Chapter 67 Part 2

Interrupting, he said: “By the way, shall we discuss your protagonist?”

An Luo looked up. “Sure.”

Mei Xiu spoke evenly, the content differing from that thick letter but the core ideas identical. An Luo tried to stay calm, but grew increasingly irritated.

What’s wrong with my protagonist?

I even toned down the wish-fulfillment for the market—they’re already plenty aggrieved!

So what if Doris has power and wealth? Why can’t I give her that?

For a power fantasy lead, is that too much?

If you knew my first protag, Meieruita, ends up at the world’s pinnacle and becomes a Traveler freely exploring endless realms—wouldn’t you lose it?

An Luo thought darkly: My heroines aren’t without connections. I’ll get their “brother” Meieruita after you—then you’ll shut up.

In his mental skit:

Meieruita: You’re the one badmouthing my sisters?

An Luo fanning flames: That’s him! Go on, big brother—teach him a lesson!

This thought amused An Luo; he chuckled involuntarily. At his smile, Mei Xiu paused, staring at the curve of his lips. Silence stretched—his mind blanked, then the toxic fire burned fiercer.

Whatever he’s smiling about, it has nothing to do with me.

The realization crashed heavily on Mei Xiu’s heart. He stopped talking.

An Luo came back to his senses and found the surroundings deathly quiet. Mei Xiu seemed to have finished voicing his opinion and was now looking at him.

He thought of Meieruita, then glanced at the Mei Xiu before him. Suddenly, a sense of indifference washed over his heart. After all, this world was just a derivative of a novel. Compared to Meieruita, the person in front of him was nothing more than one of countless background NPCs. An Luo didn’t even know who he was—why bother caring so much?

With that thought, An Luo calmed down and replied evenly, “I don’t have any such intentions. I don’t understand why you’d think that. Maybe you should chat more with other readers; you’d discover that Doris is a great female protagonist.”

“…A great female protagonist?”

Mei Xiu murmured the words, repeating them twice. Suddenly, he laughed, his tone ambiguous. “It seems you really love your protagonists?”

An Luo: “Every author loves the characters they create.”

Just then, a bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, followed by rumbling thunder. The rain poured down in an instant, fat raindrops splattering against the glass panes. Mei Xiu’s voice rose alongside the pattering rain:

“So, I want to know—which protagonist do you love the most?”

Those emerald-green eyes fixed on An Luo. For some reason, An Luo suddenly felt the color resembled bamboo leaf green.

Beautiful, but only to be admired from afar, for it was highly toxic.

Which protagonist do I love the most?

Meieruita’s name immediately sprang to mind.

Meieruita was different, after all. He embodied too many things.

An Luo had spent millions of words and over two years depicting him. He was the first fully fleshed-out protagonist under An Luo’s pen.

He had accompanied An Luo from being a student in an ivory tower to a corporate drone.

At first, Meieruita carried An Luo’s dream of writing a god-tier novel that would grant him financial freedom. Later, he became an outlet for An Luo’s frustrations in real-life struggles. In this world, he remained An Luo’s sole connection to modern society.

Add to that the time spent together in the Wizard Tower, and Meieruita was no longer just a protagonist on the page. He carried too much weight, and An Luo truly, deeply liked him.

Perhaps it was author bias, but Meieruita was his favorite protagonist. Even if An Luo wrote more works and created more protagonists in the future, none would surpass him.

But where was Meieruita now?

Had he left this Small World?

Mei Xiu was still waiting for his answer, so An Luo stopped overthinking. He had his answer in his heart, but he couldn’t say it aloud. Instead, he chose the safest response: “I treat them all equally. All my protagonists hold the same place in my heart—they’re all great.”

Mei Xiu lowered his gaze, the smile on his lips still gentle. “…Good, that’s good. You’re truly an impartial author.”

He looked at An Luo for a moment, then asked, “So, do you have any special feelings for your first protagonist?”

An Luo’s true first protagonist was Meieruita, and of course he had special feelings for him—pure favoritism.

But the Mei Xiu before him didn’t know that, so he must have meant the protagonist from An Luo’s first published work in this world.

Sorry, but no.

An Luo did like his own protagonists—after all, he wrote what he enjoyed, or he couldn’t keep going—but he had no feelings for them akin to those for Meieruita.

No other protagonist would ever surpass Meieruita.

