Chapter 30#

The Innocent and Naive Fool#

Lin Xiaodong’s eyes widened in surprise, and it took a moment for him to react: “No way, Lulu is Lu Jing? The Eldest Princess of the Empire married your adjutant?”

Gu Xi nodded: “They had been in love for a long time before the engagement was set. That’s why the royal family removed her from the genealogy and announced to the public that the Eldest Princess had died of illness.”

“If that’s the case, doesn’t that mean Xu Feng stole your wife?” The little merman couldn’t help but laugh heartily. Because he laughed too arrogantly, Gu Xi eventually ran out of patience, grabbed his waist, and pinned him to the sofa.

“Stop laughing.” The man looked down at him and said seriously, “I only love one person.”

Lin Xiaodong: “Hahahaha help, why does it feel even funnier when you say it like that! Hahaha!”

Gu Xi: “…………”

Laughter aside, serious business still had to be discussed. Gu Xi calmly told Lin Xiaodong his decision—

Tomorrow, he would set out with his troops.

He had to get his hands on a weapon of total destruction like the Star-Destroying Cannon, no matter what.

“The only person I’m worried about right now is you,” he said in a low voice. “What if I’m not here and Lu Xing brings people to barge in again like he did today?”

“Can’t the military compound be put under martial law?” Lin Xiaodong realized as soon as he spoke that even if there were martial law, there were so many family members living here that it would be impossible to completely block their communication with the outside world. Moreover, without a good reason, even a Major General like Gu Xi couldn’t afford to offend so many officers’ families at once.

“There are too many eyes and ears here; that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Gu Xi affirmed his thought. “So I want to send you to another place, I just don’t know if you’d be willing—”

“I’m willing.”

Lin Xiaodong said without hesitation.

Because this was the home of many high-ranking generals, the military compound was easy to enter but hard to leave. Every exit required a strict body search to prevent anyone from carrying out intelligence. Lin Xiaodong had wandered around the area for a few days and found that, besides how conspicuous he was as a merman, it was nearly impossible even for an ordinary person to sneak out and collect Good Person Cards without Gu Xi’s knowledge.

“How come I never noticed you were so proactive about completing tasks before?” the System wondered.

“Mainly because it’s too boring,” Lin Xiaodong said. “In the last world at least I had a job and could go out every day. Now staying home all day without using his brain for long periods, I’m practically turning into a goldfish.”

“I have no requirements for a place to live, as long as there’s a bathtub.” He told Gu Xi obediently while clutching a pillow, “Don’t worry, I’ll video call you every day.” As for whether the video would be taken at home, that couldn’t be guaranteed.

But at the same time, Lin Xiaodong asked the System in his mind: “What exactly is a brainworm? And what’s a Queen Bug? I see all kinds of conflicting stories on the Star Net; there’s still no unified explanation.”

The System explained: “Brainworms, as the name suggests, are a type of nano-scale transparent insect that survives mainly through parasitic relationships. They reproduce extremely quickly—a Queen Bug can produce tens of thousands of larvae a day. Brainworms can absorb the host’s mental energy and feed it back to the Queen through a mental link, constantly strengthening the entire species’ power until the host’s life center completely collapses, at which point they move on to the next target.”

“No wonder I’ve seen so many news stories lately about mental patients hurting people,” Lin Xiaodong frowned. “Those experts said it’s because people in the interstellar era are under too much pressure. Turns out they’re all being parasitized by brainworms.”

“What you’re seeing are late-stage infections,” the System confirmed. “Brainworms are tiny. Unless professional instruments are used to scan the brain, there’s absolutely no sensation when being parasitized, and it’s difficult to discover immediately afterward. In the early stages, the host only feels irritable, insomniac, and has difficulty concentrating. By the mid-stage, their personality begins to change drastically. These two stages can last for quite a long time.”

“And the late stage?” Lin Xiaodong asked.

System: “Once the brainworm has absorbed most of the mental energy, the host becomes delirious, in agonizing pain, and suffers from intense headaches. The level of pain is equivalent to raw-drilling into a tooth pulp with a cold drill. People in this state are capable of doing anything.”

Hearing the System’s description, Lin Xiaodong shivered in empathy.

“That’s truly terrifying,” he lamented. “But according to what you’ve said, why has no merman ever been parasitized by a brainworm?”

The System countered: “Why do you think, in the original world line, humans lobotomized the merman and forced him to sing for his enemies to consolidate their mental energy?”

Lin Xiaodong fell silent.

“How ridiculous,” he said. “If humans hadn’t caused the merfolk to go extinct, brainworms wouldn’t have multiplied to this point.”

All things in the world are interconnected and in an endless cycle.

Once one link is broken, it inevitably causes a chain reaction far beyond anyone’s imagination.

But the System’s words also reminded him: if a merman’s song really is that effective against brainworms, could he use the technology of the interstellar era to do something?

The next morning, the drowsy little merman was secretly sent by Gu Xi to a safe house outside the capital.

Lin Xiaodong leaned against the doorway, watching Gu Xi standing in the clearing in his crisp military uniform. The man’s black uniform was cinched at the waist by a silver-white belt, perfectly outlining his lean physique. His pressed trousers went straight down until tucked into black leather boots, giving off an overwhelming sense of abstinence while simultaneously making one want to conquer him.

