Chapter 28

Returning to Changyang once more, and seeing that familiar old tree outside Swan Bay again, Li Zhuo felt a few seconds of dazed disorientation.

He still remembered how emerald-green and lush that tree was in midsummer, how the wind rustled its leaves together with a noisy clatter. Now, in the depths of winter, all the leaves had fallen, leaving only bare branches.

Time really did fly.

Back in the house he’d lived in for over half a year, the first thing Li Zhuo did upon entering was head straight for the balcony to check the vegetables in the ceramic pots outside.

He had assumed that after so many days without watering, they would definitely have wilted. But seeing the fresh greens still beaded with water droplets, he couldn’t help but remark, “That’s amazing.”

Mo Liang, the ‘person’ in the living room, shouldn’t have been able to hear him by normal human hearing, yet it was as if he had clairaudience, responding to Li Zhuo: “I watered them every day.”

Li Zhuo didn’t question how he managed to water potted plants in Changyang all the way from Hai City. He simply nodded, “No wonder they’re growing so well.”

That dusk, Mo Liang cooked a serving of tangyuan with black sesame filling. The two of them split them, five each, and in that way, they spent the Lantern Festival together.

After dinner, Mo Liang kept Li Zhuo company in the game room for half an hour of console games. Midway through, Li Zhuo caught him deliberately throwing the game twice. By the third time, it was just a bit less obvious.

“I think the house is still too small.”

Tossing aside his controller, Li Zhuo, sweating from the indoor heating and sheer concentration, was gulping down water when he suddenly heard Mo Liang say this with a completely serious face.

“What did you say?”

Mo Liang explained patiently, “I see that you seem to really like growing flowers and vegetables, but you only have that tiny little greenhouse right now. I think you’re… a bit pitiful.”

Li Zhuo fell silent.

Most units in Swan Bay were one-elevator-two-apartments or one-elevator-three-apartments. Li Zhuo’s former bare-shell apartment was the latter—a smaller layout, in a less desirable location. Mo Liang’s place was the former type, and he had bought out the entire floor, combining them into a far more private one-elevator-one-apartment setup.

One unit was four bedrooms, two living rooms, and two bathrooms. After knocking through to combine the two, the square footage had literally doubled. He must have spent a considerable amount of effort on the redesign and renovation.

Inside, aside from the two bedrooms, the remaining rooms could only be described as… an eclectic mix.

There was a counseling room identical to the new one at the school, a study nearly the size of a bookstore, an incredibly spacious sunken-style bathroom, and everything else you could think of: a game room, a home gym, a home theater—everything was there.

The first time he came, Li Zhuo had almost gotten lost; it was only after living there for a long time that he gradually memorized the location of each room. And now, Mo Liang was actually saying the house was a bit small, that he felt Li Zhuo living here was a bit pitiful…

“…”

Li Zhuo tacitly pretended he hadn’t heard that.

If he had pressed the issue and asked a few more questions right then, he would have learned exactly what Mo Liang was using as a point of reference.

——He himself possessed an entire planet, yet his most precious child could only live in such a tiny place, forced to grow flowers and vegetables in such a limited space. Of course he found him pitiful.

He pondered it. Indeed, he should really set up a bigger house for his child.

“What are you looking at me for?”

Faced with that familiar gaze from Mo Liang, brimming with love and affection, a bewildered Li Zhuo stated that his current place was fine already. Then, afraid he’d say something else, he immediately launched into the next topic: “Is the hot water ready?”

Mo Liang took a handkerchief and gently dabbed at the sweat on his forehead: “The water temperature is set. Do you want to wash now?”

Li Zhuo had a habit of soaking in the bathtub for a while before bed.

Previously, he usually soaked alone. Mo Liang, worried he’d get bored, would prepare audio-visual equipment, snacks, and fruit in the bathroom.

But later, after they went to Hai City, for several days—he didn’t know what happened—Mo Liang became extremely anxious about him, sticking to his side without leaving a single step.

So much so that Li Zhuo himself got a little tense.

One night, before his bath, he mentioned that he realized he had never seen Mo Liang sweat. He’d always known this was abnormal and had consciously avoided the thought.

