Why does he always use such misleading phrasing?
Chi Jianying stared displeasedly at Qiu Mian, once again doubting the coincidence of this encounter.
However, since he himself had made a temporary appearance, he simply had to temporarily suppress his suspicious and overthinking thoughts. Instead, he scanned the room. The remaining two individuals could be accounted for, so he first asked the woman standing there in a dazed state: “Hello, are you Ms. Wang Qing?”
“Yes, yes.”
“I am Chi Jianying, the CEO of the Linshi Branch of Pingying Group. Regarding your husband’s matter, our company expresses our deepest apologies. We have brought specially prepared comfort gifts and initial compensation funds, hoping to obtain your understanding.”
“Ah.” Mother Zuo anxiously glanced at Zuo Chengjie, still perplexed. “What does this have to do with your company?”
“A private projection during testing malfunctioned and was mistakenly cast as a public projection, causing a certain degree of panic and indirectly contributing to your husband’s accident.”
Mother Zuo still only half understood.
However, the distinction between a private projection and a public projection was clear to her.
This was the virtual reality technology that Pingying Group steadily used to occupy the forefront of the wealth rankings and even influence global technological development.
So-called private projection referred to users utilizing specific equipment—usually glasses, hats, or micro-brain-computer interface patches without any disguise—to project fantasy elements of their own design, which did not violate social conventions, into reality, thereby achieving a simulated 5D experience encompassing visual, auditory, olfactory, and even tactile sensations. The application scenarios usually appeared when gaming companies pushed relevant game data, when interacting and meeting remotely with friends and family, or on independently built thinking platforms. Only the user and those granted access by them could perceive the projected content.
Public projection, on the other hand, did not require auxiliary equipment or user permission to directly project relevant elements into reality—the projection equipment was pre-installed on public facilities. Although some private enterprises possessed this authority, the general direction remained in the hands of the government. Application scenarios typically appeared when traffic congestion called for remotely projecting traffic police to direct traffic and vastly improve work efficiency, when projecting electronic fireworks during festivals to maintain festive traditions while reducing pollution and danger, and during important forewarning notifications.
Yet she did not understand what this had to do with that man’s death. When the fused dream caused chaos, she had remained inside the hospital room all along to care for her sleeping son, only discovering that something major had happened when she was called to identify the corpse. However, the initial judgment given by the hospital was death caused by the explosion of a corrosive liquid, and no projection of any kind could achieve that.
Mother Zuo did not understand, but it did not hinder Zuo Chengjie’s comprehension. He slowly turned his head, struggling to control the direction of his tumor, yet still failing to conceal the amazement in his tone: “Projected what?”
Chi Jianying did not answer, because he hadn’t witnessed it either and had only heard about it. Thus, Chen Xing took over: “The boss of the next dungeon in Sword Judgment Floating Clouds, a polluted horned dragon.”
Sword Judgment Floating Clouds was a holographic Xianxia game developed by a subsidiary holding of Pingying Group, which had exploded in popularity across Asia through private projection technology. There were many such games, and Sword Judgment Floating Clouds was simply one of the foremost among them. Pingying chose to use it as an excuse for public relations precisely because its background was the most fitting.
“A horned dragon!”
Zuo Chengjie straightened his body in excitement, swaying his entire body happily back and forth as if encountering some incredible stroke of fortune: “Mom, I am a dragon!”
Mother Zuo grew even more bewildered by the implication.
Though there was no response, Zuo Chengjie felt not the least bit dampened. He turned joyfully toward Qiu Mian again. Although he didn’t know why, he subconsciously believed that this older brother could understand his joy: “Older brother, I am a dragon!”
Presumably, the confirmation of someone’s death made it a double blessing.
“Uh-huh, congratulations.”
Qiu Mian acknowledged the remark. He couldn’t quite comprehend the current scene either, but he could tentatively assume that Pingying was helping the authorities smooth things over. Such occurrences weren’t uncommon; regardless of how far-fetched the explanation, spinning things in the direction of reducing panic was always the right move.
Chi Jianying was momentarily bluffed by Zuo Chengjie’s excitement as well, though he didn’t dwell on it too much. Children frequently experienced flying thoughts and unusual associations, and he himself was prone to overthinking anyway. Instead, a certain term caught his attention.
He glanced at Qiu Mian again: “Are you relatives?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Just passing by.”
