Chapter 35
Wen Xingze survived on compressed biscuits for a full two months.
Under the powerful effect of the healing ability, Lei Qi’s body improved day by day. Wen Xingze began to make plans: after another month, when the Black Dragon was completely healed, he would fulfill his promise and send him back to the Dragon Clan’s home planet.
Before that, Wen Xingze needed to fully develop his agricultural and trading talents so that he could contribute to the development of Dragon Star.
At first, Lei Qi was aloof, perfectly fitting Wen Xingze’s previous fantasies about the “elegant and powerful” Dragon Clan. This impression lasted for about three days.
Once he could move normally, Lei Qi often dragged an entire prey animal in front of Wen Xingze. Despite Wen Xingze repeatedly explaining that “humans can’t eat an entire raw cow,” Lei Qi would just pout and turn his butt toward Wen Xingze. But he quickly forgot these lessons and repeated the behavior next time.
Lei Qi, the PN-4 robot, dwarves, and even elves subtly competed for Wen Xingze’s attention. For instance, the robot and dwarf built a small playground for Wen Xingze, and the Black Dragon, not to be outdone, used his tail as a slide.
Days passed like this, and as more citizens joined, Wen Xingze’s notebook filled with records of various incidents. After resolving the Dragon Clan’s issues, there was still the matter of the Merfolk being auctioned as slaves…
This universe was too chaotic. In summary, there was still much to do.
Due to caring for Black Dragon, Wen Xingze had fewer opportunities to visit the blind military officer. Occasionally, he heard from the robots that the officer could get out of bed, had purchased a sword from a traveling merchant, and defeated beasts in the forest.
The blind officer possessed remarkable military talent and impressive stats. One day, Wen Xingze even heard that he organized the elderly, weak, and sick in the town to defeat infiltrating space pirates, with no casualties on their side.
“Do you want to join the Muse Empire?” On the day the blind officer recovered, Wen Xingze formally extended an invitation. “I might sound a bit arrogant, but I believe the Muse Empire will become a powerful and formidable nation.”
The officer neither agreed nor disagreed.
Removing his eyepatch, he fixed his unfocused silver gaze on Wen Xingze, even though he couldn’t see anything.
“Why invite me?” the officer asked.
“For world peace?” Wen Xingze replied.
The officer fell silent.
Wen Xingze continued, “As a king, I want my subjects to live in a peaceful and stable universe. Unlike the current state—where space pirates roam, distorted systems prevail, and wars are everywhere. I’ve thought about it; it might take about sixty years to dominate the entire universe.”
The officer responded emotionlessly, “I’m more interested in world destruction.”
Wen Xingze hadn’t expected him to be so edgy.
“I’ve had that phase too,” Wen Xingze reminisced. “I once gave myself the name ‘Dark.Fire, the Devourer of Flames in the Pitch-Black Sky.’ It wasn’t me who was wrong; it’s this world… or something like that.”
The officer raised an eyebrow, barely visible. Then, in a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “Dark.Fire, the Devourer of Flames in the Pitch-Black Sky—this name has three grammatical errors. If you need, I can correct it for you.”
“…Please stop,” Wen Xingze said, feeling embarrassed.
Afterward, they fell silent, watching the falling snow outside. With space pirates becoming more rampant, they had many wounded, making this winter especially difficult.
Wen Xingze was about to check on Lei Qi’s condition when the officer stopped him.
The officer looked out the window and asked expressionlessly, “You’re going to see that dragon.”
“Yes,” Wen Xingze replied.
Was this guy jealous? Wen Xingze glanced at the “Happiness Level -500” symbol above his head, thinking it was a likely scenario.
“…Do I differ from him in your eyes?” the officer asked nonchalantly.
“If both of you fell into a river, I’d definitely save you first,” Wen Xingze replied. Of course, he didn’t mention that there wasn’t a river deep enough to submerge Lei Qi.
The officer’s lips twitched slightly.
But soon, he lowered his eyelashes, closed his eyes, and resumed his cold and even disappointed demeanor.
After about another month, the long winter finally ended, and Lei Qi was completely healed. Wen Xingze decided to embark on the perilous journey to Dragon Star with him.
On the night before their departure, the entire country stayed awake.
He heard the anxious dismantling of various parts by the PN-4 robots outside his door. Perhaps this desperate attempt could retain the king, even if only for a day. But in the end, they voluntarily reassembled the components.
“If I…” Wen Xingze’s final farewell to the military officer felt like raising his own death flag. Yet, it was an inevitable situation. “I entrust this country to you. Please.”
