Chapter 32

Later, when Li Zhuo looked back on this period, he would seriously ponder a question: why had he accepted that monster so quickly?

Was it because he’d been infected by the other’s attitude, which made everything seem perfectly natural in both word and deed? Or had he been persuaded by that confident, self-righteous defense?

Or was it because of those old dreams that kept resurfacing?

In those fragmented dreams, that world’s environment was terrible. The sky was perpetually murky and dim, showing no signs of life at first glance.

Yet amidst those ruins, deep underground, there was a completely brand-new city. Inside, there was a City Hospital, major chain supermarkets, restaurants, bookstores, amusement parks—every facility you could imagine.

Everything a city should have, based on his memory, existed there. It was so realistic that even the trash in the trash cans and a stray cat rummaging for food nearby were perfectly replicated.

The only uncanny point was that the entire “city” would be completely empty one second, and the next, the schools, hospitals, and main roads would be packed with people.

However, those “people” still barely spoke. They just silently stared at his every move, as if they had given him a gift and were waiting for his reaction.

In the dream, Li Zhuo was naturally panicked, even terrified. But from the third-person perspective of the dreamer, that creature probably meant him well?

There were many more fragmented scenes that couldn’t form a coherent plot. Sometimes, the creature wasn’t his teacher, but a strange classmate, or a kind uncle he met on the roadside, or even a tree.

That’s right. When Li Zhuo in the dream felt that a tree by the road particularly liked him, his first reaction was that his brain was truly broken.

No matter how Mo Liang’s identity changed, the common points were always the same: an outward appearance identical to a normal person, yet an uncanny feeling of being completely different everywhere, and an inexplicable kindness towards Li Zhuo.

Li Zhuo used to think those were nightmares. Later, piecing together fragments of Mo Liang’s words, he could roughly guess that those events might have actually happened.

Apart from external factors, Li Zhuo also considered that perhaps deep down, he wasn’t a very obedient kid himself.

After all, he had clearly sensed Mo Liang’s unusual strangeness early on. He should have run at the very beginning, but he didn’t. He even pretended not to see it.

Didn’t that mean he didn’t really care whether Mo Liang was human? As long as the love and care were real, that was enough. Otherwise, why would he have tested the waters again and again?

Based on all of the above, with the foundation of their previous time together, Li Zhuo felt no fear or rejection towards this “unknown creature.” He barely struggled with it for long and quickly accepted the new chapter in his relationship with Mo Liang.

The progress in their relationship didn’t bring earth-shattering changes to Li Zhuo and Mo Liang’s lives. The human and the non-human’s daily state remained much the same as before.

This often gave Li Zhuo a curious illusion: as if from the very moment they met, they had already entered the most intimate and comfortable relationship possible.

The confession was merely poking through that paper-thin window screen.

Summer in Changyang was stiflingly hot. Outside, it was like an oven. Li Zhuo, however, especially loved sleeping sprawled on that monster’s chest. He also loved nestling in the monster’s arms, playing on his phone or watching TV.

Anyway, it was summer vacation. He didn’t need to get up early for class like before. He had vast amounts of time to squander.

And to make his child more comfortable, Mo Liang, who raised his body temperature in winter, would now silently lower it, allowing his child to lie against him more comfortably.

Even though he knew every room had air conditioning.

During such intimate contact, Li Zhuo soon discovered that just a light touch would make Mo Liang’s breathing stop noticeably. His entire body would tense tightly, and beneath his smooth skin, something black seemed to swim excitedly…

At first, he didn’t know what emotion this signified. Later, with experience, he learned to recognize the subtly different changes indicating anger, fear, or excitement.

That sounds hard to believe, doesn’t it?

A living extraterrestrial lifeform, a pollution source of unknown age, a non-human creature that could crush a human as easily as stepping on an ant—in front of Li Zhuo, it held no resemblance to the ferocious monsters in ghost stories. It was so docile it had practically no temper at all.