So he replied flatly, “No, I’m an impartial author, after all.”

Mei Xiu stared at him fixedly, then smiled faintly, as if the answer had no effect on him.

It differed so vastly from his expectations—vastly, so vastly—that he felt as if he’d stepped into empty air, plummeting off a cliff thousands of feet high, the wind slicing his face like knives.

He hated An Luo, more than ever before. He hated An Luo’s indifferent expression, hated his casual tone. In his heart, Meieruita seemed utterly insignificant, unworthy of any special regard.

Even if he’d just said there was a little?

Mei Xiu’s hatred nearly shattered his facade of refined elegance. His heart boiled in a cauldron, bubbling and churning in scalding water, burning and aching.

That pain doubled into hatred for the Creator. He hated An Luo, wished he could devour him alive.

Why did you have to say that?!

Do I disgust you that much?

But it didn’t matter.

Even if you despise me, so what?

Soon, you’d learn that in this world, the only one who could protect you was that protagonist you disregarded—Meieruita.

He recalled how An Luo’s rejection had prevented “Meieruita” from appearing before him directly, always thwarted by mishaps here or coincidences there. Only by becoming “Mei Xiu” could he get close.

Back in the Wizard Tower, when An Luo used a rune to alter his identity and handed it to Meieruita, Meieruita had said he didn’t need it—he would never abandon his protagonist identity.

Yet now, to approach An Luo, he had to temporarily discard the identity of “Meieruita.”

After much deliberation, his heart surged like a boiling sea, laced with inexpressible pain.

A trace of undisguisable sorrow crept into his voice: “Really? Is that truly how you feel?”

“Of course.”

An Luo’s response was decisive. He only favored his true first protagonist, Meieruita. The others? He merely liked them—no deeper, special emotions.

Mei Xiu fell silent, the air growing thick and stagnant. An Luo felt the atmosphere turning too awkward and took the initiative: “Why suddenly ask about this? Not long ago, you were still slandering my protagonists.”

Mei Xiu smiled. “Just a casual question.”

He glanced out the window; the rain was heavy, showing no signs of letting up anytime soon. Mei Xiu stood. “Would you like to tour my manor?”

“Sure.”

An Luo stood and followed Mei Xiu out.

The manor was enormous, with dozens of rooms, each lavishly furnished. Beyond the rooms were storage areas, a wine cellar, a library. Listening to Mei Xiu’s introductions, An Luo felt like he was on a guided tour of a celebrity’s former residence—quite interesting. But the further they walked, the more dizzy he felt.

He paused, steadying himself in place. The scenery before him seemed to sway. Mei Xiu had walked ahead but turned back, approaching with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a bit dizzy.”

An Luo felt his temples throbbing. Even a slight shake of his head made him dizzier. Oh no, did I fake being sick so often that it’s become real?

Just as An Luo meant to say he wanted to Return Home, Mei Xiu spoke: “I forgot—you have a weak constitution and fall ill easily. I shouldn’t have made you walk so far.”

“Let me help you to a guest room to rest. A good sleep might make it better.”

An Luo was about to refuse when Mei Xiu smiled and pointed at the downpour outside. “The rain’s coming down so hard—you’d get soaked just getting to the carriage. At least wait until it clears. I hear you don’t like doctors, so you should take care of your health.”

At the mention of “doctors,” An Luo immediately recalled his feigned illnesses, when some kindhearted nobles had sent physicians. One had examined him worriedly and, without a word, prepared to bleed him.

An Luo had been terrified, his soul nearly fleeing, especially seeing the unsterilized knife in the doctor’s hand. He’d mustered all his strength to refuse.

—Don’t tell me I’ll survive Meieruita only to die at a doctor’s hands!

There was a gulf between the mundane world and the wizards’. John’s sister back in the Wizard Tower had languished from a severe illness for ages, but a single Healing Potion from John had cured her.

For ordinary folk unconnected to the Wizard Tower, though, illness truly relied on immunity.

It was early spring, the weather still chilly. Getting drenched now might turn a minor ailment into something serious—not worth it.

With that, An Luo agreed. “Alright, thanks.”

“No need to thank me.” Mei Xiu smiled—that same gentle, considerate smile. But in the dim corridor light, his figure cast in shadow, the smile took on a chilling edge.

An Luo, dizzy as he was, didn’t notice.

“Come, this way. I’ll support you.”