The officer had repeatedly suggested accompanying Wen Xingze, but he had declined. He hoped the officer would stay on the capital star. Without Wen Xingze there, the capital was filled with the elderly, weak, and sick—defenseless even against minor space pirates.
The officer swiftly rejected the idea. “No.”
“If you die, I will destroy this country,” the officer said coldly. “I won’t save the Merfolk either. I won’t do anything you hope for.”
Wen Xingze was exasperated. Determined to return alive, he decided not to speak to the officer anymore.
Before departing, the officer posed one last question to Wen Xingze: “How does one become a special existence to someone?”
“You want to be in a romantic relationship with them?” Wen Xingze asked.
The officer seemed taken aback. After a moment, a suspicious blush crept up his ears. It was the first time he stumbled over his words. “If they desire it…”
As someone immune to romance, Wen Xingze had received countless love letters but had never been in a relationship. His main characteristic was an inability to understand hints or perceive subtle flirtation.
He earnestly analyzed for the officer, “For me, aside from a romantic relationship, the most special would be a competitor.”
Wen Xingze wasn’t afraid of competition. Roughly estimating, it would take Muse sixty years to dominate the entire universe, as it was divided into two main regions.
Both regions suffered from poverty, disease, space pirates, and wars.
If the other region could establish an empire or alliance like Muse, achieving universal peace might be possible in less than half the time—a somewhat lazy idea.
Wen Xingze couldn’t help but add a personal touch: “I really don’t want to work hard!”
The officer remained silent.
“If that region could have a similar country,” Wen Xingze continued, “Muse could establish trade, friendly diplomacy, and even intermarriage.”
Some word seemed to resonate with the officer.
He appeared lost in thought, sometimes furrowing his brow, other times relaxing his features. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision.
“Agreed,” he said.
This marked the second-to-last meeting between Wen Xingze and the blind military officer.
Five months later, in a distant corner of the universe…
From the frigid lands amidst smoke and war, the nation of Utopia emerged. Its monarch, with black hair and silver eyes, was crowned king.
________________________
Then the timeline returned to the present.
In the snow-covered expanse of the Mustard Seed Space, Wen Xingze held a branch, stirring the charcoal fire. Sparks flew.
“…That’s about it. Tonight at the restaurant, I accidentally activated the Blood Clan filter, which led to me biting you,” Wen Xingze explained. “Isn’t it all a bit supernatural?”
He hadn’t put much thought into sharing this with Chi Yan. Perhaps the previous incident of biting him had been the catalyst. Of course, according to Ansel, he might need to bite Chi Yan again in the future, so it was necessary to discuss…
At least in Wen Xingze’s heart, Chi Yan was more than an ordinary friend or senior. But for now, he wasn’t in a rush to define their relationship.
Chi Yan listened attentively and then said, "It’s okay."
Wen Xingze sighed, “Your reaction is too calm. I thought you’d be more surprised.”
Chi Yan remained quiet for a moment, showing a puzzled expression.
Then he fell into thought. Wen Xingze sensed that Chi Yan seemed to be carefully considering whether to act surprised in a way that met his expectations…
“It’s almost time,” Wen Xingze said, leading Chi Yan outside by the hand. “Let’s talk outside.”
This time, Wen Xingze made sure the door led to a normal beach, not twenty thousand meters above the ground. Otherwise, they’d be in trouble.
As soon as they stepped out, Wen Xingze’s phone rang—it was the director from the Fantasy Cruise show.
The director’s tone turned nervous, reminiscent of when he thought Wen Xingze was a mafia young master earlier in the day: “Xiao Wen, I apologize for interrupting your romance with Chi Yan, but we still have a variety show recording tonight. Can you come back within twenty minutes?”
Wen Xingze replied, “I’m sorry, hold on… Did you say I’m in a romantic relationship with Chi Yan?”
Chi Yan’s breath hitched.
He briefly glanced at Wen Xingze, then quickly averted his gaze, tightening his grip on the phone.
“Isn’t it?” the director asked.
Wen Xingze found the guess quite unbelievable: “No, how could that be? I’ll be back right away.”
Seeing Chi Yan on a variety show today was akin to reshaping the world view for most of the Fantasy Cruise crew. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that about eighty to ninety percent of the crew members were still in a daze.
Chi Yan!
The probability of encountering Chi Yan on the street was lower than stumbling upon a prehistoric tyrannosaurus rex. And Chi Yan had even driven to pick up Wen Xingze, saying, “Lend me a hand.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly ambiguous, but there was definitely something going on. The eye contact and tone were all… something.
