Again?
Where on earth did “again” come from?
He had no time to think about anything else and clumsily coaxed, “I didn’t mean to. Please don’t cry.”
Song Yan buried his face, letting out only an occasional slight sob.
Xie Shi grew even more flustered. “I wasn’t trying to leave you behind. Really.”
Song Yan kept his head down in silence.
Because of the electric shock, Xie Shi’s head throbbed fiercely.
What a damn system, showing no mercy at all.
Cursing bitterly in his mind, Xie Shi raised a hand and patted Song Yan’s head, his tone growing somewhat weak. “I wanted to ask you whether you would rather come with me on an adventure in the Barren Wilderness, or stay in the Heavenly Prison. In the Heavenly Prison…”
What about the Heavenly Prison?
Song Yan received no answer.
Xie Shi’s body went limp, and he abruptly collapsed downward.
Song Yan snapped his eyes open, quickly pulling him close and letting him fall into his arms.
With his eyes tightly closed and his face as pale as paper, Xie Shi rested his head against Song Yan’s shoulder before slipping sideways in an unsteady slide.
This scene seemed to touch upon some deep, soul-deep agony.
Song Yan’s complexion instantly turned even uglier than Xie Shi’s.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he sat down, cradling Xie Shi and carefully letting him lie across his lap.
With trembling fingertips, Song Yan tested Xie Shi’s breathing.
Feeling that Xie Shi was still breathing, he pressed his ear to Xie Shi’s chest to listen to his heartbeat.
Only when the familiar, regular heartbeat reached his eardrums did Song Yan’s expression gradually ease, the tense muscles in his shoulders and back relaxing.
The system had electrocuted Xie Shi into unconsciousness.
At that moment, Xie Shi was squaring off with the system in his mind.
The system raged angrily, “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea that giving spoilers to characters in a minor world is a violation of the rules!”
“I know,” Xie Shi replied. “Didn’t you already punish me for it?”
The system grew furious. “Doing this will only cause the plotline to deviate even further!”
Annoyed by the earlier speculation, Xie Shi knew he was in the wrong, so he offered, “Then do you want to shock me again?”
The system flew into a rage. “Are you utterly unrepentant?”
Ignoring the system’s fury, Xie Shi asked quizzically, “The content I spoiled doesn’t involve any major plot points anyway. He would have figured it out eventually; knowing in advance just saves him a bit of suffering. Why are you getting so worked up?”
The system looked like it wanted to zap him another time. “Do you have any idea what the butterfly effect is?”
“The butterfly effect?” Xie Shi let out a sudden, mocking laugh. “Is Song Yan lacking in butterfly effects as it is?”
“What?”
“The bone spirits hunting Song Yan, the sudden appearance of the giant rock monster horde, and the Black Mountain we are forced to visit.” Xie Shi said coldly, “If I hadn’t saved Song Yan in advance, the hurricane of the butterfly effect would have already batted him to death.”
The system fell silent.
“System, how about sharing some information? Not giving out info during a mission is hardly appropriate,” Xie Shi tried negotiating. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you are so nervous about Song Yan’s plotline?”
His coercion displeased the system. After a long pause, the system coldly stated, “I am not just nervous about his plotline.”
“What do you mean?” Xie Shi was slightly taken aback. Realizing something a second later, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Meng Jingxue’s plotline has gone wrong too?”
The system reluctantly let out an affirmative hum.
“Isn’t he in seclusion?”
“He is in seclusion.”
If he was in seclusion, where had the plot derailed?
Xie Shi felt somewhat puzzled.
Pondering for two seconds, he asked, “What is the reason for his seclusion?”
In the original text, Meng Jingxue carried a romantic tribulation, and his seclusion was meant to stabilize his state of mind and cleanse his mind of distractions.
Then what about now?
Sure enough, the system replied, “Beset by inner demons.”
Xie Shi grew thoughtful. “So, because the current plot has derailed beyond recognition, you have to strictly control every single plot point to prevent the minor world from collapsing?”
The system snapped, “Otherwise?”
Xie Shi remained silent.
Because this was utter nonsense.
He finally realized why he had always found the system’s words so strange.
The attitudes of the system and the Lord God were simply too contradictory.
