And Fu Songcheng never saw Yu Huaiting again.
Days moved forward in their proper order.
That little brat friend he’d chatted with for an afternoon was quickly forgotten by Fu Songcheng.
The summer after finishing his senior year exams.
A sudden misfortune struck Fu Songcheng’s family. His mother, who’d never been in good health, took a sharp turn for the worse and, after half a month of suffering in a hospital bed, ultimately passed away from illness.
His father, who’d loved his wife deeply, swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills late on the third night after handling her affairs, following her in death out of devotion.
In an instant, the sky collapsed and the earth caved in.
Blow after blow struck in succession, and Fu Songcheng didn’t even have time to feel the heart-rending grief.
There were no other reliable elders in the family. The various complicated procedures, the relatives’ condolences, the arrangements for the funerals—all fell on the shoulders of this youth who’d just turned eighteen.
That whole summer, Fu Songcheng was like a wound-up machine, rushing back and forth between the hospital, the funeral home, the police station, and the street office. He’d just been stamped as an adult, and fate mercilessly pronounced its verdict: in the life ahead, he could only walk on alone.
Those relatives and friends who’d once envied his harmonious family and excellent grades now flocked to his door.
They looked at him with eyes full of pity, repeating pale, powerless words of comfort.
“Songcheng, restrain your grief and accept your loss—your parents’ spirits in heaven wouldn’t want you to be so sad…”
“Child, you’ll have to be strong on your own from now on…”
But the more they comforted him, the less Fu Songcheng could shed tears.
He even felt somewhat annoyed.
From that summer on, Fu Songcheng’s personality changed completely.
He was no longer the youth who’d patiently guide others when they said the wrong thing. He learned to put away superfluous emotions, to bury all his thoughts deep in his heart, focusing only on doing each thing before him well, one by one.
In his four years of university, he relied on the money his parents left behind and scholarships to graduate smoothly. After graduating, he naturally entered a big tech company and became an excellent software engineer.
With his solid technical skills and error-free way of handling things, he rose steadily, finally sitting in his current executive position.
In outsiders’ eyes, Fu Songcheng was the standard winner in life.
Young and accomplished, gentle and refined, with boundless prospects.
Yet only he himself knew: his life was a pool of stagnant water.
He treated everyone with mildness, always wearing a proper, distant smile, never arguing with anyone, never losing his temper. But no one dared stuff confession letters into his desk drawer with reckless courage the way they had in high school anymore; even less did anyone try to truly approach his life.
Because Fu Songcheng’s whole being seemed wrapped in an invisible, thick membrane. One could see, through this membrane, his bright, glossy interior—yet could never touch it.
He floated lightly through this world, pouring all his energy into his own affairs.
Better and better, higher and higher.
Work, meals, fitness, mountain climbing.
Fu Songcheng’s life was as regular as a piece of written code—no surprises, but at least no bug that could overturn his life would appear again.
Deep down, he faintly hoped that someone, something, might crash into this stagnant pool like a stone, breaking his rule-abiding life.
But he didn’t take the initiative to step forward; he merely waited for someone to toss a stone into the deep, tranquil lake surface.
In the dream, Fu Songcheng stood quietly, watching his dream self, unable to speak.
He was no longer the warm, cheerful youth who liked to teach others how to do things. So long walking alone had taught him not to look at others’ suffering, only to focus on his own life.
Even facing his past self, he was unwilling to teach him anything. At least after meeting Yu Huaiting in Death Party, he knew he hadn’t yet lost the courage to dare to love and dare to hate.
Fu Songcheng stepped forward. He raised his hand and pressed it hard on his dream self’s shoulder. “It’ll come.”
With that sound, the dream shattered.
Fu Songcheng himself severed the endlessly looping dream that sought to trap him forever in blandness and sorrow.
His life now had already become lively and happy because of Yu Huaiting’s arrival. Like opium, the moment he appeared, he could occupy Fu Songcheng’s thoughts: soothing him, scolding him, teasing him…
Fu Songcheng couldn’t wait to see him.
…
Xu Qingyao called everyone to the elevator and had Lin Feng grab two NPCs to stand on it with them.
“Look,” she turned to everyone, “this weight is wrong.”
Bai Mu stepped forward and continued explaining, “We think Mr. Fu must be on the elevator. He lost contact after taking the elevator to look for Mr. Yu in the first place.”
“Move aside.” Lin Feng walked forward with a cold face, drawing his long saber. “I’ll do it.”
He gripped the saber with both hands, wound his arms back, and slashed viciously down at the very center of the elevator mirror.
Crash—
Accompanied by a piercing shatter, the entire mirror cracked in every direction like a spiderweb, huge chunks of glass crashing down on the car floor.
The flashlight beam immediately swung over from Chen Yu’s hand.
Behind the shattered mirror was an extremely hidden, cramped compartment.
And at the very center of the compartment, Fu Songcheng lay quietly on a bed, as if merely sunk in a deep afternoon nap.
“Mr. Fu!” Bai Mu exclaimed in delight, stepping over the glass shards on the floor and rushing in.
Lin Feng and Chen Yu squeezed in after her.
Chen Yu quickly checked Fu Songcheng’s carotid pulse, confirming his vital signs.
“Find Yu Huaiting.”
Lin Feng decisively told Xu Zhun. “Let him come save his own person.”
In just a few minutes, hurried footsteps came from the corridor.
Yu Huaiting, reeking of blood, burst into the elevator compartment and saw the peacefully sleeping Fu Songcheng.
He reached out and pinched Fu Songcheng’s chin, forcing his head up, carefully checking his pupils and breathing.
“In a dream.” Chen Yu reminded helpfully. “Cut him, then enter his dream and find a way to wake him.”
Yu Huaiting glanced at him, nodded slightly, and took a small knife from his system space.
The blade flashed.
Bright red blood welled out, dripping down Fu Songcheng’s slender knuckles.
…
Yu Huaiting sat in Fu Songcheng’s rest room waiting for Fu Songcheng to return. He’d just seen on the rankings that Fu Songcheng had taken second place on the Rating Ranking.
Pretty impressive, this lover of mine.
And quite good-looking too.
He planned to find Fu Songcheng to enter an instance together, so that Fu Songcheng wouldn’t keep stroking that doll to farm attributes and interfere with him during instances.
“Fu Songcheng” returned to the rest room and, seeing Yu Huaiting, looked delighted. “You came!”
Yu Huaiting: ?
“You wanted to see me that much?”
Yu Huaiting actually grew a little wary. His last meeting with this bound lover hadn’t exactly been pleasant, and Fu Songcheng’s reaction was beyond his expectations.
“Mm…”
The person opposite froze at Yu Huaiting’s question, clearly a little flustered. But Yu Huaiting didn’t much mind—Fu Songcheng was probably scared off by his aura; after all, he was number one on the Power Ranking, so such a reaction was understandable.
“I was actually thinking about whether I should go collect your corpse from the instance,”
Yu Huaiting slowly walked up to “Fu Songcheng,” looking down at him. “But since you’re this capable—perfect timing.”
“I have one day left before my next instance,”
He paused. “You coming with me?”
Leave a Reply