Chapter 35#
The Fourth to Last Day#
After saying those words, Yu Lanyin fell into a coma.
He had a dream for the first time in a long while—one that was quite fantastical and absurd. In the dream, the flight crew from the group photo held him while paragliding; the taciturn Uber driver held him while watching blackbirds; and the polite yet glib Italian kissed the back of his hand.
The kiss falling on the back of his hand was trembling, as if suppressing immense pain and longing. This weight was almost equivalent to the glacier in his dream.
The glacier had only appeared after the System arrived.
Yu Lanyin showed it to the doctor in his dream, in order to prevent the other party from recklessly proposing that terrifying “try me” invitation again: “Look.”
In his dream, the little President Yu talked nonsense wantonly: “This is my love for my boyfriend.”
The blurry-faced doctor looked shocked: “Ah.”
Yu Lanyin was just talking nonsense; he actually didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t have much time to figure it out anyway. He earnestly instructed the doctor: “You must make the notebook look like it accidentally fell near the ice crevice.”
That effect would look the most realistic.
The doctor nodded and looked at the glacier in the dream with him. Yu Lanyin sat hugging his knees for a while, then asked softly, “Can you grow a face like this?”
He held up a photo of the System.
Doctor: “…Why?”
Yu Lanyin looked dejected.
Yu Lanyin let his head droop, burying half his face in his arms and sighing: “I miss him.”
It was a dream, anyway.
Talking nonsense wasn’t a crime.
Yu Lanyin wantonly described his boyfriend’s extraordinary powers: as long as he suggested it, the System would even hold him and jump into an ice crevice, performing three and a half back tucks followed by two twists and a backflip.
Doctor: “Ah.”
Yu Lanyin widened his kitten-like eyes: “You don’t believe me?”
Doctor: “…I believe you.”
Yu Lanyin felt satisfied after his rant. He buried his head in his arms and curled into a small ball. He looked at the photo of the System for a while, pursed his lips into a smile, and let go.
The wind gently swept the photo away.
The phantom accompanying him also disappeared. He spread his arms and fell backward onto the boundless, vast snowfield, looking at the grayish-blue sky.
Yu Lanyin grabbed a handful of snow, molded a little bird to amuse himself, and threw it into the sky; in the blink of an eye, it was blown into snowflakes by the wind and scattered.
Yu Lanyin whispered: “Ice cream is really delicious.”
He said, “Thank you.”
“I originally had hatred in my heart, I just didn’t say it,” he said. “I hated myself the most, but I also hated other things. You stupid, broken System—I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about the previous one.”
“I also hated Song Baoxiao, and I was jealous of him. Why is he the protagonist? Why wasn’t my eldest brother, or my second brother, or my parents and grandparents? Can’t an eighty-year-old be a protagonist?”
“If they were the protagonists, would they have avoided those accidents, even if they were implicated by me?”
“I wanted to take revenge.”
“At that time, I felt that even if I died, I would stir up some trouble so that no one could have a good life.”
“Now I don’t think that way anymore.”
Yu Lanyin said softly, “I don’t hate anymore. I’ve moved on. Is this what ‘redemption’ feels like?”
“I’m not sad anymore, not angry, not in pain. I’m going to find Grandpa, Dad, Mom, and my brothers. I’ll be with them forever after this.”
“They’ll forgive me, right?”
“They still want to see me, right?” When Yu Lanyin spoke of this, he actually felt aggrieved. He pouted, his eyes reddening. “I didn’t manage to dream about going home; it must have been that System blocking it. They want to see me, but they were blocked—it must be. They don’t know how to argue, so they must be very anxious.”
“It’s okay, I do. I’ll go help them argue. I can protect the whole family now.”
He said, “I also know how to make chicken soup wontons.”
They would definitely be snatched up like crazy.
Second Brother would definitely not have enough with one big bowl and would try to steal Eldest Brother’s. Eldest Brother wouldn’t fight back; he’d just smile and let Second Brother bite the edge of the bowl, while Mom would laugh and tap their heads with chopsticks.
Grandpa would keep nodding and giving thumbs up, and Dad would take the opportunity to carry away the pot used to boil the wontons.
He would wear an apron, let out three triumphant laughs, and conjure up fried dough sticks, sugar cakes, small steamed buns, freshly ground soy milk, and tofu pudding.
