Chapter 58: Everyone’s Breaking Character a Bit [VIP] Part 2

An Luo handed it to Meieruita. “Here.”

Meieruita hesitated before reaching out.

“…Why give it to me?”

An Luo: “Why not? You like it, right? Take what you want—this world’s yours for the taking anyway.”

“Besides, the Solson City Lord won’t complain. No consequences, and you like it—why not?”

Thorough bandit logic, An Luo knew. He’d feel guilty taking something he liked himself—but for Meieruita? No such qualms.

Take it!

The protagonist deserved everything he desired. That was An Luo’s writing creed:

Power fantasy!

Meieruita stared at An Luo for a long moment before accepting the specimen box. He barely glanced at it before stowing it away.

The evening banquet featured abundant food, though most tasted mediocre. Spotting a plate of steaming, unplucked quails killed An Luo’s appetite entirely. He settled for a plate of sweets. Meieruita sat beside him and, before An Luo ate, scooped a bit and nodded. “It’s fine. Eat.”

As the table’s focal point, their actions drew stares. An Luo felt awkward, but Meieruita remained serene. He ate nothing himself, pouring two cups of tea, checking them thoroughly—one for An Luo, one he sipped lightly.

The Solson City Lord sitting across from them muttered inwardly to himself.

At first, he had thought Meieruita was the dominant one of the pair. He was sinister, looking ghostly and eerie, which perfectly matched his stereotypical impression of wizards and wizard apprentices.

An Luo, on the other hand, made him feel an inexplicable closeness. However, his rationality held firm; he merely instructed the housekeeper to be extra attentive but didn’t dare approach himself.

But gradually, he sensed something off.

This wasn’t the first time the Solson City Lord had hosted wizard apprentices. They came every couple of years or so, and he had accumulated plenty of experience.

Most wizard apprentices came alone, rarely in pairs. Even when they did, there was a clear hierarchy between them, making it obvious at a glance who held the higher status.

But these two wizard apprentices truly baffled him.

Meieruita was clearly more powerful and colder, more ruthless, yet he took great care of An Luo—his attitude was practically like protecting the apple of his eye.

From that perspective, it seemed like Meieruita’s status was lower. Yet he was the one making decisions, and An Luo seemed more inclined to follow his lead.

Their hierarchy was utterly ambiguous; the Solson City Lord couldn’t tell who outranked whom.

The scene before him only deepened his confusion.

Whenever An Luo wanted to eat something, Meieruita tasted it first. Only after he gave the okay did An Luo start eating. Yet Meieruita also poured tea for An Luo, swapped out plates, and fetched new desserts.

Their hierarchy was far too blurred.

The Solson City Lord watched for a while but still couldn’t figure it out.

Suddenly, the pale-faced black-robed wizard lifted his gaze. His gray-green eyes were cold and emotionless.

There was no intimidation, no warning—just a faint glance. But that look was more terrifying than any overt threat.

Because it wasn’t the gaze one used for the living.

The Solson City Lord stiffened for a moment, then awkwardly forced a smile and lowered his head, not daring to look again.

An Luo ate two plates of desserts, which barely counted as half-full. The banquet was halfway through, with a dance to follow.

Most wizard apprentices enjoyed the dance segment, and the Solson City Lord was well-prepared for it.

Many ladies and misses were willing to spend a spring night with wizard apprentices, often reaping greater benefits. Once, a noble miss caught a wizard apprentice’s favor; after one night, she received a vial of potion. Drinking it restored her appearance to that of a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old, sparking envy among the others.

“Do you plan to dance?” Meieruita asked.

An Luo shook his head. “I don’t know how.”

He had learned ballroom dancing in university PE class but had long since forgotten most of it.

Besides, they probably weren’t dancing that here.

Moreover, An Luo knew Meieruita disliked such occasions. To him, they were a pure waste of time—better to return and read a couple more pages of a book.

An Luo said, “I remember you don’t like these events. Shall we head back?”

“Let’s go, then.” Meieruita smiled. “We’ll head back.”

The two left the table first. The ladies and misses looked visibly disappointed, but no one dared block them. After all, they were evil, terrifying wizard apprentices. The temptation of renewed youth was great, but one’s own life mattered more.

The lounge had several porcelain vases with fresh flowers, petals still damp and emitting a faint fragrance.

Meieruita picked one, examined it, then held it up toward An Luo from afar for comparison before frowning and tossing it back into the vase.

“Are you hungry?” An Luo asked. Meieruita had hardly eaten anything.

Meieruita murmured a low assent. An Luo nodded. “How about grilling some meat? There’s a fireplace right here.”

“And I was just craving a proper dinner anyway.”

Due to his distrust of this era’s food, An Luo had brought plenty of semi-prepared ingredients when they set out.

They came in handy after all.

Whether in the cave or after the Solson City Lord’s banquet.

He pulled out a large chest and opened the lid, releasing a blast of cold air. Inside were foods preserved with numerous ice cones to prevent spoilage.

A makeshift refrigerator, essentially.

Meieruita quickly set up a simple grill and placed the pieces of meat An Luo selected over the fire.

No seasoning needed—An Luo had marinated them in advance and scored them.

Soon, sizzling oil emerged, and the rich aroma of fat spread through the air. An Luo couldn’t help licking his lips.

Though he had eaten two plates of desserts earlier, that hardly qualified as a proper dinner.

The grilled meat was a bit hot. As An Luo ate, he hissed through his teeth. Meieruita raised his hand and cast an ice witchcraft spell.

Chilly white frost wafted from his palm, precisely enveloping the meat in An Luo’s hand. A few seconds later, he withdrew his hand, and the chill dissipated. The meat was now at the perfect eating temperature—still slightly warm—with impeccable control.

An Luo said, “Thanks. You’re amazing, Meieruita.”

“. . . Mm.”

The protagonist was truly so gentle and considerate.

He seemed like a total warm guy no matter how you looked at it.

It was almost too much—starting to break character a bit.

But the kinder he was, the more uneasy An Luo felt deep down.

An Luo was no longer the college student from when he first started writing, who thought he was hot stuff, destined to become a god with his first book, someone special.

As time passed, he had come to recognize his own ordinariness.

He wasn’t one of those top-GPA classmates who won scholarships yearly, competed everywhere, and shone on stage. Nor was he like those socially adept ones who got along great with teachers and peers, always likable and good at handling people. He had no special talents; some classmates with average grades had vibrant personalities, free-spirited and enviable.

An Luo’s grades were middling, his personality ordinary—even a bit socially anxious. After graduation, he barely landed a decent job, where colleagues offered no favors and some veterans even schemed to sabotage him.

An Luo didn’t think he had anything special, nothing worthy of Meieruita’s treatment.

I’m not that great, but Meieruita is destined to be a legend. Why would he treat me like this?

There must be some scheme.

What else could he want? I’m useless to him, and my personality isn’t captivating.

Even as the author, I have no special abilities.

I can’t even read the witchcraft books here. I’m not smart at all.

Self-awareness is key.

An Luo took a bite of the grilled meat. The savory, spicy flavor spread through his mouth. He took a deep breath, deciding not to overthink it.

Why worry so much? Better enjoy this time with Meieruita for now. Whether he has schemes or not, An Luo would leave eventually anyway—no big deal.

The lounge had a pot of juice, clearly freshly squeezed, with a fresh sweet scent and tiny bits of pulp floating inside.

An Luo poured himself a cup. Meieruita reached to take it from him for testing. An Luo dodged. “It can’t be poisoned. No need to be so careful.”

Meieruita looked up at An Luo for a moment. He hadn’t started eating yet; the small grill could only handle one piece at a time, and the first one was in An Luo’s hand.

Those gray-green eyes fixed on him steadily. An Luo grew tense, then heard Meieruita’s faint voice: “Do you find me bothersome?”

An Luo: “Huh?”

Bothersome?

Wasn’t this just feeling a bit bad for you?

An Luo shook his head quickly. “No, I just think, uh, having you test for poison feels a bit unfair to you…”

“Where’s the unfairness?”

“Don’t you think… this is a bit unfair to you?”

“Unfair?” Meieruita said slowly, as if savoring the short phrase. Then he smiled faintly. “How is it unfair?”

An Luo had no choice but to tell the truth. As he spoke, Meieruita watched him. When he finished, Meieruita let out a short laugh, reached over, and took the cup from An Luo’s hand.

This time, he didn’t pour a bit into his palm. Instead, he pressed his lips to the rim and took a shallow sip before handing the cup back. “There. Now it’s fair.”

An Luo stared blankly at the cup. “. . .?”

Huh?

Where was the fairness in that?