Chapter 149

Chapter 149

What Yu Chuang hated most after marrying Ji Mian was being apart.

He always made sure to return as early as possible during breaks. After wrapping up work on Friday night, he’d skip dinner and catch a flight to Ningcheng. Often, he’d turn off the buzzing alarm by his pillow in the wee hours of Monday, take a glance at the sleeping Ji Mian, and slip out of bed quietly. Only when he absolutely had to go would he leave a soft kiss on Ji Mian’s hair before heading out.

Ji Mian was busier than Yu Chuang. The Ji Group’s situation didn’t give him room to relax, so he spent most weekends at the office. This went on for about two years until the Ji Group recovered 70% of its former strength. Only then could Ji Mian finally act like a real boss, occasionally taking breaks and vacations to visit Yu Chuang instead.

The constant back-and-forth between them was a hassle.

Sometimes Yu Chuang would blurt out, “Maybe I should just transfer my shares and move back to Ningcheng.”

Mingsheng was his life’s work of ten years, and even he found the idea absurd.

The craziest part was that the moment he said it, he realized he meant it. In his early twenties, when he couldn’t have Ji Mian, all he could do was chase success and fame. By his thirties, those achievements felt like chains.

After Ji Mian stared at him in surprise for a long moment, he’d stay quiet for a beat before saying, “Just kidding.”

He hated being apart and loathed the long waits that came with it. If there were a next life, he hoped he and Ji Mian could be an ordinary couple, together day and night, always by each other’s side when they missed one another.

Over the years, Ji Mian heard the notification sound for accumulated points less and less. Every now and then, it’d chime once a month or two, usually from Yu Chuang.

He didn’t know how to tell Yu Chuang that he’d only ever loved him in this life.

When the notification sound rang, Ji Mian would find Yu Chuang, hold him tight, and feel his racing heart slow down until it matched his own.

Then one day, much later, as Ji Mian was sunbathing in the garden behind his bedroom, it hit him that he hadn’t heard the familiar notification sound in ages. He had the system check the records and found it had been two years.

After that, he never got any more points from Yu Chuang.

Yu Chuang had known early on that Pei Qing would never come between him and Ji Mian.

When he’d board a plane, cross thousands of kilometers to return to Ningcheng, and open the door to see Ji Mian, the latter would always leap into his arms like a koala.

That was the moment Yu Chuang looked forward to most every week.

When Ji Mian looked up from his embrace, his smile was far more captivating than any expression he’d ever had when talking about Pei Qing.

Yu Chuang wasn’t easily satisfied, but in those moments, he felt like the happiest man alive.

For that one moment, all the waiting was worth it.

Yu Chuang often picked up fragments of past memories, recalling that at the age of twenty-two, he had been briefly replaced by another soul similar to his own.

And the crack torn open in his soul seemed never to have closed.

Yu Chuang didn’t dream often, but in his later years, he frequently dreamed of memory fragments that didn’t belong to him, forgetting them upon waking. He tried to grasp one or two of these fragments, but it was always in vain. Occasionally, he even felt as if he was acting in a play with Ji Mian.

Yu Chuang suspected he was suffering from delirium, fearing he might one day lose his clarity of mind, so he quickly made all necessary arrangements for Ji Mian.

But none of his preparations were ever needed.

Ji Mian passed away before Yu Chuang. In his later years, he fell seriously ill, and his health deteriorated rapidly after that.

Yu Chuang stopped managing any company affairs, declined all external invitations, and focused solely on accompanying Ji Mian.

Ji Mian disliked the smell of hospital rooms and refused to stay in the hospital. Yu Chuang respected his wishes and took Ji Mian to live in a city in the south with a comfortable, spring-like climate year-round.

Yu Chuang, just like in his younger days, loved holding Ji Mian at all times.

On a warm afternoon, Ji Mian lounged drowsily in a wicker chair, with Yu Chuang beside him. Sunlight washed over them, and he caught the mingling scents of wicker and flowers.

Ji Mian couldn’t tell if he was on the lounge chair outside the woodcarving shop or in Yu Chuang’s arms.

The strength in his limbs slowly drained away. Having faced death before, Ji Mian knew what this emptiness signified.

He grabbed Yu Chuang’s hand.

"Brother... don’t be upset."

After a pause, Yu Chuang’s back quivered faintly. "Mm, I'm not sad."

He gently drew Ji Mian into his embrace.

"I’ll be here for you."

……

……

"This mission earned 27,800 points, with a 10% deduction for plot deviation. Current total points: 123,090."

Back in the system space, Ji Mian heard the familiar mechanical voice, snapping him out of his daze.

