Chapter 27: The Protagonist Is Pretty Cute

An Luo had originally thought he would be very nervous.

After all, having someone like Meieruita, such a massive threat, staying with him should have made him tremble with fear by rights. But even An Luo himself hadn’t expected that he would actually feel quite calm.

He had even tried to psych himself up to be a bit nervous, but then he realized Meieruita wouldn’t make a move on him right now anyway, so the tension in his heart eased.

Without the internet or electronic devices, An Luo’s schedule gradually became healthier.

After finishing his daily tasks, his only pastime was reading knight novels.

Besides the one Meieruita had given him earlier, he had asked John for help, writing a letter home to buy some and have them sent over.

Meieruita sat at the desk studying witchcraft books, the quill scratching across the pages, creating a pleasant white noise.

An Luo, changed into pajamas, sat at the head of the bed flipping through a thick hardcover knight novel.

It was said that this knight novel called Aymond Knight was quite popular in high society circles.

In his imagination, this knight novel should have been similar to the one Meieruita had given him before—full of clichéd knight stories.

Moreover, since it was popular in high society, the writing might be especially ornate.

But aside from the formulaic plot, this knight novel was filled with detailed descriptions of murder and violence, as well as all sorts of erotic and taboo scenes. The explicitness was shocking.

Murder and arson were still tolerable, barely within acceptable bounds, but An Luo flipped a few more pages and was stunned by an extremely detailed incest scene.

That line, “The son is a man too,” left his mind blank.

Ah, this…

He quickly slammed the book shut with such speed and force that it made a loud “bang.”

“What happened?”

Meieruita turned his head to look.

“Nothing, nothing.” An Luo snapped back to his senses and felt his reaction had been over the top, so he hurriedly shook his head.

Meieruita turned his attention back to the witchcraft book, and An Luo quickly tossed the hardcover knight novel aside.

Everyone has a curious side, and An Luo was no exception—otherwise, he wouldn’t have written Supreme Wizard.

But no matter how curious he was, he stuck to dark, profound, and tragic themes, not this… uh… indescribable stuff.

How to put it? Maybe because he was from Flower Country, he just couldn’t accept such unrestrained writing?

This was simply…

A collapse of rites and music! Moral decay!

Unacceptable!

For the first time, An Luo felt that the “internet censorship campaign” was absolutely necessary!

He swiftly swapped to another book.

A few seconds later…

My eyes!!!

He swapped again!

After several tries, An Luo spotted the pattern.

The hardcover editions generally had a lot of that indescribable content.

The cheap editions were clean, without all that messy stuff.

What, was all that messy stuff a special edition? Exclusively for rich people?

Being a commoner wasn’t so bad after all.

Having accidentally seen something dirty, An Luo lost all interest in reading. Knight novels followed the same tropes anyway, with long-winded and dull plots. If he weren’t so bored with no other options, he wouldn’t bother.

He quickly washed up and went to bed.

“Don’t read too late; it’s bad for your eyes.” Before sleeping, he politely expressed concern for Meieruita.

“Mm.” Meieruita responded but made no move to stop.

An Luo had only said it out of courtesy and never expected Meieruita to listen.

Before closing his eyes, that earth-shattering line flashed before him again, making An Luo shudder involuntarily before he slowly drifted off.

His breathing gradually grew long and even, blending with the crackling of the flames.

The scratching of the quill stopped.

The shadows on the wall twisted, stretched, and swayed with the flickering firelight.

Black boots stepped silently across the stone floor, like a ghost without a sound.

A pale hand gently lifted the few books on the bedside table, pulling out the thick hardcover knight novel from the bottom.

What plot could be so special that An Luo had slammed it shut so urgently and refused to look further?

The pages rustled as they turned.

Meieruita’s pupils suddenly contracted.

The knight novels he had encountered were the cheap versions circulating among commoners, with plots clean enough to discuss in public. Suddenly seeing this so-called deluxe edition popular among the elite, he instantly understood An Luo’s reaction.

He closed the book and took a long, slow breath.

The text in the book had been too much even for An Luo, who had grown up in an information age and habitually surfed the internet, prompting him to slam it shut. For Meieruita, living in an information-scarce region, the impact was naturally even greater.

He put the book back in place, frowning as he returned to the desk.

The deluxe hardcover knight novel lay quietly where it was, and the scratching of the quill resumed.

As if nothing had happened.

An Luo didn’t know when Meieruita went to sleep or when he got up.

Usually, when An Luo slept, Meieruita was still awake, and by the time An Luo woke in the morning, Meieruita had long since risen.

He didn’t even know where Meieruita slept.

After all, there was only one bed in his dormitory, and Meieruita’s bed was still in his own dormitory—it hadn’t been moved over.

This little mystery piqued An Luo’s curiosity, but as he looked around, he quickly found the answer.

Meieruita had probably gone back to his own dormitory to sleep.

