Chapter 77: Small World Six Complete

A Yi hugged him tightly again. “But you really have put on a bit of weight. It feels so nice holding you while sleeping. Lin Jianxi, did you know you have a natural scent? Just smelling you makes me feel so at ease.”

“Something bothering you lately?” Lin Jianxi zeroed in on the key point in his words.

“…What could be bothering me?” A Yi paused, then opened his eyes and looked at him. “Well, not nothing. Tomorrow’s my dad’s death anniversary. I keep thinking about how that fool worked so tirelessly for the prison his whole life, only to get chopped into eight pieces after death just for suggesting that the unwritten rule of letting violence decide prisoner status was unreasonable.”

“…”

Lin Jianxi knew A Yi’s father must have been a gentle man who loved life.

Unlike Cheng Yedu, who was something like a half-prison prince with occasional chances to leave the island, A Yi’s father had been an ordinary man who’d clawed his way up from the bottom, stuck working in the prison year-round with no right to leave.

He’d even built a kitchen in a corner of the prison to take good care of A Yi.

But the kid had grown up in the rigid, lifeless prison environment, surrounded by bloody violence, which had warped his personality. He was wild, unpredictable.

Lin Jianxi understood, though. Beyond chasing thrills and novelty, the only thing A Yi truly wanted was warmth.

That was why he’d told Lin Jianxi tonight about his father’s death anniversary.

He was seeking comfort.

Lin Jianxi gazed at A Yi’s eyes, which blinked now and then, leaned in, and gently kissed his eyelids, feeling the flutter of his lashes. He lowered his voice. “That’s exactly why we have to get out of this place.”

“…It’s in the works,” A Yi murmured. “Lin Jianxi, if we get out, will I be able to find you again?”

“With your personality, shouldn’t it be me worrying about how not to be found by you?” Lin Jianxi said with a chuckle. “The world’s not that big. Cheng Yedu can’t leave the prison either. Where could I go?”

“True…” A Yi grinned. “You can’t escape my sight.”

When Lin Jianxi woke, A Yi was massaging his legs.

He felt a bit dazed.

A Yi’s role was exactly like that of a husband.

Even Lin Jianxi, who was used to navigating between protagonists and side characters, felt… a little sorry for him.

Though he often felt…

Felt sorry for others?

Lin Jianxi blinked. It had been a long time since he’d felt such a strong emotional stir.

It wasn’t just labeling someone pitiable based on their circumstances and deciding they needed comfort.

No, he genuinely felt sorry for this person—unlucky family, brutal living environment. Many of his behaviors might seem abnormal, but for A Yi, they were perfectly normal.

A tree growing in raging storms without any support—if it didn’t lean, that would be unnatural.

Thinking deeper, he even felt sorry for Cheng Yedu now. His lover was right here, intimate with someone else.

“…”

Lin Jianxi frowned.

His fingers curled, eyes on the scar on the back of his hand.

Don’t think about it. Have you forgotten the cost of kindness? How much did you go through to reach your current state? Didn’t you complete the last world’s task perfectly? That proves your approach is right, your state is right. Nothing’s wrong. Keep it up, and every small world from here on will be a success.

The pity you feel now—isn’t it fake?

Haven’t you enjoyed it?

Haven’t you used their talk of your “special charm” to your own advantage?

But…

Lin Jianxi lowered his lashes, and the scar on his hand prickled with that itchy, painful sensation again.

A Yi’s massage felt good, but his mood sank lower and lower, hitting rock bottom.

But I was only truly happy in those days when I felt sorry for others.

Lin Jianxi remembered watching Song Cheng’an achieve success in his career and gradually move past his trauma, seeing Lin Xiaoye study hard to avenge his master, growing bit by bit—even if he eventually seized power and became emperor, hurting Lin Jianxi in the process…

At least, he’d felt genuine joy and pride for them.

Lying in bed, Lin Jianxi jolted awake as if from a long, long dream.

Everything before his eyes sharpened into clarity.

His mind had never been so clear, and it posed a question.

—What the hell am I doing right now?

Why, after reaching the goal he’d once desperately chased—making all protagonists and side characters happy—was he the unhappy one?

And were the protagonists and side characters really happy? Why did they all seem so pitiable?

He suddenly spiraled into a loop of thoughts, unable to figure it out.

The more he thought, the sleepier he got.

The sleepier he got, the less he wanted to think.

