This statement shocked An Luo:
“What?!”
Impossible!
Moreover… An Luo eyed Meieruita suspiciously. Where did he look controlled by me?
He seemed perfectly free.
He could even go around threatening people.
“Could it be that you think my involuntary fondness for you doesn’t count as control?” Meieruita asked.
An Luo: “…Uh, maybe, probably… perhaps…?”
Truth be told, when An Luo learned that Meieruita felt fondness for him involuntarily due to his identity as the “Creator,” he didn’t relax at all. Instead, he grew even more tense.
To Meieruita, this was completely a form of mental control.
In the plots An Luo had written, there had been villains who tried to impose mental control on Meieruita, but those villains had met miserable ends!
…Heaven is going to destroy me!
“I considered whether to kill you,” Meieruita said, taking in all of An Luo’s changing expressions.
It wasn’t just An Luo who understood him—Meieruita had also come to understand An Luo over this time.
“I should have killed you.”
Meieruita continued, “But…”
His fingertip climbed onto An Luo’s soft cheek, pressing down slightly to create a small dimple. “After some thought, I abandoned the idea.”
“Do you want to know why?”
An Luo thought it might be to fatten him up first and held back.
But on the surface, he cooperated: “Why?”
“Because I discovered that you and I aren’t incompatible.”
“You have many merits, An Luo. The most important one is that you’re my Creator. Though I won’t worship the Creator like the foolish masses do, you are still special to me.”
“I want to keep you,” Meieruita said. “From the last soul transmission, I gained a lot of new knowledge from you. One phrase among them was that creation is often compared to childbirth.”
“An Luo.” Meieruita’s voice remained as calm as ever, but his words sent goosebumps all over An Luo’s body.
He said, “A father representing authority is detestable, but a gentle mother waiting for me at home is something to look forward to. She can soothe my taut nerves.”
An Luo was stunned.
He suddenly recalled that explosive plot he’d read before.
That unforgettable line echoed in his mind again: “Mother, your son is a man too…”
Gross… ptoo ptoo ptoo!
This is a no-CP male-oriented power fantasy novel—pure grit! Domination! Strength!
Meieruita wouldn’t pull something like that!
He even said he wasn’t interested in sex before!
I’m totally overthinking it.
“I know what you’re suspecting,” Meieruita said. “You’re wondering if I’m deceiving you, if I plan to lull you into security before eliminating you.”
An Luo’s wariness and fear of him—Meieruita knew it all.
He simply hadn’t pointed it out.
Because An Luo’s guardedness created a certain distance, and that distance formed a barrier always standing between him and Meieruita.
Before, Meieruita had thought this was to his benefit.
“But An Luo, if I were just trying to deceive you for trust and greater gains later, would I need to go this far?”
“Yes, we have a contract. I can’t harm you directly or indirectly. But if I put you into hibernation to protect you, while keeping your consciousness awake, would that count as harm?”
“If I chained you up for your protection, keeping you out of the sunlight and unharmed, would that count as harm?”
“Do you remember that underground laboratory last time?” Meieruita’s lips curved into an arc. “If I locked you in there, letting you suffer darkness and cold, would that count as harm?”
“If I found a coffin and trapped you inside, leaving only a tiny hole for air that lets in no light, would that count as harm?”
An Luo’s pupils dilated in terror as Meieruita’s thin lips parted gently. “You come from a peaceful, serene world, so you haven’t thought of it. If I truly just wanted to use you and then kill you outright, I have even darker, more horrific methods.”
“Guess how long you could endure if I sealed off your five senses, An Luo? Three days? Five days? A month?”
“If I really just wanted to exploit you, you’d probably be begging me for anything out of fear by now.”
“But I never did that.” Noticing that An Luo’s emotions had reached a breaking point, Meieruita stood up, then knelt on one knee by the bed, lowering his posture and tilting his head up to look at An Luo. “Because I want to keep you.”
He took An Luo’s hand and pressed it to his own slightly cool cheek. “Whether from a creation’s attachment to its Creator or from rational judgment, I want you by my side, maintaining the status quo—not fearing me, not distancing yourself from me.”
An Luo leaned against the headboard, feeling his palm against Meieruita’s cool cheek.
He had gone numb.
It felt like countless fireworks were exploding in his brain.
At that moment, his emotions were extremely, extremely complicated.
Even if someone told him the Trisolarans had invaded right then, he wouldn’t feel any more ripples.