After regaining his memory, Gu Xi’s temperament was also undergoing a subtle change. Now his gaze was sharp, every movement characteristic of a soldier. He stood like a straight steel blade, leaning his head to speak with the adjutant who had come to fetch him.

Noticing the gaze behind him, he frowned sharply, turned around, and happened to make eye contact with Lin Xiaodong.

The man was stunned for a second, then his serious expression softened: “Why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Gu Xi walked to the little merman and reached out to stroke his long hair: “It’s gotten so long. With me gone, no one will help you take care of it. Aren’t you going to cut it?”

“No.” Lin Xiaodong had wanted long hair for a long time, but unfortunately… unfortunately what again? He tilted his head and thought for a moment, couldn’t find the answer, and temporarily set it aside. It was a minor matter anyway.

“I heard that if someone very important in the family is going on a long journey, cutting hair at this time is bad luck,” he said. “When you come back, you help me cut it.”

“Alright.”

Gu Xi agreed without hesitation.

He took nothing when he left, except for that copy of The Little Prince Lulu had given Lin Xiaodong.

Watching the retreating silhouette of the aircraft, the System said: “You’ve set that flag a bit early.”

“Don’t worry,” Lin Xiaodong said with a yawn. “With me here, what’s a mere brainworm?”

The reason he was so sleepy was because he basically hadn’t slept last night.

The System had helped him find a netizen on an interstellar insomnia forum who had posted a plea for help. Based on the situation described and the emotions during their communication, Lin Xiaodong believed there was a very high probability the person was parasitized by brainworms, likely already in the mid-stage.

He used an anonymous account. After sending over a pre-recorded song, that netizen didn’t send a message for a full ten minutes.

Just as Lin Xiaodong thought he had failed, the other side started messaging him frantically as if possessed: “I beg you, tell me, who sang this? I haven’t closed my eyes for almost three days and nights, my brain is about to explode but I can’t sleep! Yet after listening to this song just now, I almost fell over while standing!”

This netizen was too excited, sending him more than forty messages in two minutes. Seeing Lin Xiaodong slow to reply, they entered a state of delirium, pleading emojis almost filling the screen, terrified that the only sliver of hope would slip away.

“It was sung by a friend of mine,” Lin Xiaodong finally replied. “He should be publicly releasing songs on his own account on the Star Net soon. You can follow him then.”

After typing this line, without waiting for a reply, he closed his light brain with lingering fear.

Insomniac humans are terrifying!

System: “So, you’re planning to become an online singer?”

“To be precise, an online singer specifically for curing insomnia and mental illness,” Lin Xiaodong corrected.

He was clear about his own singing level. In terms of professional technique, he certainly couldn’t compare to those who had studied systematically. But a merman’s timbre naturally put him in an invincible position. And since he was the only merman left in the world, Lin Xiaodong could now say with certainty that his voice was absolutely unique.

System: “But the reason a merman’s song can weaken brainworm activity is because their voices contain unique mental energy. If you distribute it through other media a second, third, or multiple times, the effect will be greatly diminished.”

“Then, would it be better if it’s a live stream?”

“Yes, but it still won’t be as effective as hearing it in person.”

“As long as there’s still an effect, it’s fine.” As he spoke, Lin Xiaodong registered a streamer account on the Star Net. He thought for a long time about the name and decided to call it “I Have a Big Tail.”

“Simple and easy to understand.” He was quite proud of it.

But the System was very dismissive: “Your naming skill is just as bad as your taste.”

Lin Xiaodong didn’t care; as long as he liked it, it was fine. After registering the account, he used his light brain to record a cover. The one last night had been an a cappella version without accompaniment. This time for the public release he put in a bit more effort, not only adding accompaniment but also using post-production to remove background noise, which would better highlight the merman’s original timbre and the ethereal, cleansing feeling in the voice.

After the song was uploaded, he turned off his light brain and went back to the bedroom to catch up on sleep.

But he didn’t expect that upon waking, within just these few hours, this cover song had rocketed to the top of the music derivation charts at a staggering speed. And the tone of the comment section was completely different from other covers—

“Boss! Wuwuwu, Boss save my dog life!”

“Heavens, I’ve had three arguments with my family in the past two days. Everyone says I’m like I’ve eaten firecrackers, and I feel very irritable myself without knowing why… only when listening to this song can I calm down.”

" +1, I’ve been living in a daze lately. Many thanks to the streamer!"

“My grades dropped a lot in the last exam. Although my parents didn’t blame me, I felt terrible. I couldn’t read books at all, didn’t even have the energy for games. Today while doing homework I played this song, and I actually finished a whole math paper without even realizing it!”

Lin Xiaodong scrolled through these grateful comments and couldn’t help but ask the System: “Surely these aren’t all hosts parasitized by brainworms? Is being unable to memorize words an early symptom too?”

“No,” the System said. “That’s pure impetuousness and having an empty brain.”

Lin Xiaodong: “…………”

He felt like he’d taken an arrow to the knee.

He posted a pinned message in his space: “Live stream tonight at 7:30, everyone come hear me sing~”

Less than five minutes after the message went out, there were over a thousand likes. Just as Lin Xiaodong put down his light brain contentedly and was about to go to the kitchen to find something to eat, a golden-labeled notification suddenly lit up in the background—

[ “His Highness the Crown Prince” just liked the new song you posted. ]