Chapter 89
“So, in other words, you fainted, and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself standing in my living room. You don’t know what happened, and you don’t know what to do.”
Gu Ximian spoke slowly, looking at Zhuang Chi. “Am I right, Z?”
Still a little unaccustomed to her new name, Zhuang Chi paused for half a beat before replying, “Yes, that’s about right.”
“How mysterious,” Gu Ximian said, yet her expression showed no fear. Instead, she began to actively question Zhuang Chi, “Then where were you before you fainted? And why did you faint?”
Honestly, it felt like none of the questions could be answered. Zhuang Chi was truly worried that the more she said, the more mistakes she would make, causing some sort of butterfly effect. She choked for a long time before squeezing out a single word: “...A secret.”
Gu Ximian glanced at her, then turned away without a change in expression and bent over her desk to open a workbook, looking as if she intended to end their conversation.
Right now, Gu Ximian was the only person she could communicate with and very likely the key figure to solving the problem. How could Zhuang Chi dare to make her unhappy? She had no choice but to quickly speak again, her attitude extremely proper. “Don’t be upset. It’s not that I’m deliberately trying to hide it from you or that I don’t trust you. It’s mainly… sigh, I don’t know where to start, because I myself don’t know why I fainted.”
As she spoke, she recalled the notebook and sighed. “...Perhaps some mysterious force is at work.”
“As for where I was before I fainted, I can tell you that… I was at, uh, my school.”
When the words were on the tip of her tongue, she still felt she couldn’t say the name St. Blaisedon. Zhuang Chi spoke vaguely. Hearing her answer, Gu Ximian put down her pen and tilted her head to look at her. “You still go to school?”
…There it was again, that tone of voice, as if she were some rare bird or exotic beast. Zhuang Chi gave a helpless, bitter smile. Gu Ximian probably understood what she meant and curved her eyes slightly. “I’m sorry. Because I only see you in this form of a light ball, I always subconsciously think of you as a strange thing.”
What an insincere apology. To call someone a “strange thing” so frankly.
The fifteen-year-old Gu Ximian already had this kind of personality, so Zhuang Chi didn’t feel unhappy. From the moment she saw Gu Ximian here, her mind had been in chaos, but her mood was subtly more elated than before—after all, Little Gu Ximian was right there before her eyes, alive and well, a situation that would have been impossible under normal circumstances. It made her want to look a few more times.
“...Since you can have a proper back-and-forth conversation with me like this, it means… you’re really not my hallucination.”
The advantage of having turned into a light ball was that her expression wouldn’t show. Gu Ximian didn’t notice Zhuang Chi’s feelings and muttered to herself, “Then why am I the only one who can see you? It’s so strange.”
Although she also didn’t know the specific reason, Zhuang Chi couldn’t help but think it was related to either being the “female protagonist” or “the notebook.” She couldn’t say this directly—from the looks of it, Gu Ximian didn’t seem to know that this world was a novel yet, otherwise she would have figured it out by now. She pondered for a moment, then threw out a question about something she was concerned about. “Why did you think I was your hallucination? It was like that when you saw me at the door. Even if you had such doubts, didn’t you accept it a little too quickly?”
“It’s not that strange,” Gu Ximian’s response to this was still very calm. “After all, S-class Omegas tend to—do you know what an Omega is?”
Zhuang Chi said yes, so Gu Ximian nodded. “Then I don’t need to explain further. In short, after differentiating into an S-class, I think it’s quite normal to have hallucinations.”
“Because being S-class itself means instability and difficulty in control. It’s not like I haven’t had similar experiences when my fever was at its worst during my susceptible period.” Gu Ximian’s tone was flat. She tilted her head up slightly and pointed to the black inhibitor collar on her neck. “See this? An S-class has to wear this thing for a lifetime.”
“It’s really…” She smiled as she spoke, as if talking to herself. “What S-class? It’s more like a defective product.”
Zhuang Chi’s heart tightened at her words. It felt like this was the first time she had seen such an expression on Gu Ximian’s face—indifferent and weary, completely negative.
But it wasn’t that intense. It wasn’t so much that her negative emotions hadn’t reached their peak, but rather that she had already descended from the peak, as if she had passed the most intense period of self-loathing and was gradually becoming numb.
