The sound of banging on the door, mixed with angry cursing, rang out especially loudly in the quiet night. An Luo sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Meieruita walked to the door. He peered out through the small peephole, and no one knew what he did, but the people outside suddenly fell silent, and everything returned to quiet.
“Pack up your things,” Meieruita said as he turned around. “We’re leaving this place tomorrow.”
He made no mention of who had been at the door just now or what he had done, his attitude as calm as if he had simply brushed away a speck of dust.
Influenced by him, An Luo gradually calmed down too, but the feeling of being targeted still weighed heavily on him, like a large stone pressing on his heart.
He was a bit distracted while packing. The Spatial Wizard Artifact made storing things very convenient—a mere thought, and the items vanished without needing to worry about weight or placement. In his carelessness, An Luo even put away the bedding from the bed.
Looking at the now-empty bed frame, An Luo quickly released the bedding again. But to adapt to the space inside the artifact, the once-neatly spread sheets had become deformed.
An Luo: “…”
He was done for.
They still had to spend the night here, so he resigned himself to remaking the bed. But soon, Meieruita took over the task from his hands.
With a flick of his wrist, the thick bedding unfurled lightly in the air, far quicker than An Luo running back and forth to tug at all four corners.
Then, with a simple tuck, he draped the bedsheet over it, folded it once, tossed the pillow to the head of the bed, and gave the quilt a shake. Everything was done.
It was fast—less than a minute in total.
An Luo: “…Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Meieruita replied. Noticing An Luo’s expression, he added, “You must know that I’ve been doing chores since I was young. I’m used to it.”
An Luo: “Sorry…”
Meieruita’s voice was calm, without any dissatisfaction—just stating a simple fact. But the effect was better than if he had directly accused An Luo. An Luo immediately felt guilty. “I didn’t mean to torment you on purpose. I just… uh…”
If Meieruita had directly expressed dissatisfaction to An Luo, he could have rattled off excuses like “Heaven sends great responsibilities to those whom it tests” or “Plum blossoms fragrance comes from the bitter cold” or “Only by enduring the greatest hardships can one become the greatest person,” or “Without wind and rain, how can one see the rainbow?” And so on.
He had plenty of reasons.
But now, all those once-righteous excuses stuck in An Luo’s throat. With just a few strokes, he had caused Meieruita over a decade of suffering.
An Luo thought of some words to say, but none felt right. “Sorry.”
He kept his head down and didn’t notice the fleeting glint in Meieruita’s gray-green eyes.
“There’s no need to feel sorry.”
Meieruita drew closer to An Luo, the scent on him—like ink or ashes, faintly bitter—enveloping him as well. He lifted An Luo’s right hand, which hung at his side, and rubbed the callus on his middle finger.
It was the only callus on An Luo’s hand; everywhere else, his skin was fair and delicate. Meieruita’s hand was the complete opposite—rough from fingertips to palm, marked by over a decade of servitude.
“Everything has a price,” Meieruita’s tone softened. “Being able to suffer first and enjoy sweetness later is already fortunate. There are still many people in this world who endure bitterness from birth to death. I suffered for over a decade, only to stand at the pinnacle of the world in the end. Isn’t that good enough?”
Meieruita stroked An Luo’s smooth, ivory-like hand, feeling the warmth of the skin, the surging blood beneath, and the faint tremble. “An Luo, I harbor no resentment toward it.”
It was like a dart hitting the bullseye dead center.
Meieruita’s reasonableness only deepened An Luo’s guilt. He mumbled, unsure of what to say, but Meieruita didn’t give him the chance and ended the conversation at the right moment. “Sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow.”
Meieruita sat back down at the desk and flipped through his book. He heard An Luo tossing and turning repeatedly—clearly, his dear Creator couldn’t sleep. A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he turned another page.
As night deepened, Meieruita packed away his experimental tools and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. The icy water rinsed away the remnants of the potion on his palms. He had no intention of staying awake all night; there were many things to do tomorrow, with plenty of details to consider, so he couldn’t leave on the sleep-preventing potion.
Candlelight flickered in the bathroom. Meieruita looked at his dripping hands and smiled lightly. The combination of his deep brows, eyes, and the smile at his lips took on a eerie, ghostly air in the dim light.
An Luo rarely suffered from insomnia. Since arriving in the wizard world, his schedule had become regular, and his biological clock had adjusted precisely. He almost never had trouble sleeping.
Last night was an exception.
He didn’t suspect anything, just figuring it was because he had things on his mind.
The next morning, he woke up still groggy and dazed. When Meieruita led him to the hall, he was still out of it.
