Chapter 60: Illusion Meets Reality?

Chapter 60: When Illusion Meets Reality?

Since both Gu Jinsheng and Ji An had woken up, there was no point in them staying at the hospital any longer—it would only waste medical resources. So they checked out to recover at home.

In the quiet of night, Gu Jinsheng couldn't sleep because of his headache. He decided to take some sleeping pills with the Magic Spring water Ji An had given him.

It was strange—these were the same sleeping pills. When he took them with his own mineral water, they didn’t work at all. His head still ached and he remained wide awake. But Ji An’s water was different. It seemed to boost the pills’ effect hundreds or even thousands of times over. Within minutes of taking them, he would fall asleep.

Holding the pills in one hand and the bottle of water in the other, Gu Jinsheng became lost in thought. Suddenly, something about Ji An came to mind.

Ji An leaving the Third Base and becoming enemies with Chen Chen—all of it started with a Space Necklace.

During the auction, Tang Tang once said that Ji An was hiding something important from him, something related to the Space Necklace.

Gu Jinsheng had said he didn’t care, and in truth, he really didn’t. No matter how amazing that necklace might be, it meant nothing to him.

What mattered most was Ji An’s trust. He wanted to win that trust—to help protect whatever secret Ji An held. But if Ji An didn’t want to talk about it, then that was fine. It wasn’t Ji An’s fault; it just meant Gu Jinsheng hadn’t done enough to earn his full confidence.

Of course, even if the Space Necklace belonged to someone else, Gu Jinsheng wouldn’t have coveted it. What belongs to others is theirs, no matter how valuable. He, Gu Jinsheng, wasn’t so desperate as to need to steal from others to become stronger.

Unless that person used the necklace for bad things—he might step in. But that wouldn’t be about the necklace itself. Even without such an item, if someone committed evil acts, Gu Jinsheng wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.

The appearance of spatial storage devices had drawn everyone’s attention. Gu Jinsheng had assumed the Space Necklace was simply an ordinary spatial artifact, something rare that Tang Tang had treated like treasure.

After Ji An reclaimed it, studied its principles, and replicated it, spatial storage devices were born. Now, it seemed the Space Necklace did hold another secret, just as Tang Tang had said.

As for what that secret was…

Gu Jinsheng pulled open the curtains and looked at the street bathed in starlight. Before, this view would have been filled with hurried pedestrians, but at this hour, the streets were nearly empty.

Now that nutrition packs had solved the problem of hunger, it was as if the world had been dragged out of hell. People once again had time to think about romance and dreams.

Down below, the streets buzzed with activity—couples holding hands, embracing, talking about tomorrow, the future, stars, moonlight, love, and affection.

A slight smile touched Gu Jinsheng’s lips. All this beauty came from Ji An. He was the one who had changed this hellish world, leading it by the hand into tomorrow.

How could he help but love such a person? How could he ever let go? Someone so extraordinary only comes along once in a lifetime. To miss him would mean having to settle forever.

As for the Space Necklace’s other secret, Gu Jinsheng had already figured it out.

It likely had something to do with healing.

When the necklace was taken away, Tang Tang’s dual powers—spatial and healing—started having problems. That suggested the Space Necklace contained both spatial and healing abilities.

Gu Jinsheng stared at the water in the bottle. The healing power probably came from this water, though he wasn’t sure how it existed within the space or whether it would run out over time.

At that moment, he felt deeply honored. He still remembered the way Ji An had lowered his eyes when pulling the water from his space. In the end, Ji An chose to trust him—to give him the water.

Even knowing Gu Jinsheng might figure out the truth from it.

Despite everything he’d gone through, Ji An still chose to trust him. Gu Jinsheng felt moved and thrilled.

Did this mean Ji An was finally letting his guard down—taking the first step toward him?

Gu Jinsheng turned his gaze to the night sky, where the stars shimmered like Ji An’s eyes—beautiful, as if they held the entire cosmos.

Staring at the stars, he took a big gulp of the water and swallowed the sleeping pills. His head hurt too much—he could hardly think straight.

As he turned to place the water bottle back on the table, Gu Jinsheng's gaze fell on the bite mark on his arm. He truly had no recollection at all—utterly blank about how it got there.

Yet, such a mark in a place that was neither strictly private nor wholly casual… Claiming ignorance about its origin would sound unbelievable—not just to Ji An, but even to Gu Jinsheng himself.

If this had happened to someone else, Gu Jinsheng would likely have told the man to step up and take responsibility like a man.

But the weight of this responsibility was too much for Gu Jinsheng to bear. Accepting it would only push him and Ji An back to where they started, or even further apart. So, he lied to Ji An, blaming it on Little Rose.

But that wasn't the truth. So, how did this bite mark come to be?

