GRMFBS CH288

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“Was he hidden away during those thirteen missing years?” Ji Yueming asked.

“No, he simply vanished,” Ning Xi replied.

This was the calculated result: during those thirteen years, Bai Ze did not exist in this world.

“Time, huh…” Ji Yueming murmured softly.

When Yan Yan reappeared in this world, he was merely a helpless child. Bai Ze had been near death back then; for someone so weak to reappear safely, it meant he must have been protected somewhere during those thirteen years.

Was it the Candle Dragon?

The Candle Dragon had not yet awakened. Still, she hoped that by the time she woke up, everything would have been resolved smoothly.

The Monster Doctor was in the north.

Situated toward the west lay a vast grassland—an expansive place, ideal for hiding.

Though autumn had only just begun, the temperature in the north had dropped rapidly with a few heavy downpours.

A slender young man sat in the wild, warming himself by a fire. He looked refined and scholarly, yet exuded a subtle, neurotic edge.

He hadn’t come here to hide, but specifically to wait for someone.

The Monster Doctor knew very well that he had survived the Dark Nest because Infinite spared him. Infinite spared him for his ability.

Infinite had gathered the rules of many worlds. Some rules were like hard-shelled seeds that could neither be cracked open nor digested. Planting them inside living beings was like providing soil and water, allowing the seeds to sprout and take root. Once they grew and bore fruit, Infinite could feast upon them.

The Monster Doctor’s psychiatric scalpel was one such fruit. Infinite picked it but didn’t consume it because he used this skill to hook a far greater fruit—Deep Shadow’s skill.

He had targeted Deep Shadow not because Deep Shadow’s skill could devour anomalies and grant a longer lifespan.

There were plenty of people with devourment skills, and plenty who lived long lives. But very few realized that Infinite used its players as a kitchen, and only Deep Shadow could leverage that connection to digest Infinite in return. Just as Deep Shadow had traced back into his mind when the psychiatric scalpel established a connection back then.

Deep Shadow truly lived up to being someone who could sit at the gambling table with Infinite.

Since Deep Shadow shared this connection with Infinite, the Monster Doctor believed it could be exploited to parse out Infinite’s secrets. Secrets meant power. By uncovering Infinite’s secrets, one could utilize Infinite’s power; even if one couldn’t control Infinite, one could at least break free from it.

Unfortunately, Deep Shadow didn’t trust him.

He had gone too far back then to unearth Infinite’s secrets. He felt that caring about so-called “morality” or “justice” at that stage was laughable. In the beginning, he was willing to feign friendliness to achieve his goals, but later, when these “personas” caused more hindrance than help, he discarded them without hesitation. Sometimes, “fear” was far more effective than “admiration.”

Who could have expected that among the players who survived Infinite and made a name for themselves, there was still someone as stubborn and dense as Deep Shadow?

The Monster Doctor deeply regretted this.

If Deep Shadow had been willing to cooperate, perhaps they would have unearthed Infinite’s secrets long ago.

Perhaps entering Infinite at a young age made it easier to preserve an ill-timed chuunibyou nature.

Out of options, the Monster Doctor had attempted to use his psychiatric scalpel to control him. That very attempt created a deadly grudge between him and Deep Shadow. Yet, it later became his bargaining chip to survive Infinite’s clutches—Infinite wanted Deep Shadow as well. A player brave enough to turn around, attempt to digest it, and actually succeed in part—how hungry must Infinite be for the rules he cultivated?

Yet Infinite simply couldn’t pluck this fruit. It needed a pair of shears capable of picking it, and it had set its sights on the Monster Doctor, who had once wedged himself into Deep Shadow’s mental weakness.

Deep Shadow was like a monster; he rarely fell for the same trick twice.

Even if Infinite obtained the Monster Doctor’s psychiatric scalpel, it would be difficult to replicate his previous feat of wedging himself into Deep Shadow’s mental vulnerability. Thus, it had to keep the Monster Doctor alive.

Now, however, the Monster Doctor was no longer so obsessed with Deep Shadow.

He had been obsessed with Deep Shadow to pry out Infinite’s secrets. But now, he had a much better target.

“Way Out” was truly a wonderful skill.

The Chronicles had blazed a path for him.

He had investigated that target for a long time, finally confirming that apart from Rong Sui, there were no other dangers around them.

His long effort and painstaking planning had not been in vain.

The young man held out both hands, slowly turning his palms over to warm them by the fire.

The firelight shone through his skin and bones. Within the translucent pink flesh, something seemed to wriggle like a parasite.

The omniscient Bai Ze.

Heh.

With Bai Ze, why bother obsessing over Deep Shadow?

Zhan Yan perched on Gu Jiancheng’s pencil case, the antennae atop his head quivering in a deeply troubled manner.