Qiu Mian glanced at his watch, preparing to slip away since nothing much was left. He had thought the newcomer would be Dr. Cai, but it turned out to be the scapegoat. Fortunately, it wasn’t someone from the Dream Decoding Base; otherwise, troubles would only multiply. He wasn’t quite ready to expose his real-world identity just yet, and unfortunately today happened to harbor danger.
As for Zuo Chengjie, he had already erased the nightmare Dr. Cai had planted in him. Through conventional medical means, he would recover roughly seven-tenths of his health. Now that the money-giver had proactively sought them out, even if the Dream Decoding Base ultimately sentenced his fused dream crime, showing leniency regarding the removal of a tumor should still be feasible.
Qiu Mian stood up, pulled out a package of spicy duck meat, and handed it to Zuo Chengjie as a pacifying gift: “Extreme spicy. Give it to your mom.”
Then, without even lifting his hand, he walked straight toward the exit, barely remembering to offer a parting notice: “Goodbye, you guys chat.”
Chi Jianying: “”
“Older brother! Why, you’re leaving…” Zuo Chengjie felt immense regret, hanging his head dejectedly as he fingered the packaging of the duck meat at a complete loss. “I can be, not a dragon, still a silkworm baby, instead.”
Zuo Chengjie had assumed that his great joy over turning into a horned dragon had broken the silkworm pact between him and Qiu Mian—even though it was entirely a unilateral daydream.
However, Chi Jianying possessed strong self-awareness: “…He probably doesn’t want to see me.”
“Older brother… You and older brother, what’s wrong?”
“Call me uncle. I’m almost two generations older.”
Zuo Chengjie maneuvered his wheelchair left and right, slightly shaking his head as if trying to catch a glimpse of the speaker through the narrow gap. After a laborious operation, he whispered in a small voice: “Older brother, you’re very young… and also, a bit familiar…”
No one knew that when Qiu Mian had erased Zuo Chengjie’s memories of the Passerby during dream-travel, he had inadvertently blurred his impression of Jiuying as well. There was no helping it; the duration of their interactions had simply been too long.
Chi Jianying wasn’t particularly surprised, thinking that even a child as gravely ill as him recognized him—some people truly went overboard. He pondered for a moment: “You probably saw me in a wheelchair advertisement. How is it? Is this model easy to use?”
“Easy to use.” Zuo Chengjie nodded vigorously. The electric wheelchair could be operated via voice commands, controlled through fingertips, and could even navigate using brainwave extraction via microchips. Functions like stair-climbing, folding, and path-finding—which Zuo Chengjie didn’t even need—were also impeccably designed, making it a product extremely friendly for disabled users.
Although its price was relatively steep, it was absolutely worth every penny. Meanwhile, the slightly lower-tier basic model was similarly popular, and the brand practically monopolized the electric wheelchair market through its technological advantages.
“We’re launching a newly upgraded version in September, featuring satellite positioning, rehabilitation massage, and airbags. I’ll have someone send you one in advance in a couple of days.”
Mother Zuo said in alarm: “This… the one we’re using right now is already great.”
“The upgraded version is more comfortable. I’ve used it myself. This is my personal gift; the compensation funds will be distributed as usual.”
Since it was something meant for her son, Mother Zuo had no choice but to nod. She was still in a daze regarding this windfall of compensation. She and that gambling hound had long since torn off all pretenses of civility. After the initial numbness, she actually worried more about whether she would inherit his debts. As for grief… not a single tear was shed for him.
Zuo Chengjie, on the other hand, raised his head and asked: “Older brother, do you also have to sit in a wheelchair?”
Chi Jianying said indifferently: “I used to, but not anymore.”
“Wow, your illness is cured then!”
Chi Jianying fell silent for a while before finally saying: “Technology brings convenience. As long as you try your best to live on, there is no problem that cannot be overcome.”
“Yeah… yeah!” Zuo Chengjie regained his confidence and smiled happily. He stroked his personal white silkworm once more: “Silkworm baby, I can’t turn into you anymore. I’m going to live a long time!”
The white silkworm seemed to have heard his vow, wriggling its body as if wishing to respond. It raised its upper body and nearly crawled right out of the flat, small paper box.
Zuo Chengjie possessed insufficient vision and sluggish movements. Before the silkworm could actually fall, Chi Jianying reached out and caught it, letting its plump, fleshy ventral feet grip his fingers and crawl bit by bit across his fingertips.
The silkworm seemed to dislike the icy feel of the glove on the pads of his fingers and palm, and simply nestled into his fingertips, refusing to move any further.
Mother Zuo wanted to help remove it, but Chi Jianying didn’t move.
