Chapter 340: Memory

Chapter 340 Memories

Qi Yi's post quickly received replies.

"Looks okay, the wound healed fine—just the stitching job sucks."

"Had to be an Intern who stitched you up. This skill level is awful."

"My grandma who knits could've stitched it better."

Qi Yi paused. "Did they even stitch this wound?"

When he was rescued from the White Tower, the wound had already healed, leaving a jagged scar that ached dully on rainy days.

"Of course it was stitched. Muscle doesn't heal like this naturally."

"And it was done by a clumsy Intern," someone quickly agreed. "The muscle layers are misaligned. Man, what hospital did this to you? I bet it was a total newbie who’s never even sutured a chicken. Name names so we can steer clear."

Qi Yi turned sideways, studying the ugly scar in the mirror, repeating strangely in his mind, "Which hospital?"

He hadn’t gone to any hospital, and there shouldn't have been stitches.

After the injury, he’d been dragged straight into the White Tower, strung up like an animal on a torture rack for the Guide to take out his anger.

The only one who’d touched this wound was the Guide.

But the Guide?

The security footage was still frozen on the prison scene. The cheetah had just returned the guinea pig, lowering its head to let the rodent climb down. Once the guinea pig entered the cell, the cheetah stood stiffly at the door, raising a paw to bid farewell.

The guinea pig waved back, waddling its chubby little behind onto the bed before disappearing into nothingness.

It had returned to the Guide’s Spirit Sea.

Meanwhile, the Guide was nestled in soft blankets, half his face buried in a pillow, sleeping peacefully.

The sleeping Lu Liu looked nothing like his usual stone-faced, dead-eyed self. His snow-white hair fell in smooth waves, his cheeks slightly plumped by the pillow, just like his silly, dopey guinea pig.

Qi Yi reached a hand behind his back, tracing the scar.

At that moment, a vague memory surfaced.

The Guide’s fingers had brushed here once.

He’d avoided the wound itself, pressing his trembling fingertips just below it. Beyond that, Qi Yi could only recall the searing pain over the wound.

Had that pain been… stitching?

The thought struck Qi Yi as absurdly funny. What kind of person was Lu Liu, the high-and-mighty SS-level Guide of the White Tower? A selfish, hedonistic bastard—would he ever show kindness to a fugitive, lowering himself to learn stitching?

There was no joke more ridiculous in the world.

Logic told him it was impossible, yet his body remembered the sensation.

Trembling fingertips pressing below the wound—not painful, just numb, just itchy.

The weird memory gave the Sentinel chills, goosebumps rising. He tsked, eyeing the sleeping like a baby Guide on the monitor, feeling oddly irritated.

In his territory, yet sleeping so soundly.

Is he really this trusting of me? Does he truly believe I won't do anything to him?

*

Lu Liu hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long time.

Ever since taking on the punishment mission, he had been nervously following the script every day, terrified of missing a single line. Now that the plot was nearing its end, he could finally sleep soundly and comfortably.

Being naturally easygoing, even though he had a nightmare—dreaming of a gigantic Qi Yi pinning him down on an operating table and manhandling him roughly, while he squeaked in protest, unable to fight back even against Qi Yi's pinky finger before being flipped head over heels—he shook it off completely as soon as he woke up.

He straightened the soft blanket, his messy bedhead sticking up, and drowsily climbed out of bed, realizing it was already 6:30.

Well, time to eat.

Though Qi Yi was a Dark Sentinel, he didn’t mistreat prisoners. Meals in the cell were served quite punctually, which Lu Liu appreciated.

Sure enough, before long, guards knocked on the metal bars one by one, releasing all the prisoners.

They lined up at the entrance of the dining area, received their meal trays from the overseers, and approached the serving line to scoop their portions one by one.

Lu Liu found an empty corner and began eating alone.

Since no one was paying attention to him, he didn’t activate the Facial Paralysis System. The stray tuft of hair on his head bounced with each chew as the Guide picked at the vegetables, scowling unhappily.

Gross!

The food here, under Qi Yi’s command, was awful!

Blech! Eating should be enjoyable—why make food this terrible? So unpalatable!

But as a prisoner, skipping meals meant going hungry. Lu Liu had no choice but to continue eating, occasionally jabbing at the rice with his chopsticks in frustration.

Unbeknownst to him, a camera on the dining area ceiling was flashing red, faithfully recording his every move.

In the control room, Qi Yi was also eating.

Sentinels weren't particular about comforts. When busy, he sometimes ate and slept right in the control room.

Qi Yi swore he wasn’t a voyeur, nor did he want to invade the Guide’s privacy. He was just sitting there eating when his gaze happened to drift to the monitor—only to be caught by that bobbing cowlick.

The little strand swayed back and forth in the bottom right corner of the screen, fluttering in the wind like a tiny hook, unconsciously drawing Qi Yi’s attention.

...Did Lu Liu always have a cowlick? Since when? Had it always been there? How had he never noticed?

Driven by curiosity, Qi Yi couldn’t help but zoom in on the monitor, focusing on the finicky Guide.

In the footage, Lu Liu was pushing around a pile of vegetables, pushing them aside before reluctantly taking a bite of rice.

By the time the meal time ended, he had barely eaten anything.

Qi Yi stroked his chin thoughtfully.

