But now, An Luo didn’t need to be on edge. The Meieruita before him was both him and not him. He could relax, like watching a war movie through a screen—no worry of blades reaching him—so he especially admired the grandeur.
In this absolute safety, the affection buried in An Luo’s heart surged up. He leaned close to examine Meieruita’s eyes, tracing their shape with a fingertip, occasionally brushing the lashes lightly with his pad—a soft, prickly sensation.
Meieruita’s eyebrows were long and sharp, like a calligrapher’s bold stroke—dense, black as ink. An Luo pressed a finger to them, feeling the fluffiness, scraping lightly with his nail to produce a faint “scritch-scritch.”
Below were gray-green pupils, deepest ink-green at the center, gradually lightening outward in a natural gradient. Further down were pale, cool cheeks; in the light, a fine layer of fuzz glowed like a halo over Meieruita’s skin, brightening his profile.
An Luo took one of Meieruita’s hands resting on his knee and suddenly thought he resembled a life-sized doll. He recalled a modern term—something like life-size BJD? Or BJT?
He’d seen videos; those dolls were stunning.
Meieruita’s current state was similar, yet not: the slight elasticity of his skin, warm touch, steady long breaths all proclaimed him real.
An Luo had known Meieruita’s hands were large—suited for piano or basketball—but now he could observe closely.
He flipped Meieruita’s hand over. The palm was rough, reminding An Luo of fine sandpaper used for model shells. His fingertip traced the palm lines—An Luo didn’t read palms, but he felt rivers crossed the heart, the rough palm like sandy, uneven rock, long and short rivers weaving through, starkly contrasting like a miracle.
An Luo yawned, climbed into bed for a nap. As he lifted the covers, he inexplicably felt nostalgic: back in the Wizard Tower, scenes like this were common—An Luo napping while Meieruita read, experimented, or scribbled “scratch-scratch-scratch.”
An Luo stayed at Iris Flower Manor on the surface for horse riding, which was good for his health. Although his body was already in excellent condition, he still needed to ride regularly.
In the past, he might have been quite interested in horseback riding, but now it had become a time-consuming and laborious formality.
The horse strolled leisurely through the woods, with Mei Xiu riding alongside An Luo. “Hmm, it seems horseback riding does have some benefits after all.”
He smiled and said, “The fresh air in the woods has improved your complexion quite a bit.”
An Luo was a little absent-minded and mumbled a few polite responses at random. His attention wasn’t on Mei Xiu at all.
“Are you comfortable staying at the manor?”
“Mm-hmm, very much so.”
“Is the food to your liking?”
“Mm-hmm, quite nice.”
“Have you felt any discomfort in your body lately?”
“Mm-hmm, all good.”
An Luo heard Mei Xiu’s laughter and snapped back to attention. He coughed awkwardly a few times. “Sorry, I mean, no.”
Mei Xiu didn’t seem offended at all. He looked at An Luo with a smile and said nothing more.
When they returned the horse to the stable, the horse named Angus seemed very fond of him. It gently nudged An Luo, and An Luo pulled out a piece of sugar to feed it.
“You seem to be popular with small animals?”
As they walked side by side back to the manor, Mei Xiu remarked, “While riding, squirrels often jumped from branch to branch overhead. Some rabbits peeked out quietly, and there was that flock of little birds.”
An Luo was just about to come up with an excuse when he heard Mei Xiu say, “I really envy you. With that ability, hunting must be effortless.”
An Luo: “…”
Fine, nothing more needed to be said.
You win.
At dinner, Mei Xiu strongly recommended that An Luo try some fruit wine. An Luo didn’t drink alcohol— at most, he’d had some low-alcohol beverages before— but Mei Xiu insisted: “Just one sip.”
He said, “Just taste it a little. If you really don’t like it, then don’t drink any more.”
So An Luo took a small sip for appearances’ sake.
Due to technical limitations, the alcohol content was low, and it had a sweet taste. It hardly qualified as wine at all. In modern times, it would just be a fruit-flavored alcoholic drink.
It wasn’t like the wine An Luo had imagined. It was sweet and quite tasty.
So he took another sip.
Mei Xiu asked, “Not bad, right?”
An Luo nodded. “Yeah, pretty good.”
He held the rim of the cold glass against his lips, squinting his eyes as he imagined it was the rim of a tin can he’d bought from the supermarket. The scene before him blurred, but he blinked, and it returned to normal. An Luo sighed and stopped drinking.