Pushing through the headache, Gu Jinsheng tried to recall. The only certainty was that the mark hadn’t been there before the incident.

After the incident, he had lost consciousness. Could someone have bitten him while he was unconscious? The thought seemed ridiculous, but ruling out all impossibilities left only one conclusion.

Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind—a moment when he thought Ji An had died, his mind in chaos, his superpower going haywire, trapped in a delusion where reality blurred.

Perhaps it had been a sign of impending mental breakdown, a hallucination born from desperation. In that vision, Ji An seemed to have bitten him—right on this spot.

Thinking back, Gu Jinsheng wondered if his brain had truly been damaged after losing his superpower.

Even if the hallucination had felt real, it was all in his mind. If Ji An had bitten him, it would have been his soul, not his physical body. Surely, such a mark couldn’t transcend the spiritual and imprint on flesh.

With a weary sigh, Gu Jinsheng rubbed his temples. Trying to think with a splitting headache only led to wilder conclusions. Clearly, the mind could only spiral deeper into nonsense under such pain.

Lying on the bed, he cleared his thoughts and soon drifted into sleep. Next door, Ji An was also fast asleep.

The next morning, Ji An was roused by a delicious smell. Entering the kitchen, he found Gu Jinsheng busy at the counter. A strange ache—both bitter and tender—clenched his heart.

At home, Gu Jinsheng forbade Ji An from relying on nutrition packs. Despite their ability to provide complete nutrition, he insisted on cooking for him.

It wasn’t that Ji An disliked good food—who could resist it? He simply worried about Gu Jinsheng’s health. Both of them suffered the same condition; Ji An himself suffered such crippling headaches that he wished he could swallow a whole bottle of sleeping pills with Magic Spring water and sleep for a year.

Yet, Gu Jinsheng pushed through the same pain daily to cook for him. It hurt Ji An to see.

"Jinsheng, you don’t have to do this," Ji An said. "Our superpowers are gone—we need to preserve our strength. Stop cooking for me. The nutrition packs are enough. I developed them—I know their benefits. They’re balanced, comprehensive, even healthier than regular food."

Without looking up from kneading the dough, Gu Jinsheng replied, "Since you made them, I trust them. But treating ourselves once in a while is fine. Once I’m back at work, you’ll have plenty of time for nutrition packs. I won’t have the chance to cook for you then."

Who didn’t love proper food—health risks notwithstanding? Even if nutrition packs were cheap and nutritious, Ji An believed people would still choose real meals if scarcity weren’t an issue.

Ji An was no exception. Having grown up in an orphanage, his craving for real food was stronger than most. But life had taught him to suppress and control his desires, concealing his real tastes to avoid exposing weaknesses.

His words were merely to spare Gu Jinsheng the effort, to let him focus on recovery.

Seeing his argument fall flat, Ji An tried another angle. "Jinsheng, we should conserve food. These are tough times—resources are scarce. This one meal of ours could feed many for days. Imagine how many lives we could save by skipping just one meal."

Gu Jinsheng paused briefly, making Ji An think he’d succeeded. But then he said, "Your nutrition packs have already saved countless lives—so many that no one could tally them. Should the savior of thousands not be allowed even one proper meal? Even if no one else in the world deserved it, you do. Because of you, they didn’t starve. That’s what anyone with gratitude would agree on."

Speechless, Ji An finally admitted the truth. "I just... don’t want you exhausting yourself. I want you to rest and recover fully, without lasting damage."

By now, Gu Jinsheng had cut the dough into diamond shapes, deftly spooning thumb-sized portions of filling into each, folding them into neat dumplings.

"Don’t worry. I know what I can handle," he said, not looking up as his skilled hands worked swiftly.

"Even when resting up, a person can't sleep all day. That won't recharge you—it'll just turn your brain to mush. With no work right now, I might as well cook something light. It's not taxing, and it counts as exercise. Beats sitting around doing nothing. Keeping busy takes the edge off the headache."

Ji An couldn't convince Gu Jinsheng, so he simply sat down and started wrapping dumplings alongside him.

Ji An was no master chef, but his dumpling-wrapping skills were passable—at least none of them fell apart in the pot.

The bone broth had been simmering since Gu Jinsheng got up early that morning. After two hours of slow cooking, it had turned milky white. The tiny wontons bobbed in the bubbling broth and were ready within three to five minutes.

They were scooped into a large glass bowl, then topped with chopped scallions, cilantro, garlic paste, dried shrimp, and seaweed. Finally, a spoonful of bright red chili oil was drizzled over the top—a mouthwatering sight that got your stomach growling just looking at it.

As for the taste, it blew away all expectations. The mutant beast meat had been finely ground and stirred in one direction to form bouncy little meatballs, each bite springy and bursting with savory flavor.

So delicious!