Every time Gu Jiancheng wrote two lines, he would look up at the pretty moth on his pencil case, his eyes a mix of longing, reluctance, and restless temptation.

How nice would it be if he stayed on the tip of my pen? Why did he fly over to the pencil case?

With a single glance, Zhan Yan knew what Gu Jiancheng was thinking. Heh, keep dreaming. Don’t you know how much your pen sways when you write? Keep swaying, and see if I put on a moth-vomiting performance for you.

Though young Xiao Gu’s eyes were full of longing and reluctance, after a few thoughts spun in his head, he gave up.

Ever since he first saw the moth, he couldn’t bear to injure its wings, foolishly waiting with his finger outstretched.

Zhan Yan perched comfortably on the pencil case, completely ignoring the pen tip that occasionally paused before him.

Gu Jiancheng didn’t seem surprised at why he never left the kitchen, nor did he ever try to carry him out when he perched on his hand or pen. He simply brought his homework over to write or brought his phone in to play.

This world consisting solely of a kitchen was clearly abnormal. Yet young Xiao Gu failed to notice.

Zhan Yan himself was becoming a bit confused now. Was he really investigating information? Or was he dreaming?

Those gray-black, jarring fragments of information appeared in the dream again. Zhan Yan adeptly flapped his wings, flew over to clean them up, and flew back to the pencil case.

Young Xiao Gu’s eyes followed the moth in a circle before returning.

For some reason, he always felt that every time the moth flew a circle, he felt a bit more at ease. It was as if the “monster hiding under the bed” had been cleaned away.

Young Xiao Gu felt relaxed and happy, yet embarrassed at the same time.

Honestly, how old was he already? How could he still believe in “monsters under the bed”?

The moth landed on his shoulder, perfectly positioned to see young Xiao Gu’s blush-reddened earlobes.

Zhan Yan began pondering whether his current size could crawl onto his ear.

The phone on the desk rang.

As if finally finding an excuse, Gu Jiancheng immediately flipped open his phone.

The message was from his classmate, sharing a currently booming anime.

The classmate was thrilled, thinking the main villain was super powerful and awesome!

Gu Jiancheng sneered, typing rapidly: “Chuunibyou.”

“How old are you, still liking villains?”

The classmate argued back: “Then who do you like?”

Gu Jiancheng: “What’s so good about being a villain?”

“If you’re gonna be someone, be a hero.”

Classmate: “Aren’t you chuunibyou too?”

“Not only are you chuunibyou, you’re childish!”

“Only kids like heroes. We’re already mature adults.”

Gu Jiancheng: “Heh.”

“Mature adults.”

“Have you finished your homework?”

Classmate: …

Zhan Yan landed beside the phone, openly watching young Xiao Gu bicker with his classmate over which character was cooler and stronger.

At first, Gu Jiancheng didn’t care. It’s just a moth; could it actually read?

Yet after a while, Gu Jiancheng felt increasingly uneasy. He scratched his hair.

Why does it always feel like this moth can understand?

Gu Jiancheng: “Not talking anymore.”

“Gotta do homework.”

Gu Jiancheng placed his phone face down on the desk and truly began working on his homework.

Zhan Yan landed on his pencil case again, his antennae trembling softly.

He had never seen young Xiao Gu leave the kitchen. Young Xiao Gu would exit through the kitchen door. To Zhan Yan, that door looked like viewing the world against the light from a dim place—nothing but hazy white and blurry shadows. Every time young Xiao Gu left, he turned into a blurry black silhouette in Zhan Yan’s eyes.

When he returned, it was as if he had completed attending school, going home, bathing, eating, and so forth. This kitchen was like a compilation of every kitchen scene spliced from Xiao Gu’s life.

Zhan Yan suspected this was an instance. It was very likely that the Monster Doctor was hiding in some corner of the instance, ready to harm young Xiao Gu at any moment.

He stayed on high alert, prepared to help young Xiao Gu beat up the Monster Doctor at any time. And so he stayed tense… all the way until young Xiao Gu went to college. Zhan Yan cleaned up those abnormal pieces of information every day, yet never saw the Monster Doctor.

Where had the Monster Doctor gone?

Gu Jiancheng nudged a card over, lightly touching the moth’s feet. Subconsciously stepping forward, Zhan Yan stood on the card, and Gu Jiancheng lifted it up.

He didn’t seem to find anything strange about keeping a moth alive for so long.

“I’m off to college,” the slightly grown-up Xiao Gu said to the moth, beaming with joy.

Zhan Yan twitched his wings. For some reason, looking into young Xiao Gu’s bright black eyes, he felt a trace of bewilderment behind that joy.

