The vision gradually became clear, the pitch-black world reappearing before his eyes.
Black mountains, a black sky, and the flowing magma in the distance was the only source of light.
Lin Du’s mind conjured the image of the old man in the plaid shirt.
He had been prepared for failure, yet here he stood again on this charred black land.
“I never thought this wristband was the real deal.”
But if this secret got out, it would probably be a serious crime, right?
Possessing a confiscated Knight System privately—if the Bureau of Anomalies found out, he might not just be fired.
He wondered how that old man managed it.
Would the Equipment Department people notice?
Lin Du shook his head, suppressing those thoughts, and refocused on the present.
Until now, he had concentrated his activities near the dragon.
Nineteen failures, nineteen deaths.
Maybe Bai Li was right.
Perhaps there was something he needed somewhere else.
He gazed into the distance.
The black dragon was still coiled atop the mountain peak, eyes closed in slumber.
Even with its eyes shut, the oppressive pressure weighed like a mountain on his chest.
Awe without anger—that must describe a creature like this.
“I won’t provoke it for now.”
Lin Du turned his back on the black dragon.
“Let’s check out other places.”
He circled around a peak where lava flowed, and suddenly the view opened up.
A quaint old-fashioned mountain village appeared in the hollow.
Amid the pitch-black world, it was the only patch of green.
At the village entrance, a few peach trees stood.
Pink petals swayed gently in the breeze, utterly out of place against the scorched black and dull red.
Lin Du slid down the slope and stood before the village gate, looking around.
There seemed to be a thin barrier around the village, like the shimmer on a soap bubble.
The barrier separated the inside from the outside.
Inside, a vibrant, thriving scene unfolded: peach blossoms, green grass, and stone-paved paths.
The dead silence outside was blocked by that membrane.
“What’s going on here?”
Lin Du frowned.
“Why is there a village in this place?”
He stepped forward and tentatively reached out, touching the barrier.
Lin Du looked up.
Characters were carved above the village gate, but the carving had weathered beyond recognition.
Probably some unknown otherworldly script, the strokes winding like flattened vines.
“Who’s there?”
Lin Du spun around sharply, scanning his surroundings.
“Would you mind lowering your head, sir?”
Lin Du looked down.
A child about 10 years old stood before him, looking up at him.
Short red hair, golden pupils that seemed to hold molten lava flowing slowly within.
He wore an exquisite outfit: a dark robe with fine gold thread embroidered at the collar, tight cuffs revealing a slender pale wrist.
He stood perfectly straight, hands behind his back, like a little adult.
“My name is Chi Yu.”
The child gave a slight bow.
“You’re from outside, right? We haven’t had a visitor in a long time.”
He raised his head, those golden pupils calmly fixed on Lin Du.
The next morning.
Bai Li’s phone vibrated on the pillow.
Eyes still closed, she fumbled and turned off the alarm.
“Ah… I don’t want to get up…”
A moment later, she yawned and cracked one eye open.
She had slept unusually well last night.
Sure enough, a better rental environment improved sleep quality considerably.
No neighbor’s gaming shouts, no washing machine vibrations from upstairs.
She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked around.
It had just gotten light.
The living room was quiet, and the light through the curtain gap was still gray-blue.
Lin Du’s door was closed.
From inside came only steady breathing.
Bai Li froze.
He hadn’t gotten up yet?
In her memory, Lin Du was always the one who arrived downstairs before her, waiting in the morning light.
She had never seen him sleep in.
“He went to bed so early last night, and he still hasn’t woken up now?”
Bai Li sat up on the bed, threw off the covers.
Her small feet slipped into slippers, and she shuffled to Lin Du’s door.
Bai Li raised her hand and knocked with her knuckles on the door panel.
No answer.
“Hey, wake up! The sun is burning your butt!”
Bai Li pressed her ear to the door.
Inside, only breathing—steady, even, no sign of waking.
She pounded the door again, her palm going numb.
“Get up, get up! Anyone still in bed at this hour is a lazy dog!”
Still no response.
Bai Li’s brow furrowed.
Her hand rested on the doorknob.
She hesitated, then pressed down and pushed the door open.
Lin Du lay on the bed, one arm draped over the blanket, the other hidden under the pillow.
His expression was peaceful, calm.
Was he really that deep asleep?
Bai Li walked to the bedside, reached out, and pressed two fingers against his wrist.
Pulse normal, steady.
She then touched the tip of her finger to his nostrils—breathing normal too.
Bai Li tried pushing his shoulder.
“Hey, Lin Du? Time to get up.”
She pushed twice.
Lin Du’s body swayed slightly but he didn’t wake.
“Strange. Sleeping like a log?”
Bai Li straightened up and rubbed her eyes.
She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen.
It showed Saturday.
“Oh, it’s the weekend.”
Realization dawned, and her voice relaxed immediately.
“That’s fine, then.”
She pocketed the phone and looked again at the motionless figure on the bed.
He had showered and gone to bed so early last night, and he was still asleep now.
How long had it been since he had a good night’s rest?
Or maybe…?
Her gaze fell on the trash can on the floor.
Two used tissue balls lay crumpled at the bottom.
Bai Li looked up in surprise, then back at Lin Du.
“He didn’t exhaust himself last night, did he?”
She cupped her chin and nodded with an air of authority.
“Young people should practice moderation. Don’t be defeated by desire.”
Even she felt a little guilty saying that.
Actually, she hadn’t exactly been doing anything productive herself.
But that was because of her body, not her iron will!
She cleared her throat, turned to walk out two steps, then stopped.
Since it was the weekend, there was no need to rush.
No school, no early rising.
Bai Li stood in the room and stretched.
A wave of drowsiness suddenly hit her.
She had only been awake a few minutes, and now she was getting sleepy again.
“Kind of want a morning nap…”
She turned and looked at Lin Du’s bed.
Bai Li walked over, reached out, and pressed her palm into the mattress.
A 1.8-meter-wide bed—he was lying alone on the window side, leaving plenty of space.
Soft, with supportive springiness, much more comfortable than the fold-up bed in the living room.
Bai Li stood by the bed, staring at the empty space, rubbing her fingers on the sheet.
A bold thought crossed her mind.
He was sleeping so deeply, he wouldn’t wake up for a while.
She was just going to lie down for a bit.
Just a little while.
Bai Li bit her lower lip, rose on her tiptoes, and crept cautiously to sit on the edge of the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly, the springs squeaking.
She supported herself with her hands, slipped off her slippers, and lifted her legs up.
Then she turned on her side, curled her knees, and lay down on the remaining half of the bed.
Her head rested on the other pillow.
Her nose buried in the fabric caught the scent of laundry detergent.
She could feel the slight depression on the other side of the mattress, hear his steady breathing, sense the warmth from under his blanket.
That presence, like winter sunshine, made her both nervous and at ease.
Bai Li rolled over to face the wall, turning her back to Lin Du.
Her tail twitched restlessly under the blanket, brushing against Lin Du’s calf.
She quickly pulled her tail back and tucked it between her legs.
The light through the curtain gap changed from gray-blue to pale gold.
The sun was rising.
Bai Li stared at the wardrobe for a while.
Her eyelids slowly grew heavy, and soon she was snoring softly like a kitten.
Girl, tempting fate.