GRMFBS CH66

Zhan Suiru yawned, lazily slumping into her rocking soft chair:

“How many times have I failed in my performance already? Enough for them to believe it, right?”

“I think even if they believe you’re incapable of making a device that can use Grabled No.2’s anomaly to search for Infinite Fragments, it won’t stop them from continuing to look for other ways to achieve that goal,” the butler automaton replied.

Zhan Suiru clicked her tongue irritably: “Why is it that in this world, there are always people who insist on courting death?”

They keep thinking Infinite Fragments will bring them huge profits, but why don’t they ever think that this thing is dangerous?

Messing around recklessly—what if they accidentally revive Infinite?

“The Council believes most of Infinite has already been completely destroyed. What’s left is insufficient to revive it, like a puzzle missing too many pieces.”

Inside the Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau, Ning Xi massaged his temples, looking weary.

“Mhm, mhm.” Ji Yueming responded languidly, “You don’t need to explain it to me.”

Ning Xi really didn’t have it easy.

The Abnormal Affairs Management Bureau was too big and too dangerous an organization for supreme power to be concentrated in the hands of just a few people. Aside from the Director and Deputy Director, there was also a twenty-four-member Council.

It wasn’t that power shouldn’t be supervised, but the problem with the Council was that by the time they finished debating urgent matters, the opportunity had already passed. What’s worse, the Council’s authority was limited—they weren’t allowed to directly intervene in the Bureau’s affairs. This created a disconnect between the frontline and the rear, leading to frequent conflicts in perspective.

The Deputy Director handled all internal matters of the Bureau, while the Director dealt with the Council and the even more tedious affairs of diplomacy. Neither had an easy job.

—From this angle, Ji Yueming actually found the Myriad Demon Alliance quite likable. At least the demons didn’t fuss over pointless procedures—conversations with them were straightforward and saved a lot of time.

“But you don’t agree with them,” Ning Xi said, staring at her.

“I don’t agree. You know what happened back then. Zhulong and Baize fell, and your cultivation was crippled as a result.” Ji Yueming said.

Ning Xi had once cultivated the Great Derivation Art, a diviner capable of casting one hexagram to deduce four hundred million variations, with mountains and rivers as his chessboard. Now, he was no different from an ordinary person.

“That’s why before a similar crisis descends again, we must prepare ourselves, become stronger,” Ning Xi said.

Ji Yueming glanced at his heavy dark circles and sighed: “I don’t agree, but I won’t take any drastic action either. You don’t need to persuade me. Better use that effort to get some real sleep.”

Visibly relieved by her assurance, Ning Xi finally relaxed.

With Ji Yueming’s stubborn temper, he had honestly feared she’d act on impulse.

After Ning Xi left, Ji Yueming closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. The unceasing thunder coursed through her body.

Since twenty-six years ago, that lightning had been surging within her—flowing through every bone and every piece of flesh, brewing the next resounding strike.

…

Zhan Yan spent two days in Binze City before meeting with gym fanatic Wen Yinghui on the third day.

Boss Wen was full of vigor, a clear sign that his relationship with the money tree spirit was going well.

He hadn’t been posting his usual muscle photos on Weibo for a while because of illness, leaving his gym fanbase worried about him. Recently, though, he had regained the muscle he’d lost during his sickness and was back to posting—but only his upper body. His legs still bore the marks left by the money tree spirit when it had smacked him.

The moment Wen Yinghui saw Zhan Yan, he warmly sidled up and whispered: “Xiao Yan, my money tree’s been growing better and better lately. Do you think I should light more incense, offer it food or something?”

Zhan Yan glanced into the gossip system. Whoa! Haven’t you already been making offerings?

But truth be told, these days people were calling Pachira aquatica the “money tree,” spreading it as a good-luck charm. Many folks were raising a few at home for fortune, and since it was shade-tolerant and easy to care for, large companies were using it for office greenery.

Without realizing it, this ordinary plant had become a vessel for people’s wishes.

The money tree spirit’s previous placement in that company building had been determined by a feng shui master. When moved to Wen Yinghui’s place, where this superstitious man offered incense devoutly morning and night, the spirit had gradually gained a bit of genuine fortune-bringing ability.

[The money tree spirit thinks Wen Yinghui is an idiot—offering fruits and candles but not watering it. “Damn it, pour me some water instead!”]

“Incense is fine, but skip the offerings. Giving it water is better than a cup of clear water on an altar, sunlight is better than candles, and fertilizer better than fruits.”

Wen Yinghui got the point. Treat it like an actual tree—much more practical.

For the banquet, formal attire was required. Zhan Yan, at that in-between stage between youth and adulthood, looked refined and sharp in a suit. His slightly long curls were loosely tied at the back, a blue crystal dangling gently from the hair tie—simple yet elegant.

