Chapter 62: He No Longer Had a Reason to Stay Part 1

“Were you always like this before?”

An Luo frowned and asked.

Meieruita lay on the bed, but he showed no signs of sleepiness. His gray-green eyes shone brightly, and his pale face bore a sickly flush, giving him an eerie, somewhat unsettling appearance.

He was still handsome, but there was a ghostly air about him, especially those scarlet lips, as if they had drunk their fill of human blood.

“It’ll get better soon,” Meieruita replied in a low, hoarse voice, evading the question.

An Luo: “…”

He wasn’t sure if fevers could make someone delirious in the wizard world, but to be safe, it was best not to let Meieruita continue like this. “Is there any way to cure the illness faster? Do you have any fever reducers? Or similar potions that won’t conflict with your wound?”

Meieruita: “No, my wound conflicts with all witchcraft potions.”

An Luo frowned at him, their gazes meeting. Meieruita now resembled a vividly colored yet bizarre painting. He smiled at An Luo, the edges of his lips appearing particularly sharp. An Luo suddenly wondered if touching them would draw blood.

He shook his head to dispel the odd thought.

“Wait here,” An Luo said. “I’m going to wash up, then head out for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

Standing around glaring at nothing wouldn’t help, so An Luo entered the bathroom. He soon emerged, shaking his dripping hands. The ruby bracelet, strung on a fine silver chain around his wrist, trembled and dripped water as well.

The small red gems refracted a translucent light that reflected in Meieruita’s gray-green eyes.

The ruby bracelet only had a protective function and no other effects. Meieruita had fabricated a lie, and An Luo had believed it.

That blazing red was like a warning light, one only Meieruita could understand.

The warning light was embedded in An Luo’s hand, flickering with his movements, refracting beam after beam of light. The rubies didn’t glow on their own—only when one tried to approach did their refracted light pierce into one’s eyes.

Meieruita’s mental exhilaration gradually faded. He grew drowsy, his eyes half-open, half-closed. When he opened them again, An Luo was gone, only the sound of the door closing echoed in the dormitory.

An Luo prepared to go out and buy some things. Since Meieruita said his wound couldn’t be treated with healing potions, An Luo had no choice but to buy some honey.

He vaguely remembered that ginger soup could treat fevers, though he had forgotten the details. Among the seasoning magic plants he had collected, there was one similar to ginger. Boiling it dry would be too spicy, but without brown sugar here, he planned to substitute with honey.

He wasn’t sure if it would work, but even without brown sugar’s effects, it could at least improve the taste.

It was best to buy such non-witchcraft items from the wizard apprentice in charge of procurement. The mid-level apprentice handling procurement in the middle layer was named Alexander—a very common name.

“You’re newly promoted?” After hearing An Luo’s request, he rummaged through his numerous spatial wizard artifacts. “I rarely see you out and about.”

He knew of An Luo, after all. An Luo’s puppet had taken first place in this apprentice exam, and the news had spread everywhere.

The mid-level apprentices didn’t dislike An Luo; they mostly ignored him. They weren’t like before, setting traps or plotting against him. They did harbor some resentment toward that puppet named Meieruita, who had claimed first place with overwhelming scores, but since he was just a puppet now, it didn’t matter.

Alexander had felt the same at first, but upon meeting An Luo, he found him quite agreeable.

“Yes,” An Luo nodded. “That’s right, I was promoted in this apprentice exam.”

Alexander chuckled and pulled out a jar of honey and a jar of jam. “Since you’re a newcomer, I’ll throw in an extra jar of jam.”

The honey and jam were in glass jars—one dark yellow, the other bright red—like two bottles of paint standing on the table.

“Thanks.”

An Luo smiled, took out money to pay, and Alexander, finding An Luo pleasant, pushed over another jar of blue jam.

They had come from nobles anyway, costing him nothing, so giving them to An Luo was no loss.

An Luo didn’t know if it was the bracelet’s effect or the “Authority of the Creator” Meieruita had mentioned, but he didn’t dwell on it. He hurried back to the apprentice dormitory.

Good—upon pushing open the door, An Luo saw Meieruita still lying on the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief, fearing this troublesome guy might jump up and do something a patient shouldn’t.

An Luo boiled water to prepare “ginger” soup. He sliced a lot of that ginger-like magic plant, tossed them into the pot, boiled for a while, then added honey and stirred. He scooped a spoonful to taste—it seemed okay.