She had never heard Gu Ximian talk about these things before. She wanted to ask more about the “similar experiences” Gu Ximian had just mentioned, but Gu Ximian deftly changed the subject with a smile. “Anyway, if you’re really not my hallucination, and only I can perceive you, then there must be an underlying reason, right? Like maybe I can help you return to your original world or something—”
She paused, looked at the time, then at Zhuang Chi, and changed the subject again. “—But before that, Z, do you need to eat or sleep?”
In the end, Zhuang Chi slept on the sofa.
Should she say it was a matter of course, or that there was no other choice due to the sudden circumstances… She couldn’t possibly sleep in the same bed as Gu Ximian, right? Zhuang Chi had actually already mentally prepared herself for this while chatting with Gu Ximian and had honestly answered her question, saying that she would be fine on the sofa. Gu Ximian thought for a moment, went out of the room to take a look, and came back to say with regret that although her house had many rooms, she had just checked and the beds in the guest rooms weren’t made, probably because her family didn’t usually have guests stay over.
Zhuang Chi thought that she had forgotten Gu Ximian’s house had guest rooms; she had already consciously and voluntarily planned to sleep on the sofa. Suddenly asking someone to prepare a guest room when there were no guests would seem a bit strange. Gu Ximian had intended to do so, but Zhuang Chi stopped her and floated over to the sofa herself.
After all, the sofa in Gu Ximian’s house was soft and wide enough, making it quite comfortable to sleep on. Gu Ximian brought her a pillow and a blanket. According to her, when the blanket was placed over Zhuang Chi, it looked just like it was laid flat on the sofa, with no bulge at all, which was quite magical.
Zhuang Chi also found it quite magical, but she still prayed that no unsuspecting person would suddenly sit on the sofa while she was asleep.
Gu Ximian had clearly thought of this problem too. She brought a stuffed doll out from her room, placed it on the sofa, and said to Zhuang Chi, ‘Just sleep while holding it. I’ll go tell my parents that this is a bed prepared for this doll, so they shouldn’t casually sit on it or lift the blanket.’
Perhaps because it didn’t sound like something she would do, Gu Ximian was a little unnatural when she spoke, but she really did tell her parents just that. She received a cheerful approval and a few compliments like “how cute.” From a distance, Zhuang Chi watched Gu Ximian’s face, which was faintly red despite her nonchalant words, and couldn’t help but praise her as cute in her heart.
Eating seemed to be unnecessary. Or rather, even sleeping was more of a habit than a necessity in Zhuang Chi’s current state—to put it bluntly, she was like a ghost right now. But Zhuang Chi still felt that it wasn’t a hopeless situation. She hadn’t seen the words that came after on the notebook before she fainted; they might have been an explanation for her current condition.
In any case, what she didn’t see then couldn’t be helped now. At least staying by Gu Ximian’s side couldn’t be wrong. And so, Zhuang Chi settled down in Gu Ximian’s home. Only Gu Ximian knew that a new resident had moved in. Her level of trust in Zhuang Chi was neither high nor low; she allowed Zhuang Chi to stay and helped cover for her, but after learning that Zhuang Chi couldn’t open doors, Gu Ximian would close her bedroom door when she left for school. Although the two never talked about it, Zhuang Chi knew it was a sign that she didn’t want her to enter her room without permission.
How should she put it? Having just made a breakthrough in her relationship with Gu Ximian, the feeling of waking up to find it all reset to zero wasn’t pleasant, but Zhuang Chi could only accept it silently. Gu Ximian’s trust was precious and hard to earn, and the fifteen-year-old Gu Ximian seemed even more delicate and sensitive than she was three years later—or perhaps after three years, she had learned to hide it. But no matter what, she needed to be treated with care.
And so, a week passed.
On weekdays, Zhuang Chi would watch Gu Ximian leave and obediently wait for her to return. Gu Ximian’s family was exceptionally well-off, but in contrast, her parents were often busy. It was good enough if they could make it back for dinner, so Zhuang Chi was able to be the first to greet Gu Ximian when she came home. There was a lot of waiting time, but it wasn’t too unbearable, mainly because Gu Ximian’s house was like a treasure trove. Every time Zhuang Chi felt bored and wanted to look around for something to do, she could always find something to pass the time. Most of these were books, and since Zhuang Chi herself loved to read, she had a great time. For some reason, the books she found were always to her taste, allowing her to pass the waiting time easily.
