Chapter 25: It’s Too Dark
That night, Tang Yu’an pondered over the mirror, ultimately deciding not to activate it.
Although he had been forcibly brought here, Yu Liao was at least present, a controllable factor, unlike the mysterious K, whose whereabouts were unknown.
K had told him before that only he could initiate communication, explaining that it was because K didn’t have mental energy.
In this world, despite many progressive movements, people were still often judged based on their mental energy levels.
Citizens with weak or negligible mental energy were often disregarded, burdened by prejudice.
This created a sense of dissonance about K, but no matter how much he probed, K refused to reveal more, only saying he could be contacted for anything.
“Even if you’re just feeling down and want to talk.”
Tang Yu’an had felt uneasy reading that message.
Having someone he could unilaterally contact to confide in seemed like a good thing, but he couldn’t be sure of K’s intentions. What if he was trying to manipulate him emotionally, using him for some unknown purpose?
And why would anyone want to talk to him? He was just a passing traveler, leaving no trace behind.
Understanding him was pointless.
Tang Yu’an didn’t know why he treated emotions like a dangerous beast, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to embrace any kind of emotional attachment.
The more you valued something, the more painful it was to lose it. It was better to have never had it at all.
He possessed very little. His teddy bear, his consciousness, that was all.
Even his body wasn’t always his own.
So, he would cut his losses the moment he sensed any potential for attachment.
His current mission was to help the protagonists onto their destined paths, fulfilling his duty as a tool-man, continuing until he could go no further.
As for anything else, he wouldn’t ask for it.
When he wanted to close himself off, he would use humor to mask his true feelings.
He had asked K: “When I call you every night and wake you up, you’ll regret having a sentient alarm clock.”
Unexpectedly, K replied seriously: “That’s fine.”
Tang Yu’an: “?”
He truly felt K’s approach was part of a mission now. Why else would he be so dedicated?
K: “I don’t sleep.”
That seemed a bit much. Tang Yu’an had experienced insomnia before, the splitting headaches, the involuntary tears, the racing heart.
How could anyone not need sleep? K must be exaggerating.
Who could be available 24/7?
Even he, a tool-man, needed rest. Otherwise, his mental state would affect his mission performance.
He sensed K’s eagerness for him to make contact. The olive branch was extended; he had to decide whether to step into this potentially treacherous fog.
He put the mirror away, never activating it again.
And now, he was giving up again.
He lay on the bed with the soft padding Yu Liao had prepared, tossing his bag aside, staring at the ceiling.
He kept thinking that Yu Liao was a very considerate kidnapper.
He had mentioned liking blue because it was the color of the ocean, so Yu Liao had decorated his room in a simple ocean theme, even the pillows matching.
He had sensed Yu Liao’s attentiveness before, but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. Before he went to sleep, Yu Liao had even covered the slightly rough bedposts with foam padding.
Tang Yu’an had tried to stop him, saying he wasn’t blind, he wouldn’t bump into them.
Yu Liao had retorted seriously, what if he sleepwalked?
You’re not like me, he had said, you can’t heal yourself. I’ve already injured you once, I don’t want to add another scar.
Tang Yu’an then remembered he was referring to his arm, which had mostly healed, only slightly itchy now.
But Yu Liao, ignoring his protests, had applied ointment, saying it would promote healing and prevent scarring.
He applied it meticulously, his head lowered, a thick layer, seeming excessive even to Tang Yu’an, who didn’t know the price of the ointment.
“That’s enough,” he had said. “I don’t really mind these things.”
Scars didn’t affect his mission performance, so he didn’t care.
Yu Liao carefully adjusted his sleeve, seemingly reluctant to let go: “You’re perfect no matter what, but seeing these marks makes me sad.”
He had learned how to communicate with Tang Yu’an, shifting the focus away from himself to evoke his empathy.
The little angel held boundless compassion for everyone, but couldn’t see his own worth.
He resisted the urge to kiss his slightly red knuckles, silencing all other thoughts.
The little angel’s only misfortune was encountering him, a man with a twisted mind, who wanted to lock him in a golden cage.
But the cage could be larger. As long as he didn’t mind, it would be no different from a palace.
“Rest well. If you need anything, I’ll be right next door.”
Yu Liao spoke slowly, each word carefully enunciated, like a solemn promise.
Tang Yu’an felt a flicker of emotion. If Yu Liao hadn’t been afflicted by illness, he would have been a responsible and hardworking person.
He inadvertently voiced this thought, realizing it only when Yu Liao looked up at him.
Yu Liao smiled: “Really? You sound like you’re about to promote me.”
Preferably from “friend” to something more.
He didn’t elaborate, and Tang Yu’an assumed he was talking about work.
Thinking about what Zheng Zhi had done to Yu Liao, he felt indignant. If his identity hadn’t been stolen, Yu Liao would have had a completely different life.
“I think you deserve a much higher position, which rightfully belongs to you anyway.”
Yu Liao asked if he meant higher than Wei Langxing. Tang Yu’an didn’t know how to answer.
