Chapter 23: Reality

The world was dim. Consciousness ebbed and flowed.

He walked silently across the pitch-black ocean floor, unaware of day or night, heedless of time’s passage.

Strange, misshapen fish swam through his form. Surging undercurrents bypassed him. Even light avoided him.

He seemed devoid of any excess thoughts or destination. He simply walked forward, alone.

“Mr. Yin, how are you feeling?”

Suddenly, a voice pierced through the heavy seawater, calling beside his ear.

So noisy.

He frowned, intending to ignore this irritating voice and continue onward.

But the voice, utterly oblivious to its error, kept droning on relentlessly.

“Mr. Yin?”

Enough!

“Mr. Yin?”

“Shut up.”

His eyes snapped open.

The bright light was blinding, forcing him to close his eyes again and slowly readjust before reopening them.

Before him was a grand, elegant ceiling, not an assortment of terrifying, bizarre dolls.

Yin Luo finally regained consciousness.

But what followed was an unprecedented wave of weakness and exhaustion. He didn’t even have the strength to sit up on his own.

Thankfully, the person beside him was very attentive and helped him up, quickly placing a cushion behind his back.

“Mr. Yin, are you alright?” It was the voice that had been calling him incessantly through the haze.

Mr. Yin?

After days of hearing “kid,” the sudden shift to “Mr. Yin” was a bit jarring.

Yin Luo turned his head. It was a man with a very comfortable, calming presence. He wore rimless glasses, had handsome features, and was dressed in a casual suit.

Noticing Yin Luo’s gaze, the man spoke with practiced ease. “Mr. Yin, hello. I am the psychological counselor your mother, Ms. Luo Xian, hired for you. Beyond that, if you have any other needs, please let me know. I will do my utmost to resolve them for you.”

He delivered this string of words very smoothly, clearly having repeated it countless times.

“By the way, you can also call me…”

“Brother Shen.” Yin Luo said softly. “Brother Wang Shen.”

The man paused, then chuckled quietly. “You remembered.”

He looked at the black-haired youth lying in the bed, his tone filled with relief. “You seem to be in very good condition today.”

“Am I?”

“At the very least, you know who I am today.” Wang Shen made a little joke.

“I’ll remember from now on.”

Yin Luo closed his eyes, sorting through his thoughts.

It felt like he’d had an incredibly long dream. Upon waking, his mind was muddled and groggy, unable even to distinguish which side was reality.

But was it really a dream?

The game, the players, the quests, Little Bear, Aunt Jing… and Lin Yujing.

Recalling the latter’s final expression, Yin Luo still felt a surge of satisfaction from scoring a win.

It was obvious the man had never hidden how out of place he was in the instance world.

If the players in that novice instance belonged to a low-powered world of punch-for-punch brawls, then the grey-haired man was already at the level of flying swords and soaring through the heavens.

Logically, whatever reason he had for entering that instance world, nothing there should have been able to hold his attention.

Yet his attitude towards Yin Luo was strange.

Inexplicable attention, the insistence on giving him candy, goodwill from an unknown source…

It was as if, before all this, long before this game started, Lin Yujing had seen him, or known him.

Perhaps not a very intimate relationship, but certainly a past encounter memorable enough to make someone of Lin Yujing’s character linger on another person.

So Yin Luo had tested him in the end.

He succeeded, and Lin Yujing’s reaction confirmed his guess was correct.

So, what was that experience? Why did he have absolutely no memory of it?

Yin Luo’s curiosity grew.

But he didn’t regret not pressing further. Setting aside whether someone like Lin Yujing would even confess, wasn’t the process of uncovering the truth the real fun part?

“You’re in a good mood today.” Wang Shen, who had been sitting quietly nearby, remarked.

“Am I?” Yin Luo smiled. “I had a very good dream.”

“Oh? What did you dream about?”

“About something I wanted,” the delicate-featured youth said.

“That’s a good start. It seems today will be a beautiful day.” Though Wang Shen looked scholarly and refined, he was quite strong. In one motion, he lifted Yin Luo directly into a wheelchair. “You’re in good condition today. Would you like to go out for a walk?”

Yin Luo, who had been defying heaven and earth in the instance world, froze stiff for a moment before sitting down.

He tried experimentally to stand, but his legs utterly failed him, feeling like two lumps of cotton. He barely lifted himself an inch before slumping back down.

Great. His mood was ruined now.

He looked at the man still standing there and said politely, “Brother Shen, I’d like to be alone for a bit.”

“Alright.” Wang Shen immediately made to leave.

“Wait, hand me that plushie.”

Wang Shen followed his pointing finger to a white rabbit plushie that had always sat on the bedside table, its ruby eyes sparkling.

He seemed very curious about Yin Luo’s state today, but his professional ethics kept him silent. After handing it over, he left, closing the door behind him.

The room fell quiet. This was the world Yin Luo was familiar with.

Throughout his years of illness, this was always the scene he woke to after emerging from a state of stupor.

Unlike the bedroom in the instance world, this room was larger. The sharp corners of many furniture pieces were wrapped in soft padding to prevent injuries. A bookcase, bed, and small dining table were all arranged within this one space to accommodate the wheelchair’s movement.

Beautifully maintained green plants were everywhere, and outside the window lay a scenic view of mountains, rivers, and blue sky.

If he didn’t have to stay here year after year, it would probably be a very warm and cozy home.

Thankfully, he had finally seen a glimmer of hope.

A hope he didn’t understand why it had come to him, yet genuinely existed.

Yin Luo poked the motionless white rabbit plushie in his hands. “Is it you?”

Little Bear didn’t react.

He pinched its ear. Where he touched, a thin layer of frost formed, defying natural laws.

“Seems it’s not you yet.” He sighed.

Intuition told him this was indeed just an ordinary plushie. The texture was the same, but it lacked a crucial component—the part that allowed it to “come to life.”

Perhaps it could be called a soul?

But would a plushie even have a soul?

Yin Luo held the plushie tighter, picking up an ice crystal and examining it under the light.

It was very thin, very brittle. And if you didn’t look closely to notice the trace of grey mist within, it was almost indistinguishable from a regular ice shard.

But it was precisely this frost, conjured with such effort, that confirmed for Yin Luo that it hadn’t been a dream.

Compared to the instance world, his Corpse Frost Power and Flesh and Blood Force in reality were weakened to an extreme. Only through direct physical contact could Yin Luo form a small patch of frost.

But they did exist.

More and more questions. Perhaps he should find some informed individuals to gather intel.

For example… the players.

“Pearl.” Deep in thought, a rhythmic set of footsteps accompanied a female voice at the doorway.

Yin Luo looked up.

The woman wore a cyan-and-gold qipao, its hem embroidered with a golden full moon. The combination of colors, which should have been bold and striking, could only serve as a backdrop on her.

—Or rather, anything placed beside her became a backdrop.

She had almond-shaped eyes and peach-blossom cheeks, black hair and fair skin. Her features were seventy percent similar to Yin Luo’s, but softer. She was the very image of a classic Jiangnan beauty.

But her aura was far too cold, her expression too detached. Like a bright moon in the heavens, or a lone star reflected in the sea—aloof, distant, forever out of reach.

The youth in the wheelchair blinked, his tone intimate. “Mom?”