It wasn’t the bewilderment of facing a new life, but… something Zhan Yan couldn’t quite describe that made his heart ache.

“I got into the best medical university in our region,” young Xiao Gu continued sharing the good news. He licked his lips, instinctively curling his lips further, smiling even more visibly.

Zhan Yan went still. He remembered.

Xiao Gu had once told him:

“I used to… want to study human medicine.”

Zhan Yan could still recall Xiao Gu’s slightly dazed smile back then. That expression wasn’t one of achieving a goal, nor was it having gained and lost it.

That expression belonged to someone who had never gotten the chance.

Xiao Gu had been dragged into Infinite before entering college!

The moth’s wings and antennae trembled violently in anger.

Infinite really was an utter bastard!

“Hey.” Still immersed in the instance, young Xiao Gu lightly touched the moth’s antennae. “Are you happy for me?”

He was still smiling, happily, with the kind of satisfaction of a dream coming true.

Yet the subconscious sense that something was wrong left traces of confusion in the depths of his eyes. Under the light, those bright black eyes looked as if glinting with tears.

Zhan Yan flew up and landed on Gu Jiancheng’s nose. His light, soft wings gently patted the corners of Gu Jiancheng’s eyes.

False futures always passed quickly. Xiao Gu would go out through that door, and by the time he entered again, a semester had passed.

Every time he returned, he smiled happily, sometimes complaining miserably about professors, classmates, and major courses, yet he always smiled with satisfaction. Still, the bewilderment and wrongness deep within his eyes grew heavier.

One year, two years.

In the dream, the nineteen-year-old Xiao Gu lay on the kitchen counter, staring at the moth in front of him, and suddenly asked:

“Have you ever heard the story of a person dreaming they turned into a butterfly?”

Zhan Yan flicked his coiled proboscis.

Gu Jiancheng poked his proboscis: “I told you about it when I was doing homework before; you definitely know.”

Zhan Yan fluttered his wings helplessly.

Gu Jiancheng was satisfied: “I knew you knew.”

He fell silent for a moment, staring at the moth’s semi-transparent wings, and added:

“Why a moth?”

Zhan Yan sighed. I want to know why a moth too.

What could a tiny moth do? If someone pinched it lightly, it would die.

When he used Di Ting’s perspective before, he could at least pick Xiao Gu up in his mouth and run. Even if he were a cat or dog, he could do a bit more. But as a moth, he couldn’t help with anything.

Gu Jiancheng carefully touched the moth’s dreamlike wings, the light in his dark eyes dimming:

“Why are you always in the kitchen?”

“Others dream of beautiful big butterflies; why am I a moth?”

The thirteen-year dream shattered.

The person trapped in the cocoon tore it open, only to find himself still in the kitchen.

Breaking the cocoon into a chrysalis merely allowed him to see a sliver of the truth.

The dim-eyed Xiao Gu stood up, covered in wounds from shattering the kitchen.

Shattering the second layer of the instance, the person breaking out of the chrysalis didn’t become a beautiful butterfly, but turned into a moth.

The moth saw firelight.

Like the Little Match Girl seeing food, a house, and home in the firelight.

Why does a moth fly into the flame?

Because in the firelight, it saw what it was willing to give its life for.

Was that an illusion? He didn’t know.

But perhaps, if he fought hard enough, he could turn the illusion into reality.

One who wishes to fly into the flame must first submerge himself in the deepest shadow.

The star core hidden under the shadow had been burning all along.

Gu Jiancheng startled awake from his dream.

The dorm room was very quiet, filled only with the sound of his roommates’ breathing.

Zhan Yan’s breathing was exceptionally distinct, pulling at him like a magnet.

Was Yan Yan awake?

Gu Jiancheng couldn’t help holding his breath.

Zhan Yan’s breathing was somewhat rapid, sounding very sad.

Gu Jiancheng instantly panicked.

“Yan Yan?” he called out softly.

“Mm,” Zhan Yan responded in a breathy voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just had a dream.”

Gu Jiancheng wasn’t sure if he misheard, but he felt a nasal tone in Zhan Yan’s breathy voice, as if he were about to cry.

Gu Jiancheng wanted to go hug him, but when he turned over, the iron bed let out a creak. Subconsciously, he paused.

It really was inconvenient in the dorm. Gu Jiancheng bit his lip, and just as he was about to move again, he suddenly heard a rustling sound overhead.

Zhan Yan reached his hand down through the bars at the head of the bed.

“Xiao Gu…”

Gu Jiancheng immediately grabbed his hand.

Both hands were warm; both pairs of eyes were open.

The ceiling was very dark, the air was very quiet, and the hand held in his palm was soft yet firm, instantly pulling him back from the dream.

Gu Jiancheng slowly let out a breath, his heart gradually settling down.