“If you like it, I have fine wines in my cellar for you to enjoy.”
An Luo thought, No thanks. Drinking less is better for the brain. Even if this is just an alcoholic beverage, too much could lead to changes in quantity causing qualitative shifts.
Though it was a low-alcohol drink, it still gave him a slight buzz. An Luo’s cheeks flushed on both sides, and his thoughts became a bit scattered. Mei Xiu’s words gradually turned into distant white noise, like the clamor of the street heard through a glass window— there was sound, but the content wasn’t clear.
Mei Xiu didn’t mind at all. After dinner, he escorted An Luo back to the guest room. An Luo stood in the room for a moment, then went to the adjoining washroom to freshen up. Halfway through washing, the mirror reflected Meieruita’s face. The suddenly appearing phantom’s gray-green eyes stared at An Luo and suddenly spoke: “Why did you leave?”
An Luo jumped in fright and quickly turned around. Meieruita stood at the washroom door.
The guest room was very luxurious, and the adjoining washroom was spacious, like a small room. Candles burned on the walls, dripping white wax that flowed down and solidified into bulging lumps. In the mirror’s reflection, An Luo saw them especially clearly.
Meieruita made no extra movements. He stood at the door, staring fixedly at An Luo, and repeated his earlier question: “Why did you leave?”
The tone was exactly the same as before, even down to the subtle pauses in the words.
An Luo breathed a sigh of relief, recalling what Mei Xiu had said: the so-called curse made the phantoms one saw gradually become more real.
He dipped his hand back into the hot water and looked at Meieruita behind him through the mirror. “Didn’t I leave a note? It explained everything clearly.”
Meieruita said nothing. His gray-green eyes still stared fixedly at An Luo.
Even though An Luo knew this wasn’t the real Meieruita, he still felt a twinge of guilt, as if he’d done something wrong.
“I didn’t know what you were really thinking. I didn’t want to take the risk.”
He murmured.
With a hot towel laid over his face, everything before him was a warm darkness. An Luo wasn’t the adventurous type— not just him, but many young people from ordinary families in his generation weren’t. Their personal risk tolerance was too low, so they could only strive for stability.
Countless people crammed to take civil service exams, fighting for the pitifully few spots, just to secure a stable iron rice bowl and become a formal employee.
An Luo was one of those countless people. Though he hadn’t taken the civil service exams, he shared the same lack of adventurous spirit. He didn’t want to gamble his life following Meieruita, even if Meieruita was his favorite protagonist. No way.
Even though he’d now transmigrated to a new world, An Luo’s personality was already set.
If it hadn’t been a phantom but the real Meieruita he’d encountered before, he would’ve packed his bags and run as far as possible.
Life was precious; emotions secondary. Nonsense. Survival came first.
He’d buy a standing-room ticket and flee overnight, and halfway there, if the train was too slow, he’d get off and carry it himself.
An Luo hung the towel back on the rack. When he looked again, Meieruita was gone.
He lifted the covers and got into bed. There was still a book on the bedside table. An Luo flipped through it, but the words danced before his eyes. He thought of the modern world. Despite its flaws, for ordinary people, Flower Country in modern times wasn’t paradise, but as long as you didn’t have kids or get married and stayed single, you could live a decent life.
Setting aside other things, for ordinary folks, it was the best era in Flower Country’s five thousand years.
Food and daily necessities were priced low, society was stable enough to guarantee survival, and with internet access, you could enjoy spiritual pleasures that ancients couldn’t even dream of, all at the cheapest cost.
An Luo had dreamed of saving enough from his job and novel-writing success to buy a cheap house in a low-cost small city and just lie flat.
Those days would’ve been blissful.
Write novels, update, then game or stroll outside. Sleep until he woke naturally, no more early commutes or subway rushes. In winter, stay home and admire the snow through the window.
That was An Luo’s ideal life.
No great wealth, but since it was achievable, it felt especially warm.
Anything was better than here.
An Luo read for a bit but couldn’t focus, so he lay down to sleep. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. He turned his head and saw Meieruita sitting silently at the edge of his bed. The black wizard robe brushed against An Luo’s hand, carrying a chill.
Meieruita’s gray-green eyes looked at An Luo, his voice low: “Sleep.”
Those gray-green eyes were like the still waters of a deep pool.
An Luo gazed into them, his heart stirring with suspicion.
He didn’t know if he was overthinking it, but those eyes were too lifelike, not like a phantom born of the curse.
More like the real… Meieruita.
But was that possible?
