Chapter 43: Granny’s Tavern

After the gunshot rang out, Zhao Meiyou could scarcely remember anything that followed.

Police sirens wailed as they approached, massive scout lamps sweeping over the glass windows. Killing machines swarmed like a flock of hummingbirds. Cold rain drifted through the sky, lead-gray in color—the same shade as the bullets—which turned blood-red inside his skull.

Diao Chan had used some kind of gun, blasting his own head clean off. Blood splattered across Zhao Meiyou’s head and face. Did the blood of a copycat even have that metallic tang? The stench stabbed into his throat like a knife blade, nearly making him retch. Footsteps echoed in the distance, pounding down an endless corridor. Someone had shattered the glass, and through it, he glimpsed the rain.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen rain.

In the chaotic kaleidoscope of his memories, a similar scene flickered: a heavily made-up artificial human charging at him in the Mercury Tower, drums thundering, weapons clashing. They had smashed through the glass together, tumbling into the air as moonlight glittered like alkali salts. Shards of glass and diamonds spilling from broken ribs rained down in a torrent.

There had been no rain that day. So what was the liquid that had fallen on his face?

Salty. Could it have been tears?

In the last second before blacking out, Zhao Meiyou realized something: even artificial humans could shed tears.

…

When he woke again, Zhao Meiyou saw goldfish.

He’d been through too many similar ordeals lately—dead, alive, fainted, revived. Each time consciousness returned, it felt like jolting awake from a nightmare. He almost didn’t want to open his eyes; who knew what fresh absurdity awaited him.

But this time felt different from the others. Zhao Meiyou stared at the vibrant tropical fish swimming before him, amid decorations of volcanic rock and red-leaved plants. Pipes fed in fresh water and oxygen. So, unless he was seeing things wrong…

Holy hell, he was inside a brain tank.

Faint music drifted through the water. Zhao Meiyou found it vaguely familiar. He listened carefully for a moment and recognized it: “Fly Me to the Moon.”

As the melody sharpened, the scene beyond came into focus.

An antique jukebox stood before oak-paneled walls, casting a lemon-yellow glow. The room’s lights were dim, revealing only the faint outlines of booths by the curtained windows—velvet drapes, green blinds, and a glazed mosaic coffee mug.

The clink of ice came next. Behind the counter stood a woman, slicing blocks of old ice.

Now Zhao Meiyou knew where he was.

Unless this was some holographic trick, they were on Layer 330: Granny’s Tavern.

He tried calling out to the woman. “…Granny?”

The landlady paused mid-motion and turned. “You’re awake.”

Zhao Meiyou had a million questions—like why he was here, and what about Diao Chan—but she cut him off. “Care for a drink?”

It was always rude for a guest to turn down the landlady’s offer, especially in Granny’s Tavern. Not knowing what her angle was, Zhao Meiyou could only say, “Sure, why not—one it is.”

The landlady didn’t ask what he wanted. She washed her hands, chilled a glass, poured in vodka and Cointreau, added lime and cranberry juice. The shaker rattled with a lively slosh. Finally, she strained it into a coupe glass.

With the drink finished, she slid the glass across to him. As she did, her outfit shimmered into a sparkling silver dance dress. Red lips curved into a sultry smile. “The ‘Metropolis’ cocktail. Enjoy, Dean.”

It was a perfectly thematic drink, its hue evoking urban scandals and glamorous beauties. Zhao Meiyou opened his mouth to thank her, then froze as a word hit him. “What did you call me?”

The woman said nothing, grabbing a bottle of rye whiskey next. She added dry vermouth and Campari, stirred over ice, and twisted an orange peel through the air to release its mist.

She raised the new drink, clinking it against the “Metropolis.” The glasses chimed crisply.

Zhao Meiyou recognized this cocktail: the “Old Friend.”

“Long time no see, Dean.” The woman downed her drink in one go and wiped her mouth—a gesture that came off both alluring and bold. Unable to help himself, Zhao Meiyou asked, “Who are you?”

The woman reached out, as if wiping away a veil of mist before him. The synthesized image and voice of code faded. For the first time, Zhao Meiyou saw the true face of Granny’s Tavern’s owner.

He was somewhere between boy and young man—definitely not a woman. He wore a long white coat that Zhao Meiyou found oddly familiar. A moment later, it clicked: the uniform from the Ancient Capital Research Institute, all those years ago.

Zhao Meiyou noted the transparent mouthguard he wore—a feature that unlocked long-buried memories. Yes, it had been ages. No wonder he hadn’t recognized him.

He’d never even had the chance to see the kid grow up.

“You’re… Xiao Yao?”

The young man grinned. “That’s me, Dean.”

A moment later.

