[I have figured out how to make bowl cake. I didn't expect I have a talent for cooking. I'll let Yueyue taste it later.]

…

September 30, 2023

[I'm going to a cafe today and Shen Xue's birthday party in the afternoon. Should I dress formally? ]

[I looked through my closet and found all of them were old clothes that had been patched up. So that's it...]

[I am about to go out, so I will write less in my diary today and continue writing tomorrow. ]

[By the way, let me record my schedule. I have to post a new video I just recorded tomorrow. I want to read a new detective novel the day after tomorrow. I want to go to the zoo the day after that...]

…

Su Mingan didn't move.

He stared at the young man's moving pen, feeling as if he was trapped in a deep nightmare. A sense of weirdness and fear crept up his tailbone.

These are indeed the diaries he once wrote.

The diary ended on September 30. When he finished writing the last punctuation mark, the young man closed the diary and fell into a state similar to standby, motionless, like a machine that had completed its program.

"In the first room, the young man is reading your favorite books. In the second room, the young man is playing your favorite games. In the third room, the young man is writing in the diary you have written." Changge's voice was a little trembling: "Is this... 'Synthesizing You'?"

A strong feeling of suffocation surrounded Su Mingan.

He had long realized that he had never really entered this world called "The Old World". All along, he had seen what the gods had led him to see: sheep in the rain, the cries of the firebearers, the goddesses and witches, the tragic wars between gods... He had never really found anything himself.

...like a butterfly immersed in a dream.

Thinking of the butterfly of history, it was as if waking up from the first layer of dream.

Thinking of the butterfly that had experienced ten major pullbacks, I woke up from the second level of the dream.

Knowing that each era is a butterfly spread out like a map, I wake up from the third dream.

The butterfly that stepped into the Netherworld and saw all this has not yet broken through the fourth level of the dream.

The layers of dreams turned into a surging giant net, trapping the butterflies bit by bit.

When the butterfly has not yet emerged from its cocoon, the web has already been established layer by layer.