Chapter 142 Miracle Zha
Holy crap!
Pingyu panicked, shaking his head and waving his hands. Li Mei, furious, approached step by step. Nezha, however, remained calm and composed, slowly propping himself up. He looked at Li Mei standing by the window, her fingertips almost touching his nose.
*Smack*
Nezha grasped the woman's knuckles.
The sharp sound brought Pingyu back to her senses, and she looked at Nezha in horror: "No...!"
Before he could finish speaking, the boy had already raised his other hand, his previously formed sword-like fingers piercing Li Mei's brow. Golden light burst from Nezha's fingertips, rushing into the woman's skull. Li Mei's eyes darted around wildly, her expression shifting rapidly. Ping Yu grabbed Nezha's arm, nearly bursting out of his voice, "Don't use magic on my mother!!"
"Alright," Nezha glanced at her and withdrew his hand.
In the blink of an eye, Li Mei's constantly shifting expression had stabilized. Her previous anger had vanished, leaving only a kind smile on her face. She withdrew her fingers from the boy's palm and said warmly, "Oh, Nezha! You came without even telling Auntie. Wait here, Auntie's going to make you breakfast!"
After saying that, she left in a hurry.
Pingyu stared in disbelief and asked, "What did you do to my mother?"
The “instigator” crossed his arms and said matter-of-factly, “Of course, it’s to tamper with her memories, which saves you the trouble of explaining.”
He slightly raised his head as he spoke, a hint of pride in his expression, as if waiting for Ping Yu to praise him.
The image of Li Mei's expression brightening from gloom to sunshine flashed before her eyes. Ping Yu swallowed hard, momentarily unsure whether she should ask Nezha what exactly he had altered in the other person's memories. Although Nezha's actions were reasonable, modern times were different from the Shang and Zhou dynasties; using magic indiscriminately could invite trouble. Therefore, she stopped dwelling on what had just happened and instead stretched out her little finger.
Seeing her make the gesture of making a pact, Nezha also wrapped his little finger around hers.
"There's some redundancy in this matter, so let's leave it for now!" The girl said seriously. "But we need to agree on three rules."
Nezha nodded, indicating that he was listening.
"good."
"rest assured."
Upon hearing the last request, Nezha did not immediately agree. He frowned slightly, quite puzzled: "Why?"
The name was given to Nezha by his master, and Nezha quite liked it.
"Because you're too famous in my eyes!"
Pingyu thought for a moment, then pulled Nezha out of bed with him: "Let's go have breakfast first, and talk while we eat."
.
Pingyu glanced at the time; it was 8:30 in the morning.
Li Mei prepared sandwiches and coconut milk for breakfast, which Ping Yu and Nezha moved to the coffee table in the living room.
Because Pingyu's body had collapsed from overwork in modern society, Li Mei helped him ask for leave from school and scheduled a consultation for 9:30 a.m.
They can stay at home for another twenty minutes, which is enough time for Pingyu to explain the current situation to Nezha.
She found a clip of Nezha from different generations on social media and uploaded it to the TV. Nezha watched in amazement as the colorful little figure transformed from a small square box onto a large square box.
"Is this your magical artifact?"
Pingyu placed Nezha's hand on the remote control and adjusted his fingertips to touch the buttons: "Here, just press down."
Nezha pressed down hard, like a cat touching water... but the button didn't budge. He looked puzzled: "Hmm?"
"Just apply a little force, it won't break."
Ping Yu placed his fingers on Nezha's hand and applied downward force.
After the crisp sound, the image that had been frozen on the screen began to play.
Mountains, rivers, and seas were displayed on this small screen. Nezha first heard a soft sound echoing amidst the lush greenery. Then, several children with double-bun hairstyles, just like him, emerged from the forest. They looked different, but all carried golden rings and wore red shawls. He ran freely through the mountains and fields, keeping company with the animals, his laughter rising with the sun and setting with it.
Soon, the screen changed.
Dark clouds gathered over the sky, and torrential rain poured down. Raging waves swept children away from the beach, and the howling wind sounded like a mournful cry, making the white sand on the shore appear even more like withered bones.