“Youngsters like this kind of thing, while adults tend to be a bit wary. You’re certainly not afraid of it,” Mother Zuo remarked.
“We used to raise them at home,” Chi Jianying replied, falling into a slight daze right after. He thought he shouldn’t have retained this memory, yet the tactile sensation of the silkworm crawling on his hand felt unexpectedly nostalgic, causing him to remain silent for a long time.
“Same for our family. My parents’ generation used to run a silkworm-rearing factory, supplying cocoons exclusively to local major brands. Unfortunately, later technological innovations and poor family management meant we couldn’t keep it up.”
Perhaps this shared topic helped soothe some of Mother Zuo’s emotions, or perhaps it suddenly sparked an epiphany: “President Chi, your surname is Chi. Are you related to the family of the former President Chi who created the Sixteen-Character Command?”
Chi Jianying paused slightly: “That’s my maternal grandfather. The Sixteen-Character Command is currently a brand under Pingying.”
The Sixteen-Character Command had previously been a municipal leading enterprise focusing on boutique women’s clothing. Even if it couldn’t compare to Pingying’s money-making capacity spanning countless industries, it was still a renowned company across local counties and cities. However, it had subsequently declined. Although it still operated under Pingying’s umbrella as a soulful core brand that would continue running even if financial reports showed losses, its visibility was far below what it used to be, and many people were unaware the brand was even still alive.
Mother Zuo was extremely surprised: “Our family used to supply materials exclusively to the Sixteen-Character Command. This… what fate!”
Chi Jianying was also quite意外: “The Sixteen-Character Command still focuses primarily on silk, but it has concentrated more on the track of cheongsams and Hanful. You might not have been paying close attention. I concurrently serve as its design vice president; I’ll send you some pieces from this season’s new clothing line as well.”
“No, no, no…”
Because of this, the discussions regarding compensation on the Zuo family’s side proceeded exceptionally smoothly—it practically went with the flow, to the point where one could almost sigh about how well that gambling dog’s death had served. With most of the funds finalized, Chi Jianying left Chen Xing inside to discuss details with Mother Zuo while he went downstairs to catch some fresh air.
Night sank like water, yet the hospital remained brightly lit with commotions rising and falling. Only the convalescent garden appeared slightly dim and flickering, stealing a moment of tranquility.
I must say, unless strictly necessary, he had no desire to enter a hospital at all. If it weren’t for the fact that the people on Mr. Zhuang’s side felt Chen Xing’s rank wasn’t heavy enough to command respect…
They should have just promoted him earlier. After all, he was a relative and would sooner or later become a major leader.
Yet it was truly ironic. A dream-traveler made a mistake and killed someone, and they sent him to pacify the public’s hearts. If he hadn’t wished to prevent Jiuying from seizing control of his body, he would have genuinely wanted to let him face the deceased’s family members. The Zuo family was reasonable, but what about the others? What about the people in the morgue? What about the people in the intensive care unit? What about the people left disabled as a result?
The root cause of all this was dreams, that damned dream.
Surrounded by solitude, the more Chi Jianying pondered, the more restless he grew. His teeth clamped tightly onto his lower lip, and his breathing gradually quickened. He struggled to control his thoughts while accelerating his pace, attempting to strike up a conversation with someone to distract himself. Just then, amidst the hazy garden lights, he caught sight of a familiar figure.
“Qiu Mian?”
Qiu Mian tossed away the wet wipe he had used to clean his hands and walked on without looking back, pretending not to have heard.
“Qiu Mian!”
“Hiss…”
Chi Jianying took a few steps forward and instinctively grabbed Qiu Mian’s left arm, only for Qiu Mian to instantly flinch, letting out a soft hiss of intake due to the pain.
What on earth… Qiu Mian was momentarily stunned. His pain threshold had always been quite high; normally, scrapes and bumps wouldn’t register until he actually laid eyes on the wound.
Chi Jianying was also startled. Seeing him dazed, he softened his voice: “I wasn’t meant to. How did you get hurt? Is it serious? Pull up your sleeve and let me see.”
“Yeah…”
Qiu Mian tugged at his sleeve, only to discover that whatever lousy design this luxury-brand clothing had, pulling it up to the bend of his elbow was impossible. Casually unbuttoning his shirt, under Chi Jianying’s shocked gaze, he pulled back the collar to reveal his fair shoulders and chest.
Chi Jianying: “”
Splendid. Anxiety had flown away, and his attention was completely and utterly distracted.