“Alright, I… I’ll listen to you. But after advancing to Mid-Level Apprentice, the monthly fixed tasks will be harder. Won’t you find it troublesome?”
An Luo gave in.
There was a bit of being swayed by Meieruita, but more than that, stubbornly opposing him would surely lead to no good end.
Listen to what he’d just said.
It sounded hypothetical, but it was blatantly a threat!
Meieruita’s words did lend some credibility, but as the author, a lingering shred of doubt in An Luo’s heart couldn’t be erased.
He couldn’t forget the fates of those villains in his own plots who had trusted Meieruita.
Thus, he still hadn’t abandoned his plan to sneak away once Meieruita took over the Wizard Tower.
If Meieruita was lying, running would be escaping with his life.
If Meieruita was telling the truth, his future was destined to be tumultuous. He would live a legendary life, witness unprecedented sights, and gain unrivaled power.
Following him would only hold him back, and An Luo himself didn’t like overly turbulent living.
He just wanted a quiet place to hole up, ideally with some entertainment, so he could continue his writing career.
An Luo and Meieruita’s futures were destined to be incompatible.
Like two non-parallel lines that briefly intersected before diverging farther and farther.
So regardless of truth or falsehood, slipping away in time was the right choice.
But leaving behind some fond memories of time spent with Meieruita in the Wizard Tower wouldn’t be bad—this was, after all, An Luo’s protagonist.
His favorite protagonist.
“No need to worry.” Meieruita said softly, “I’ll protect you, my dear mother.”
He looked up at An Luo, lips curving into a smile, his low chuckle following: “As long as you act like an obedient good mommy.”
After this rollercoaster of ups and downs, An Luo had thought he would be sleepless.
But due to mental exhaustion, he fell asleep not long after his head hit the pillow.
When he woke the next day, Meieruita was absent from the dormitory—clearly out—but a bowl of cleaned Man-Eating Flower Fruits sat on the table.
An Luo: “…”
He didn’t rush to get up. With Meieruita gone and his mind clear, he began analyzing why Meieruita was willing to keep him and why he insisted on positioning him as the “mother.”
Fathers generally symbolized authority and sternness, looking down from on high.
Mothers generally symbolized gentleness and love.
In plain terms, universally speaking, fathers controlled, while mothers were controlled.
Of course, there were exceptions or equal partnerships, but they were minorities here.
Especially in this Western medieval-like setting, among ordinary humans aside from wizards, a father’s authority often exceeded a mother’s.
Hadn’t Flower Country’s ancient times had that backward custom of “obey father at home, husband after marriage, son after husband’s death”?
It existed here too.
Meieruita despised fathers because he despised authority and being controlled.
He had to pin An Luo’s identity as “mother” not out of perversion, but because “mother” was something he could control.
An Luo was the Creator, Meieruita the creation—this fact was unchangeable.
And Creators were usually superior to creations.
Meieruita didn’t plan to kill An Luo, but he also refused to be lesser. So he came up with this identity shift.
As long as he pinned An Luo as “mother,” their status would change.
Even if not equal, Meieruita wouldn’t be the inferior one anymore.
Moreover, Meieruita’s final words demanded An Luo “be an obedient good mommy”—the intent was crystal clear.
Even if he had some feelings for An Luo and wanted him to stay, willing to pay a price like protection, he wanted control firmly in his hands.
Meieruita wanted An Luo to obey him, not the other way around.
An Luo: “…”
As expected, the protagonist never planned to be a filial son.
He slowly threw off the covers, got out of bed, washed up, changed, and sat at the table to eat the bowl of Man-Eating Flower Fruits.
Whatever. No big deal.
He’d just endure it during his time in the Wizard Tower. Think about it—Meieruita wasn’t planning to kill him; he just wanted obedience. That was already fantastical enough, restrained enough.
For a dark protagonist, what more could you ask?
An Luo’s personality was mild; he wasn’t the type to insist on being the boss and making others obey.
From their interactions so far, if Meieruita maintained this state afterward, it actually seemed pretty good.
An Luo estimated in his mind.
Known: Meieruita’s stats were already OP. Now with plot knowledge and early research into advanced witchcraft that came later in the story, it was like adding wings to a tiger—smoother than double speed.
Thus, at shortest a year, at most three, the Wizard Tower would change hands, and the Old Wizard would be done for.
Then An Luo could pack up and bolt.
Though he felt their paths were incompatible—“different ideals, no common ground”—An Luo also knew that once living alone later, he’d miss Meieruita.
He had no phone for photos or videos.
