And just like that, the chaos in the Second Division of the Ministry of War came to an end.
For the time being, the entire division—top to bottom—had been tidied up and brought to order under Zai Zai’s hand.
Su Xi’s side quest, [Win Over the Hearts of the Second Division], now showed as completed, earning her two more points.
She hadn’t yet decided what to unlock next, and, thrilled, decided to save them for now.
Meanwhile, beyond his duties at the Ministry, Zai Zai still had to continue his studies at the Imperial Academy.
With Scholar Shangguan now imprisoned, Zai Zai’s days at the academy grew peaceful again, filled with study.
Taking advantage of the quiet, his thirst for knowledge flared—he buried himself in the archives, reading as though the heavens and earth no longer existed.
Several times before Su Xi logged off, she tugged his sleeve to urge him to go to bed.
He would agree, but once she vanished, he’d simply turn back and continue reading.
Then, the next day when Su Xi logged back in—she’d find Zai Zai asleep in the library again.
He had laid out a mat on the floor, fallen asleep in his plain robe, still clutching a book in his hand.
Su Xi fumed silently.
What should she do when the child she’s raising loves studying too much?!
His little bun face was getting thinner from all that reading!
Unwilling to disturb him—after all, as the Second Division’s deputy, being late wasn’t a big deal—she used the game shop to redeem a soft sheepskin blanket and quietly draped it over the small sleeping figure on the floor.
Then, gently, she tried to take the book The Way of Governing the State from his hands.
But just then, from beneath that book’s cover, another one slipped out—with a sharp thud, it nearly hit the floor and woke him. Su Xi hastily caught it in time.
She laughed a little.
So her Zai Zai was like her classmates too—hiding a novel under his textbook during language and math lessons? How adorable.
But when she saw what the hidden book was, her laughter faded into silence.
It was a nearly worn-out copy of The Summoning of Souls and Return to Life (Zhao Ling Hui Sheng).
Outside the screen, Su Xi set her phone down on the desk, rubbed at the space between her brows, and looked toward the window.
The moon hung high outside. Towering buildings stood close and crowded, their rows of lights gleaming. She hadn’t moved into her new place yet, and faintly from below came the hum of traffic along the Third Ring Road. Behind her, the air-conditioner, the electric blanket, and the computer all gave off a low mechanical buzz.
Everything around her reminded her that—even if Zai Zai were not a character in a game—they still belonged to two different worlds.
Since they were from different worlds, how could they ever truly stand together?
Zai Zai seemed filled with a yearning that haunted his very soul—the desire to see her—but he didn’t want her to know. So he kept secretly looking up every possible method.
But it was impossible. She could never enter the screen. The spirit-possession or reincarnation he imagined could never come true.
The greater his hope, the deeper his disappointment would be when, someday, he discovered that everything he wished for was nothing but a mirage.
On the very first day Su Xi opened the game, when she saw that little avatar—carrying firewood on his back, returning to that shabby hut covered in wounds—she’d felt no emotion. She only thought he was both pitiful and a bit funny. She’d never imagined that day by day, as she kept him company, she would come to feel something she couldn’t bear to part with.
Now, just thinking that he might one day be heartbroken filled her chest with a dull ache.
Zai Zai had already suffered enough since childhood. Su Xi didn’t want to become yet another source of his pain.
So when Yun Xiupang came to find Zai Zai again at the Taixue, Su Xi looked at that chubby boy and thought even more firmly that she must help Zai Zai gain friends and family in that world.
If someone could stay by his side, she would feel at ease.
That way, even if one day Zai Zai finally realized that she was a person from another world, separated from him by an unbridgeable distance—not some spirit he could ever truly touch—he wouldn’t be so devastated.
But the more she thought about it, the more sour her heart became.
If that day truly came, if she saw with her own eyes Zai Zai build a home and a life, find people close to him, and she was no longer the most important one to him—if his time went to others, if he no longer waited each day for her to appear, no longer stood alone every time to see her log off—would she really be happy?
Her own happiness didn’t matter, Su Xi told herself. As long as Zai Zai lived well in that world, that was enough.
Yun Xiupang wanted to walk together with Zai Zai.
Seeing the boy following him again, Zai Zai felt a headache coming. He quickly packed up his cloth bag and slipped out through the Taixue’s side gate.
But he’d been avoiding him for several days now, and Yun Xiupang wasn’t that stupid. This time, he actually followed from the side gate, panting as he ran: “Lu Huan! Wait for me! Why are you walking so fast?! My father said I should spend more time with you!”
Above Zai Zai’s head appeared a string of ellipses: ……
Lu Huan was just about to quicken his pace and shake him off when the wind at his side suddenly tugged at his sleeve—firmly, insistently—refusing to let him leave.
Lu Huan: “……”
He stopped walking, just as Su Xi wished, but his expression wasn’t at all happy.
Casting a cold glance at Yun Xiupang in the distance, he kicked at a pebble with his boot and muttered darkly, “You want me to play with that fat boy again?”
