Chapter 353: 66?

Chapter 353 66?

Lu Liu's first fainting spell occurred half a month later.

After healing his seventh patient of the day, he suddenly blacked out without warning, nearly collapsing in front of the restraint chair.

The nearby sentinel guards quickly steadied him, asking anxiously, "Sir Lu Liu, are you alright?"

Lu Liu's vision was filled with static, and his ears began to ring, drowning out everything around him. It felt as if someone was drilling into his Spirit Sea, the buzzing relentless.

The sentinels nearby were terrified, but fortunately, the dizziness lasted less than a minute before Lu Liu recovered on his own.

"Strange," the guide murmured, propping himself up against the table and tapping his forehead like he was fixing a glitchy machine. "These episodes have been happening more often lately."

At first, it was sudden dizziness—occurring every few days, lasting two or three seconds. But now, it had escalated to several times a day, lasting minutes each time, sometimes even causing complete loss of consciousness.

Yet, Lu Liu didn’t tell Qi Yi.

Instinct told the system that if the sentinel found out, he wouldn’t be happy.

Lu Liu instinctively didn’t want the sentinel to be upset. After Qi Yi treated him to spare ribs, he returned alone to the White Tower. Late at night, in the quiet, he opened a forum to search: "Symptoms of psychic exhaustion in guides."

There weren’t many posts, and the replies were sparse. From what he gathered, mild cases caused dizziness, while severe ones led to "severe physical reactions." Mild cases didn’t require intervention, while severe ones needed prolonged rest.

Lu Liu estimated he was somewhere between mild and severe.

The question was—could a machine even have Spirit Sea problems?

"Never mind," Lu Liu thought optimistically. "It’s probably nothing serious."

He checked his work schedule again. There were only a few dozen patients left, and he could finish before the Winter Festival, just in time for everyone to go home for the holidays.

The festival was like their version of New Year’s or Christmas in the sentinel-guide world—a major annual celebration. Even the White Tower’s usual silence was broken by decorations in the hallways, livening up the atmosphere.

After the Dark Sentinels and the White Tower called a truce, tensions eased. Now, many guides in the White Tower were already making holiday travel plans.

Lu Liu browsed the forum and came across several posts asking for travel recommendations—like a newly opened ski resort with fresh powder snow at the foot of a certain mountain, complete with natural carbonated hot springs, or an island renowned for its pristine environment and powdery white sand beaches.

Looking at these, Lu Liu suddenly felt a strong urge to go out and have fun.

He’d barely traveled at all.

Though many Su Zhu enjoyed trips, the system could only watch from above, stuck as a bystander, with zero firsthand experience. After all, when Su Zhu and their partners went skiing, they couldn’t exactly give 66 a sled. When they soaked in hot springs, 66 couldn’t share the pool. When they vacationed by the sea, he couldn’t join in on floaties or surfing. In short, he was dying to know what fun felt like as a human.

So, Lu Liu opened his chat and naturally pulled up Qi Yi’s contact.

The guide poked Qi Yi once, then poked him again, tapping away: "Are you busy during the Winter Festival?"

After sending it, Lu Liu glanced at the time. They’d only said goodbye two hours ago, but he had an overwhelming urge to reach out to Qi Yi.

Qi Yi answered right away: "No."

Then, after exactly ten seconds—not a second more or less—he added: "Got plans for the Winter Festival?"

Lu Liu forwarded the skiing resort and island links to him: "Qi Yi! Let’s go somewhere fun!"

Logically, he knew human etiquette required inviting someone out more tactfully and politely—something like, "Qi Yi, there’s this place, blah blah, wanna come with me?"

But with Qi Yi, he skipped the formalities. He just said what he wanted—no filter.

On the other side of the screen, a faint smile tugged at Qi Yi's lips.

He could easily imagine the Guide typing those words, that one stubborn cowlick of his probably perked up in excitement, swaying left and right.

So he replied, "Alright, I'll take care of the planning."

Lu Liu: "!"

System was being lazy again. He wanted to go out and have fun, but he couldn’t be bothered to plan anything—he just wanted to tag along after Qi Yi.

After all, a Spirit was the embodiment of its owner’s personality. 66’s guinea pig loved clinging to Caesar’s head, letting the other carry it around.

So he replied cheerfully, "Yay!"

Qi Yi looked at the screen, his smile growing another two pixels wider.

Lu Liu had just finished his work, and so had Qi Yi. He hadn’t left the office yet, tying up loose ends.

Ji Xiuyun, sitting across from him, glanced over. Tch, he tutted disapprovingly upon seeing Qi Yi smiling at his messages. "Whose messages? His Excellency Lu Liu? Seriously, you’re grinning like a lovestruck fool every day—sending him cakes, escorting him home—yet I don’t see you sealing the deal."

Other Sentinels and Guides at this stage would’ve long exchanged vows and been through several sets of sheets by now. But their leader? All cool and collected on the surface, yet all he did was stare at the screen and smile. Useless as a brick.

"..."

Qi Yi stopped smiling.

Ji Xiuyun shook his head, adjusted his glasses, and leaned in to peek at the screen. "Oh, inviting you out? Come on, boss, can’t you sweet-talk a little? Or give gifts? If all else fails, use those abs and good looks of yours—get the rice cooking! Let me remind you, an SS-level Guide is in high demand."