Yu Liao stopped teasing him, his smile fading, and told him that he had actually had an opportunity for promotion, but his superior had taken credit for his work, and he had received nothing but lukewarm praise.
Not having direct contact with headquarters, Tang Yu’an hadn’t fully understood the internal dynamics of the Bureau before. Now, he truly felt the heavy weight of oppression, intensifying with each lower level.
Shady dealings, leaving so many deserving people empty-handed.
Tang Yu’an remembered seeing a picture of Yu Liao’s direct supervisor: a portly, balding man with a ruddy complexion, like a balloon.
“There will be a way,” he said. “He and Zheng Zhi won’t escape punishment for their actions.”
But his words lacked conviction, sounding like empty comfort even to himself.
However, Yu Liao seemed grateful, smiling as he placed a cloud-shaped night light on his bedside table.
Tang Yu’an looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t mentioned being afraid of the dark. How did he know?
Yu Liao didn’t explain, simply adjusting the light’s brightness.
“Sweet dreams.”
He didn’t tell Tang Yu’an that when he carried him, drugged and unconscious, to the bed, Tang Yu’an had clutched his shirt.
The sleeping beauty seemed afraid, his breathing uneven.
His fingers twisted the fabric, muttering: “It’s too dark…”
Tears welled up in his eyes, silently sliding down his cheeks.
Yu Liao was no stranger to nightmares. Honestly, he didn’t care. Compared to his waking hallucinations, these fleeting dreams were insignificant.
But Tang Yu’an’s nightmares distressed him. He didn’t dare move, gently wiping his tears with a handkerchief.
He turned on a small light for him, and the tremors in his sleep subsided.
In the dim light, he looked serene, like a rose quietly emitting its fragrance in a night garden.
But the thorns that protected this rose seemed to have been plucked by someone, making him even more vulnerable.
But it didn’t matter. He would move him to a greenhouse, shielding him from the harsh elements.
Yu Liao didn’t leave, sitting there until dawn.
Tang Yu’an, naturally, didn’t know any of this. He burrowed under the covers, rolling around in the comfortable little nest, wrapping himself up like a burrito.
This sleeping position made him feel safe.
When he first arrived in this world, he had spent several nights under the bed.
The memories of potential attacks were still vivid; he couldn’t control it.
Later, he noticed that Wei Langxing would sometimes fall asleep on the floor after training, so he forced himself to break the habit.
This place was different. At least in the department building, he could sleep peacefully, without worrying about bullets shattering the windows.
Tang Yu’an tucked the blanket tighter, his warm breath against his bandaged arm.
The wind chimes outside tinkled softly, calming his mind.
It really was like a vacation, he thought. Yu Liao deserved an award for “Most Considerate Kidnapper.”
He wondered how Wei Langxing and the others were doing, if they were looking for him…
He didn’t know that at this very moment, Wei Langxing was bandaging his bleeding right hand.
His face was expressionless, as if he couldn’t feel the pain.
Wang Wen, who was working with him, heard the noise and rushed in, weapon drawn, assuming something had happened. He was greeted by the sight of shattered glass and bloodstains on the floor.
He couldn’t help but say: “Captain Wei, take a break…”
In his current state, he shouldn’t be working.
Wei Langxing said coldly: “I can wait. Can he?”
Wang Wen fell silent. Tang Yu’an’s disappearance had terrified him.
Ever since witnessing Tang Yu’an save Zuo Tinghan in a way no ordinary person could, his opinion of the seemingly frail and quiet new recruit had changed completely.
No one could guarantee their own safety in that situation, yet Tang Yu’an had unhesitatingly chosen to save a teammate he had never met. Such courage was admirable.
From that day on, Tang Yu’an held the same high regard in Wang Wen’s mind as the accomplished Wei Langxing.
One a seasoned hero, the other a rising star, equally impressive.
And he felt Tang Yu’an was different from the others in the Bureau, more approachable.
Talking to him was comfortable, not like a colleague, but more like a friend.
And he had inquired; Tang Yu’an treated everyone this way, his attitude never changing based on rank.
This was how a Bureau officer should be!
Unlike some people, outwardly friendly but inwardly scheming.
Unfortunately, there was only one person like him, as unique as his appearance.
Wang Wen had looked forward to working with Tang Yu’an on future missions, but they had barely interacted before this happened.
And Yu Liao’s incident was also related to him – if he hadn’t mishandled the situation, causing the accidental shooting, none of this would have happened.
Although he knew Yu Liao was a ticking time bomb, as the one who lit the fuse, he felt guilty.
If even he felt this way, how much more must Wei Langxing, who spent so much time with Tang Yu’an, be suffering?
So, he didn’t say anything more, knowing it was futile.
Unable to find him, they came to Yu Liao’s apartment to search for clues. Clearly, the thought of Tang Yu’an being abducted from here was what caused Wei Langxing to lose control.
Wang Wen was cleaning up the broken glass when he heard Wei Langxing call his name urgently.
He rushed over, and upon seeing the sight before him, he turned and vomited into a nearby trash can.
In the bottom compartment of Yu Liao’s freezer, lay a frozen human head.
