Meieruita had no dormitory, so he couldn’t return to his own to sleep.
Had he been spending the last couple of nights like this?
Meieruita had never mentioned it, and An Luo had subconsciously assumed he could handle everything, even something as minor as a bed. So he hadn’t asked.
Before he could think further, Meieruita opened his eyes.
There was no sleepy haze in his gray-green eyes—just vigilance, sharpness, and calm, as if he had merely been resting with eyes closed.
Meieruita’s gaze was icy sharp as he abruptly sat up, muscles tensing all over.
Only when he realized the person beside him was An Luo did he slowly relax. “What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”
Red marks from the desk still pressed into his face.
This proved Meieruita hadn’t just been resting briefly.
—He had really been sleeping!
An Luo: “…”
It struck his conscience hard…
Think about it: Meieruita handled everything—external threats, all the conflicts—and the one exerting the most effort ended up sleeping slumped over a desk. Meanwhile, An Luo, who had been coasting along, occupied the big bed, sleeping comfortably.
A line from a drama suddenly popped into his head:
“Why is it that the one who does more suffers more grievances?”
An Luo: “…You sleep on the bed.”
“No need.” Meieruita stood calmly. “I’ve had enough sleep.”
An Luo: “…”
His conscience ached.
He really felt like a terrible person…
An Luo asked cautiously, “Have you been sleeping in the chair these past couple of days?”
Meieruita gave a simple “Mm,” as if it were no big deal. He stood and headed to the bathroom. An Luo stood outside, his conscience throbbing with pain.
Since he disliked sharing a bed with others, An Luo first considered adding another bed.
“It would have been possible.” At lunch, beside the table that was far more spacious and bright than the Lower Layer apprentices’ dorms, Meieruita said flatly, “I tried. It should have been a simple matter, but those veteran apprentices threw a wrench in it.”
He lowered his eyes to the soup in his bowl, his lips and tongue glistening with oil. Lying required no preparation, and now with the added layer of oil, it was effortless. “It’s not impossible to get one, but after weighing the costs, I decided it wasn’t worth it and gave up.”
As soon as Meieruita said that, An Luo immediately connected it to what he had mentioned before: “Maybe it won’t be long before I get this Wizard Tower.”
There was a direct link!
The idea of adding a bed failed, so An Luo considered the second method: a shift system.
“Anyway, I don’t have much to do,” An Luo said. “When you need to sleep, just wake me up. Then you sleep, and I’ll catch up on sleep during the day. How about that?”
Meieruita’s gray-green eyes trembled slightly. He looked at An Luo, smiled faintly, and said calmly, “No need.”
“Too troublesome,” he said.
Those narrow eyes looked over, his eyelashes covering half of his eyeball. Meieruita said in a calm tone, “If I wake you up, it’s cold outside. You’ll want to stay in bed, say ‘five more minutes,’ dawdle around, and by the time you finally get up, a long time has passed. It’s more efficient for me to just sleep in the chair.”
An Luo: “…”
He had nothing to say.
Meieruita added, “Can you really get up obediently the moment I call you?”
An Luo: “Uh… that…”
He wanted to say he could absolutely do it, but that didn’t match reality.
“Then how about you just drag me up?”
Lift the blanket, grab him by the collar, pull him up, and set him aside. Wouldn’t that work?
An Luo suddenly thought this was a good idea. “That way, I won’t be able to laze around, and it won’t waste time.”
“What if you beg me to let you sleep a bit longer?”
An Luo: “Just ignore me, right?”
Meieruita chuckled softly. “If I could do that, An Luo, I would have made a move on you long ago. Would you still be sitting here?”
An Luo: “…”
Another path was blocked.
A little devil popped up in An Luo’s mind. The little devil said: Hey, he doesn’t care anyway, so why worry so much? Pretend nothing happened and keep sleeping on the big bed. Wouldn’t that be great?
Then a little angel jumped out: No way! Touch your conscience. If you just ignore this, won’t it hurt? He’s your protagonist! Can you really treat him like this?
An Luo… An Luo felt too embarrassed.
“Then… how about we sleep together?”
Although An Luo didn’t like sharing a bed with others, the situation was special now, and there was no other way.
He couldn’t really let Meieruita keep sleeping slumped over the desk, could he?
But Meieruita didn’t agree. “Don’t you dislike sleeping with others?”
An Luo was out of ideas. “Yeah, but the situation is special now.”
He thought about it and convinced himself inwardly: It won’t be for long anyway. If everything goes smoothly, Meieruita might get this Wizard Tower in about half a year. Just endure for half a year.
