Chapter 95

Chapter 95

Tansapa Tower.

Luo Ci, wrapped in a soft blanket like a tiny rabbit, felt the gentle, warm breeze from the climate control. After a while, his little ear tips twitched as he drowsily registered a commotion outside.

He woke, pulling on his small pajamas with eyes still closed, then slowly climbed out of bed. He opened the door, eager to see what was happening.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he saw A Jin and Sha Ni Lu arguing in the living room again.

Sha Ni Lu frowned, looking impatient. "What are you doing here?"

A Jin, placing snacks he’d bought for the little one into the fridge, replied, "I’m here to keep the little one company."

Leaning against the bar, Sha Ni Lu raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it my turn for these two days?"

A Jin glared. "The day before yesterday was clearly my turn; you were with the little one then!"

Sha Ni Lu scoffed. "Oh, I thought you were exhausted in the training room that day."

A Jin finally realized, gritting his teeth. "So... you did that on purpose!"

Watching Sha Ni Lu burst into laughter, A Jin’s blood pressure instantly spiked. Among Tansapa members, A Jin found Sha Ni Lu the most irritating. They shared many similarities, which meant Sha Ni Lu knew exactly how to provoke him.

For instance, by deliberately infuriating him in the training room. A Jin’s pride couldn’t tolerate provocation, so he’d exhaust himself in the training room, and the day meant for him to accompany Little Snowball would instead fall to Sha Ni Lu.

A Jin’s temper flared even more at Sha Ni Lu. His fuse was always short; he swung his fist straight at Sha Ni Lu’s face with astonishing speed. But Sha Ni Lu was just as quick. He licked his blood-stained teeth, grabbed A Jin’s arm, and with a booming flash of lightning, struck A Jin’s chest, sending him crashing through the glass window.

The wide, bright glass shattered instantly, and A Jin plummeted from the hundredth floor.

Within seconds, A Jin caught a gust of wind and flew back up, reappearing at the broken window.

Sha Ni Lu let out a scornful laugh, blinding lightning shooting up like a pillar to the sky. A Jin wiped the blood from his lips, enraged, and conjured a hurricane that collided with the lightning. The living room’s contents were swept out the window in the chaos.

The once peaceful and cozy living room was instantly thrown into disarray by the storm.

The logistics department quickly mobilized.

With many reporters already stationed near the tower, they swiftly captured the scene.

The previously clear sky abruptly turned overcast, heavy with thunderclouds, while violent winds twisted the clouds into a waterspout stretching from sky to ground. The skies above Snowbird City alternated between gale-force winds and earsplitting thunder. Emergency news broadcasts immediately aired the mayhem.

Other guilds and citizens, bewildered: "Is this the end of the world?"

One reporter finally managed to get an interview. The Tansapa front desk, facing the chaos, remained remarkably calm. "Ah... perhaps they’re just having a friendly discussion about the little one?"

Reporter: "???"

At the top floor of Tansapa, Luo Ci rubbed his eyes and looked up calmly—sure enough, Brother A Jin and Brother Sha Ni Lu were fighting again.

Having witnessed it so many times, the little one had grown accustomed to it.

Just then, the elevator doors opened, revealing a striking head of red hair. Luo Ci hugged the person’s arm, his sweet, milky voice calling out endearingly, "Aunt Meilusha."

Meilusha immediately beamed, happily sweeping up Little Snowball. "Little Snowball!"

The soft, sleepy child still carried the scent of warm milk from his nap, making it impossible to let go once held.

Luo Ci rested his head on Meilusha’s shoulder, scrunching his little nose. "Aunt Meilusha, I miss Brother."

Meilusha pinched the little one’s cheek. "Then shall I take you to see the Guild Leader?"

"Mm-hmm!" Luo Ci instantly perked up.

In truth, ever since returning to Snowbird City from Victuya, Luo Ci had caught a cold. He spent a week miserably in bed, receiving several IV treatments before slowly recovering.

Luo Ci knew Chen Wang often visited him. Though feverish and bundled tightly in his blanket with only his ears poking out, he often heard Chen Wang’s footsteps.

Happily carried out of the elevator by Meilusha, Luo Ci had never been to this floor before and didn’t know its purpose. As soon as the soundproof door opened, he saw a room packed with reporters.

The little one blinked, confused... A press conference?

Should he not disturb them?

Only half-showing his face, the baby quickly retracted the little foot he’d extended.

But the moment had already been noticed.

The reporters, some curious about Tansapa’s process of breaching the Core Gate, others inquiring if Tansapa was satisfied and had further plans, instantly shifted their attention to Little Snowball, their eyes lighting up.

Ah, Little Snowball really was so tiny! His snow-white hood looked incredibly soft, and his palm-sized face nestled inside made him appear even smaller and more delicate.

Perhaps because he’d just woken from his nap, his fair, tender cheeks were flushed with a warm pink, like a glutinous rice ball with thin skin and soft filling—you just wanted to pinch.

"It’s Little Snowball!"

"Quick, take pictures! Quick, take pictures!"

A storm of camera flashes and clicks erupted as every lens focused on the little one who’d wandered into the press conference, afraid to miss a single shot. The reporters buzzed excitedly. If not for the presence of formal media and the sentinels maintaining order, Little Snowball might have been swallowed by the tide of journalists.

Still, it was easy to imagine tomorrow’s headlines would all feature Little Snowball.

Luo Ci froze for a moment, his round blue eyes scanning the room until they landed on Chen Wang, who had risen from his seat.