But now, things were different.

For one, they had known each other so long, been through so much; he increasingly trusted Mo Liang, this non-human creature.

Secondly, he had seen the black tentacles emerging from beneath Mo Liang’s skin. He’d played with them like ropes, and they’d even saved him a few times.

Thirdly, he had just made the firm decision to sever ties with the Li Family, and was precisely at a moment where he needed someone to lean on.

Li Zhuo himself might not even have realized it, but at that time, he possessed a subconscious reliance on Mo Liang. He simply thought he was overly curious when he voiced the words: “Want to bathe together?”

After saying it, worried it was too presumptuous, he added, “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I was just saying.”

Why would Mo Liang ever be unwilling?

In his consciousness at that moment, surging and crashing wildly, was a single thought: 【My child actually took the initiative to get close to me! My child actually took the initiative to get close to me! My child actually took the initiative to get close to me!】

After all, according to the parenting guide he’d read, younglings have different personalities. For one like Li Zhuo, you shouldn’t approach too rashly. You had to wait for him to bring it up first. Otherwise, you could damage the trust that had been so painstakingly built…

What did this mean, that the child was acting this way?

It meant he trusted him more now, right!

Mo Liang instantly responded that time: “Alright.”

That bath together was when Li Zhuo discovered that Mo Liang truly did not sweat. Even when it was scorching hot, his skin wouldn’t redden, much less produce sweat.

Just like… a mannequin.

As usual, he asked:

“What fruit would you like to eat today?”

Li Zhuo thought for a few seconds and named a couple of things.

In his earlier years, Li Zhuo had quite a few scars left from farm work. Later, Ms. Lu Fei took him to a beauty clinic a few times, and after applying and smearing some things, it got a lot better.

But those products, in the end, only lightened the color of the scars. They weren’t so miraculous as to have a skin-renewing effect. Those old, chronic scars had always been there, just much fainter.

Li Zhuo was long accustomed to these scars and didn’t think much of them. But the last time they bathed together, Mo Liang’s expression had been especially pained.

He ached for wounds that no longer pained Li Zhuo.

And perhaps because of Mo Liang’s intensely concerned reaction, those injuries that hadn’t really hurt much, that Li Zhuo had practically long forgotten, came back to him after a long absence.

The one on his knee was from a fall; the one on the top of his foot was from when he was six and failed to hold a sickle steady—it dropped down. He bled so much back then, he thought he was going to die, but in the end, he didn’t…

As he recounted everything in detail to Mo Liang, though only a fleeting pang of bitterness crossed his heart, Mo Liang had instantly perceived it even then, asking him what was wrong.

It seemed Mo Liang could always instantly sense his emotional shifts. Truly remarkable.

…

Mo Liang, with a towel wrapped around his waist, was carrying a plate of cut fruit to the edge of the pool. Li Zhuo had half his face submerged in the perfectly heated water, the dense steam making the rims of his eyes feel hot and moist.

He emerged from the water, sizing Mo Liang up.

Though it wasn’t his first time seeing him, he still had to marvel. Usually, Mo Liang was always so completely bundled up. Even in summer, he rarely wore short sleeves. He never showed off, but now, out of those clothes, a body of tight, solid muscle was revealed.

His pectoral muscles were high and pronounced, much thicker and more robust than Li Zhuo had imagined. The contour lines of his latissimus dorsi were clear and smooth. Every muscle striation proclaimed strength and maturity.

As for Li Zhuo, although he had long left behind the days of being stick-thin like a rack of ribs, raised so well by Mo Liang that his height had shot up and he’d indeed put on some flesh, his age was what it was. His body bore only a thin layer of muscle, carrying the distinctive, fresh-faced vitality of youth.

Seeing Mo Liang approach, even though he knew the pool was huge—so huge that even stuffing a dozen Mo Liangs into it wouldn’t be a problem—he still shifted aside a little to make room.

The latter naturally noticed this,

and the smile on his lips deepened.

He placed the cut fruit on the edge of the pool, turned on the multi-function screen panel, and opened the drama Li Zhuo had been watching last time, adjusting it to his previous viewing progress.

Only after making all these preparations did he step into the pool. The water level instantly rose a large notch with his arrival.

Imitating Li Zhuo’s posture, he sat down slowly, only hesitating when it came to placing a hand towel on his head: “Why put a towel on top of your head?”

Li Zhuo answered, as if it were obvious: “Honestly, I don’t really know. But I’ve seen people do this on TV, so there must be some logic to it, right?”

“I see.”

Mo Liang didn’t ask further.

【The little kid with a towel on his head is so cute.】

【Like he’s grown ears…】

Within the enveloping steam, a few “little black snakes” started swimming leisurely and silently across the clear bottom of the pool.

Li Zhuo, who had been watching TV, was like a kid seeing a new toy. His eyes lit up, and with quick, sharp movements, he grabbed several of the tentacles that Mo Liang had deliberately let loose from his main body.

He was far more experienced now than when he’d first seen them. Especially after discovering how very obedient those inky black things were to him, he’d successively found out that black wasn’t their only color—they could change colors at will. And even if they were accidentally snapped, they could reconnect on their own…

The texture could change at will, too?

He didn’t know if it was because Teacher Mo realized he loved to play with them, but the texture leaned more and more towards that of a stress-relief toy. The cold, alien feel from before was completely gone.

And so, one played, while the other watched.

One asked, curiously: “You have so many tentacles. Do you ever get tangled up by yourself?”

The other, who had never done such a thing but still cooperated, replied: “I don’t know, but if you want to see it, I can try.”

“…”

If any civilization enslaved by the Pollution Civilization were to see this scene, they would probably think they had lost their minds. One of those things actually stripping away all its defenses, letting a human play with its main body like a toy?!

Of course, besides Li Zhuo, there was no one else here. Mo Liang’s gaze once again swept meticulously over the pale, shallow scars on the youth’s straight legs, arms, and feet.

An immense sadness overwhelmed Mo Liang once more.

If this were ever spoken of, his own kind probably wouldn’t believe it. That the emotions of an ordinary human could, moment by moment, tug at and affect Mo Liang like this.

When the former was in a bad mood, so was he. When the former was sad, he was ten thousand times sadder.

From the scars lingering on the skin, he could extrapolate precisely when a wound was inflicted, and how large it had been at the time.

Just thinking about it made his pupils expand uncontrollably, bit by bit, until no white was visible at all. When Li Zhuo looked over, though, they snapped back to normal instantly, and he offered a gentle, “What are you looking at me for?”

Li Zhuo shook his head: “Nothing much.”

The TV drama playing just happened to reach a comedic scene. Li Zhuo speared a piece of fruit with a fork and took a sip of the juice Mo Liang had prepared for him.

The water temperature was always perfectly suited. Snacks and drinks were within easy reach. And with the TV drama playing, the hormone readings indicated the child was in a very good mood.

Mo Liang was equally happy.

That night before bed, as usual, he told the child a bedtime story. And after he fell asleep, he routinely recorded the child’s sleep status: eyeball movement frequency, number of times he turned over, and so on.

The child was getting closer and closer to him.

This was good news.

As the closeness between him and his child increased, he could feel his memories gradually returning.

For example, he recalled that during the teleportation to this Small World, he had felt an unprovoked irritation several times. He’d originally thought it was due to proximity to the Primitive World, some kind of repulsion effect, and hadn’t looked into it.

Thinking back now, the timing of that irritation, converted to Small World time, actually matched up perfectly with the injuries his child sustained at those times. Was it that he had sensed the child he was connected to was being harmed?

There was only one child he had a deep link with. And he had always been trying every method to find that child. When the System’s mission notification came in, he was in the middle of a crucial spacetime experiment…

Wait. Mo Liang hated being disturbed. He had a rigid habit of shutting off all sensory input when entering the lab, even pulling back from the shared link in his consciousness. His own kin couldn’t contact him then. How did the System’s mission notification ever get through?

In an instant, the memory modules spun at high speed, as if countless images were flashing by…

…

The light points of memory lit up one after another. Point A connected to point B. Point B connected to point C. Naturally, Mo Liang was able to recall even more.