According to the setting, Meieruita would absolutely never sleep near others.

He couldn’t maintain conscious awareness while asleep, and though his sleep was light—waking at the slightest disturbance—he still chose relatively safe places.

Like his own dormitory.

Though he had lost Lan Lian, that original newbie gift package, Meieruita as the protagonist had unquestionable abilities. He quickly earned contribution points to buy many daily necessities.

So his dormitory now had a lock, unlike the early days when he could only barricade it with furniture.

An Luo finished washing up, steamed some soft white bread, and paired it with cold dishes made from magic plant skins for breakfast.

“Want some?” he asked Meieruita.

“Thanks.” Meieruita set down his quill and sat across from An Luo.

An Luo suddenly thought the protagonist was pretty cute.

Meieruita had his own food and had gotten up early, but instead of efficiently filling his stomach as usual, he had started reading on an empty stomach.

He was clearly waiting to eat with An Luo.

But he wouldn’t ask outright; he just waited there. If An Luo hadn’t called him, he wouldn’t have come over.

Interesting.

No matter how precocious, he was still only seventeen.

In modern times, he’d be in high school.

After all, An Luo had written him, so even though their factual relationship was somewhat distant, after over two years of novel-writing, he felt emotionally close to his protagonist on a one-sided level.

Though rationally he knew Meieruita’s behavior might be an act, it didn’t stop him from finding Meieruita cute.

An Luo’s sudden smile made Meieruita raise a brow, his gray-green eyes flickering.

But he didn’t ask.

After eating, Meieruita took the initiative to clear the dishes.

Perhaps some kind of equal exchange?

One cooks, the other washes—fair division.

An Luo watched Meieruita roll up his sleeves to wash dishes, finding it novel.

Meieruita kept his eyes down, his movements deft.

He placed the dishes on the rack to dry, wiped his hands clean, and returned to the desk to read.

He flipped a page, and An Luo heard him say, “I have a task to complete this afternoon.”

An Luo: “Be careful then.”

Meieruita simply “mm”ed, and the dormitory fell quiet.

An Luo closed his eyes, got into position, and began meditating.

As expected, another failed day.

Perhaps because he’d failed so many times, An Luo took this failure calmly.

He went to the other table to practice writing.

He had Lan Lian’s handwriting beside him for reference.

An Luo tried imitating it, but his copies had spirit without bone.

They looked decent at a glance, quite similar, but anyone familiar with Lan Lian’s handwriting could spot the difference instantly.

An Luo: “…”

So frustrating—why did he dig such a huge pit for himself again?

Meieruita’s research paused for the moment. He glanced up at what An Luo was doing and frowned slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Imitating Lan Lian’s handwriting.” An Luo didn’t hide it. “If the handwriting doesn’t match, I can’t claim the money.”

With the end of the month approaching, An Luo was clear-eyed: in this short time, he absolutely couldn’t practice to match the original perfectly.

But he needed the money.

Looking at Meieruita standing nearby, he tentatively asked, “Are you free right now?”

Meieruita said flatly, “You want me to write the letter?”

“Yes!” Hearing his tone, An Luo didn’t seem unwilling, so he sweetened the deal. “You write it, and when the money arrives, we split it half and half?”

Meieruita neither agreed nor refused. He stepped to An Luo’s side, his gaze falling on An Luo’s handwriting. “Why are you so sure I can imitate it?”

“Because that’s how I set you up.”

No need to hide it. An Luo said, “I specifically gave Lan Lian beautiful handwriting to highlight you.”

“Oh?” Meieruita took the quill from An Luo’s right hand. Having been held so long, it still carried faint residual warmth.

An Luo: “In the original plot, he dies, you get all his property, and you imitate his handwriting to write letters demanding money.”

“The nicer Lan Lian’s handwriting is, the harder it is to imitate, which makes you look even more capable since you nail it in two tries.”

Meieruita leaned down and casually wrote a few words on a blank sheet.

After a simple practice, his handwriting matched Lan Lian’s perfectly.

His gray-green eyes glanced at An Luo’s profile. “Why give me such an ability?”

He pondered for a moment, then began writing the letter.

An Luo watched him write—his slender, pale right hand holding the quill looked exceptionally elegant, full of scholarly poise.

He spaced out, missing Meieruita’s question.

“Huh? What?”

Meieruita calmly repeated it.

“Oh.” An Luo answered instinctively, “Because later you’ll need to carve runes for witchcraft research. This way, you’ll do it fast, unlike others who take a whole day per rune.”

Meieruita’s quill tip paused, leaving a deep ink blot on the paper.

Eyes downcast, he said, “I wrote wrong. Let me use a new sheet.”

An Luo eagerly swapped the paper for him. “No problem, we’ve got plenty.”

Meieruita’s gaze lingered on An Luo’s hand for a moment before he finally began writing again.

The scratching of the quill on paper resumed.