Yu Lanyin didn’t think about other possibilities after death. He didn’t consider the absence of a “post-death world,” nor did he consider the possibility that no one would be waiting for him—only the blizzard of an annihilating world.
What if he could only lie alone forever under the massive glacier?
He lay on the vast snowfield. The dream was devoid of objects and people. The world was vast, and the sky was a cold, lonely grayish-blue.
Yu Lanyin said, “I have no regrets.”
He said, “I’m not regretful anymore.”
…
There was the sound of a heating leak everywhere.
Yu Lanyin slowly opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. Someone was still rhythmically pressing on his chest, helping him breathe. He seemed to be being carried while walking.
Yu Lanyin asked softly, “A-Tong?”
The System didn’t even know when he had given it that nickname: “…”
Yu Lanyin thought for a while, found clues in his chaotic consciousness, and slowly remembered: “Dr. Seth.”
Yu Lanyin suggested, “Dr. Seth, you can put me in a wheelchair and push me.”
Dr. Seth-tem (System) apologized to him: “Sold it.”
Yu Lanyin: “[Foot Caramel Hot]*.”
That was truly fast.
Was this the amazing speed of a black-market doctor?
Yu Lanyin was amused by his own thought. His energy was too weak; after curling his eyes in a smile for a moment, he lost consciousness again.
The System held his limp head and neck, leaning down to provide him with air. Yu Lanyin’s features were peaceful and serene; his bluish lips were slightly parted as a bit of warm airflow was funneled in. His chest rose slightly, and then the air spilled out coldly.
The System helped him breathe in this way, then gently kissed his still, cold Adam’s apple. The latitude here was high; the mountains were snow-capped year-round, and it was cold at the base. Yu Lanyin wore a kitten-styled wool hat, and a layer of white frost from his breath covered his eyelashes.
The System could no longer taste that transparent, blood-scented thing.
It was clearly not because Yu Lanyin had been cured.
Even though Yu Lanyin looked as if he were completely cured.
Yu Lanyin’s guess was correct: the so-called “Villain’s Redemption,” to put it bluntly, was to ensure the villain died without hatred, without regret, and without soaring resentment.
Otherwise, there would be “obsessions.”
The world line would be disrupted.
Yu Lanyin now perfectly met this requirement. He was no longer in pain, no longer conflicted. He was certain he would see his family when he died, and he absolutely would not believe the previous broken System’s claim that “there are no ghosts in this world’s setting.”
Bullshit.
Yu Lanyin now had a new System backing him up. He wasn’t afraid of the red lights and refuted with angry abandon.
He said there were ghosts, so there were ghosts.
When he was alive, he was Yu Lanyin, the breakfast shop owner; when he died, he was the majestic President Yu, revitalizing the enterprise and leading his whole family to success, crawling out from under the bed at midnight to find his 1.9-meter-tall boyfriend for a kiss.
System: “…”
System: “Well said.”
Yu Lanyin laughed until he coughed lightly. He woke up for a brief moment and forgot who was holding him. Only after venting his grievances so wantonly did he remember to ask: “Dr. Seth?”
The System opened a new vial of epinephrine, adjusted the dosage, and injected him: “Hmm?”
Yu Lanyin thought it was the System and breathed a sigh of relief, his head drooping slightly as he asked softly, “Where are we?”
“Almost at the foot of the mountain.” The System looked up. “Do you want to take the cable car?”
Yu Lanyin didn’t answer. He had already fallen back into a deep sleep. The System stopped to give him air. The altitude was too high; Yu Lanyin shouldn’t have recklessly left the ventilator.
Yu Lanyin’s forehead rested against the System’s neck. The System held his soft, curled fingers, stroking the bluish fingertips and putting gloves on them.
The System touched the frost-covered eyelashes: “Do you want to take the cable car?”
Yu Lanyin’s head and neck were slightly lowered, leaning obediently in its arms with a smile. The System also smiled, adjusted the soft kitten wool hat, and carried Yu Lanyin toward the cable car station.
The System held Yu Lanyin’s left hand and cradled him in its arms, resting him against its shoulder. They rode the cable car up the mountain. A cold wind flowed, snowflakes danced between the strings of lights, and everything below slowly receded.
Yu Lanyin stopped breathing twice, which the System noticed in time, cradling him to provide air.