If the system’s claims were true, that the plotline was already in such dire peril that it could not withstand even the slightest deviation, how could the Lord God possibly agree to let him take Song Yan out of the Barren Wilderness?
His performance had always been mediocre at best; why would the Lord God believe he could successfully reunite the protagonist and his love interest six years later?
Wasn’t the risk of plot collapse even higher if Song Yan left the Barren Wilderness?
Yet the Lord God had agreed.
Because he had said that having Song Yan would make finding the Glazed Heart much easier.
The Lord God endorsed that reasoning.
In other words, finding the Glazed Heart took priority over correcting the plotline.
This left only two possibilities.
First, the extent of the plot collapse was still within a tolerable margin to absorb Song Yan’s early escape from the Barren Wilderness.
Second, as the system claimed, the world’s plotline had already collapsed to a severe, perhaps irredeemable degree.
And the Glazed Heart was the key to saving this world, which was why the Lord God had agreed to let him take Song Yan along to find it.
Judging by the current situation, where both the protagonist’s and the love interest’s plotlines were troubled, Xie Shi leaned more toward the second possibility.
Yet if that were true, why did the system keep trying countless times to correct Song Yan’s plotline?
And why did the Matchmaker Bureau remain so secretive and evasive about the Glazed Heart?
What on earth was the Matchmaker Bureau hiding from him?
Knowing he wouldn’t get any answers, Xie Shi closed the topic and temporarily suppressed these doubts deep in his heart.
Night fell.
The moonlight was pale and cold, casting its glow over the rolling ridges of the Black Mountain and outlining its sharp, towering contours.
The sand here was as white as snow, reflecting a chilling radiance under the moonlight.
The area near the Black Mountain was even more deathly still than the middle of the Barren Wilderness.
Heaven and earth were desolate, devoid even of the slightest whisper of wind.
Yet Song Yan liked it here.
Because here, he could clearly hear the sound of Xie Shi’s breathing and heartbeat.
Lowering his gaze, he looked at Xie Shi lying across his lap.
His earlobe had been nibbled by Song Yan earlier, and a faint flush still lingered upon it.
Song Yan found that touch of pink quite pretty.
He stretched out his icy fingers, pinched that soft earlobe, and toyed with it back and forth.
Until he had twisted that earlobe into an alluring agate red.
A brand rightfully belonged right here.
With this thought, Song Yan felt his canine teeth itch again.
Just as he was about to lean down, Xie Shi knitted his brows slightly, letting out a vague moan.
He seemed about to wake up.
With a hint of reluctance, Song Yan withdrew his hand.
Xie Shi had just argued back and forth with the system and spent a long time guessing the Lord God’s intentions.
His brain felt ready to explode from thinking.
After struggling for a long while in a state between waking and sleeping, until a tingling sensation brushed against his earlobe, he slowly opened his eyes and woke up completely.
Upon waking, Xie Shi noticed something was amiss.
Pressing his head, he looked down.
Song Yan’s hand was resting directly against his left chest.
Xie Shi asked, “What is the meaning of this?”
Greatly startled, Xie Shi hurriedly rolled over and sat up.
Song Yan didn’t manage to pull his hand back in time; his fingers brushed past the tip, causing Xie Shi to frown and let out a soft mhm.
His chest had been warmed by Song Yan’s hand, and as it suddenly pulled away, he felt a slight chill across his front.
“You… what is this…” Xie Shi flushed red, stammering slightly.
“I thought something happened to A-Shi.” Song Yan didn’t think there was anything wrong at all. Drooping his eyebrows, he threw himself into Xie Shi’s arms with an aggrieved look.
So just now he was checking his heartbeat?
Memories from before he passed out flashed instantly into his mind. Remembering the soft, whimpering sounds the other person had made, Xie Shi’s heart instantly softened.
The slight embarrassment from moments ago vanished entirely.
Soothingly patting Song Yan’s back, he spoke in a soft voice, “I didn’t mean to abandon you.”
As he finished speaking, Xie Shi caught sight of the scenery behind Song Yan.
Half of a massive, full moon was hidden behind the pitch-black, jagged mountain body, spilling a silver-like moonlight over the mountain peaks.
Looking like a layer of white snow had fallen.
Xie Shi was momentarily stunned before realizing they were at the foot of the Black Mountain.