A poor child. A child in a state of weakness. A child so hypothermic he had practically lost all vital signs…

Mo Liang transformed his main body into something like a blanket, raised his surface temperature, and wrapped his thin, pitiful child tightly within it.

He carefully looked after him in ways he believed were best for Li Zhuo, attentively keeping him company. Yet, the child he cherished and protected so dearly grew increasingly unhappy.

He had clearly, from memory, replicated a city for the child in a one-to-one scale, including the schools, hospitals, shops, and all manner of buildings inside…

The only problem was that all the “people” inside were just avatars that Mo Liang himself had split off to play the roles. But Mo Liang was absolutely certain that every “person” looked different.

The clever child still discovered the truth,

and the scent on his body grew more and more bitter…

In order to make his child a little happier, to make him stay and keep him company just a little longer, Mo Liang really exerted an immense amount of effort.

But his child still ran to the surface, time and time again. Again and again, he left the nest Mo Liang had so carefully prepared for him. And Mo Liang had to go out, time and time again, to look for him.

The child couldn’t understand Mo Liang’s speech and strongly resisted his approach. His scent was always bitter, and the liquid flowing from his eye sockets was the most bitter of all…

Later, Mo Liang learned that that was his emotion…

In the very, very end, that thin, weak human contracted a common virus. His breathing stopped, his heartbeat returned to silence, and his body temperature grew colder, bit by bit…

He wouldn’t move anymore.

—Within the absolutely safe space Mo Liang had constructed for him, his vital signs had ceased.

Unable to accept any of it, Mo Liang fell into emotional turmoil. Intense self-blame, regret, and sorrow swept through his entire being. He had ruined everything! He had actually caused the death of his precious treasure! He could not forgive himself at all!!

Mo Liang kept searching for a way to revive his one and only child, but it seemed that during this process, his memory began to grow fuzzier and fuzzier…

He forgot Li Zhuo’s name. He forgot Li Zhuo’s face. He forgot everything about their acquaintance. He only remembered that he once had an incredibly adorable child, that this child was extremely important to him, and that he must find him, absolutely must…

The Rescue System would release target information about the mission targets it wanted saved. A familiar scent drew Mo Liang in, and thus, as if guided, for the first time, he voluntarily stepped out of his lab and proactively took on his very first mission.

It was precisely because of that past “failure” that Mo Liang was so subconsciously, excessively attentive to Li Zhuo’s emotions, to every biomarker of his body…

This was why he had to constantly listen to his healthy heartbeat. Feeling his calm breathing and steady pulse was the only thing that could slightly soothe the ceaseless, surging unease within him.

…

The memory puzzle pieces lit up one by one, until only two or three in the corner remained dark.

Was it like this?

So it was like this?

His child hadn’t been lost. He had died?

As a nurturer, what a tremendous sin this was. And to think, he had been quietly praising himself just before, thinking he’d taken such good care of the child, raised him so healthy…

He was truly a failed nurturer!!

To have made so grave an error!

If Li Zhuo had been awake, he would have seen a heart-stoppingly terrifying sight: The man’s skin, like wax melting under high heat, began to dissolve, bit by bit, and slide off…

The bedside nightlight flickered twice, as if with a bad connection.

The former skin, now without support, lay like a tattered, discarded piece of clothing, flattened on the floor. Inside, an unidentified substance was writhing.

This dark, shadowy mass did not harm the human youth sleeping peacefully in the bed. Instead, with a posture of protection, it coiled around him, impossibly meticulously and carefully.

A thin tentacle reached out, its movements gentle as it brushed across the human youth’s cheek, pausing noticeably whenever it passed over the site of an old wound.

Finally, they all converged at the human youth’s chest, at his wrists, over his radial and carotid arteries. And fine, thread-like black tentacles, even more cautiously, drew close to Li Zhuo’s mouth and nose, sensing for the presence of airflow in and out…

He vividly felt the human youth’s breath and body temperature, and squirmed with excitement at his healthy vital signs.

【A living child…】

【A child who breathes…】

【A child with a normal body temperature…】

【Like… Love…】

【Like so much… Love so much…】

…

【Forgive me…】