Everything seemed to happen so quickly. In the blink of an eye, he had reached the upper layer. Naturally, he had no time to notice the calm expression on the face of the veteran apprentice who should have been hostile toward him.
The veteran apprentice who should have glared at Meieruita with fury for taking first place—even harboring dark hatred in his heart—remained utterly calm. When the Old Treeman announced Meieruita’s ranking and privileges, he merely glanced at An Luo and said nothing more.
But An Luo was too exhausted; everything around him blurred into buzzing white noise. Meieruita led him by the hand, supported him, and guided him along. He had no attention to spare for such details.
Upon arriving at the new dormitory, Meieruita made the bed and let An Luo sleep. An Luo slept until noon. When he woke, staring at the somewhat unfamiliar surroundings, he was still a bit disoriented.
“I’m living with you,” Meieruita said. “I no longer have my own dormitory.”
This snapped An Luo fully awake. He asked in surprise, “Why?”
“Do you remember that experiment I did before?” Meieruita continued his actions without pause, the feather quill scratching against paper with a soft rustle between his words. “Evidently, I’ve been registered as your Puppet. Puppets aren’t eligible for their own dormitory.”
He set down the pen and turned back to An Luo. “But I imagine it doesn’t affect you much?”
“Not much, of course not.”
An Luo was self-aware. “You’re definitely not my Puppet. Without you, I wouldn’t have even become a Mid-Level Apprentice.”
In a strict sense, things were reversed—Meieruita was the true master of this dormitory.
“I thought so too.” Meieruita lowered his eyes. “We’ve always lived together.”
The Mid-Level Apprentices’ dormitory was far superior to the Junior Apprentices’. Especially since Meieruita had taken first place, their dorm was a cut above the ordinary ones. Beyond the luxurious decor and larger space, the bathroom even had a bathtub for soaking.
An Luo gave the new dormitory a quick look around but had no intention of going out. Meieruita had said the veteran apprentices who came up with them were still eyeing him, and staying in the dorm was safer.
An Luo deeply agreed. The door-banging incident last night matched the plot description perfectly—not just similar, but identical.
From his knowledge of the plot, An Luo knew exactly what would happen next.
Originally, those people had targeted Meieruita, but now the misfortune had shifted to him.
What Meieruita could handle effortlessly, An Luo could not.
“Don’t worry.” Meieruita reassured him softly before heading out. “I’ll set up protections on the door. They won’t be able to get in and hurt you.”
“But, An Luo.”
Meieruita continued, “To prevent something like the stories of Snow White or the Seven Little Goats, where you unwittingly let the enemy in, I’ll lock the door. You won’t be able to open it from inside.”
“I don’t want to restrict your freedom, but I even less want to come back and find your corpse in the room.”
“Can you endure it for a while?”
Meieruita said, “It won’t be long. In three days, I’ll apply for a mission to recruit new Wizard Apprentices outside. Then we can temporarily leave the Wizard Tower to collect that deceased wizard’s corpse.”
“I’ll make some Witch Tools during this time to ensure your safety.”
“Besides, it might not be long before I take over this entire Wizard Tower.”
An Luo’s attention was completely captured by his last sentence. He asked in disbelief, “That fast?”
He felt a bit uneasy. “Maybe we should take it slower. I’m worried…”
“Of course, it’s just a guess.” Meieruita replied, “I won’t do anything without certainty.”
“I’ll be back before dinner.”
Meieruita closed the door. A complex rune pattern emerged on the door panel. An Luo reached out to try the handle and found it wouldn’t open.
As he tugged, the rune lit up and generated a gentle force that pushed him back.
An Luo didn’t know what rune it was, but it felt extremely reliable, greatly boosting his sense of security.
As for not being able to go out—there wasn’t much interesting outside the dormitory anyway, and with those veteran apprentices who wanted him dead lurking about, An Luo had seen plenty of horror movies. He wasn’t dumb enough to rush out.
If there had been a modern street of snacks outside, he might have hesitated, weighing if a hotpot was worth risking his life. But there wasn’t—just a bunch of gloomy, crumbling stones.
No need to think twice.
Those without strength and self-awareness died the fastest.
Obeying the protagonist and staying put in the dorm was the safest.
Aside from the improved environment, everything was much like his Junior Apprentice days.
But soon, An Luo noticed something different.
One day, when he woke up, he found Meieruita asleep, sprawled over the desk.
He was sleeping deeply—An Luo approached without him noticing.
Strands of black hair fell across his pale cheeks. Listening to Meieruita’s steady breathing, An Luo belatedly remembered something:
