Zai Zai quickly brought the wandering daoist to the side hall.
On the way from the temple gate to the side hall, Zai Zai had already, unable to hold himself back, told the wandering daoist the cause and course of the matter. Of course, he did not mention the things between himself and the ghostly deity by his side — he only vaguely said that he believed there was something non-human around him, and hoped the wandering daoist could help him, to let him see her just once.
When the wandering daoist stepped into the hall, Su Xi braced herself and looked over. What she saw was a white-haired, immortal-bearing daoist. His face was lean, his eyes bright — indeed, he looked as though he could see through all things.
After entering, the wandering daoist lifted his gaze straight toward the air. From Su Xi’s perspective, it looked as if… he were looking directly at her.
Su Xi instantly felt a chill run down her spine, as if this ethereal daoist had seen through her — seen that she was not someone of their world.
Lu Huan walked to the desk to pour tea for the wandering daoist. Seeing him staring fixedly toward some point in the air, Lu Huan couldn’t help but follow his gaze.
Was she… over there?
His heart thudded violently, his throat unbearably dry, his whole body taut like a drawn bowstring — so nervous he could hardly breathe. Never in his life had he felt such tension.
He had imagined a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand times what it would be like to see her again. Yet when months of effort and the moment he had most longed for finally unfolded before him, he found himself holding his breath, motionless — his heart pounding as if it might leap from his chest.
When the wandering daoist still did not speak, Lu Huan asked hoarsely, “…Daozhang?”
The daoist turned his head to glance at him, pondered for a moment, and said, “Young Master Lu, I already understand what you seek. However—”
Lu Huan’s heart leapt, his breath caught.
“However, you and the one you wish to see are not in the same world.”
Lu Huan felt his hands and feet grow cold. He couldn’t quite understand; with great difficulty, his voice rasped: “Not in the same world… what do you mean?”
The wandering daoist only shook his head, his gaze carrying a trace of imperceptible pity. He said, “The four directions above and below make up the yu; from the ancient past to the present is the zhou. In a single flower or leaf, there lies a world. In places you and I cannot know, there are countless universes. Even if those within the flower can see those within the leaf, how can flower and leaf ever meet again, when they wither and bloom in different cycles?”
Outside the screen, Su Xi stared in astonishment at this elderly wandering daoist who must have lived over a hundred years.
Lu Huan’s face turned deathly pale. Still unwilling to give up, he opened his mouth, as though wanting to say something.
But the wandering daoist spoke again: “What you think of, what you long for — it is not an ordinary ghost or spirit. This Daoist cannot do it; no one under Heaven can. Give it up, Young Master Lu. What you desire cannot be obtained.”
Having said that, he shook his head, did not drink the tea Zai Zai had poured for him, and turned to leave.
Su Xi forgot to breathe as she looked at Zai Zai on the screen. He stood there, his face completely drained of color.
He didn’t know what he was thinking. It was as if, in that instant, all hope had been stripped from him — he looked dazed, lost, unable to tell east from west.
…Is that so? That even for a lifetime, they could never meet?
Lu Huan felt all the blood in his body freeze, as though he had fallen into an ice cellar.
He could hardly think.
He turned, seemingly trying to find the direction of the spirit by his side, but his sleeve accidentally swept the teacup off the desk. With a crash— it shattered into pieces on the floor.
The sharp sound finally brought him slightly back to his senses.
Lu Huan pressed his lips tightly together, the color draining from them as he crouched down to pick up the shattered pieces of the teacup.
Watching the scene on the screen, Su Xi felt her heart ache as well. She tugged lightly at Zai Zai’s sleeve, wanting to say, Zai Zai, it’s really not that big a deal. I’m still here with you anyway, aren’t I?
Zai Zai looked dazed and spiritless, but after a brief silence, he seemed to force himself to pull together.
Instead, he looked toward the empty air and comforted Su Xi, saying softly, “Don’t be afraid. Even if you will always be like this—without a physical form—I will still stay by your side.”
Su Xi: … qaq
“If there’s anything you want, just tell me. Even if you can’t taste the delicious food or use those rouges and powders, whatever it is you wish for… just tell me.”
Zai Zai tried his best to sound calm, but his voice was still a little hoarse, and the rims of his eyes were faintly red.
Then suddenly, as if he had made up his mind, he said—
“The last time I told you I would never take a wife or have children—I meant it.”
Su Xi: … Ah?
Why did he suddenly bring that up again?
Zai Zai stared into the void, as though there were a thousand words on the tip of his tongue. His reddened eyes were dark and unreadable, but in the end, he swallowed them back. He only explained to her, “If I were to marry and have children, you’d think I had someone to keep me company, and then you would leave, wouldn’t you? If that’s the case, then I don’t want that.”
“……” Outside the screen, Su Xi’s eyes burned. Damn it—this little game boy actually made her heart ache, sour and warm all at once. She wanted to smile, but her nose stung and tears threatened to spill.
Zai Zai lowered his head to pick up the shards again, and added, “Still, although this wandering daoist was said to be powerful, seeing him today… he couldn’t resolve your matter either. So, all in all, he’s just so-so. Don’t worry, I’ll find another way.”
Su Xi, whose heart had just been aching tenderly a moment ago, suddenly jolted, her phone almost slipping from her hand—
No way, Zai Zai, you still haven’t given up? You’re still planning to find another way?!
