Chapter 283: Snowfield

Chapter 283: Snow Plains

66 flitted around the room for a while before settling on Xie Shu's shoulder. "No, Host, something feels off."

Xie Shu soothingly tapped it with his finger. "What’s wrong?"

66: "So wait here for me. I need to go back to the task hub to confirm."

The cultivation world Xie Shu came from was one of the highest-level realms, where cultivators could shift constellations and part rivers; "ascend to higher realms" or "shatter the void"—all of this was possible. If someone truly intended to, a top-tier cultivator could tear through the barriers between worlds and affect this side.

And if that really happened here...

66: "QAQ."

That would count as a critical mission breach, and its high score would be ruined!

Xie Shu nodded. "Alright."

66 poked its Host's shoulder as a farewell, shivered slightly, and vanished into the void.

Now, only Xie Shu remained in the hospital room.

The attendant was outside the door and wouldn’t enter unless called.

It was dusk, the cusp of twilight, the sun about to disappear below the horizon.

He didn’t turn on the lights, leaving the room dim. Xie Shu watched the final amber light vanish, swallowed by the long, dark night.

The neighboring room belonged to a child, crowded with family—grandparents on both sides keeping watch, parents rushing over after work, chatting softly. The father had bought the child a new mini race car, while the mother brought milk and cake.

Xie Shu sat alone at the table, eating his dinner bite by bite before placing the empty container in the sink.

As a patient, his meals were bland, his mouth bitter, his nose filled with the scent of medicine and disinfectant.

Xie Shu opened his notebook.

He aimlessly scrolled through reports, passing the overly long hours. But after being ill for so long, the company had adapted in his absence, and though he wasn’t entirely sidelined, his workload had dwindled significantly. In less than half an hour, he finished reviewing everything.

So Xie Shu began sifting through old files.

When even those were done, he clicked on a game icon and launched the game.

Xie Shu was Player One, ID: Xie Chunshan.

The company had preserved the closed-beta accounts after the game’s official launch.

The account remained, but all previous quest progress had been wiped. Equipped with nothing but basic gear, Xie Shu opened the map and located *Zhongnan Mountain*.

In the game’s timeline, Xiao Wu should have been there, waiting in a courtyard full of flowers for every player’s visit.

Xie Shu clicked to travel there.

The path to *Zhongnan Mountain* was elusive, designed by the map team as a labyrinthine path. Xie Shu navigated the puzzles with ease and soon stood before the small courtyard.

He pushed the door open, and the meticulously hand-modeled scenery unfolded before him as the game began playing the *cutscene* automatically.

Xie Shu quietly watched the screen.

The Taoist on-screen was strikingly beautiful, every pixel of his lips carefully sculpted—yet upon closer inspection, something still felt missing.

This wasn't the Xiao Wu he knew.

The Xiao Wu in the game was a collection of cold data. He'd deliver scripted lines to every player who came, exuding an aloof, detached aura, keeping an air of mystery for the players.

But the real Xiao Wu would curl up in his recliner to sleep, would pester him to order Squirrel Fish, would tug at his sleeve during temple fairs. He was far more vivid and handsome than the game's model, beyond anything a script could convey.

Xie Shu closed the laptop.

He sat silently by the bed until the moon climbed high in the sky, when the system came rushing back.

66 barged in through the window and scrambled onto Xie Shu’s shoulder, out of breath. "Su Zhu, I have bad news!"

"What?"

"The version of you in the cultivation world... isn’t fully dead yet."

"..."

Xie Shu: "..."

66 scratched its head. "Anyway, it's just... yeah."

It summarized Wu Buke’s actions: "At the time, Xiao Wu grabbed the sword with his hand, so it didn’t pierce his heart. The Poison Doctor saved him just in time, barely keeping him alive. That body hasn’t died yet, and now Xiao Wu..."

66 dropped its voice. "He seems to be trying to save you."

Xie Shu’s fingers twitched slightly.

The Little Immortal Lord who had thrown himself into his arms in the dream was probably not just a figment of his imagination.

Illness makes people vulnerable. Xie Shu prided himself on being indifferent, yet he couldn’t help but recall the warmth of that embrace.

And that... messy kiss.

Xie Shu was a loner, a well-known bachelor in his circle. It wasn’t like no one had ever tried to kiss him—usually, Xie Shu would feel disgusted. But now, he raised a hand to touch the corner of his lips, remembering how Xiao Wu had bitten or licked him, and thought it was...

Kinda cute.

Xie Shu turned to 66. "In that case, what’s the solution?"

"Still undecided," 66 tugged at its nonexistent hair. "Uh, it’s a unique situation. I still need to confirm with the Main Brain."

Xie Shu looked at it. "So there could be multiple solutions?"

66: "Yeah. The rule is: no cross-world interference. We have to make Xiao Wu stop. Whether it’s forcing that body’s death or something else, we still need to discuss. During this time, you might keep dreaming—it’s the influence of that body."

Xie Shu repeated, "The rule is: no cross-world interference?"

66 gave a firm answer. "Yes."

Xie Shu: "Do I need to go back?"

He hinted, "For example, return to that body and die again."

"That’s not necessary," 66 thought for a moment. "That body has too many problems. It’s barely clinging to life with elixirs—practically a walking corpse. Even if you went back, you wouldn’t be able to control it."

Xie Shu nodded and dropped the subject.

It was past ten at night. In the neighboring ward, a mother was reciting a bedtime story about a prince overcoming hardships to rescue his princess. Drained by illness, Xie Shu soon sank back into sleep.

Dreams flooded in relentlessly.

He was still lying on the carved bed in the main hall, with brocade curtains hanging from the headboard and sandalwood incense burning all around.