Even with his headache, Ji An managed to down two heaping bowls. These little wontons were beyond amazing—nowhere else could you find such a treat.

They finished off all the handmade wontons together, and while both guys sprawled on the couch rubbing their full bellies, Ji An received a call from Wan Xueying.

"Boss Ji, how's your recovery going?" she asked.

"Not bad. Eating well, sleeping well—I'm practically being fattened up like a pig waiting for slaughter," Ji An joked.

Wan Xueying laughed. "Oh, we'd never dream of harming you! You've got way too many valuable ideas in that head. We're not about short-sighted moves like killing the goose that lays the golden eggs. And besides, with the boss around, even if we had all the guts in China, we wouldn’t dare."

Ji An had the speakerphone on, so Gu Jinsheng naturally heard everything. He gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, making his position clear.

Wan Xueying rolled her eyes—did they have to be so extra?

"Alright, alright, let's get serious," she said. "Boss Ji, I'm afraid if I keep chatting with you much longer, I might end up on the receiving end of a jealousy hit tonight. Command wants to hold an award ceremony for you. When would work for you? Would headquarters be okay?"

"Award ceremony?" Ji An hadn't heard anything about this before. He glanced at Gu Jinsheng and, seeing no surprise on his face, realized that Wan Xueying must have already spoken to him.

"Yes, such good deeds deserve recognition, especially in the apocalypse, where everyone focuses only on their own survival and ignores everything beyond their own compound," Wan Xueying said. "In the past, our command wouldn’t have said anything—after all, just staying alive was hard enough, and most people didn’t have the luxury of sympathy for others.

"But now it’s different. With the introduction of nutrient packs, nearly everyone can eat. Once basic needs are met, we need to rediscover basic decency and compassion.

"Otherwise, society will become increasingly cold."

Wan Xueying continued, "Actually, after you took down Cruise last time, the base should have acknowledged your actions. But we couldn’t make it public to protect you from possible retaliation by Country M. Now that you no longer have powers, it’s even more important to keep things quiet. Still, the recognition you deserve will be given—combined with this occasion."

"Fine." Ji An agreed. Rewards weren’t something he lacked or particularly cared about—he wasn’t one to seek attention.

What Ji An truly wanted was to use this opportunity to spread a positive message to those struggling in the apocalypse, to keep the spark of humanity alive before it's extinguished completely. Once lost, it might never be recovered.

"Thank you, Boss Ji." Wan Xueying had known Ji An would agree. After just a few months of working together, she had come to understand the kind of man he was—brave, responsible, socially conscious, and deeply committed.

"Boss Ji, how about the location and timing? We might stream it live," Wan Xueying asked.

"Let’s hold it at the orphanage, the day after tomorrow at nine in the morning. I want more people to notice these children, and I want to use the orphanage to spread kindness, awakening more people’s sense of compassion."

"Good. Your idea is exactly what I had in mind," Wan Xueying replied without objection. "By the way, Mr. Ji, those traffickers haven’t been interrogated yet. The higher-ups wanted to wait until you woke up. When would you like to proceed?"

Ji An thought they’d already been questioned, surprised to learn they hadn’t.

Gu Jinsheng spoke up, "Those traffickers were the reason you lost your abilities. You should be the one to handle the interrogation—it’s only right."

"Alright then. Let’s head over now."

The entire building was filled with superpowered individuals, all assigned to the command division. Gu Jinsheng might not know them, but they all recognized him. At Gu Jinsheng's mere word, someone would escort them over.

"Boss, Boss Ji, you're here. This way." Wan Xueying led Ji An and Gu Jinsheng to the execution block's dungeon.

This was no ordinary prison—it housed superpowered convicts serving heavy sentences. Every iron bar was specially designed, electrified 24/7, with ghostly blue currents flickering coldly. A single accidental touch could instantly knock out a superpowered individual.

Giant mutated rats, as large as infants, scurried across the floor, darting in and out between the bars. No one knew what they fed on, but each was fat and muscular.

As Ji An followed Wan Xueying deeper into the dungeon, he heard blood-curdling shrieks and saw prisoners desperately pleading for mercy as they approached.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have killed anyone—I beg you, release me!"

"This place is terrifying! I can’t stay here—just kill me instead!"

"Help me! I’m innocent! I didn’t do those things! And please, just give me something to eat!" The last plea came from a one-eyed old woman, seemingly an ordinary person, kneeling and kowtowing frantically to Ji An.

Wan Xueying sneered at the sight.

"This old woman looks pitiful, but her heart is darker than anyone’s. She was personally identified by those human traffickers.

To save herself, she sold her own granddaughter to them, fully aware of what would happen to the girl.

And all she got in return was three ordinary nutrient packs."

Ji An glanced at the old woman again, his gut twisting in revulsion.