He slipped back into his old state of mind: Whatever. Just like this. I’ve done my best.

~~~

Lin Jianxi sensed the off atmosphere even just staying in his cell.

First, the guards’ inspections grew less frequent until they stopped entirely. An entire month passed without him seeing a single one.

Second, yard time was canceled. The corridor outside was eerily quiet. His three burly cellmates went to the cafeteria as usual but spent the rest of their time in the cell, silent, the stillness unnerving.

Finally, A Yi and Cheng Yedu rarely showed up anymore.

These days, it was the two big, rough cellmates tending to him. Sun Wei, whose edges had been smoothed out, occasionally lent a hand too. Lin Jianxi knew this meant the plot was nearing its end.

If they were breaking out, his current physical state would only drag them down.

He hoped they’d prepared thoroughly. He didn’t want to see anyone get hurt.

Deep into the night.

A piercing alarm blared. One cellmate went out to scout and came back with just one sentence: “Rebellion outside.”

Rebellion?

Were they all breaking out together?

Lin Jianxi could feel the cellmate eyeing him with a new tension, scrutiny—even following him tightly to the bathroom.

The air hung heavy with the oppression of an impending storm, mingled with the faint scent of blood and gunpowder drifting from somewhere.

That midnight, as the entire prison sank into a silence like the ocean depths, A Yi finally returned.

He carried a chill and a faint whiff of blood as he approached Lin Jianxi’s bed, finding his hand unerringly in the darkness.

“Awake?” A Yi’s voice was low, laced with excitement.

“Yeah,” Lin Jianxi replied, his eyes clear. He cut straight to it. “When do we leave? What do I need to do?”

A Yi chuckled softly in the darkness. “Tomorrow night, dear. You don’t need to do a thing—just stick with me. Oh, right, your husband will be waiting outside to pick us up. When the time comes, remember to spare a thought for my feelings. Don’t get too lovey-dovey in front of me.”

“…”

Lin Jianxi had grown accustomed to A Yi’s startling endearments. He acknowledged it calmly and urged the other man to get some rest.

The night of the jailbreak.

The next day, everything appeared normal on the surface, yet an undercurrent of unease permeated the air.

At dinnertime, his two roommates were unusually quiet. They wolfed down their meals and posted up by the door, as if waiting for a signal.

The instant the prison’s lighting system shorted out, plunging the entire block into darkness amid the blare of piercing alarms, Lin Jianxi knew the operation was underway.

“Time to go, sister-in-law.” A Yi materialized at his side like a shadow, hauling him up from the bunk.

Using that bizarre term of endearment, he bundled Lin Jianxi into an oversized coat with a hood, tugging the brim low to muffle the chaos erupting outside.

Screams and the sounds of scuffles echoed as A Yi half-carried, half-supported him through the gloom. The man seemed to know every inch of the place like the back of his hand, steering clear of the riot’s heart and hugging the surveillance blind spots and back alleys.

They covered a good distance, Lin Jianxi’s heart pounding in his ears, his breaths coming in sharp gasps.

A Yi’s breathing remained even. He held Lin Jianxi close in a protective embrace, shielding him from any stray collisions.

At last, they reached the end of a cramped passageway, where a rusty iron door loomed.

A Yi stepped up with a length of wire. In under three seconds, the lock gave way. A rush of fresh sea air, tangy with salt, flooded in, stirring the strands peeking from beneath Lin Jianxi’s hood.

It had been ages since he’d tasted outside air.

In that moment, it felt strangely foreign… yet invigorating, down to his soul.

A black car idled just beyond the door—the very same one that had delivered him to this hellhole all those months ago, Lin Jianxi recalled.

A Yi eased him into the back seat and slid in right beside him, pressed close as if afraid he’d vanish into thin air.

Lin Jianxi glanced at the driver: Cheng Yedu.

Cheng Yedu twisted around. “You good? Anything hurt?”

Lin Jianxi shook his head.

Cheng Yedu flashed an OK sign. “Let’s roll.”

Lin Jianxi turned to stare at the hulking black silhouette of the prison against the night sky. It stood silent still, but flickers of firelight were rising from within.

His breath caught. “You set it on fire?”

Cheng Yedu laughed. “Nah, nothing to do with us. The inmates rioted and torched the place themselves. But hey, works out—workplace’s gone up in smoke. Finally free to quit, haha.”

Lin Jianxi: “…………”

~~~

A year had slipped by since the prison riot and mass jailbreak that rocked the judicial system to its core. To the outside world, it was the stuff of history books—a watershed moment heralding reforms against corrupt officials abusing their power for personal gain.