He ladled a bowl, cooled it in water until the temperature was right, then brought it to Meieruita.

As An Luo did all this, he suddenly felt like a nanny.

An Luo: “…”

But nanny it was—there was no choice.

Meieruita sat up and downed the entire bowl of ginger soup in one go. An Luo could see the sharp lines of his jaw and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple.

After finishing, sweat beaded on Meieruita’s forehead. An Luo wasn’t sure if it was working.

“Lie down and sleep,” An Luo said.

Meieruita lay down but said, “I can’t sleep.”

An Luo: “Want to read a book? But you should stay covered to break the fever faster… Here’s an idea!”

An Luo had a thought. “I’ll read to you. You just lie there. How’s that?”

Meieruita looked at him for a moment, his gray-green eyes like gems resting at the bottom of a pool. He blinked. “Okay.”

An Luo fetched the witchcraft book he had been reading, opened to the right page, and read aloud: “…Therefore, diametrically opposed elements can both cancel each other out or, through precise control, be temporarily fused together. At the right moment, their mutual resistance can be used to unleash a powerful impact on the outside world…”

He read on, though he barely understood the content—like a monk chanting scriptures, heart not in it.

When turning pages, he would glance at Meieruita and find him staring blankly, seemingly lost in thought about the knowledge. Though An Luo was foggy on it himself, he persisted.

But in truth, Meieruita had no idea what An Luo was reading. He simply listened to An Luo’s voice, watching him intently.

The movement of An Luo’s lips, the shapes his mouth formed, the way he turned pages, his fingers resting on the paper—he observed it all with fascination, like studying an important experiment.

Sometimes, when An Luo’s mouth grew dry from reading, he would lick his lips. The tip of his tongue was a small triangle, dark pink, moist and glistening like trembling jelly, fruity gelatin—any gelatinous delicacy. It seemed the air itself carried a fragrance.

Meieruita watched, waiting, biding his time like a hunter by a stump. He couldn’t eat, but he could linger outside the restaurant, inhaling the faint aroma wafting through the glass window.

An Luo had no inkling of Meieruita’s thoughts. As he read on, Meieruita suddenly said, “That’s enough. Stop there.”

He paused and looked at Meieruita. Meieruita had lowered his eyes, lashes veiling his pupils, the deep sockets casting shadows. A strand of black hair fell loosely on his pale forehead, like an ink mark on rice paper, adding a quiet, ink-wash painting vibe.

Meieruita closed his eyes, as if about to sleep. An Luo put away the book and tiptoed away.

An Luo had planned not to nap, to avoid disturbing Meieruita, but Meieruita said he didn’t mind. “Sleep. I still need you. If you’re too tired and out of it, what will I do?”

Skipping one nap wouldn’t leave him drained, but An Luo climbed into bed anyway. He stepped over Meieruita and lay in his own bedding, turning his head to look. The experience felt novel. Before, Meieruita slept late and rose early; though they shared a bed, it felt no different from An Luo sleeping alone.

But now, he truly sensed the difference.

It felt… a bit strange.

Still, his biological clock was regular, drowsiness came quickly, and he fell asleep soon.

Meieruita didn’t sleep. He lay there, fever broken, mind clear once more. The seed that had lain dormant in satisfaction beneath the soil stirred again, roots spreading through the earth, though not yet sprouting.

He felt unsatisfied, craving more. But what more could he want?

Meieruita didn’t know; he just felt restless inside.

In less than a week, Meieruita’s wound fully healed. An Luo sensed he was busier, leaving early and returning late. An Luo had a premonition. He checked his preparations—the “Replenish Magic” note strip, charged diligently, now held plenty of magic power, enough for departure.

He prepared everything needed, then pondered how to leave a farewell letter for Meieruita.

Writing it by hand was out. An Luo recalled movie tropes and got an idea.

He took an average knight novel, cut out needed words with scissors, and pasted them onto letter paper. It was tedious and time-consuming, but with Meieruita’s long absences, An Luo had ample time to do it leisurely.

An Luo deliberately destroyed items linked to him, though he had always left few traces. Meieruita had cut his hair before, and the clippings burned, but An Luo worried Meieruita might have hair or blood samples. For safety, he wrote a “Traceless” note—like incognito browsing, it could cover his tracks.