The director asked, “Not in a romantic relationship? Is Chi Yan your dad, then?”
Wen Xingze: ???
Chi Yan, who was listening: ???
The director didn’t expect Wen Xingze to deny the speculation about “romance” so decisively. Moreover, when discussing it, Wen Xingze’s tone was quite relaxed, as if he hadn’t even considered that possibility.
Could it be that Chi Yan has a one-sided crush? Things are getting more and more fantastical. Maybe it’s best not to be too nosy.
Director: “Alright, then hurry back.”
Zhu Bo chimed in from the side: “The sea creatures are short one member tonight. It’s a lonely night, and the parents aren’t home. Quickly join us for an online name-tag tearing session…”
Wen Xingze: …
Chi Yan stared ahead, the harbor’s flickering lights and shimmering waves reflecting in his eyes. His expression confirmed that he was indeed angry.
“Why not?” His voice was rigid as he abruptly asked these six words without context.
Wen Xingze: “What?”
Outside the car window, the long horn of a departing cruise ship sounded.
“I don’t understand.” Chi Yan tightened his grip on the steering wheel, lips pressed together, his voice lowering. “Your criteria for choosing a partner.”
The horn grew louder: “Beep—boop—”
Wen Xingze, who hadn’t understood earlier and now didn’t even hear it: ???
Chi Yan: “I…”
Steam Whistle: “Honk honk—!!!”
Wen Xingze watched as Chi Yan’s lips moved, like a silent mime performance. Outside, various colored lights began to flicker, and every crucial word Chi Yan uttered was automatically masked by the blaring steam whistle.
As Chi Yan finished speaking, the neon lights outside and the cruise ship’s whistle fell silent simultaneously.
Wen Xingze: “???”
The silence persisted for three seconds. Chi Yan composed himself and continued, “I…”
Once again, the steam whistle blared, reaching decibels that bordered on noise pollution: “Honk honk honk—honk honk—beep boop!!!”
Wen Xingze: “???”
Chi Yan took a deep breath.
He opened his mouth, and the steam whistle blared. He closed it, and the whistle fell silent.
It was like a voice-activated switch.
Wen Xingze: “…”
Expressionless, Chi Yan pulled out his phone and dialed his secretary’s number. “Buy out all the cruise ships docked at the Tenerife Beach Port and make them shut up.”
After about half a minute…
The entire Tenerife Beach fell into complete silence. Even the automated cars passing by the sprinklers dared not play music or flash their lights, proceeding cautiously.
Wen Xingze: “…………”
With the absolute quiet, Chi Yan remained silent.
His thumb traced along the edge of the steering wheel, his gaze subtly shifting.
Another half-minute passed, and Chi Yan seemed to have finally gathered his emotions. He said, “I…”
“Squeak—squeak—beep beep boop boop—”
Suddenly, a heart-wrenching love song played on a suona, and Wen Xingze’s phone vibrated wildly.
The car filled with a festive atmosphere.
Under Chi Yan’s watchful eyes, Wen Xingze hesitantly picked up his phone and silenced it. But two seconds later, the ringtone persisted, and Wen Xingze silenced it again.
After this back-and-forth happened three or four times, Wen Xingze reluctantly answered the call, braving immense pressure: “Hello?”
It was the director from Fantasy Cruise.
“Sob sob sob,” the director sobbed, tears and snot flowing freely. Choked up, they said, “Little Wen, our cruise ship has been bought by someone else. You probably won’t need to come back tonight. Sob sob sob. We don’t even know which benefactor did this. They want us to dismantle all the steam whistles. Right now, Zhu Bo and the others are still counting the zeros behind the transfer amount…”
Wen Xingze stared blankly at Chi Yan.
Chi Yan: …
Chi Yan showed a rare expression of obvious frustration.
________________________
At 8:30 in the evening, the recording of "Fantasy Cruise" began.
From photographers and directors to guests, they all wore bewildered expressions.
“Look at all those zeros,” Zhu Bo sat on the ground, counting on his fingers in a dazed manner. “So many! If we divided them evenly among everyone on the ship, I wouldn’t need to work anymore.”
As it turned out, the reason the director cried when calling Wen Xingze was out of sheer joy.
Wen Xingze: “…”
“But we rented the cruise ship, right?” Wen Xingze pointed out logically. “The money spent on buying the cruise ship must be transferred to the shipowner. Even if it’s transferred to the director, it’s only temporary.”
Zhu Bo finally returned from the clouds to reality.