His embrace was so gentle that the human felt not the slightest discomfort, yet simultaneously, Li Zhuo could feel himself being embraced from all directions.

No matter where, no matter the situation, he would grant Li Zhuo, the child in his eyes, whatever he desired. He cherished him as dearly as his own life, possessing infinite patience for him.

Every morning when he woke up, Li Zhuo would see Mo Liang wearing a human skin, preparing a lavish breakfast in the kitchen.

And while Li Zhuo ate, besides keeping him company, Mo Liang would unconsciously extend a few tentacles to gently tidy his slightly messy hair or a collar rim that was slightly upturned.

At night, he wouldn’t be idle either. Even knowing this small world was very safe and no accidents would occur, the monster would lightly wrap his fine tentacles around Li Zhuo’s bed, building a protective wall.

If Li Zhuo showed any signs of unease in his sleep, the tentacles would immediately and gently stroke his forehead, humming a strange yet reassuring tune until Li Zhuo drifted back into peaceful slumber.

Of course, regarding these nighttime matters, Li Zhuo had initially been completely unaware, until he woke up one night to use the bathroom and discovered a hint of the truth.

At the time, purely as a joke, he casually asked if Mo Liang had done the same thing every night back when Li Zhuo was boarding at Experimental High School.

Mo Liang answered without hesitation: “Yes.”

And he frowned with slight displeasure, saying the school dorm beds were terribly hard, good thing he’d done a little… modification of his own. Another time, when they switched bunks and Li Zhuo’s spot was right by the door, occasionally letting in the night wind, he had specifically redirected the airflow.

“Otherwise, you would have caught a cold. How miserable would that be?”

Li Zhuo’s expression at that moment was quite a picture. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he swallowed all his words back down.

Forget it. He’s not human, anyway.

In truth, it went far beyond that.

Mo Liang constantly remembered the content of the parenting guide: Introverted and previously hurt juveniles are very fragile. Therefore, they need much more encouragement and love than normal children.

【A nurturer must spare no effort in praising him, saying ten million words of praise!】

So not only in daily life, but even in those… unspeakable matters, Mo Liang resolutely followed this rule.

Facing the spirited little kitten pressing down on him, he would gently wipe his sweat and, with extreme familiarity, praise him for being a good child, praise him for being very impressive…

And at those times, the pale youth’s ears would turn red, his reaction utterly adorable. Afterwards, he would quietly curl up in Mo Liang’s arms, the warm puffs of his breath spreading evenly across Mo Liang’s neck and the area below his collarbone.

To give his child a better experience, Mo Liang learned many things. Sometimes, worried he might crush his child, he would adjust his weight to be exceptionally light. His height, conveniently taller than Li Zhuo’s, was perfect for the child to lean against his chest, nuzzling his pectorals with the attachment of a weary bird returning to its nest.

The child also discovered the subtle adjustments Mo Liang made to his hormones. Unlike before, when he was muddled and relying solely on instinct, he was clear-headed now.

The child stiffened slightly at first, then slowly got used to it. It was as if he’d gotten a new toy, even starting to comment on the scent. Mo Liang immediately adjusted it according to his child’s preferences.

The child liked sleeping nestled there. Mo Liang’s chest had practically become Li Zhuo’s personal pillow.

Especially after the first time they bathed together, Mo Liang noticed his child’s gaze always lingering on his chest, intentionally or not. So he specifically adjusted the pectoral muscle data. Sure enough, the child’s glances became even more frequent.

Sometimes, when he deliberately asked about it, the little guy would say, “I’m not looking,” while sneaking another peek, muttering under his breath about how big they were and when he’d trained them.

When Mo Liang asked what he said,

He’d respond, “Nothing.”

Mo Liang wasn’t human, just a pollution source. He didn’t need exercise to build muscle. If he wanted, he could swap to a new skin at any time.

“Do you like it?” He lifted the fabric aside and smiled. “It’s fine, you can do it now too.”

