Back in the Wizard Tower, he would not have believed it. But now, he wanted to believe a little.
Facts spoke louder than arguments. An Luo could no longer convince himself that Meieruita’s feelings were purely for gain.
Meieruita missed him. A year ago, he had the power to leave the Small World but chose to search instead.
If everything followed An Luo’s original settings strictly, Meieruita would never do such a thing—it brought no strength gains, thus “meaningless.”
An Luo wanted to say, “No, my novel isn’t like that,” yet he could not help feeling immense joy.
His favorite protagonist liked him back, even willing to do things “meaningless” in Meieruita’s eyes, just to find him.
As an author, learning his protagonist truly liked him filled An Luo with indescribable happiness and fulfillment.
As for that half-hearted revenge…
An Luo asked: “What were you originally planning to do?”
Meieruita stayed silent.
An Luo waited a while but got no answer. He pondered, figuring that for Meieruita, revealing his “revenge method” was too embarrassing.
So he did not press and guessed instead: “You planned one playing good cop, the other bad cop, to make me hate Mei Xiu. Hmm, but your method was just having me pretend to be your lover. Okay, maybe dressing as a girl is a bit embarrassing, but it’s not that bad.”
To people in this world, forcing a man into women’s clothing might be a grave humiliation, hard to bear. But An Luo was a modern man; he did not care much.
Many male streamers promised fans cross-dressing at milestones—100k followers for female attire, 300k for maid outfits, cheongsams, even bunny or cat ears.
Rare in real life, but online, it was commonplace.
No one saw those promising streamers as enduring humiliation; even they treated it as fun, no shame.
An Luo felt this revenge lacked punch. Meieruita had prepared so long—worst case, he could play along?
He wanted more time with Meieruita too.
Last time, leaving without a word had indeed been improper, but An Luo still hadn’t changed his mind. He and Meieruita had different life paths. He didn’t want to follow Meieruita into adventures, and Meieruita couldn’t stay with him forever in this secluded corner.
They would still have to part ways eventually.
This time, though, they should say a proper goodbye. Maybe even make a promise for Meieruita to come back after some time had passed.
So An Luo asked, “If you successfully got your revenge on me, would you still hate me?”
Meieruita remained cold. “Oh, if the revenge succeeded, of course I wouldn’t hate you. But right now, I will hate you forever.”
An Luo nearly burst out laughing.
He didn’t remember giving Meieruita this “stubborn” trait.
There was a plot where Meieruita had labored for three years on an experiment, only to realize his research direction was wrong. He felt down for just a short while before quickly adjusting to the right path.
And in the story An Luo had written, Meieruita never said much with his mouth—he always acted directly.
Yet now, Meieruita kept repeating that he “hated An Luo” and “would hate An Luo forever,” but took no real action. His hatred for heaven and earth stayed only on his lips.
It even felt like blustering.
Outsiders might not notice, but as the author, An Luo just found Meieruita adorable.
“Then why don’t you continue with the revenge?”
Meieruita’s response was a cold laugh. “How? You’ve already seen through me, haven’t you?”
An Luo said, “I can pretend I don’t know and play along with you.”
Meieruita fell silent.
He still gripped An Luo’s hand tightly but slightly loosened his arm around An Luo’s waist. They pulled back a little, enough to clearly see each other’s eyes.
“Why?”
Finally, Meieruita spoke, looking at An Luo. “You know this is revenge, humiliation. And you still want to cooperate?”
“Oh? I don’t think it’s humiliation.” An Luo replied, “Actually, I find it pretty interesting.”
He added, “Besides, I don’t want my favorite protagonist to hate me forever.”
Meieruita looked at An Luo’s oblivious face and thought that An Luo probably had no idea how much malice lurked beneath his so-called revenge.
Would An Luo ever know that Meieruita actually wanted to defile him in the most despicable way? Would he know that after Meieruita first discovered the nobility’s filthy behavior and felt utterly revolted and sickened, he later had those bizarre, even more vile dreams?
He didn’t.
Meieruita lowered his eyes. An Luo didn’t know. An Luo still thought of Meieruita as his “favorite protagonist”: calm and restrained, rationally cold, principled, buried in his books.