But for Lin Jianxi and his companions, it marked only the beginning.

They had gone to ground in a northern inland city, holed up in an old Western-style manor ringed by high walls and a spacious courtyard.

One lazy afternoon in the courtyard.

Lin Jianxi lounged in a plush chair, a soft throw blanket draped over him. In his arms nestled a baby boy, the child’s features a spitting image of his own, gurgling happily as he toyed with Lin Jianxi’s fingers.

Cheng Yedu sat at a nearby stone table, poring intently over a stack of documents.

As a government man through and through, the prison’s destruction hadn’t left him jobless. His superiors had simply shuffled him to another bureau to keep at it.

Whenever paperwork wore him down, he’d wander over to check on Lin Jianxi. A single smile from Lin Jianxi would recharge him completely, his productivity soaring several-fold.

A Yi sprawled on the grass at the foot of Lin Jianxi’s chair, head pillowed lazily against its edge.

His golden short hair caught the sunlight, gleaming brighter than ever. Eyes closed in apparent slumber, one hand still clutched unconsciously at the corner of the blanket trailing from Lin Jianxi’s lap.

A Yi had mellowed considerably, shedding much of his wild edge. Beneath it all, he was just a kid untested by the world.

In prison, violence had been his only language.

Out here, though, brute force didn’t cut it. With no other skills, he burned through the family fortune in idle luxury, his hot temper cooled by Lin Jianxi’s patient guidance time and again.

These days, he shadowed Lin Jianxi constantly—not for any grand ambition, just the simple comfort of his presence.

Cheng Yedu had itched to boot the glittering third wheel more than once, but he held back. A Yi had looked after his “wife” for four long months during the pregnancy… Without him, the baby might not have come into the world so healthy.

In the end, after endless internal debate, Cheng Yedu settled for dirty looks, never escalating to blows.

~~~

Whatever had passed between him and A Yi went unspoken, buried and done with.

Lin Jianxi understood: in the pressure cooker of prison, the urges people acted on weren’t always born of true desire.

Take A Yi.

The roommates had taken to whispering “sister-in-law” behind his back, half-convinced he’d ditched Cheng Yedu for A Yi.

Reality was more nuanced…

One day, as Lin Jianxi tended the child, A Yi wrapped him in a hug from behind.

“Lin Jianxi,” he murmured, “I like you. Could be love, could be devotion. I don’t want a label, don’t need one. I just want to stay by your side forever—circling you, at your flank, even groveling at your feet if that’s what it takes.”

“You got me out of that place. You overlooked my sins, showed me the world’s wonders beyond those walls.”

Lin Jianxi nodded with a light smile.

Yet a faint pang stirred in his chest.

If he were native to this world, could he truly let it all go?

His calm, his detachment from grudges or gains—it stemmed from knowing the plot, from the “protagonist halo” the story bestowed upon him.

What A Yi adored was merely the version of him haloed by fate.

Ever since that confession, the question gnawed at Lin Jianxi.

He sat on the bed, cooing at the infant in the crib, when the System flopped onto his knee. “Lin Jianxi, you’re way too down on yourself.”

“I feel like I’ve gotten a bit too confident lately,” Lin Jianxi said with a chuckle, unable to hold back his amusement. “It’s starting to border on arrogance.”

“No, no, no,” the System replied. “In the next world, I’ll wipe your memories clean but preserve everything you’ve learned across these worlds. Lin Jianxi, you’ll discover that people will like you just the same. It won’t have anything to do with the Protagonist Halo, and nothing to do with that ‘sex’ that’s left you so exhausted.”

“…”

Lin Jianxi paused for a moment, stunned.

After a beat, he tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Is that right?”

“Believe me, it’s absolutely true,” the System said. “The next world’s setting is modern—no special twists, identical to the world you live in. You’ll enter an arranged marriage with your husband that blossoms into true love, and you’ll encounter side characters both similar and different from those in the previous worlds. Lin Jianxi, do you dare bet with me? Bet that every one of them will fall for you—not because of the plot, not because of the raw impulses from ‘sex,’ but simply because of who you are.”

“…I don’t know.”

Lin Jianxi felt dazed by the System’s words. “Why are you so sure? Ever since the world before last, the only way I’ve managed to control those people and keep things balanced has been through ‘sex.'”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Then bet that they won’t fall for you. I’ll decide the stakes once the next world is done. Deal?”

Lin Jianxi nodded helplessly. “Fine.”

“Then let’s get started—the next world.” The System clapped its hands in excitement.

(World Six Complete)