Chapter 34#
Breaking Free From the Plot#
Mo Xuzhi took a glass from the side and took a sip of water, looking as if his interest had been piqued. He asked, “How so?”
He didn’t seem to have much of a resistant attitude; instead, he showed a curiosity almost like that of a child, as if he were simply curious about why the other was doing this.
“Eighty million to buy a day of your time,” Luo Wenyun said. “The last day of the variety show is for random ‘one-day couples.’ I don’t need to tell you; you already know the program crew has internally decided that Shen Le and I will be in a group.”
“On that day, I want you to act like you did before—we are lovers, and you don’t like seeing me walk together with Shen Le.”
Mo Xuzhi understood what he meant.
“So I need to put on a show of being jealous… no, it should be envy. Yes, that describes it more accurately.”
Luo Wenyun nodded. “You should know how the program crew will edit it then.”
Mo Xuzhi inclined his head.
He had pretty much figured out the program crew’s tendencies; they would edit wherever there was controversy and wherever there were explosive points.
If he did as Luo Wenyun said, given the crew’s ‘miraculous’ editing, he could already imagine the overwhelming verbal abuse that would follow once the show aired.
At that time, it would be a complete across-the-board blacklisting.
Even if the company wanted to protect him by frantically taking down trending searches, they wouldn’t be able to finish them all. Besides, the company had never thought about nurturing him from the beginning; they had only been squeezing out his commercial value.
Luo Wenyun’s mention of having him retire from the industry was precisely considering this consequence.
No matter how high his traffic was, no brand would dare to hire him for endorsements. Except for some variety shows specifically designed to gain attention this way, he probably wouldn’t be able to get any decent work ever again.
In that case, it would be better to retire from the industry altogether.
At the same time, Shen Le would appear on the trending searches alongside his name in a pure and mysterious posture, successfully opening the door to the entertainment industry and soaring upward.
Mo Xuzhi remembered this plot.
After experiencing the across-the-board blacklisting, his liver cancer would flare up, and he would eventually die unexpectedly in a snowy field somewhere.
Although he didn’t know where the snow would come from in such weather, if the plot said there would be some, then there should be.
The story would come to an abrupt end there.
The original novel had stopped updating at this point for many years, so this was judged to be the grand finale.
As long as he died this once, he could completely break free from the plot.
Perhaps because the grand finale was approaching, the characters in the book were gradually changing.
Like the Luo Wenyun in front of him—he must have realized something, or perhaps he possessed his own thoughts, as his persona was very different from what was described in the book.
Another example was Ji Baiwen. He knew he was Mo Xuzhi, and he also knew he was a graduate of Jingda, “Senior Mo.”
He was no longer two separate people as before; someone had already noticed their commonalities.
Mo Xuzhi took the check handed over by Luo Wenyun and smiled: “Deal.”
He had originally been pondering how to create an across-the-board blacklisting, but unexpectedly Luo Wenyun had come himself with money in hand.
Although this money couldn’t do much, if he put it together and added some more, he might be able to add another new machine to the Academy of Sciences.
Those people had been howling about not having enough machines for a long time; they would surely be overjoyed if there really was one more.
Seeing the smile on the youth’s face, Luo Wenyun’s heart, which had been somewhat chaotic, finally gradually calmed down, and his posture relaxed.
Mo Xuzhi seemed to not care at all about the destined across-the-board blacklisting that was to follow.
This was good for everyone.
As long as Mo Xuzhi retired from the industry, they would no longer have to continue struggling in this strange world and could do things completely according to their own thoughts and feelings.
The words online were indeed stinging, but as long as they got through this period, everything could become better.
He would find Mo Xuzhi a very good job, and Mo could still take leisurely walks and play games with others as he did before.
They still had a lot of time.
—As long as he was by Mo Xuzhi’s side on March 4th and they didn’t go anywhere, they would still have infinite possibilities and plenty of time.
Although he didn’t care much for the eighty million in his heart, Mo Xuzhi still said as Luo Wenyun put away the pen: “Really thought it through? No regrets?”
Luo Wenyun said word by word: “No regrets.”
Mo Xuzhi smiled: “Good then.”
His smile was very infectious; looking at it, one’s heart would unconsciously relax, and most of the gloom would dissipate.
Luo Wenyun also wanted to smile with him, but his lips moved and he just couldn’t.
His heart began to race again.
Luo Wenyun touched his chest, his eyes filled with confusion.
It shouldn’t be.
He had already solved the problem; he had planned what to do in the future.
It should be foolproof.
But for some reason, he felt more and more uneasy, and a sense of irritability couldn’t stop emerging.
It was as if something was being stripped from his soul, slowly leaving him in an irrevocable manner.
He felt like he was about to lose something very important.
“Mo Xuzhi, after these things are over, I have something to tell you.”
Luo Wenyun’s expression was a bit panicked. He looked at Mo Xuzhi, his body unconsciously leaning forward, and said, “Just wait a bit more, it’ll be fine once we wait a bit longer.”
“Mhm, mhm.”