But this time, Xie Shu waited alone on the bed for a long time, still clothed, yet Xiao Wu never appeared.

It seemed they could only meet in dreams if both fell asleep at the same time.

Several days passed, and by the time Xie Shu was well enough to leave the hospital and return home, Xiao Wu still hadn’t entered his dreams.

Xie Shu’s brow creased slightly.

Cultivators had hardy constitutions, and with Xiao Wu’s level of cultivation, he could go days without rest. But even so, going too long without sleep would wear him down.

The second time Xie Shu met Xiao Wu was two weeks after leaving the hospital.

This time, however, it wasn’t in the grand bed of Lord Wuwang’s main hall, but inside the Black Qilin Chariot.

Though the Black Qilin Chariot was just a carriage, its interior was roomy enough to fit a bed similar to the one in the main hall. Dark curtains draped from the headboard, and behind them was a sliding window to let in air.

The slight trembling of the carriage indicated that it was soaring through the endless sky, speeding toward an unknown destination.

Xie Shu lay atop thick, soft cushions, with a hand warmer tucked into the blankets. Perhaps because his body could only lie flat, his range of movement in the dream was limited to the bed. He lifted a corner of the curtain and glimpsed a sky full of snow.

The jade chariot soared over an endless icy plain, where the frozen ground never thawed, stretching for miles without a trace of human life. The northern wind howled, carrying pea-sized snow pellets that pelted the carriage with crisp, crackling sounds. His breath fogged the air instantly. Holding the warmer close, Xie Shu let the curtain fall back into place.

Before long, the bed curtains were drawn aside, and a white-robed figure slipped inside. His features were elegant, his bearing noble, but he looked utterly exhausted, his lashes drooping low as if weighed down by fatigue.

It was Xiao Wu.

When he lifted his gaze and saw Xie Shu, he froze for a moment, then let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Are dreams really this good? Can you just dream of anyone you please? Do you wait for me every time? If I kept dreaming, would you always be here?”

Xie Shu frowned.

From this, it was clear that since his death, Xiao Wu had only slept twice.

Xie Shu said bluntly, “You should sleep more.”

With the burdens of both righteous and demonic sects on his shoulders, and the grueling work of handling Xie Chunshan’s situation, even the toughest person would collapse without rest.

Xiao Wu sat by the bed, pressing his fingers to his temples with a self-deprecating smile. “Palace Lord Xie, but I can’t sleep.”

How could he sleep?

Xiao Wu said, “I haven’t slept a wink.”

The cold weather had tinted Xiao Wu’s nose a faint red, and his voice was slightly stuffy. Paired with his weary, despondent expression, Xie Shu’s fingers twitched, and the words tumbled out before he could stop himself.

He watched as Xiao Wu, the Immortal Lord, pressed his fingertips to his brow. Those burdened with excessive worries often suffered from headaches, and even as a cultivator, Xiao Wu was no exception to discomfort.

His eyes were slightly closed, his fingertips pressing hard against his temples as if trying to work out the ache. Then, he heard a sigh behind him, followed by cool fingers sweeping across his brow.

Xie Shu began massaging his temples gently.

He pulled Xiao Wu down onto the bed, wrapped him tightly in the blankets, and said disapprovingly, “Have you been living like this—carelessly—the whole time I’ve been gone?”

A cultivator who didn’t even sleep—Xiao Wu had always been on the slender side, and despite Xie Shu feeding him so many plates of Squirrel Fish, he had only managed to put a little weight on him. Now, not only had all that progress vanished, but he seemed even thinner than before.

Who knew how long it would take to feed him back to health again?

Xiao Wu stayed silent. In the dream, his courage grew—in reality, he only dared to tug at Xie Shu's sleeve, but here, he turned and pressed close, pulling Xie Shu into a full embrace.

Xie Shu, caught off guard, found himself fully embraced by the Immortal Lord. Xiao Wu rested his chin on Xie Shu's shoulder, his tired eyes fluttered shut in contentment as he nuzzled in, then stilled.

Amused, Xie Shu raised a hand to return the embrace, fingers combing through long hair—only to find a patch of snow clinging to Xiao Wu's back.

This snow was nothing like Wuwang Palace's—unyielding as iron, refusing to melt at a touch. Xie Shu brushed it from Xiao Wu's hair, then grabbed a towel to wipe it away. As he did, he asked, "Little Immortal Lord, where are you headed?"

This frozen, barren wasteland was no place to linger.

Xiao Wu slept in his arms like an exhausted traveler who'd finally found shelter. With a weary sigh, he nuzzled Xie Shu's cheek, dusting it with frost. "Don't ask, Xie Chunshan. Let me hold you a little longer. I'm about to wake up."

He murmured a complaint, "Xie Chunshan, do you know? These days, I can never sleep well."

The frost bit into Xie Shu's skin, and he almost shoved Xiao Wu aside—but those words made him hesitate. In the end, he said nothing, simply tightening his hold. Gently pinching Xiao Wu's icy cheek, he coaxed, "Tell me first, Immortal Lord. Where are you going?"

Xiao Wu didn't answer. His breathing grew fainter, his form grew hazy—he was waking up.

Xie Shu's brow furrowed, dread pooling in his gut.

This endless ice field—he thought he knew where it was.

Just before the figure in his arms vanished from the dream entirely, he abruptly reached out and seized him. "Xiao Wu, you—"

The dream shattered like glass. There was no time left to explain. Xie Shu's voice turned sharp. "Xiao Wu, return to Wuwang Palace—"

The white figure gave no reply.

Xie Shu clenched his hold. "If you insist on doing something, come to me in your dreams before you set out tomorrow. Xiao Wu, do you hear me!?"