While he was unconscious, Song Yan had actually brought him to the Black Mountain?
This was a direct rejection of returning to the Heavenly Prison.
Xie Shi felt a complex mix of emotions; his heart felt both sour and astringent, and for a moment he didn’t know what to say.
“The Black Mountain is perilous, I was just afraid…” Hesitating, Xie Shi still said, “I was afraid I couldn’t protect you.”
In a place where Xie Shi could not see, Song Yan’s pink eyes turned dark and gloomy.
Smiling softly, lowly, and with the utmost tenderness, he said, “A-Shi, I’m not afraid. Anywhere is fine.”
Those soft whispers sounded like a lover’s murmured endearments.
Yet his gaze was sinister, his eyes brimming with paranoia and madness. Pressing close to Xie Shi’s ear, he said word by word, “But you cannot leave me behind.”
How pitiful those words sounded.
A wave of overflowing affection instantly welled up in Xie Shi’s heart.
So what if it was the Black Mountain? If Song Yan wanted to go, then they would go.
The world could always be rebooted; he would always have a chance to start over.
It was just that the person executing the mission then wouldn’t be him anymore.
Sighing inwardly, Xie Shi gently patted Song Yan’s back to coax him. “I won’t leave you behind, really.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Soothed somewhat, Song Yan stopped making a fuss and instead asked, “Why did A-Shi faint just now?”
Stabbed in the back by the damn system, Xie Shi cursed mercilessly in his mind, though outwardly he could only say, “It’s nothing, an old ailment acting up.”
“Is it serious?”
“It’s not serious,” Xie Shi said. “It doesn’t affect me on normal days.”
Unless the system went crazy.
Song Yan, however, remarked, “I thought A-Shi passed out because you didn’t want to deal with me anymore.”
How did it circle back to that again?
Sighing helplessly, Xie Shi had no choice but to promise, “I promise I’ll never say things like that again, alright?”
“Never say it again?”
“I won’t.”
“Under any circumstances?”
“Under any circumstances.”
Completely satisfied, Song Yan obediently buried his face in Xie Shi’s shoulder and gave a soft hum.
On a freezing cold night, Xie Shi broke out in a sweat just from coaxing someone. Seeing that Song Yan was no longer dwelling on it, he finally let out a sigh of relief.
“A-Shi.”
“Hm?”
Fearing that Song Yan still didn’t believe him, Xie Shi began wondering if he should swear an oath or make a formal pledge.
Instead, Song Yan gently stroked his head and murmured, “I will cure A-Shi’s old ailment.”
The system let out a cold scoff in his mind: Sweet-talking hypocrite.
Xie Shi scolded it: Shut up.
What old ailment? It was just a flimsy excuse.
Yet Song Yan took it to heart.
Regardless of whether it was genuine or feigned affection, Xie Shi felt his heart soften.
If the system had eyes, it would probably be rolling them up to the heavens right about now.
Such a hopeless simp, it cursed.
“Then I thank you in advance.” Xie Shi curved his lips into a smile.
Having been thoroughly coaxed, Song Yan no longer lingered against Xie Shi’s chest.
He slowly sat up, intending to change posture and rest his head against Xie Shi’s shoulder instead.
The moment he pulled back, he caught sight of Xie Shi looking at him with a hesitant expression.
“What’s wrong?” Song Yan tilted his head and asked.
Hesitating for a moment, Xie Shi still said, “I… when I said those things during the day, aren’t you curious why I was so certain?”
With the system watching him, Xie Shi didn’t dare mention spoilers again.
Song Yan smiled abruptly, then shook his head and replied obediently, “If A-Shi doesn’t want to say, then you don’t have to. In any case, I believe you.”
Xie Shi, who had approached him with an ulterior motive, suddenly felt a hole punched straight through his heart. “I…”
The system warned coldly, “I advise you not to try spoiling things again.”
Xie Shi thought to himself, “…”
By this time, Song Yan had already rested his head back on his shoulder, his icy fingers brushing against Xie Shi’s earlobe as he murmured, “As long as A-Shi doesn’t abandon me.”
Xie Shi’s ear grew burning hot in no time. The sensation of being touched like this by another person felt thoroughly bizarre, yet he endured it without pushing him away.
He flushed red as he responded, “I won’t.”