Mo Xuzhi nodded casually, looking completely perfunctory, and it was unknown if he had actually listened to Luo Wenyun’s words. He said, “It’s late; shouldn’t you be going back?”
This was a very clear dismissal.
Having received a response, Luo Wenyun ignored Mo Xuzhi’s attitude, and the panic in his heart lessened slightly.
He stood there for a while, looked at the computer screen that was still on, and finally straightened his cuffs as a cover-up, saying, “Rest early.”
Mo Xuzhi seemed not to have heard him. Seeing him prepare to leave, his left hand already covered the computer, and he said casually: “Goodbye.”
Luo Wenyun pursed his lips and finally left, closing the door behind him.
Mo Xuzhi continued to look at the computer. Just as he opened a document, a push notification suddenly popped up in the lower right corner, with a bold red “shocking” headline at the top: [SHOCKING! There was actually such a thing at the National Science and Technology Awards ceremony…]
Mo Xuzhi closed it instantly and restricted automatic push notifications for all software while he was at it.
Avoid it if possible; at least he didn’t want to see any news for the next few days.
His mood improved a lot after closing the push notification. Mo Xuzhi set his phone to silent and threw it on the bed, concentrating on picking candidates. Finally, he finished the rough screening as dawn was approaching and sent the document to Wang Zhifeng.
After lounging in the chair for a while, Mo Xuzhi finally got up slowly to brush his teeth and wash his face. Halfway through washing, he suddenly bent over, propping himself up on the sink with both hands.
Heart-wrenching coughing was blocked by the soundproof walls and glass, echoing in the small space.
After a long while, Mo Xuzhi straightened his back, expressionlessly wiped the blood from his mouth, and cleaned the sink.
The water washed away the blood clots and viscous blood without leaving a trace.
Afterward, Mo Xuzhi sprayed some air freshener, and the smell of blood gradually dissipated. When the smell had mostly gone, he opened the window, and as the wind blew, the smell was completely gone.
Recently, the effect of the cancer ‘buff’ was becoming more and more obvious.
Occasionally looking up, Mo Xuzhi saw the bloodshot lines in his eyes in the mirror. He blinked hard, trying to fade them and engage in self-deception.
The sunlight shone obliquely into the room, and a yellowish light appeared on the balcony.
Mo Xuzhi hung the towel on the rack, turned his head to look in the direction from which the light came, and narrowed his eyes slightly.
The warm yellow sun slowly jumped out from the opposite hillside. The sparse houses around were still hidden in the darkness. The sunlight passed through the gaps in the forest and shone all around.
The extreme yet blurred contrast between light and dark had an indescribable beauty.
Mo Xuzhi took out his phone and took a photo.
The doctor had said he should learn to discover the small beauties in life.
Although it was just for an instant, being able to record it was also a form of ultimate happiness.
Mo Xuzhi couldn’t completely understand—or rather, he couldn’t understand this kind of thinking—but he would still follow suit.
His photo album, which originally only contained screenshots of various documents and experimental records, gradually had other photos in it.
Perhaps a blade of grass, a kitten in a rainy night, and many landscape photos.
Photography was not allowed in the Academy of Sciences because of confidentiality, and he didn’t have a single group photo with the researchers inside; he only took two when they went out for group meals.
Added together, these scattered photos already numbered in the hundreds.
“Hey—Is Teacher Mo up? Come downstairs!”
A prolonged voice came from downstairs. Mo Xuzhi stood on the balcony and looked down, seeing the cameraman uncle holding a camera.
He carried the camera on one shoulder and waved at him with his other hand. His round body making such a gesture looked inexplicably comical.
Mo Xuzhi couldn’t help but smile, his clear voice spreading with the morning breeze.
He said: “Coming.”
It seemed like just an instant; the sun suddenly jumped out from the hillside, and the light shone brightly.
The boundary between light and dark vanished, and everything became bright.
The young man standing on the balcony had a faint yet genuine smile. Facing the rising sun, his white shirt fluttered in the wind, and his silhouette appeared increasingly ethereal, as if he might disappear in the next moment.
The cameraman was a bit dazed watching him. Only after the figure on the balcony disappeared did he react and carry the camera into the villa.
The program crew’s staff dug the other guests out of their beds.
The four guests living in the wooden huts were already dressed neatly, looking exhausted yet happy. Mo Xuzhi was mixed in with the others, looking down at his phone. When he looked up and saw the few people coming down, his expression remained unchanged as he looked down again.
Luo Wenyun’s gaze paused on Mo Xuzhi for a moment before he looked away.
Shen Le took the bread slice handed over by the staff as breakfast. Seeing the suitcase next to the person sitting by the sofa, he asked: “What’s this for?”
“That’s a good question.”
The director nodded and said, “The plan for filming here has ended; we’re moving to a new location.”
“Leaving just like that? So where are we going next?”
The director smiled: “Returning to the city this time, going to North-South Avenue. There’s an ancient town there, and the scenery is quite good.”
Mo Xuzhi’s hand operating Tetris paused.
Jinghua University was on North-South Avenue, and the ancient town was right next door.