His good child was truly fair-skinned. He’d glance, look away, glance again, look away. The skin temperature of his ears and cheeks noticeably rose. Finally, he said, “Don’t be like this in broad daylight.”

He looked utterly adorable then.

How could such an adorable existence exist?

Recalling the first time those fierce, unfamiliar emotions crashed through his entire being, Mo Liang’s initial reaction was actually confusion. His mind went completely blank. But soon, the answer his nerves conveyed was joy—another kind of pleasure. It was the emotion his most beloved child gave him. That alone was enough to mesmerize him.

Whenever his child drifted off into quiet sleep, Mo Liang would immerse himself in a light, airy sense of happiness and satisfaction.

He would tenderly stroke his face over and over, again and again. He would stroke his fine, soft hair, press his lips to his child’s fair face, gently lick his skin, and deeply inhale that unique scent emanating from his subcutaneous glands.

It was a pure, warm fragrance.

Of course, Mo Liang had also experimented.

He found that even without any contact, simply sensing his child’s breathing and heartbeat would instantly calm his disordered spirit. It was far more effective than replenishing any high-purity energy.

His child was truly a treasure of immense proportions, belonging solely to him. He would absolutely never allow him to be lost again.

Never!

After his relationship with his child entered a deeper level, the final few grey patches in Mo Liang’s memory puzzle finally lit up. He remembered everything.

He also understood how many layers of “protective preparations” his past self had set up to prevent his amnesiac self from harming his child. One of those layers was actually a self-destruct program.

Having absolutely no memory wouldn’t work. But having all his memories from the start would have made him unable to control the urge to immediately protect his child the moment he saw him.

Only this one time, like this…

—He had to remember his child, couldn’t forget him. But he also couldn’t remember too much. It was best to have an external tool constantly reminding him, restraining his behavior, preventing him from harming his child too much.

He succeeded!

The rice in the cooker was steaming with fragrance. His child was still reading the new books Mo Liang had last prepared. He could now read those documents and materials completely without obstacles.

Using the spare time in his senior year of high school plus the entire summer vacation, relying on the information in the documents, the provided funds, and through continuous experimentation and trial-and-error, the child had independently researched a new material:

A seemingly soft film, yet with extraordinary mechanical strength, high stability, and a single ion channel.

It was, to a certain extent, cheating.

After all, the technical difficulties their small world faced were nothing but kindergarten problems solved eight hundred years ago by more technologically advanced civilizations.

The difficulty wasn’t the manufacturing method—those were clearly recorded in the materials. The difficulty lay in how to reconstruct and replicate it with existing simple materials!

This problem would take Mo Family’s professional teams several years. But Li Zhuo, his child, succeeded in just one year.

Once the new material was unveiled, the company name Li Zhuo had casually registered, along with himself and Mo Liang, once again became the focus of heated discussion.

His child was truly so smart.

Like a small pebble by the roadside, utterly unremarkable from afar. Only when you pick it up and wipe the dust from its surface do you see how beautiful it truly is.

Mo Liang divided a few tentacles, silently slipping them through the cracks of the study door to watch his child, while the stir-frying motion of his hands didn’t pause.

【As expected, looking at maps again…】

【That river’s location again…】

Ever since learning that he had died once and gone to another world afterwards, Li Zhuo had been constantly searching for the reason in the documents and materials.

From those obscure and difficult books, he learned that small worlds all possess something called a world barrier. You can only come into contact with this separating membrane after developing to a certain level. Breaking the world barrier allows contact with other worlds.

Sometimes, before a small world’s civilization has fully developed, sudden incidents occasionally occur, creating some vulnerabilities.

For example, a major impact or collision accident might cause cracks to appear.

Li Zhuo had previously expressed a desire to go there. Mo Liang hadn’t agreed at the time. After all, he had long ago designated the area around that river a forbidden zone. How could he let him go?

Later, his child very seriously told him that he wasn’t going there to seek death. He just wanted to see if a specific special material he needed was there.

