “I’ve already had the craftsmen mold the skeleton for the puppet, but the inspiration core star array of a Super Grade-One Flesh Puppet is very different from a Grade-One. We have to wait for Su Ruhui to wake up and draw the star chart himself.”

“My thanks,” Sang Chiyu said.

“No need to thank me. If you hadn’t come to cause trouble at Bliss Pavilion, we would have likely sneaked into Biandu. If Biandu fell, we would surely have been trapped inside. Now the forty-eight prefectures have each sealed their cities, and the noble clans are all in a state of panic. The ‘Heavenly Eye’ scouts I sent say that demons are circling over Biandu day and night. By the way, Tantai Jing is dead. At the Grand Assembly, he issued a decree to establish Su Ruhui’s Senior Sister as Empress, only for that woman to plunge a dagger into his chest.” Han Ye clicked his tongue. “Women are terrifying.”

Su Ruhui’s breath hitched for a moment, a dense pain blooming in his heart. His relationship with his Uncle couldn’t be called deep; he had cultivated on Mount Zhuluo since childhood, and after returning to Biandu, his Uncle’s brow would furrow every time he saw him, his words always taking the form of a reprimand. Sometimes he felt his Uncle didn’t like him very much, and he didn’t know why—when that majestic, cold man looked at him, it was as if he were looking at someone else through him. But aside from his eccentric father, his Uncle was his last relative, one of the few people in this world who truly wished him well.

Su Ruhui felt immense self-reproach. If he hadn’t sent that message to his Uncle on the eve of the upheaval in Biandu, saying Jiang Xueya was going to resign, would the outcome have been different?

“Tantai Jing’s assassination is a great thing for us on Black Street. The streets will definitely be decorated with lanterns and streamers these next few days,” Han Ye said to Sang Chiyu. “If you feel uncomfortable, just don’t go out much.”

Sang Chiyu’s voice was flat. “It matters not.”

Sang Chiyu’s voice was far too calm, without the slightest hint of sorrow. Su Ruhui found it strange. Tantai Jing had raised and taught Sang Chiyu for many years; although both were cold and not particularly close—acting more like superior and subordinate than master and disciple—Tantai Jing had still taught Sang Chiyu many things. Sang Chiyu’s conduct and manners bore Tantai Jing’s shadow everywhere. Su Ruhui wondered, was Sang Chiyu truly not sad at all?

Han Ye said, “Anyway, enough of that. Do you have any thoughts on Su Ruhui’s puppet body?”

“Thoughts?” Sang Chiyu didn’t understand.

Han Ye explained, “Our Bliss Pavilion has many styles of flesh puppets: male, female, and even intersex puppets with both male and female characteristics. Which one do you want? I’ll have them start molding the body frame.”

Su Ruhui: “…”

Su Ruhui never expected that the flesh puppets he once created would eventually be used by himself.

It’s fine, Su Ruhui thought. Sang Chiyu is such a serious person; he’ll definitely refuse.

“The third kind,” Sang Chiyu replied.

Su Ruhui was shocked. He must have misheard! How could Sang Chiyu choose the third kind?!

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Han Ye was also somewhat surprised. “You like that sort of thing?”

Sang Chiyu replied, “I don’t like it, but Su Ruhui probably would. He likes trying new things.”

He had to wake up now. Su Ruhui snapped his eyes open, meeting Sang Chiyu’s gaze directed at him. Sang Chiyu clearly knew he had been feigning sleep but simply hadn’t called him out. Sang Chiyu leaned over to touch his forehead, and Su Ruhui grabbed his hand, rasped out, “Sang-ge, you… you’ve misunderstood me!”

Han Ye’s gaze was full of amusement. “Bliss Pavilion actually took an order recently where the client wanted a male puppet with lactating breasts and saliva containing aphrodisiac components. We can do that too. Do you need one?”

Su Ruhui felt dizzy and shook his head frantically at Sang Chiyu.

Sang Chiyu furrowed his brows. “You don’t like it?”

Su Ruhui’s face was covered in tears. “I don’t like it! Why do you think I’d like that! Am I really that lewd in your mind?”

Su Ruhui was indeed very lewd in Sang Chiyu’s mind, but Sang Chiyu didn’t say it. He only said, “You once said people should have the courage to try various possibilities.”

Su Ruhui really couldn’t understand how Sang Chiyu’s memory was so good. No matter what Su Ruhui had said—even if it was some brainless trash talk from over a decade ago—Sang Chiyu remembered it perfectly. Su Ruhui said word by word, “I only want to be a man! From head to toe, inside and out, a man exactly like you!”

“…” Sang Chiyu declined Han Ye. “It won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

Han Ye felt disappointed. “You’re really no fun. Fine, you two go ahead and have your heart-to-heart. I won’t disturb you.”

Han Ye left. He was quite considerate; shortly after he left, some thugs brought in several screens and surrounded Su Ruhui’s repair platform. However, these screens were a bit glaring, as they were covered in colorful erotic illustrations.