“I know you’ve got a ton of questions. Let’s take them one by one.” Xiao Yao pulled up a barstool and sat. “I think we should start with the fusion experiment?”

“…So this is what you look like all grown up,” Zhao Meiyou murmured.

Xiao Yao blinked, his eyes crinkling in a boyish smile that echoed his younger self. “Yeah. What do you think?”

Zhao Meiyou pressed on. “How old are you now? Swapped to an artificial body? Got a partner? What’s the lucky one like? Do your dads know?”

Before Xiao Yao could answer, Zhao Meiyou barreled ahead. “Is Granny’s Tavern your place? How’s the income? Enough to get by? Thinking of settling down? Smoke much?”

Xiao Yao: “…”

The fog of mystery hung thick, but running into a face from his memories—even if that face belonged to a grown man now—instinctively turned Zhao Meiyou into the nagging elder.

He himself was hardly a model: a broke nobody, currently in a Schrödinger’s state of forced divorce or widowhood, chain-smoking, heavy-drinking, no parents, no property. His elder cred was probably in the negatives.

“Oh, right—you probably don’t lack for partners.” Zhao Meiyou suddenly recalled the colorful rumors about “Granny” on Layer 330, and all the teasing he’d gotten back in the day. “Not bad, kid. Always ragging on me and Diao Chan. Does your dad know you’re such a rascal?”

“Dean, Dean—one at a time.” Xiao Yao gave a wry smile. “Business first.”

“Kids these days know squat,” Zhao Meiyou said righteously. “What I’m asking is the real business.”

The scene sparked a powerful sense of déjà vu. Xiao Yao remembered how it used to be in the Ancient Capital: Zhao Meiyou could derail an entire seminar single-handedly, usually ending with him getting tossed from the conference room.

How had his father handled the dean back then?

Right—Liu Qijue would just ignore it, dive into the topic, and drag him along naturally.

With that in mind, Xiao Yao cleared his throat and cut straight to the heart. “Dean, do you know how dangerous the fusion experiment is?”

Bullseye. Zhao Meiyou shut up.

“This goes back many years,” Xiao Yao said, tracing it from the start of Zhao Meiyou’s memories. “Back then, my father was transferred to Antarctica, but they used him as one of the first live subjects in the fusion experiment. It was brand-new, with a sky-high mortality rate. Luckily, he survived.”

“Soon after, the Vice Dean went there on a business trip. But Madam Diao traded on him with the government, and eventually the Antarctic Faction got control of him too. The rest you probably remember: he lured you into detonating the quantum bomb.”

“At the last second, the Vice Dean broke free of some of his conditioning and tried to stop you, but the damage was done. The Antarctic Faction detonated it anyway.”

“The blast’s magnetic radiation affected nearly everyone in the Ancient Capital, granting them the ability to slip between reality and the quantum threshold. That’s how the ‘archaeologists’ were born.”

“You said ‘nearly’ everyone,” Zhao Meiyou noted. “What about you and little Qijue?”

“You just asked my age. I’ve had some cosmetic tweaks, but I’m not far off from how I look.” Xiao Yao explained, “When the explosion hit, I was underground with my dad doing an experiment. You know what’s beneath the Ancient Capital.”

Zhao Meiyou remembered: they’d dug a massive cryogenic vault down there.

“The underground lab picked up the blast above. Dad reacted fast—he shoved me straight into a hibernation pod.”

That explained it. The Ancient Capital’s underground hibernation pods used freeze tech; anyone inside entered true suspended animation. “So you were thawed out recently?”

“I’ve been awake for a while now. Remember our first meeting here at Granny’s Tavern?”

Zhao Meiyou did—but he wasn’t sure how much of his past he could trust anymore, or if those memories were even real. “The clearest one right now is when I was an ER doc on Layer 33.”

To be precise, that was his second-to-last life so far.

“You’re spot on,” Xiao Yao said with a smile. “That was right after I woke up—our first encounter.”

A big reason Zhao Meiyou’s memories felt jumbled was the brainwashing he got before every life—or “loop.” They’d flood his mind with fabricated info, slashing the actual runtime of each loop experiment. Like his stint as a shady clinic doc on Layer 20: in reality, he’d only lived maybe two weeks, but the brain dump filled in a full backstory—orphan, raised in the Joyful Red Courtyard, clinging to life with a sister.

“You say you’ve been up for a while,” Zhao Meiyou inferred. “So that Layer 33 ER doc loop was a long one?”

“Exactly. From what I know, it was the longest—your entire life there happened for real.”

“It’s highly credible, too. In real time, it’s been over a decade since we first met here.”

In that Layer 33 life as an ER doc, Zhao Meiyou had first walked into Granny’s Tavern as a teenager. If the rest had played out for real, then yes—over ten years had passed.