"What else could I do? If I didn’t sell her, neither of us would survive! I didn’t want to! At least this way, even if they break her limbs, she’ll still be alive. The traffickers need her to beg—they’ll feed her something. But a blind old hag like me can’t do anything—I couldn’t support her anymore. I did it to spare her life!"

People like this blind old woman were the most repulsive. They committed the vilest acts yet cloaked themselves in noble-sounding justifications, as if that could mask their moral corruption. Ji An couldn’t bear to look at her for another second.

The group reached the innermost and most inhumane dungeon. This cell, lower in elevation than the others—likely by design—was filled with stagnant, reeking water that gave off a foul stench. In addition, the walls of the water-filled chamber were electrified. Since water conducts electricity, those human traffickers shackled inside were subjected to relentless electric shocks around the clock.

Only those with abilities could endure such torment; ordinary people would have long since succumbed.

At the same time, Ji An now understood how the mutated rats had grown so fat despite the lack of food in this environment.

Several of the grotesque rodents were gnawing on traffickers bound to the walls. Helpless and restrained, the traffickers could do nothing but suffer the agonizing bites of the creatures.

The current running through this particular water dungeon was intentionally kept low—not designed to kill, but to torture. As long as the mutated rats could tolerate the shocks, they could eat their fill.

These traffickers had gone days without interaction, watched only via surveillance to ensure they didn’t die. Now, seeing people appear, they pleaded desperately, as if seeing salvation, shouting all at once: “We’ll confess! We’ll tell you everything!”

Ji An replied coldly, “Then speak.”

“We were human traffickers even before the apocalypse. Those children were all taken by us before the collapse,” one of them blurted out.

“How did you take them?” Ji An asked.

“Some got separated from their families and were tricked by us. Others we forcibly snatched, and some we bought from other traffickers. Two were sold to us by their own families,” the trafficker continued rapidly, as if begging for mercy. “One was sold to me by the blind old woman after the apocalypse. The other child was sold to me by her grandmother before it happened.

“Apparently, after her daughter-in-law gave birth to a granddaughter, the family worried she’d refuse to have another child because of their obsession with sons. So the old woman sold the girl to me to pressure her daughter-in-law into giving them a grandson.

“She took just a thousand yuan for it.”

The trafficker remembered the incident vividly—it had struck even him, heartless as he was, as something deeply disturbing.

Before the apocalypse, children weren’t treated like weeds, like worthless things—they were treasures, the very lifeblood of their families.

When a family lost a child, it was as if they’d lost their own soul. Yet this old woman had willingly sold her own granddaughter just to force her daughter-in-law to bear a grandson. Even he, heartless as he was, found it depraved.

Ji An and Gu Jinsheng exchanged glances, both finding the story vaguely familiar.

Ji An immediately pressed, "How old was the girl sold by the old woman at the time?"

"Three years old." Though it had been a long time, the trafficker remembered clearly—cases like that were rare even for a trafficker.

"What was she wearing? Any distinguishing features?" Hearing the age, Ji An felt almost certain of something.

The trafficker frowned in recollection. "I don’t remember her clothes, but I recall a large birthmark on the leg I broke—right on the outer ankle. That’s why I picked that leg to cut off. I figured her mother wouldn’t recognize her without it."

Hearing the trafficker casually describe severing a child's leg, Ji An truly believed no punishment would be enough for these people.

Ji An turned to Wan Xueying. "What happened to the other children the traffickers had? Were they all rescued?"

"They’re all safe—twenty-six kids total. They’re at the orphanage now," Wan Xueying answered, puzzled. "Is there something special about the girl sold by her grandmother?"

"She might be Yuan Ming’an’s daughter—the head of the orphanage. Her child was secretly sold by her mother-in-law who wanted a grandson," Ji An explained. "Sister Yuan has been searching for her for seven years."

Not long after Yuan Ming’an’s daughter was sold, the apocalypse hit, making the search even harder.

"Her daughter?" Wan Xueying asked. "Are you sure it’s her daughter, not her granddaughter? Director Yuan looks quite old—like grandmother age. Besides, superpowered people usually look younger after awakening their abilities. If she looks like a grandmother, I figured she was way older."

"No, Sister Yuan is only forty-two."

Wan Xueying gasped. "Forty-two? I thought she was seventy-two!"

Then, realizing something, she muttered a curse. "Those traffickers are scum. Years of searching must’ve aged Director Yuan. And that old hag deserves death—who could be so twisted to prefer sons over daughters like that? What happened to that family in the end?"

"They’re dead—all of them," Ji An said. "During the apocalypse, Sister Yuan hunted them down and took them out herself."

"Hell yeah! Director Yuan nailed it!" Wan Xueying cheered, her hatred for evil flaring up.