Su Ruhui had no time to worry about such messy things. He gripped Sang Chiyu’s hand and spoke with difficulty, enduring the pain in his throat, “You have to watch over my puppet body. Don’t let them make anything weird.”

Sang Chiyu squeezed his hand in return and pointed to Su Ruhui’s chest. “I can read your mind. You don’t need to speak.”

Su Ruhui sat up from the stone bed, and Sang Chiyu sat down too, letting Su Ruhui lean against him. Su Ruhui didn’t know how long he had been unconscious—probably several hours. Sang Chiyu looked quite haggard, his face pale and his eyes weary. As they looked at each other, he tucked a lock of Su Ruhui’s hair behind his ear, his usually cold gaze softening significantly. But when his gaze swept over Su Ruhui’s throat, a glimmer flashed in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but freeze; Su Ruhui heard his breath hitch for an instant.

It’s okay now. Su Ruhui embraced him, preventing him from looking at his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Sang Chiyu said hoarsely.

You saved me, Sang-ge. Why are you apologizing? Su Ruhui asked with a smile.

“I saw you at the Jiang residence,” Sang Chiyu said lowly. “I could have saved you sooner. Su Ruhui, you should be angry with me.”

Did my Senior Sister show you something? Su Ruhui asked.

Sang Chiyu was silent for a while before answering, “She let me see you sharing a pillow with someone else.”

Su Ruhui sighed inwardly. Jiang Xueya likely wanted to get rid of Sang Chiyu as early as possible so he wouldn’t ruin her plans. Su Ruhui said: There you go. I don’t blame you, Sang-ge. I really don’t.

Sang Chiyu gripped his arm, a deep sorrow revealing itself in his usually cold features. He thought Su Ruhui should be furious, should resent him; they were supposed to trust each other, yet his suspicion and cowardice had hurt Su Ruhui time and again. The more Su Ruhui tolerated him, the more he blamed himself.

“Su Ruhui, I won’t run away again,” Sang Chiyu suddenly said. “No matter what happens, I will never run again.”

Seeing him like this, a selfish thought couldn’t help but rise in Su Ruhui’s heart. It didn’t matter if Sang Chiyu was indifferent to others, as long as he cared about him. There were so many people in the world, yet Sang Chiyu only cared for him. Changing for him, being brave for him—how wonderful.

But he knew this wasn’t good; Sang Chiyu’s happiness couldn’t be tied to a single person. The world was vast and complex; even a simple snowflake had ten thousand different forms. He wanted Sang Chiyu to see the meaning of this world.

Su Ruhui wanted to talk to him about this, but then he heard Sang Chiyu add: “I won’t run from the past, either.”

The past? Su Ruhui was puzzled.

“Su Ruhui,” Sang Chiyu seemed to have made a difficult decision. “There are some things I need to tell you.”

Su Ruhui felt an ominous premonition. Sang Chiyu was being so serious that Su Ruhui felt he was about to deliver some bad news. Su Ruhui pressed his shoulders and said: Give me a moment to prepare.

Sang Chiyu nodded.

Su Ruhui took several deep breaths, silently chanting for calm, and said: Go ahead.

“Your socks and undergarments,” Sang Chiyu said, “I burned them.”

Su Ruhui: “…”

“The stray cats on South Street—I drove them away.”

Su Ruhui: “…”

“That dog, Shen Tu… I once sold him to a dog meat shop.”

Su Ruhui: “…”

“Apologies,” Sang Chiyu said finally. “That cat you raised… was me.”

Having said that, he released his transformation technique. Su Ruhui’s eyes widened in disbelief, his pupils reflecting Sang Chiyu’s changing form. It was as if swirling snowflakes were falling into Sang Chiyu’s braids; his hair turned snow-white inch by inch. His eyes turned ice-blue, as if a stretch of seawater were gathering in the depths of his gaze. Su Ruhui was intimately familiar with this color; Sang Baobao’s eyes were just like this. Looking into them was like looking into a quiet, deep sea. He finally knew why Sang Chiyu’s ears looked so familiar—it turned out this fellow’s ears were identical to Sang Baobao’s.

Sang Chiyu… was Sang Baobao.

Su Ruhui’s voice was also drifting: Turn into a cat and let me see.

Sang Chiyu hesitated for a moment. His spiritual energy had become increasingly stable, and changing forms was now easy and effortless. There was no one around, only the scrapped puppets lying on stone platforms waiting for repair, and with the screens blocking the view, no one else would see. Sang Chiyu took a deep breath and transformed into Sang Baobao right in front of Su Ruhui. The person before Su Ruhui vanished into thin air, and his black robes slumped onto the repair platform. A large snow-white cat emerged from the robes and sat beside Su Ruhui.

Ice-blue eyes, pure white fur—Su Ruhui certainly wouldn’t mistake it. This was that same Sang Baobao who ate a ton every day, hissed at him, scratched him, and wouldn’t let him onto the kang!

Sang Baobao tilted his cat head up to look at him, his expression very serious.

“Su Ruhui, no laughing.”