“No need to force yourself like this,” Meieruita said calmly. “For me, sleep is just a physiological need I can’t overcome temporarily. I only need the minimum time to sustain it, nothing more. Comfort isn’t a consideration.”
An Luo: “…”
Damn, my protagonist is too good!
In comparison, An Luo felt deeply ashamed of his own inferiority.
“No forcing, no forcing,” An Luo said. “I’ve just been used to sleeping alone since I was a kid. I can get used to it.”
He found a reasonable excuse. “What if I get married later? I can’t keep sleeping in separate beds then, right? Changing now is a good thing.”
Meieruita fell silent, then let out a short laugh. “Yeah, that bad habit needs to be fixed.”
An Luo had just thrown out a random excuse; he wasn’t really thinking about marriage. Once they got through this period and he lived alone, he could enjoy the big bed by himself again.
Lan Lian’s family had sent a lot of money. An Luo spent frugally, and Meieruita never touched it, so it accumulated more and more. When the time came to leave, he could buy a Spatial Witch Tool from Alden, pack half of it, and have enough to settle comfortably in some city.
He didn’t notice the slightly odd tone in Meieruita’s voice. He mentally calculated and figured half a year at most—no big deal.
The bed in the Mid-Level Apprentice dormitory was also large, not like the narrow strip in the Junior Apprentice dorm. It was about one and a half meters wide; two people could barely fit.
If worst came to worst, he could squeeze against the wall.
And so, sharing the bed was settled.
An Luo pulled another blanket to the side, maximizing their separation to avoid disturbing each other.
He washed up, got into bed, lifted the blanket on the wall side, and lay down. Meieruita was still at the desk, the candlelight flickering, his shadow swaying along with it on the wall. It reminded An Luo of shadow puppetry. He stretched out his hand, made a white dove gesture, played with it a couple times, found it boring, and lay down to sleep.
After An Luo fell asleep, Meieruita closed the book and walked to the bedside. He looked down at An Luo, his shadow completely enveloping An Luo’s figure in the dim light. Meieruita’s face was calm, but his shadow twisted like a giant serpent writhing.
He came out of the bathroom, carrying a chill of cold water vapor, blew out the candle, and got into bed.
Meieruita pondered the knowledge he currently possessed. He already understood that he was starting over. All his knowledge was stored in his mind, just sealed away. He wanted to break through that sealed wall and reclaim the memories and knowledge he had once mastered.
The wall was sealed tightly, but he believed he could find a way.
Because “Traveler Meierita” was him.
But none of that was the most important. The key was, why?
Why did “Traveler Meierita” choose to start over?
Clearly, the reason “Traveler Meierita” restarted could only be An Luo. But for what?
Although Meieruita thought that the “Traveler” bringing An Luo to this world might have saved him from that hell disguised as paradise, Meieruita knew himself—the “Traveler” had given up almost everything.
He gave up the power already in his grasp, the knowledge accumulated over countless years.
He gave up the Wizard Tower, the most important thing for a wizard.
He even gave up his memories and returned to his weakest state.
It was equivalent to Meieruita abandoning everything he currently had and going back to when he was a servant, losing his power and memories, continuing to endure the oppression of nobles and the infighting among other servants.
No, it was even more than that.
Meieruita knew the weight of it all.
To make such a huge concession and sacrifice must be for an even greater gain.
But what could it be?
Meieruita didn’t know, but he was certain he would find the answer in the future.
An Luo was fast asleep, his hair scattered on the pillow, cheeks flushed with warmth. A layer of blanket separated them; they wouldn’t truly touch. But it was a good start.
Meieruita didn’t understand why he wanted so badly to change An Luo’s habit of not sharing a bed with others. Even if An Luo was his “mother,” interfering in such a personal habit was overstepping.
But this was already the result of his restraint. In his deeper, darker desires, he wanted An Luo to become the sleeping beauty from the story—quietly lying in bed, going nowhere. After that, Meieruita would carry the Wizard Tower with him, blocking all outside prying eyes. Once he reached the peak and controlled everything, he would wake An Luo.
He would never leave behind a silent castle like in the story, giving others an opportunity.
By then, everything would be under his control.
No need to worry about something suddenly appearing before An Luo to curry favor.
The idea was too malicious, unrealistic, but immensely tempting. In the darkness, Meieruita’s gray-green eyes stared at the ceiling, An Luo’s even breathing in his ears. He recalled An Luo’s earlier words:
Once married, you can’t keep sleeping in separate rooms, right?
All his efforts weren’t to pave the way for someone else.
Marriage… don’t even think about it.