That reminded him of something puzzling. “One thing’s been bugging me.”

“Go ahead.”

“If every loop happened in the Metropolis, someone should’ve remembered me, right? My face never changes. Doesn’t the Metropolis Government worry about blowback in later loops? Are they all just extras? Talk about overhead.”

“That’s exactly the danger of the fusion experiment I wanted to mention.” Xiao Yao slowed his words. “You must remember the government’s cultural project back in the Ancient Capital.”

Of course Zhao Meiyou remembered. How could he forget? That project had even continued to this day. The Upper District was still erecting God Statues.

Right. A sudden realization hit him. The construction of the God Statues and the advancement of the Fusion Experiment had proceeded almost in sync.

“What do those God Statues have to do with the Fusion Experiment?”

“You’ve connected the dots, just as expected,” Xiao Yao said. “The Fusion Experiment and the God Statues actually share the same origin. They both stem from a batch of core data that was reconstructed from the Buddha back then.”

“In other words, quantum technology.”

“Those God Statues generate a very special magnetic field throughout the Metropolis. Unlike a quantum bomb, it doesn’t directly turn the Metropolis into a Site. Instead, it transforms the city into a ‘door.'”

“You must know that all the entrances to the quantum field thresholds are actually located within the Metropolis itself.”

There was a solid gold trash can in the Municipal Building. If you stuck your head into the chute, you could enter Site A79. In the Middle Layer District, there was a well publicly said to be filled with nuclear wastewater, but it actually contained a unique species of human-faced fish. Eating them raw allowed entry to Site S24. To access Site A173, you had to jump from the 777th Layer. Site S86’s entrance was a tavern, while Site S45 required playing the piano in a museum.

“This city is gradually becoming a door—a medium, a bridge connecting the quantum field thresholds to our reality.”

“The God Statues’ magnetic field has many functions. For instance, it can open new Sites. By adding special radio waves, it can also perform large-scale human brain interference. That’s why your face never changed in your questions earlier. The government isn’t worried about anyone remembering you in future loops. As long as they activate the magnetic field between two Loop Experiments, the memories of unrelated personnel will be erased.”

Zhao Meiyou took a moment to digest Xiao Yao’s words. “You just said the God Statues’ magnetic field can open new Sites. What does that mean?”

“The number of Sites isn’t fixed. On the contrary, they’re constantly increasing,” Xiao Yao explained. “Do you remember that Site 000 you explored before?”

Zhao Meiyou grunted in affirmation. “I saw the Ancient Capital inside it.”

“In truth, across many Loop Experiments, you’ve entered Site 000 multiple times. Sometimes the interior was Ideal City, other times Jupiter Restaurant, and once it was Butterfly Madam’s mansion…” Xiao Yao gave several examples. “You must have noticed—these are all Sites that already have other designations.”

He was right. Ideal City Site was designated S45. Jupiter Restaurant Site was A99. Butterfly Madam Site was S86.

Zhao Meiyou asked, “Why do the designations change?”

“Because Site 000 is just a placeholder. If you think of the Metropolis as a door, then you and Lord Qian are the keys. The way to unlock it is by taking the elevator from the Metropolis’s lowest level up to the 990th Layer.”

“Every time you and Lord Qian Duoduo repeat the process of exploring Site 000, you’re actually using the door to open a new Site.”

“And in the next Loop Experiment, that Site will receive a different alphanumeric designation.”

Even Zhao Meiyou needed time to process such a massive influx of information. Xiao Yao’s words answered many of his questions. The disjointed logic was starting to connect, but one crucial link was still missing. “Xiao Yao, how did you get all this intel? Is it reliable? Are you an archaeologist?”

“I’m not an archaeologist. I was cryogenically frozen very promptly back then, so I wasn’t affected by the quantum bomb’s magnetic waves,” Xiao Yao answered his questions one by one. “As for the source of the intel, you can probably guess. It came from Daddy and Father.”

“Back then, they both became living subjects in the Fusion Experiment. Later, they joined the archaeologist roster and gathered a lot of information during the endless Loop Experiments. In the end, they decided to thaw me out over a decade ago—because the Fusion Experiment was about to succeed.”

At that point, Xiao Yao changed tack. “Have you ever wondered why, in that lifetime when you were a doctor in the emergency department on the 33rd Layer, the experiment dragged on for so long?”

Zhao Meiyou replied, “Why?”

“Because Lord Qian’s Personality Completion Degree was almost full,” Xiao Yao said. “But the closer it gets to perfection, the harder it is to progress. That’s why they needed utterly realistic time to fill it out.”

Zhao Meiyou was momentarily speechless.

“You should already understand what the Fusion Experiment truly means. On one hand, it primarily attempts to fuse the human body with quantum magnetic fields, creating archaeologists capable of exploring the quantum field thresholds. On the other hand, it seeks to merge your brainwaves with Lord Qian’s, allowing him to ultimately use your brain.”

“After thousands of Loop Experiments, Lord Qian’s Personality Completion Degree has risen above 99 percent. Father determined that it would take just one or two more experiments for his personality to fully complete. At that point, he will seize your brain.”

“The current Lord Qian is actually composed of two parts: the original Qian Duoduo you created back then, and the Buddha that’s gradually merging with him as his personality completes. Once he fully fuses with the Buddha—and gains your brain—no one can predict what kind of existence he’ll become.”

“In the loops, Father tried many methods but couldn’t stop the Fusion Experiment from continuing. Lord Qian’s highest clearance is held by the government, and the defenses above the 900th Layer are impenetrable. In the end, he devised a plan. If they wanted to end this madness, they had to strike in the final few loops.”

“So Dad and Father decided to thaw me out. They needed my help.”

“Wait a second.” Zhao Meiyou couldn’t help interrupting. Xiao Yao’s explanation had only raised more questions for him, but he had one critical one right now. “Qian Duoduo’s Personality Growth Degree has already reached 100 percent. Do you know that?”

“I know.” Xiao Yao actually nodded. “Didn’t you just exchange vows with Lord Qian on the 900th Layer? The Vice Dean was there too.”

“…You know about that? What about Diao Chan? How did I get from the 900th Layer to Granny’s Tavern?” Zhao Meiyou fired off a barrage of questions. “And if Qian Duoduo’s Personality Growth Degree is already at 100 percent, doesn’t that mean my brain should be in him by now?”

In response to Zhao Meiyou’s questions, Xiao Yao pushed that Metropolis cocktail toward him. “Dean, you haven’t drunk the cocktail I mixed for you yet.”

Zhao Meiyou had been about to ask if there were any smokes. He stared at the glass and instinctively reached out.

His hand grasped at empty air.

Only then did Zhao Meiyou notice. The flood of information had distracted him earlier, but now he realized he had no hands.

He didn’t even have a body.

A tropical fish swam past his field of view. Zhao Meiyou “looked” around. Volcanic rock and aquatic decorations piled up around him. The glass walls faintly reflected a silhouette.

He was currently inside a Brain Tank.

To be precise, it wasn’t the person “Zhao Meiyou” who was in the Brain Tank, because he had no body. From the reflection on the tank, he was actually just a brain.

At this moment, Zhao Meiyou was nothing but a brain.

Thin cables connected to his brainstem, linking to a cluster of screens. He could import camera feeds and speak through speakers—his voice actually emanated from a loudspeaker.

Even Zhao Meiyou was stunned by the reality before him. It took him quite a while to regain his voice. “…What the hell is going on?”

Xiao Yao had clearly been looking forward to this moment. His expression was practically the spitting image of the love child between Liu Qijue and Diao Chan. “Do you remember the first Site you entered in the loop before last?”

It took Zhao Meiyou a good while to recall it. He’d obtained a CD Player from 1999, and by a stroke of bad luck, he’d entered a quantum field threshold. But what happened inside was so absurd that he’d quickly shoved it from his mind—

Hold on.

“Looks like you remember,” Xiao Yao said, eyeing the brainwave readings on the screen. “In the loop before last, your archaeologist ability was ‘Transformation.’ But beyond that, you had an extremely special constitution.”

“Even if your brain was damaged inside a Site, you wouldn’t die.”

“Site Rule No. 2: The brain cannot be injured. This rule held true across countless Loop Experiments—until you broke it in the penultimate loop. The 900th Layer still hasn’t figured out why, but the truth is simple. That rule wasn’t actually broken.”

“Dean, in the penultimate loop, your brain was injured many times inside Sites, yet you survived unscathed every time—because that wasn’t your real brain.”

Zhao Meiyou had once obtained a CD Player from 1999 and, by mishap, entered a quantum field threshold. Inside the Site, he’d been kidnapped by masked individuals—they had swapped out his brain.

“Back then, the Vice Dean came to rescue you. That’s when Father’s plan began. Under government surveillance, the Vice Dean put on a show, making it seem like your brain being injured in a Site had no effect.”

“But the truth was, during that kidnapping, we swapped out your real brain, Dean.”

After a long pause, Zhao Meiyou’s voice finally emerged from the loudspeaker. “…So after that, whose brain was I using?”

“The brain we gave you was actually your own.”

“What do you mean?”

Xiao Yao smiled. “Have you forgotten Father’s ability?”

Liu Qijue’s archaeologist ability.

Creation.