“Anyway, you’ll be right beside me. I definitely can’t get into trouble…” The human youth winked slyly. “Even if something really happened to me, you wouldn’t ignore me, right?”

Mo Liang smiled. “Of course not.”

He couldn’t remember when it started, but it seemed Mo Liang had gradually learned this kind of muscular change to express emotion. He no longer calculated the trajectory of every muscle or whether the upward curve of his lips met a standard before smiling.

He simply smiled naturally when feeling happy.

Besides this change, Mo Liang also noticed that as the number of times he ingested food increased, his rejection reaction grew weaker.

Perhaps it truly triggered some antibody, or perhaps due to some other unknown evolution. In any case, he could gradually taste the flavors of those meals.

These changes must be because of Li Zhuo. He must have obtained some magical energy from Li Zhuo, an energy that would not feel lonely even with the passage of time…

Lost in thought, the meal was ready.

As agreed yesterday, they would set out after breakfast today…

The world barrier crack had long since sealed. Nothing else happened. Li Zhuo smoothly saw that Drowning River. In broad daylight, the scenery was quite pleasant.

Although he didn’t find the material he wanted, Li Zhuo showed no disappointment. He examined every inch of that long river, at once strange yet familiar.

“So this is the place…”

He walked along the shore’s reefs, following the river’s course upstream. Behind him, Mo Liang followed every step, cautious as if guarding the apple of his eye.

A gentle breeze blew, raising ripples across the river’s surface. The clearest water at the edges revealed smooth pebbles and swaying water weeds at the bottom.

Slender rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds, sprinkling evenly onto the youth’s face. His fair complexion was coated in a hazy, warm light.

Mo Liang gazed at his beloved child. Everything around him became a completely blurred background, only one figure’s silhouette remaining clear.

An existence warmer than the spring sun, making the being who gazed upon him feel equally warm.

“Teacher Mo…”

“Hmm?”

Li Zhuo squinted slightly, feeling the waves of cool wind blowing from the river’s surface, gazing at the surging water as if gazing at death.

“I dreamed of this river before. It’s truly identical to my dream, but the feeling is completely different. It looks very warm right now…”

He paused and proposed a hypothesis: “Is it because I’m no longer afraid of death?”

“Yes.” Mo Liang praised. “Bravely facing death head-on is something many beings cannot do.”

Li Zhuo felt a little embarrassed again. “You’re praising too much. I just meant that I haven’t had nightmares for a long time. Ever since you appeared, I’ve slept especially well every night.”

“That’s a good thing.” Mo Liang said softly. “All the organs in your body need sufficient sleep for better rest and development. You need healthy sleep.”

The sun hung high in the sky. The weeping willows by the river drooped listlessly, their slender branches swaying gently in the heat waves.

Not far away, a large greyish-white bridge spanned the two banks, cars speeding across it one after another.

Beneath the bridge, the youth wore a loose white T-shirt and light blue jeans. The hem and cuffs danced wildly in the wind, making rustling sounds.

Clearly standing under the sun, while even the plants beside him were wilted, his temples remained completely dry.

No outsider could see how Mo Liang built a transparent protective barrier for his child, how he meticulously blocked all the ultraviolet rays.

Nor did they know what thoughts churned ceaselessly beneath that man’s calm and composed face.

【This small world still has many dangerous places. Cannot let down my guard yet…】

【His pain nerves are still too easily damaged. Must find a time to transplant the signal receptor over…】

【That way, I can feel his pain for him.】

“Hey, let’s take a photo together? Just realized we don’t seem to have taken a picture yet…”

Li Zhuo suddenly turned his face. That countenance, its clear contours outlined by the sunlight, vivid and full of vitality, caught Mo Liang’s gaze off guard.

His eyes were bright and deep. Golden sunlight danced on Li Zhuo’s hair tips, brows, and eyes.

And Mo Liang, who had already taken countless photos of his child, couldn’t remember that moment. His consciousness was left with only a single phrase, repeating and looping endlessly: 【Like, like, like, like, like, like, like…】