When Zai Zai mentioned it, the dead stillness in his eyes seemed to flicker faintly with light again. Seeing that the spirit beside him remained silent, he assumed she was also sad, so he lifted his head and gave her a comforting smile.
Su Xi: … qaq
Ahhh, Zai, stop smiling—Mama’s heart hurts.
───♡───
The wandering daoist’s whereabouts were ever-changing. By the time Zai Zai, unwilling to give up, wanted to chase after him, the daoist had already disappeared.
That night, on the way back, Zai Zai was entirely different from when he had gone.
When he went, he had galloped forward, eyes full of hope—like a young man in the capital racing to meet the one in his heart. But on the way back to the official residence, dawn was already breaking pale on the horizon. He told his guards to ride ahead while he stayed behind, his horse moving at a slow, dragging pace.
Su Xi knew he was heartsick; the redness around his eyes still hadn’t faded. Yet he kept speaking to her nonstop, trying to comfort the ghostly deity by his side, saying it was fine even without a body, that she was no different from an ordinary person.
It was the first time Su Xi had seen him so talkative. Watching the speech bubbles pop up endlessly above his head, she wanted to laugh, but her chest felt bitter all the same.
By the time Zai Zai returned to the residence, the sky was completely bright.
He realized the spirit had stayed with him through the entire night, long past the time she would usually leave. So he said to her gently, “You must be tired.”
Su Xi pinched his cheek.
He had always disliked being treated like a child, and this time was no exception: …
Su Xi grabbed his hand again, checking once more to make sure the shards of the teacup hadn’t cut him.
He, thinking she was right before him, curved his brows slightly and said softly, “Go rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Seeing that he wasn’t hurt and that he seemed to recover rather quickly on his own, Su Xi finally let go of her worry.
It was already night on her side as well, and she felt a little sleepy. So after rubbing Zai Zai’s head one last time, she logged off and went to bed.
After she left, the smile on Lu Huan’s face could no longer be maintained.
He walked silently to the bedside and sat down.
It was already chen shi [around 7–9 a.m.].
He should be changing into his official robes and heading to court, yet it was as though all the strength in his body had been drained away—he couldn’t even lift a finger.
Outside the gates, the courtyard was quiet and deserted. Inside, the room was deathly still.
He sat there for a long time, a deep and lingering ache spreading through his chest.
In the span of a single night, all his hope had been utterly shattered.
He had known from the start that seeing her again would not be easy, that he shouldn’t hold too much expectation—but the wandering daoist’s words had crushed every last bit of his hope into the depths of hell.
“What I desire… cannot be obtained.”
He murmured the words the daoist had spoken, over and over.
───♡───
Su Xi had fallen asleep, so she did not see that inside the game, two new points had quietly been added—
They came from the past three or four months of Lu Huan’s diligent study, sword practice, and archery training: +2.
He rose every morning before dawn and worked tirelessly; it should have been worth +4 points.
But since attributes like stamina and martial skill followed the law of diminishing returns, even though Lu Huan’s efforts over these months far exceeded his earlier ones, the system still only granted him +2.
Just then, a notification appeared:
【Congratulations on completing ten beginner and intermediate main quests! You have reached 100 points! The Big Gift Pack will now unlock——】
【Big Gift Pack Countdown——Three——Two——】
【One——】
After this message popped up, the air around Lu Huan seemed to change—yet also, it didn’t.
Only, before him, a semi-transparent… thing appeared out of thin air, like a hovering distortion in the air itself.
Lu Huan, still heavy-hearted, instantly sensed something was off. He looked up sharply and saw that strange, floating object.
His pupils contracted; he froze for a moment, then suddenly stood. “What is that?!”
But the room was empty. No one answered.
Lu Huan grabbed the sword by his bedside and approached the suspended screen. He swung the blade yet it passed straight through.
At that moment, an image slowly appeared on the surface.
It seemed to be a room, though the things within were unlike anything Lu Huan had ever seen before.
At the center appeared to be a bed, but the patterns on that bed were so—so dizzying and strange, painted with who-knows-what creatures… bears? Or maybe—
Lu Huan’s eyelids twitched. He leaned in to look more closely, but before he could make it out, a line of text appeared across the screen, covering the image.
The text was written in characters he could understand:
“Do you wish to see the person you think of? Do you want to know what she looks like? Play this game—become a wise ruler devoted to your country and your people—and you shall realize the desire within your heart!”
For a moment, Lu Huan thought he must be dreaming.
But the unbelievable scene before his eyes felt far too real.
His sharp gaze locked instantly onto the first line—the words “the person you think of.”
Then, before he could react, another sentence popped up on the translucent surface—
Accompanied by a mechanical voice that rang by his ear:
“Hello, Zai Zai. Welcome to the exhilarating world beyond one hundred points.”
Lu Huan’s expression turned strange for a moment. He didn’t have time to think through this absurd situation — instead, he repeated each word slowly, enunciating carefully, “What… did you just call me?”
Two characters popped up on the screen: Zai Zai (Zai Zai).
The mechanical voice followed with an explanatory tone: “Z–ai–zai, z–ai–zai, Zai Zai.”
“……”
Lu Huan’s expression in that instant was truly a sight to behold.