Beside him, burly musclebound Boss Wen in a suit was the very definition of:

“Suit-clad thug!”

Standing together, they looked like characters from completely different genres.

“Look at your skinny frame,” Wen Yinghui clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You need to train more! Remember that high school kid I gave a plan to last time? Been following it? How’s the progress? Want me to draft you a fitness plan too?”

“No, no, I’ve been keeping up, it’s going fine.” Zhan Yan quickly declined.

He followed Wen Yinghui into the banquet, exchanged a few pleasantries and business cards, and that was pretty much his role done.

His mother’s company was far too small to stand out among these industry giants. He also knew nothing about company management—he was just here to broaden his personal network. After making the rounds, he retreated with a plate of desserts to a quiet corner. The Luan family’s hired chefs were excellent. The food wasn’t quite up to his father’s home cooking, but the pastries? Excellent!

His father never made desserts—only his older brother did.

Zhan Yan also spotted Xia Yuexian, the elegant boss in her evening dress. She smiled and raised her glass when she saw him loafing in the corner.

Beside her stood someone with striking features and a single earring. This person gave Zhan Yan a friendly smile before resuming their conversation with Xia Yuexian.

Zhan Yan noticed the way they talked and had a hunch. He peeked into the gossip system. Sure enough, this person’s cultivation wasn’t high enough to hide, so the system revealed it:

[Lionfish demon Yu Xia said to Xia Yuexian: “That blueberry cheesecake is delicious.”]

Blueberry cheesecake? Where?!

Zhan Yan quickly tracked it down, cut a slice, and tasted it.

Mmm! Delicious!

This fish demon had good taste!

Zhan Yan kept Yu Xia’s gossip feed open, hoping for more food recommendations. Sadly, the topic never came up again. From their chat, he learned Yu Xia had faked her death over a decade ago to assume a new identity.

For demons living in human society, they either changed appearances steadily over time or periodically staged a “death” to swap identities. Otherwise, their unchanging youthfulness would draw suspicion.

After listening for a bit without more foodie tips, Zhan Yan regretfully returned to his corner to laze about.

Corners were perfect for eavesdropping on juicy gossip.

Old Master Luan had three sons. The eldest was his favored heir. The second seemed out of favor and had been pushed aside. The youngest switched tracks entirely, dabbling in the arts and drifting aimlessly, unmarried to this day.

While Zhan Yan was happily gossiping, a low male voice suddenly came from the nearby lounge:

“You’re just a stand-in. Don’t covet what you can’t have!”

Zhan Yan: A big scoop?!

He glanced over. The lounge door hadn’t been shut tightly—the voices leaked out.

Zhan Yan was dumbfounded.

He thought “stand-ins” were only a thing in trashy romance novels. People actually did this?!

The voice continued.

First muttered: “No, no, too stiff. Not enough gravitas.”

Then, after clearing his throat: “Ahem! I paid you to be a stand-in. Do your job, and don’t harbor delusions!”

Zhan Yan: …

Oh. So he was just practicing lines by himself.

Who was this guy? Kind of a dope.

Zhan Yan heard a string of classic lines like: “You’re only a substitute, I could never truly love you.” “Enough! Take the money and leave!” “A stand-in should know their place.”

From “the stand-in approached only for money” to “the stand-in fell in love with him” to “dating then breaking up”—the whole melodramatic arc, rehearsed in advance.

—So he hadn’t even found an actual stand-in yet.

After a while, he finished practicing, paced around hesitantly, then muttered encouragement to himself and started heading toward the door.

Zhan Yan thoughtfully walked further away to spare him embarrassment.

From a distance, he recognized the man: Luan Jin, Old Master Luan’s youngest son—the one secretly rehearsing stand-in drama.

Zhan Yan opened the gossip system to search.

Oh! Luan Jin, in his youth, had a “white moonlight”—his muse, his unattainable inspiration. Too radiant to confess to, he had always told himself he’d wait until he’d achieved something before confessing. He fantasized about dozens of romantic scenarios. But before he made his mark in the art world, his muse tragically died in an accident.

Devastated, Luan Jin never dated again, forever replaying his muse’s smile in memory.

Tonight, at his father’s birthday banquet, he unexpectedly saw someone who looked strikingly like his long-lost muse. The emotions suppressed for over a decade erupted uncontrollably. He desperately wanted to confess, but also knew this was only a look-alike. His muse was long gone—only an indelible imprint remained.

Torn between guilt at betraying his muse and his overpowering yearning, he struggled back and forth—until finally he resolved to indulge himself, just this once.

Zhan Yan watched, wide-eyed, as Luan Jin walked toward the lionfish demon Yu Xia.

Wait a second… who were you planning to use as a stand-in again?

Remembering Yu Xia had staged her death a decade ago, Zhan Yan quickly adjusted his search keywords in the gossip system…

Turns out—this was his actual muse all along!

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