Several boys emerged simultaneously from the firelight, braving the heavy rain to hurl insults at the monster in the water. The screen went black and then lit up again, revealing the monster's liver and brains splattered on the ground, its crimson blood flowing for miles.
Then, the colossal head occupied two-thirds of the screen. The dragon's head glared angrily, leaving behind a small boy on the mudflats with a sword pointed at his neck.
All the children with their hair in double buns seemed to share the same fate. Images of swords pressed against their own necks flashed repeatedly, overlapping the dying expressions of all the boys. Finally, the screen abruptly went black. Nezha's face was reflected in the smooth, mirror-like television screen.
Nezha, do you know your crime?
He began to speak, uttering the text with perfect precision. The bright red words appeared one by one on the screen, creating a powerful impact. At the same time, the reappearing colors sent a chill down one's spine.
The boys cut their flesh, peeled their bones, and died on that rainy day.
The progress bar ends here, leaving Nezha pointing at himself uncertainly and asking, "Are they all me?"
Good, bad, gentle, naughty...
How can there be so many of him in this world?
“You are the most well-known person here.” The grand plot of the Shang and Zhou dynasties has progressed more than halfway, and everyone involved in the war knows that they can become gods, so it can’t be considered a revelation of heavenly secrets. Ping Yu took Nezha’s hand and said, “We all grew up listening to your stories. You are the children’s favorite god.”
Nezha heard Pingyu utter that familiar title: "Little Hero Nezha".
This title seemed to instantly transport him back to Chentang Pass, back to the time when he would be given flowers when he walked down the street, and everyone would call him the Third Prince with a smile.
Nezha couldn't understand why so many people liked him.
The people in the video were neither him nor the same person; they were all strange and varied, as if his name had become a concept, and everyone could, under the premise of "Nezha," systematically depict the story they wanted. He felt both strange and familiar with this, and he couldn't describe what it felt like to see his own death from a third-person perspective.
Nezha remembered that someone had told him long ago, "Many people here like you." These people had never interacted with him, but they had developed a fondness for him through written records, theatrical performances, drawings, and other people's interpretations.
What about Pingyu?
Did Pingyu develop a liking for him through his creations?
So, what does Pingyu like more, the image in the large square box or "Li Nezha" himself?
The boy was deep in thought, his eyelashes lowered.
Seeing that he remained silent, Pingyu assumed that the images on television were reminding him of unpleasant memories. She cupped Nezha's face in her hands and asked him with concern, "Nezha, are you alright?"
Nezha blinked, intending to ask a question.
"Pingyu, Nezha, it's time to go!"
Ping Yu glanced at the time; more than ten minutes had already passed.
It's time for your medical appointment.
Nezha had no choice but to swallow his words and instead asked a different question: "Where are we going?"
This is Pingyu's mother; he dares not casually access her memories.
"Hospital," Pingyu told him, "is to see a doctor."
"Are you sick?" the boy asked, frowning.
“No, not really, I just…” Pingyu paused, choosing his words carefully: “I was just too tired. Because I’m always writing at my desk, I fainted at home. Modern people aren’t very healthy, and my mother was worried that something might happen to me, so she made an appointment with a doctor for me.”
"It sounds like you're not doing too well here," Nezha bluntly commented. "You have no one to serve you, not enough money, and..."
Pingyu's body had delicate, fair skin, but lacked the smooth, defined muscle lines of his limbs. In Nezha's understanding, only those who did hard labor would exhaust themselves, so he asked hesitantly, "Are you doing manual labor?"
He imagined Ping Yu using this body to move tiles and dig earth, and immediately removed his ornaments. Gold, jade, bronze—everything clattered onto the table. In the sunlight, it was dazzling.
Nezha said solemnly, "I'll give you my money, so you don't have to work so hard, okay?"
Hey, this is bronze!
Pingyu was touched, but she didn't want to spend her life in jail. She quickly pushed the mountain of decorations in front of Nezha, "Thank you, but compared to this..."
The boy was dressed in red, clad in lotus-patterned light armor; his attire clearly identified him as an ancient person. Walking out like this, he'd probably be mistaken for a tourist attraction NPC. Ping Yu muttered to himself, his face grim: "You really need to change your accessories and clothes. Going out like this will definitely attract a lot of attention."
What is stamp collecting?
"It's decided!"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