Zhu Bo burst into tears.
The director next to him chuckled, his tone filled with worldly wisdom. “Such is life.”
“A'Ze, you’re right,” Fang Ruxue sighed, patting Wen Xingze and Zhu Bo on the shoulder. “Let’s keep working hard.”
The only rich second-generation person present, Jean, interjected, “Why work hard? The interest on your bank cards isn’t enough…”
Zhu Bo cut him off. “Don’t talk.”
With their spirits lifted, the four sea creatures sat cross-legged on the deck, each holding a magnetic card, ready to review the day’s information.
“I still feel that Jean might not be the traitor,” Wen Xingze said.
Fang Ruxue asked, “Why do you say that?”
Wen Xingze glanced at the production crew and explained, “Guest No. 5 could guess it, and the director probably can too. If Jean were truly the traitor, I wouldn’t have used the mermaid song in time today, and Jean would have been eliminated. Would the show end after just one day? That doesn’t make sense.”
And considering how devious the production crew is, they probably plan to continue persecuting Guest No. 5. After Jean is eliminated, they’ll tell Guest No. 5 that the real traitor is someone else, motivating everyone to keep trying.
The production crew: #SilentlyAcknowledges.
“No one has told me I’m the traitor,” Jean shrugged. “I don’t even know if I am.”
Wen Xingze teased, “You’re a traitor to the working class.”
Zhu Bo chimed in, “Seconded.”
Fang Ruxue added humorously, “Hehehe!”
Jean: silence.
“Because I’ve already exposed myself by using the mermaid song,” Wen Xingze sighed, “I’ll definitely be voted out tomorrow. Let’s give it our all.”
He felt that out of the four sea creatures in their camp, one of them was definitely the traitor. But he knew he wasn’t. Jean, Zhu Bo, Fang Ruxue… Wen Xingze hadn’t expected to survive for only two more days. Tomorrow, he’d give it his final effort.
That night, Wen Xingze lay in bed.
“What exactly did Teacher Chi want to say?” Wen Xingze tried to recall Chi Yan’s lip movements. “What was it? ‘I something you, I can’t understand you? I want to hit you? I want you to repay something?’”
Seeing Zai Zai’s utterly clueless reaction, the anxious parents finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, in a neighboring country, a certain unfortunate monarch…
[Ya Ya Aster: Tears in my eyes]
[User 1826756: Feeling sorry for someone, tears in my eyes, hahaha]
[Summer Ignorance: Ten Tears, Nine Laughs, and One Maniacal Laugh]
[Marry His Majesty Squad: The Cub Is Still Young, What Kind of Love Is He Talking About? Seriously, although I don’t dislike Chi Yan, the cub is way too young!]
[ausduft: That whistle sound was really strange. Did any of you do that?!]
________________________
The mechanical star e19.
This was the most advanced technological hub in the entire universe. At every stage of mechanical civilization, traces could be found within the city-states. The entire city resembled a precise and massive instrument, with steam billowing from central trees and green-skinned trains gliding along star tracks through the city center.
Some PN-4 model slaughter robots remained dormant within energy pods, their irises and breathing lights rhythmically flickering. Others had already disembarked and were seated in front of numerous screens, intently observing the displays.
These robots, numbered with designations starting with “A01,” were part of the earliest batch of PN-4 slaughter robots ever manufactured. They were once feared killing machines on the battlefield.
But that was centuries ago.
Over a hundred years prior, they had been discarded as cosmic waste by their former masters due to outdated programming and chipped exteriors.
It wasn’t until thirty years ago that they were discovered by the young king of the Muse Empire in a scrapyard. Damaged parts were replaced, and they were renumbered and renamed.
At their initial creation, the core directive for these slaughter robots was to “destroy all living beings in their path.”
However, over twenty years ago, they spontaneously underwent a reprogramming. Their core directive was modified to:
“Protect the Emperor at all costs.”
They safeguarded the Emperor from any events that could adversely affect him—whether it was war, disaster, illness, accidents, or even early romance.
According to statistical data, early romance was an extremely high-risk behavior. On distant Earth, numerous films and literary works had explored this topic. The robots who had diligently studied these works exhibited great panic.
Surprisingly, early romance had a mortality rate of 0.04%. What a staggering figure.
“ Emperor, still young,” the robots clumsily repeated fragmented phrases. “Early romance, not allowed, dangerous.”
…
Incidentally.
In the robots’ age definition, anyone under two hundred years old engaging in romance was considered "early romance."
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Thanks for the hard work~
ReplyDeletePoor Chi Yan