With such picky eating habits, wouldn’t he pass out from hunger by tomorrow?

Dark Sentinels didn’t keep prisoners idle like parasites in cells. Captives had to work—sentinels were sent to mine, while Guides cleaned the ship and scrubbed the decks. It wasn’t easy labor and required stamina. Qi Yi seriously doubted the Guide could handle it with his bird-like appetite. He’d probably collapse on the deck every day.

Qi Yi’s lips curled in amusement.

He decided to take a stroll on the deck tomorrow morning. If the haughty Guide was willing to beg for mercy, he might reluctantly agree to give him extra rations.

—This was purely to prevent the fragile Guide from fainting from low blood sugar and wasting the ship’s medical resources. Yes, exactly. That was his story, anyway.

Having planned everything out, Qi Yi looked away and focused on his official duties. For some reason, he still hadn’t turned off the ship’s surveillance.

But what the sentinel didn’t expect was that, late at night, the prison area suddenly became lively.

A shadow flickered across the screen, and Qi Yi frowned slightly, pulling his chair closer.

The first to arrive was his leopard.

Qi Yi’s Spirit went to the kitchen, grabbed two cucumbers, carried them in its mouth, and placed them at the door of Lu Liu’s cell.

Caesar raised its paw and tapped the iron door with its pad: "Meow?"

—Hungry?

This was what it had prepared for the guinea pig.

Lu Liu had no idea that his Spirit had already wandered around the ship and formed a deep friendship with the leopard. He crouched by the door and reached out to pet Caesar’s head.

Lu Liu grumbled, "I fed you fried chicken and cola, and now that I’m in trouble, you bring me two cucumbers and some grass?"

Caesar protested, "Meow meow."

—I can’t cook. All I can give you are cucumbers and grass.

Lu Liu could only give Caesar another frustrated pat and sighed, "Whatever."

He couldn’t expect Caesar to bring him fried chicken, cola, or cake.

Caesar: "Meow."

The leopard, as usual, loved to push its luck. The big cat rubbed its head against Lu Liu’s hand again, letting out a loud and dramatic meow.

Caesar left, looking back every few steps.

Behind the screen, Qi Yi broke out in goosebumps.

When the man and the leopard were whispering, the surveillance couldn’t pick up their words clearly, but the leopard’s predator’s purring completely floored the sentinel.

Qi Yi dragged a hand down his face.

His Spirit could actually sound like *that*?

Why had he never heard it before?

Distractedly, Qi Yi couldn’t help but recall his aide’s words: "Maybe your Spirit really likes Lu Liu?"

Even though reason told Qi Yi it was impossible, his subconscious insisted it was true.

So, what exactly had Lu Liu done in his Spirit Sea, where he couldn’t enter for now?

Before he could puzzle it out, a second shadow quietly approached.

Qi Yi narrowed his eyes and saw it was his aide, Ji Xiuyun.

Ji Xiuyun brought bread and salad dressing. He grinned as he shoved them into Lu Liu’s arms: "There’s nothing left in the storeroom except this. Want to try?"

Lu Liu happily accepted it, took a bite, and his hair flopped limply.

…Like a rock.

Sentinels weren't picky eaters, so the stored bread was as hard as a baguette—really nasty.

Yet, facing Ji Xiuyun, he still managed to smile. "Thank you."

Qi Yi sat behind the surveillance screen, fingers tapping the console, feeling a weird, nagging annoyance.

Wait, the guide could smile?

Give him some awful bread, and he’d smile?

Ji Xiuyun left.

Two minutes later, another shadow appeared—this time, his doctor, whose Spirit was a rhino.

No more than five minutes after the doctor left, then another shadow showed up—the ship’s gunner, whose Spirit was a grey wolf.

...

Qi Yi was done.

He watched as the guide’s doorway bustled with people, buzzing like a marketplace. His Spirit, his adjutant, his doctor, his gunner, and a bunch of randos who'd somehow met Lu Liu all appeared at the prison door.

They came like kids at a candy store, taking turns stepping forward, shoving all kinds of junk food through the iron bars, then shooting the breeze with the guide.

The whole time, Lu Liu smiled more than once.

Unfortunately, the surveillance was too far away—Qi Yi couldn’t hear a single word.

The sentinel frowned slightly.

By late night, things finally calmed down at the guide's door.

Lu Liu organized the food, stuffed it under the bed, dug out a piece of bread, and made a face as he chewed.

Ship food was the worst.

He muttered, "I want chocolate cake," then flipped open the blanket and burrowed inside.

The guide quickly fell asleep.

But the sentinel, remaining in the control room, kept tossing and turning.

He was dying to know what his subordinates had said to Lu Liu.

As the ship’s commander, he couldn’t possibly be left in the dark about what his crew was up to, could he?

They'd set up a cot in the control room. Qi Yi lay flat on it, still in his coat. In the dead of night, the long-healed scar on his back began tingling and itching again, making itself known.

Unable to sleep, Qi Yi tried to remember events from the White Tower, the hints within the Spirit Sea, but his head throbbed painfully. By morning, he finally fell into a restless sleep.

In his dream, he seemed to return to his high school and college days.

Exam papers, textbooks, blackboards, paper airplanes tossed across the room, the damp rainy season, the low, mournful notes of a cello.

And a youth in pure white school uniform.