With that, he ignored his romantically clueless boss and left with his files.

"..."

Gifts?

For the first twenty-something years of his life, Qi Yi had considered himself a hopeless case destined to die alone—allergic to romance, immune to affection, incapable of smooth talk. As for gifts...

The Sentinel opened a shopping page and browsed the "Guaranteed-to-Impress Gifts for Guides" section.

After carefully considering the Guide’s preferences, he sneakily checked out certain items.

The next morning, Lu Liu received the travel plan.

Qi Yi had put together a thorough itinerary, asking if Lu Liu had any objections.

Contrary to his appearance, Qi Yi was patient and meticulous—just like how his cakes were delicious, his travel plans were thorough.

They would first travel under aliases and go to a remote planet.

Lu Liu had no objections at all and happily agreed.

After replying to Qi Yi’s message and eagerly anticipating the upcoming skiing trip, he flipped on his professional mode, his face going blank in an instant as he began the day’s work.

As usual, there were dozens of patients waiting.

In work mode, Lu Liu was completely focused. After healing the seventh one, another wave of dizziness hit him.

The Sentinel beside him yelped and lunged to catch him. Lu Liu blinked, disoriented, wanting to say, "I’m fine."

But before he could speak, he had already collapsed into the chair, his vision darkening.

His lashes fluttered faintly before his eyes shut.

"It’s nothing," Lu Liu thought in the final moment before his vision darkened completely. "It'll only last a few minutes."

Just another passing blackout—it would only last a few minutes. When he woke up, things would be fine.

...

Yet, the dizziness and ringing in his ears only intensified. His mind buzzed louder, like TV snow filling his head. In a daze, Lu Liu felt everything settle into silence.

He must’ve passed out—now he was coming to.

"Three more patients to go this morning," Lu Liu thought. "Once I finish seeing them, I can go home with Qi Yi."

Qi Yi was making sweet and sour pork with pineapple today, something Lu Liu had been craving for a long time.

He’d dug up the recipe from the database and handed it to Qi Yi, who balked at the weird combo. "Pineapple… in food?"

Lu Liu replied, "Yes."

Brushing off Qi Yi’s hesitation, he stubbornly shoved the recipe at him. "Just try it."

When he said "try it," he looked up at Qi Yi, his big blue eyes full of begging.

"..."

"Alright, but don’t blame me," Qi Yi said, his skin crawling. "If it turns out awful, don't blame me."

He caved and took it.

Lu Liu beamed with joy, his cowlick bouncing excitedly.

Lu Liu knew Qi Yi would make it delicious—he could make anything taste good.

He couldn’t wait.

But when Lu Liu opened his eyes, he wasn’t in the treatment center.

Instead, he saw a massive iron-gray door, its surface glinting coldly. Pushing it open, he was met with an enormous computer matrix and electronic screens.

"..."

Lu Liu frowned. "Uh… Master Brain?"

He floated toward the core.

Wait… floated?

He looked down—no body. Just air. He was floating midair, and from the reflection on the metal walls, he was just a tiny square screen again.

"..."

This was the Central Administration. He was System 66, the NPC for that "Abusive Protagonist" story.

...Why had he returned here?

Lost, Lu Liu hovered toward the center and tilted his screen up at the giant core: "Master Brain?"

"66, welcome back," the Main Brain chuckled. "Congratulations, you've completed your disciplinary mission."

"..."

The small screen cocked its head. "I completed my disciplinary mission?"

Right, he had been so busy lately, working around the clock, that he had even forgotten he was on a disciplinary mission.

The Main Brain said, "Yes, you completed your disciplinary mission. Your body in the Sentinel-Guide world is on the verge of death, so you can return now."

The small screen cocked its head again. "Return?"

He remembered now.

He was an NPC in a tragic story, and Qi Yi was his mission target. Once he completed the task, he could return to the Central Administration and return to being a system.

So that final haze... had been death?

The small screen lowered its head. "Oh... I understand now."

Even though this was what he had been looking forward to—completing the disciplinary mission and returning to the world—why did he feel a little sad?

Lu Liu wondered confusedly, "There are still so many things I haven't finished."

So many Sentinels were still waiting for treatment, waiting for Guides to tend to them, waiting to go home for the Winter Festival. They hadn't seen their families yet, hadn't hugged their mothers.

The White Tower still didn't have a new SS Guide, no successor. The new decree had only just been issued, and without a successor, the world would plunge into chaos.

Besides all that, he hadn't gone on a trip with Qi Yi yet.

He hadn't gotten to try Qi Yi's newly made sweet and sour pork with pineapple. His fridge still had the chocolate cake Qi Yi had baked. He hadn't gotten to pet Caesar one last time, and Caesar hadn't gotten to snuggle with the guinea pig one last time... He hadn't gone skiing or diving with Qi Yi. There were still so, so many things he hadn't done.

Was this really the end?

In the original storyline, he should have died long ago. So why, when the day finally came, did he feel so heartbroken?

The Main Brain said, "Oh, well, you performed adequately on this mission. Even though a lot of things collapsed in the end... 66?"

It hesitated and stopped speaking.

Because it noticed that the usually cheerful little system in front of it was now hanging its head, its screen streaked with tears.