His eyelashes trembled.
Yu Lanyin slowly woke up during a long kiss.
Dr. Seth-tem immediately stood up: “Sorry.”
Yu Lanyin opened his eyes, his pupils appearing as a frozen grayish-blue. He smiled slightly, pressed his face against the System’s hand, and fell back asleep.
The System silently held the person in its arms tighter.
It was as if a little bit of strength was suddenly, slowly growing within Yu Lanyin’s body.
His heart was already very tired, but it still struggled, laboring to beat in an attempt to touch the palm resting on his chest. His breathing was already very difficult, but he still breathed earnestly.
This effort instead triggered a cough. Yu Lanyin’s own haphazard attempts caused him to inhale air that was too cold; his respiratory tract was irritated, resulting in spasmodic choking. The System continuously smoothed his trembling chest and back. When it lowered its head to cover his lips, it was caught by the “Kitten Police Chief”: “Hehe.”
System: “…”
Yu Lanyin was very smug.
He bit the System’s lip as if it were a dumpling wrapper. His eyes curved, and an invisible tail seemed to be wagging back and forth.
The System couldn’t help but laugh, lowering its head to kiss the cold tip of his nose.
Yu Lanyin gave a weak shiver, his ears turning slightly red. He sighed softly, lamenting the bankruptcy of his meticulous and great plan, but his mindset was decent—after all, not being discouraged by defeat was a fine traditional quality of a villain.
Yu Lanyin was held properly by the System—held to its chest, held in its eyes, pressed as close as possible.
“When did you get here?” Yu Lanyin asked softly, then kindly explained, “Don’t hit that doctor. I begged him to bring me to the snow mountain.”
The System nodded: “Just arrived.”
Yu Lanyin said “Wow,” imagining a cool plot: “Jumping from a helicopter onto the cable car.”
System: “Yes.”
Yu Lanyin laughed softly. He pressed against the System’s neck, burying himself in that small patch of warmth, refusing to look up. He kept saying to the System, “Hold me, hold me.”
He said, “Hold me tighter.”
This time, the System figured out what to do. It directly shielded Yu Lanyin’s head, neck, and back, pinning the person tightly in its embrace. Yu Lanyin still wasn’t satisfied: “Tighter.”
The System pulled open its coat and even unbuttoned its shirt, wrapping him entirely within its embrace, shielding him in a safe, warm darkness. It heard the muffled voice of the Kitten Police Chief: “I’m sorry.”
Yu Lanyin said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to die in front of you.”
“Are you being reasonable?” The System used his tone to complain. “If I don’t wait for you, I’ll have to keep waiting. I’ll open a milk tea shop and wait for you, not closing for 365 days a year—how could there be that much milk tea to sell?”
The little shop owner Yu hadn’t calculated that account; he opened his mouth: “…”
“Running around like that.”
The System gently patted the top of his head. “What if you fall?”
The System kissed him, meticulously kissing his earlobes, his brows, and the corners of his eyes. When it reached the trembling eyelashes, it suddenly heard Yu Lanyin groan in pain. It quickly lowered its head to check, only to be rendered immobile by the scalding surge of moisture.
Yu Lanyin hid in its arms, his body shaking violently. His mouth was open, but he couldn’t breathe, and no sound came out.
Tears—huge, uncontrollable tears.
They rolled down like blood gushing from a cut.
The System suddenly understood why, in the last cycle, Yu Lanyin had cut his face until it was unrecognizable. It wasn’t just because of hatred, and it wasn’t just because he wanted to remember what pain felt like.
Yu Lanyin just wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He had reformed; the Reformation System told him everything was over, it was a ‘Happy Ending’—so why the pain?
Why?
The System cradled the limp body, tucking him into its embrace and holding him tight.
It shared half of its own data with Yu Lanyin.
The human body’s capacity to accept data wasn’t strong—it was like drinking poison to quench thirst. In those brief seconds, Yu Lanyin gained strength.
Yu Lanyin struggled to hug it back, clutching tightly, trembling as he cried. Bloodstains appeared on the System’s shoulder. It wrapped the person in its clothes and lowered its head to kiss him—like kissing a little kitten that had been inexplicably bullied outside and almost died.
(Note: “Foot Caramel Hot” is a play on the translator group’s watermark/name mentioned in the raw text.)