Outside the screen, afraid he’d misunderstand and think she cared more about the chubby one, Su Xi hastily tugged at his right sleeve and gave his back a gentle push toward the boy—anxiously trying to convey a string of intentions.
Zai Zai, sharp as ever, immediately understood. “You’re hoping I’ll play with that fat boy?” he asked.
Su Xi nearly gave him a thumbs-up. Zai Zai, you’re practically a mind-reading machine!
Yet Zai Zai still didn’t look very pleased. His lashes drooped, and after a long silence, he murmured gloomily, “Got it.”
Yun Xiupang finally caught up, wiping the sweat from his forehead and panting heavily.
“You—you, why—why are you walking so fast? I’m also going to the yamen today. Can I go with you?”
Lu Huan glanced at him, and—for once—didn’t turn away.
“Suit yourself,” he said.
Yun Xiupang immediately brightened, practically bouncing as he walked beside Lu Huan down the bustling street.
Because of his timid personality, Yun Xiupang had few friends at the Imperial Academy and was often bullied.
Now, walking next to Lu Huan, he felt like he’d finally made a friend. A sense of excitement and reassurance filled his heart, and he began chattering endlessly, asking about all the topics the scholars had lectured on that day.
Lu Huan answered each one patiently, showing no trace of irritation.
Yun Xiupang grew more and more delighted, and secretly moved.
Outside the screen, Su Xi watched this scene and felt a motherly wave of satisfaction rise within her.
When Zai Zai finally sent Yun Xiupang off and returned to his quarters, he sat down, brewed a pot of tea, and gulped down two full cups as though all that talking had left his throat parched.
Su Xi suddenly felt a pang of guilt.
Zai Zai, she thought, I’ve really made things hard for you—having to tutor a total academic disaster.
Then Zai Zai went quiet.
He sat there silently, ellipses constantly appearing over his head—“……”—as if he were wrestling with something in his mind, yet unable to bring himself to speak.
The evening light in the game slowly dimmed.
The sunset filtered through the thin paper windows of the courtyard room, casting warm rays across his brow. His eyes seemed shadowed with a faint trace of bitterness.
Su Xi tapped his head gently, gesturing—What’s wrong?
Zai Zai lowered his little bun face, pressed his lips together, and after a long silence, finally spoke.
“You… do you pity Yun Xiupang because he reminds you of how I used to be? Do you… treat him as another me, and that’s why you wanted… wanted me to…”
He couldn’t go on. His voice faltered with embarrassment. His lashes trembled slightly as he stood up and walked out into the courtyard.
The sunset spilled over his small figure; his body was tiny, and so was his shadow—lonely and still.
Su Xi froze.
She hadn’t expected Zai Zai to think that way.
So—he believed that the reason she’d been telling him to take care of Yun Xiupang was because she pitied the boy, because she saw him as another version of him?
What a terrible misunderstanding!
Su Xi quickly switched the game interface to follow him into the courtyard, desperate to explain.
This game was so unfair! Zai Zai could talk to her with dialogue boxes, but she needed one hundred affection points before she could say anything back!
By now, Su Xi felt she was practically a mute, limited to frantic gestures and pantomimes.
The little dumpling stood there, still steeped in sadness.
Su Xi scratched her head in frustration—then spotted a pile of firewood stacked in the corner.
Immediately, she tugged Zai Zai over to it.
A sorrowful question mark appeared above his head: “?”
Su Xi pulled out one stick of firewood and dropped it before him, meaning—See? There’s a whole pile of them, but Mom only needs one.
Zai Zai didn’t seem to understand what she meant. His expression remained unchanged, his brows still furrowed, that hint of sadness lingering.
Growing anxious, Su Xi put the stick back, then drew out two instead—one tall and thin, the other short and plump—and stood them upright before him.
Then with a decisive “pia”, she smacked the plump one away—meaning, See? Mom doesn’t want the chubby one, only the thin bun.
For a fleeting second, the corners of Zai Zai’s lips twitched upward—but the next moment, he furrowed his brows again, folded his hands behind his back, his little bun face still tinged with melancholy.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said softly.
Outside the screen, Su Xi was on the verge of losing her mind.
“Ahhhh!” she groaned.
She scratched her head, then placed one stick of firewood to Zai Zai’s left and two to his right. After that, she made the lone stick on the left stand upright like a “golden rooster on one leg,” and tossed the two on the right clear out of the courtyard.
This time, Zai Zai’s brows twitched—he seemed to have caught on. After pondering for a while, he asked slowly, “You mean… I’m one of a kind?”
Su Xi yanked his left hand furiously.
The Zai Zai inside the screen didn’t move, but the smile tugging at his lips refused to fade. The tips of his ears flushed faintly red, and his eyes shimmered brighter than the sunset as he said in a soft voice, “Oh, is that so?”
He said it so calmly—but above his head popped a white speech bubble, overflowing with tiny pink hearts: “I knew it.”
Su Xi: ……………………
Zai Zai, aren’t you being just a little too dramatic?