But even though the days were leisurely, a faint anxiety always lingered in Zhuang Chi’s heart. She was completely clueless about her current situation and how to return to her original world. This state of ignorance bred unease. The only lifeline she had was the “fifteen-year-old Gu Ximian,” but because she had to go to school, Zhuang Chi couldn’t be with her around the clock. Even though she knew it couldn’t be helped and that following her would likely not change anything and might even disturb Gu Ximian’s studies, Zhuang Chi couldn’t help but think, if only Gu Ximian were willing to take her to school.
In this complicated mood, Zhuang Chi preferred the weekends, because Gu Ximian would be at home all day. Although they didn’t communicate much to avoid arousing suspicion, just seeing Gu Ximian in her field of vision was more worthy of anticipation for Zhuang Chi than the restless waiting on weekdays.
She sat on the small stool that Gu Ximian had specially placed for her in the room, staring intently at Gu Ximian. She watched the cool and clean profile of her face as she studied at her desk, which always reminded her of the Gu Ximian from three years later.
It was a very strange feeling. Even though she knew clearly that they were the same person, Zhuang Chi would still, while watching her like this, suddenly feel that she missed Gu Ximian very much.
I wonder how Gu Ximian is doing, Zhuang Chi thought. Fainting so suddenly must have made her worry. It was snowing then, too. When Gu Ximian gets anxious, she definitely won’t bother to change her clothes. What if she catches a cold?
Perhaps she had been staring too much. Although according to Gu Ximian, her eyes couldn’t be seen in her current light ball form, Gu Ximian, who was reading, soon turned her head and chuckled softly. “Why do you keep looking at me?”
Zhuang Chi was a little embarrassed. As she turned her head away, she mumbled things like “I wasn’t staring, I just had nothing to do.” Gu Ximian listened quietly and then said in a low voice, “I feel like… it’s almost as if I’ve gotten another pet.”
“…” She could understand what she meant, but honestly, she didn’t want to accept that identity. Zhuang Chi was silent for a moment, then seized on a key word in what she had just said. “Have you had a pet before?”
“Yes,” Gu Ximian answered crisply. “I had a little dog when I was a child, but it was sent away after I differentiated because my senses become heightened during my susceptible period, and dog fur makes me allergic.”
“I can only go see it from time to time, but I can’t live with it anymore. It passed away a while ago. It was already very old, so it died of old age.”
As Gu Ximian spoke, she quietly turned a page of her book. “...I was originally thinking that I wouldn’t get another pet in this lifetime, but for one like you that I basically don’t have to take care of… I suppose it’s fine to have you.”
Zhuang Chi had never had a pet herself, but she could guess that the feelings involved were by no means as calm as Gu Ximian made them out to be. Her heart ached for her, and before she could think of how to respond, she heard Gu Ximian suddenly ask, “What do you do when I’m not at home?”
The topic changed so quickly that Zhuang Chi was taken aback. She answered truthfully, “I just… sleep, read, walk around the living room to see if any of the potted plants need watering… Ah, but I only look for books on the surface, I don’t go rummaging through boxes and cabinets, so don’t worry.”
Gu Ximian didn’t seem worried. She just frowned as she listened. “Just that? You could also watch TV or something.”
“I do watch it occasionally, but I’m worried that if someone comes back, I won’t be able to react in time and will be discovered,” Zhuang Chi replied. “It’s okay, I don’t have anything to do anyway. It’s all the same how I pass the time. I’m just waiting for you to come back.”
“…” Gu Ximian was silent for a long moment. A faint smile slowly appeared on her lips, but it seemed lonely. “Why are you really like a little dog?”
Zhuang Chi’s heart skipped a beat, not knowing what to say. Before she could respond, Gu Ximian had already snapped her book shut with a pa. She lowered her eyes and thought for a moment, then looked at Zhuang Chi as if she had made a decision.
“At school, I probably won’t be able to talk to you like this. At most, I can only chat with you for a few sentences when I’m sure no one is around. The classes at school are quite boring, and there are a lot of people. It’s very noisy, and probably nothing interesting will happen. It might not even be as comfortable as staying at home.”
After finishing this long, out-of-the-blue speech, under Zhuang Chi’s puzzled gaze, Gu Ximian sat up a little straighter. She seemed unaccustomed to extending invitations, and beneath her prim and proper voice, one could hear a feigned indifference as she spoke.
“...But I’ll just ask first, then. When I go to school, do you want to come with me?”
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