He’d soon meet that person—he shouldn’t feel sad.

The system's voice was somewhat different this time. Though mechanically processed, it usually carried a human-like tone and emotion, like a normal voice filtered through a machine. This time, though, it was cold and robotic: "Your system, numbered 132-0129, will deduct 10% of your points as compensation for assisting you..."

Ji Mian saw the system’s number for the first time, startled by its length, and quietly memorized it.

"Your remaining balance is 110,781 points."

"Congratulations on meeting the revival requirements. The teleportation channel to the service point will open in ten seconds..."

After the countdown, the white system space around Ji Mian abruptly darkened, turning into an expanse of black. But looking closer, he spotted tiny glimmers of light in the darkness, like faint stars.

If not for the circular metal floor under him, glowing faintly blue, Ji Mian might’ve thought he’d been tossed into space.

He looked at himself, no longer human-shaped—just a glowing cluster.

This was Ji Mian's form in the system space.

A moment later, another cluster appeared, about the same size as Ji Mian.

For a second, Ji Mian thought he was seeing his reflection.

"Hey," the glowing cluster nudged him.

The two glowing orbs briefly warped before snapping back to their original forms.

"System? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it’s me."

Ji Mian saw the system for the first time—a small, glowing cluster, just like him, like a luminous dandelion.

"You look just like me," he sighed.

The system replied, "Souls all look pretty similar."

"Where is this place?"

"The transfer hub, basically a waiting zone. The service point juggles too many systems and is often swamped... There might be others like us in the channel later, so stay close and don’t get lost."

As soon as the system finished speaking, another luminous cluster appeared in the space, entering quietly. It was a silent luminous cluster, slightly smaller than Ji Mian and the system.

Ji Mian was curious but hesitated to ask, knowing nothing about this place.

"Hey there..." the system called out to the other luminous cluster.

The unfamiliar luminous cluster coughed in response, revealing a female voice.

The system immediately corrected itself, "Hey, pal."

From his smooth moves, it was clear this wasn’t his first time doing this.

"Hello."

"Did you just return from a virtual world too?"

Assuming she was also a system handling virtual worlds.

Ji Mian had heard that most systems operated in virtual worlds. There was only one real world, but the number of replicated virtual worlds was limitless. Thus, a significant portion of Affection Points were collected in virtual worlds, naturally requiring more staff.

The female voice responded with a "Yeah," and then started chatting with the system.

"How many Affection Points have you saved up?" the system asked.

"I’ve only had three hosts, just over thirty thousand."

"Take your time, everyone starts somewhere. As long as the Affection Points are increasing, you’ll get there someday."

The smaller luminous cluster laughed, "Can they really go down?"

The system sighed, "They sure can."

"...That’s... pretty rare." The female voice then asked, "Are you here to get a task?"

The system replied, "No, I’m escorting my host to the service point."

"Host?" The other luminous cluster noticed Ji Mian, her voice tinged with envy, "Already racked up enough points? So jealous... How many worlds have you completed?"

Ji Mian answered honestly, "Five."

"Five!? You’re not in the hatred value department, are you?"

Even in the fastest point-earning department, it was extremely rare to reach a hundred thousand Affection Points in just five worlds.

Ji Mian replied, "No, it’s Affection Points..."

Hearing this, the other luminous cluster slowly morphed into an ellipsoid. Though she didn’t speak, her expression seemed incredulous.

The system proudly declared, "He’s the best host I’ve ever had, might even smash the department’s record."

Ji Mian listened to the system’s bragging, feeling awkward and staying quiet.

He wasn’t an exceptional host; it was all because of his brother...

Just then, the faint blue glow under the three luminous clusters slowly shifted color.

The female voice said, "This is the way to the service point. Bye!" She was waiting to go back to her department for a task, so she wasn’t heading the same way as Ji Mian and the system.

The system said, "Goodbye."

Ji Mian also said, "Goodbye."

A green glow surrounded Ji Mian and the system, and in an instant, the scene before them changed once again.

"Arrived at the service point."

The vast expanse of cosmic stars had disappeared, replaced by a digital space. All sorts of strange objects floated neatly in the air, each with a string of numerical labels attached below, stacked in a pyramid shape, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom.

When Ji Mian looked up, he saw that the huge pyramid was actually the hem of a girl’s skirt.

The girl appeared to be around sixteen or seventeen, her long hair flowing back like a waterfall of numbers.

Ji Mian couldn’t tell how tall she was, but at his current size, he was smaller than her palm.

Her eyes, a non-human blue, turned to Ji Mian, but her expression was soft.

"Welcome back."