Meieruita despised the nobility’s disgusting acts while secretly yearning to do the same to An Luo. Some might emerge from the mud unstained, but he knew he wasn’t one of them.
He had lived in that environment too long. On the surface, he seemed untouched by those vile habits, but the aura of corruption had silently seeped into his bones.
Perhaps An Luo had never even imagined such filthy things.
Meieruita had read An Luo’s works from the past three years. An Luo never wrote explicit scenes—not even skipping over a wedding night; he glossed past it. What he wrote was love, the kind unrelated to desire, sustained purely by the mind.
In those three years, An Luo had countless opportunities to satisfy his physical desires, but he didn’t. He rarely went out, ignored the nobility’s invitations, and even rejected flirtations from beautiful noble ladies and matrons.
So Meieruita was certain An Luo could never dream that beneath his seemingly “harmless” revenge lay such wicked thoughts.
But…
“Will you really cooperate with me?”
He asked.
Do you really know what you’re agreeing to?
An Luo answered readily, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Then, I’m going to get my revenge on you.”
An Luo smiled. “Sure. But once the revenge is done, you can’t hate me anymore, okay?”
“Of course.”
An Luo felt this almost laughable “revenge”—laughable compared to Meieruita’s original style—wouldn’t harm him at all.
Besides, he’d been wrong to leave without a word back then. Meieruita had searched for him so long; his heart must have ached.
Playing along with this “revenge” game for a bit longer might help them get familiar faster.
After all, they’d been apart for three years, not three days.
It reminded An Luo of his modern days. After college graduation, he’d reconnected with a high school friend. Time had passed, and despite shared youthful memories, the long separation had made them strangers emotionally.
Until they played a game together and ran into a dirty player.
Wow, in that instant, all barriers vanished. They became comrades-in-arms, talking casually, acting freely. At the final victory, they high-fived instinctively, just like back in high school.
Years of distance wouldn’t disappear from one game, but it opened the door for future contact.
No phones or internet here, so An Luo couldn’t copy that exactly. But cooperating with Meieruita’s “revenge” might achieve something similar.
With their original statuses, talk might stay stiff. But acting in a play allowed more freedom.
Mainly, An Luo recalled all those entertainment news stories about “love born from acting.”
Two stars, unfamiliar at first, play leads in a drama and suddenly fall for each other.
It showed acting together could close gaps fast!
Professional actors even became couples.
An Luo didn’t plan to get that close with Meieruita—he just wanted to bridge the three-year strangeness and distance.
He looked at Meieruita. With his wrist pulled, he sat on Meieruita’s lap, his line of sight a bit higher. Looking down, he saw Meieruita’s deep eye sockets and the lashes veiling his pupils as he lowered his gaze.
“What’s wrong?”
Meieruita spoke slowly, in an almost detached tone. “Are you really agreeing? An Luo, this is an ignoble revenge. I… might not always be able to control myself.”
“You can take back your words now. I won’t hold it against you.”
His speech was formal, pedantic, as if suppressing something. This only convinced An Luo more that, despite Meieruita searching for him out of longing, three years had made them distant.
Look how polite and detached Meieruita was now. So courteous.
Just like An Luo and that high school friend reuniting—polite nods all around.
An Luo didn’t want things with Meieruita to turn like that, even if he was the root cause…
Maybe he was greedy, but he hoped to grow closer.
Like before, when they played chess. Meieruita would tease him with wins, and when An Luo got mad and cheated, Meieruita didn’t mind. He’d just say coolly that even if An Luo cheated more, he still couldn’t win.
“What can’t you control?” An Luo asked. “Planning to hit or scold me a few times to vent?”
“Of course not.” This time, Meieruita answered quickly, denying the hitting or scolding guess. But he didn’t explain what further loss of control might entail or where.
An Luo said, “Or give me a few curses or uncomfortable witchcraft to make me suffer?”
“No.”
An Luo laughed. “See? You’re not planning witchcraft or curses on me, nor hitting or scolding. What do I have to fear?”
Meieruita lifted his head slightly and gave An Luo a deep look.
“Yeah.”
You have nothing to fear.
After all, you know nothing. And I… will never let you know the vile, sordid malice surging in my heart right now.