"This press conference is now concluded," Chen Wang announced before turning to Zhong Shijin. "Wrap it up."

Zhong Shijin: "Leave it to me."

Chen Wang strode over and bent down to pick up the curious little kitten-like child, who was looking around in wonder.

The moment he held him, Chen Wang sensed something was off—the baby’s temperature was unusually high. "Are you feeling unwell?"

Nestled in Chen Wang’s arms, Luo Ci clutched his clothes with small hands, blinking dazedly. Though his cold had gradually improved over the past week, he suddenly felt dizzy again, his head burning hot, slowing his reactions. He let out a sluggish, stuffy-nosed "Mm."

Chen Wang immediately lost interest in the press conference, carrying the baby back to the top floor.

Along the way, he contacted the medical department via communicator.

The medical team, receiving the order, wasted no time and dispatched a healer to the top floor.

Luo Ci lay weakly across Chen Wang’s lap. To ease the baby’s discomfort, Chen Wang hesitated before removing his gloves and gently stroking Little Snowball’s back. The child was burning up like a little fireball, burying his face in Chen Wang’s palm and nuzzling against it.

Chen Wang, frantic, racked his brain for any usable items, but most were meant for external injuries. Faced with the fragile Little Snowball, he rarely showed such agitation, rummaging through the medical kit for fever reducers—only to remember they’d run out the previous week.

Fortunately, the healer arrived quickly. After examining Little Snowball with instruments, they said, "This fever isn’t caused by the cold. It must be something else."

Chen Wang: "Something else?"

"It might be related to fluctuations in guide-type energy," the therapist pondered before giving him this answer.

Thus, Cooper, who had received the emergency summons, hurried over. As an experienced guide researcher, she quickly confirmed: "It is indeed related to fluctuations in guide-type energy. Right now, Little Snowball’s energy levels are fluctuating too wildly to measure."

"This phenomenon usually occurs when a guide’s ability level fluctuates," Cooper said with a serious expression. "Once Little Snowball’s condition stabilizes, we may need to conduct a new level test."

Chen Wang’s attention was almost entirely focused on Little Snowball. The little one hadn’t breathed for a long time, making Chen Wang extremely tense: "...Little Snowball?"

"Mew."

Only after a long while did the fluffy cotton-candy tail lift slightly.

Luo Ci weakly drooped his small head, feeling utterly miserable. The persistent high fever made his insides feel like they were cradling a fireball, burning so intensely that he could barely breathe. His limbs were weak, and he lay limply on the thigh like a melted mochi under scorching heat.

This was the first time Cooper had seen the usually indifferent president display such anxious and distraught emotions.

Cooper was distressed too. The usually lively Little Snowball lay listlessly, letting out soft, pained whimpers from his throat. That tiny, fragile ball of life was so weak he couldn’t even open his eyes, making it impossible not to feel heartbroken.

Chen Wang’s question jolted her from her thoughts: "Could it be related to guiding me?"

"Possibly," Cooper hesitated but didn’t dare lie to the president. "Given the level disparity, it might place a burden on Little Snowball."

After all, level incompatibility during mental guidance could impose immense pressure on a guide. Once it exceeded the guide’s tolerance threshold, accidents could occur—such as physical burnout or level fluctuations.

She knew how attached Little Snowball was to the president, and how Chen Wang had never been this close to anyone else in all these years—only Little Snowball. But if closeness would strain the little one, Chen Wang would choose to distance himself again, as before.

The cruelest warmth is when you’re about to hold it—only to watch it slip away. That might be the hardest thing to accept.

Wasn’t this unbearably cruel?

After a heavy silence, Chen Wang asked, "Then what can I do now?"

Cooper replied, "Even with antipyretics, his temperature won’t drop. We can only wait for the guide energy fluctuations to stabilize."

In other words, there was nothing to be done but wait.

Roland, who had just returned from outside, appeared in the doorway. He visited the research department daily—ever since leaving the Sentinel Association, he had developed a keen interest in sentinels and collaborative research. Chen Wang had granted him access to the research department.

Chen Wang stood up, not daring to stay too close to Little Snowball. "You look after him."

Roland nodded silently.

Before long, A Jin and Sha Ni Lu also returned. As soon as Sha Ni Lu felt his temperature, his expression changed: "Why is Little Dumpling’s body so hot?!"

Cooper explained in a hushed tone.

Chen Wang had intended to hand Little Snowball over to Roland, but the little one clutched his arm desperately with both tiny paws. The slightest movement made Little Snowball struggle to open his eyes, as if checking whether he was still there.

His heart lurched painfully.

In the end, Chen Wang sat back down on the sofa, still holding Little Snowball.

The little one in his palm was like a scalding little furball.

His frantic little heartbeat pressed tightly against Chen Wang’s palm.

Chen Wang’s lips moved slightly as he narrowed his gaze. Sometimes, he truly wished he could just hold Little Snowball tightly—and not just on impulse.

Little Snowball lay in his arms—so fragile, yet so precious; so close, yet so far. Every time he thought he had this little mochi firmly in his grasp, reality reminded him it was just his delusion.

Five torturous hours crawled by.

Luo Ci’s temperature gradually subsided, and Cooper immediately used the instrument to measure Little Snowball’s vitals again.

Upon learning that Little Snowball’s discomfort might be due to level fluctuations, everyone stayed by his side. It wasn’t the level they cared about—no matter what level Little Snowball was, he remained their most treasured companion. They were concerned about whether the fluctuations would affect his health.

Cooper had prepared for dire results, but the readings on the dashboard were completely different from what she had expected.