Chapter 130 Chapter 130: Reason "It has 'life'...
The lights in the lounge were dim and soft, and the air was filled with the faint scent of golden irises, mixed with Xirui's unique cold aura.
Xirui pushed open the door and his eyes fell on the curled-up figure on the sofa - Atalan, the king of the empire, was now lying there quietly like a lazy Persian cat.
Atalan was wearing a wrinkled imperial robe with a white background and gold edges, and a dazzling crown was placed beside him, symbolizing his supreme status.
However, at this moment, he was wearing Xirui's suit jacket, looking particularly casual. The almost unsightly brocade trousers had been scrapped and thrown carelessly on the carpet beside him.
Of course, the "meritorious" snow-white carpet was also covered with all kinds of marks and was so dirty that it was unbearable to look at.
The mottled stains on the carpet looked like sticky milk spilled on it.
Well, okay, it's a pity, but they all have to be replaced.
This carpet looks expensive, but it's quite nice.
But the brightest star in the room was always Atalan.
Atalan's long golden hair was like dazzling sunlight, emitting a gorgeous luster even in the dim light.
His eyelashes were long and golden, his body was slightly curled up, and he seemed a little cold. He sank into the sofa, looking particularly fragile.
Xirui walked closer gently, with the corners of his mouth slightly raised. He leaned down, squeezed onto the sofa, and hugged Atalan in his arms.
The sofa was small to begin with, and their bodies were pressed tightly together, with each other's body temperature transmitted through their clothes, as if this could isolate them from the outside world and help them find a long-lost sense of belonging and security.
“…”
Atalan was awakened by the sudden warmth. His golden eyelashes trembled slightly and slowly opened like a butterfly's wings.
His eyes were like deep golden amber, with a hint of sleepiness, but the moment he saw Xirui, a trace of peace of mind and dependence flashed across his eyes.
The king hummed softly, his voice low and lazy, as if he had just woken up from a dream but was not yet fully awake.
——He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he had a good night’s sleep.
Ever since Cerie left, Atalan's nights have become long and endless.
His soul was always entangled in an invisible pain, as if a part of his soul had been peeled off, leaving it empty and unable to be filled.
He spent every night tossing and turning, his dreams shattered, and when he woke up he was left with only deeper fatigue and loneliness.
Later, the name "Lanta" completely disappeared in the dust of history, as if it had never existed.
The former "Lanta" now wears a heavy royal robe and ascends the supreme throne. No one knows the fatigue and loneliness hidden under the crown.
The faces of old friends disappeared one by one, some died in the war, some left quietly, and the laughter and joy of the past turned into cold memories.
Atalan could only stand in front of the throne, surrounded by countless pairs of expectant eyes. Those gazes were like invisible chains, tightly wrapped around him, pushing him into one unavoidable responsibility and choice after another.
He was swept up in the expectations of all living beings, as if every drop of blood and every bit of strength were squeezed out just to maintain this crumbling kingdom.
Fatigue, like a huge rock, weighed on his shoulders, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Royal power, which should have been a symbol of glory, has now become a shackle that he cannot escape.
Responsibility, like a sharp knife, always hangs over his heart, reminding him that every decision he makes may bring irreversible consequences.
Killing became his inescapable fate. Blood dyed his hands red, and also dyed his dreams red.
The darkness of the eternal night was like an endless abyss, swallowing up his last warmth.
The cold, like a maggot attached to his bones, penetrated into his bones and made him unable to get rid of it.
The darkness and coldness were mixed with a strong smell of blood, like a storm sweeping in from the depths of hell, completely engulfing him.
He knew that he could no longer turn back and could only continue on this lonely road until the end of his life.
He has no companions, only ministers.
He has no relatives, only deceased friends.
Atalan is the sun of the empire, but no one knows his dimness and coldness.
Will Cerie come back?
Atalan had asked himself this question for twenty-five years.
He couldn't give an answer.
Only Cerie could give him the answer.
At this moment, the scent of ebony and agarwood on the male insect faintly reveals a hint of warmth.
The fragrance slowly enveloped Atalan, like invisible hands, gently soothing his tense nerves and making him relax unconsciously, as if the heavy burden that had been weighing on his shoulders for a long time finally had a moment of respite.
Surrounded by this breath, Atalan felt a long-lost peace, as if his soul had finally found a temporary resting place.
Atalan rested his head on Xirui's chest, his long golden hair spread out like a waterfall, covering Xirui's chest like a piece of golden silk.
His ear was close to Xirui's heartbeat. The steady and powerful rhythm seemed to be silently telling some kind of promise, making him feel unprecedented peace of mind.
How could a king show weakness? But Cerie was an exception.
——Now, Cerie is back.
——Cerie is really back.
After a moment's silence, Atalan finally spoke. His voice was low and a little hoarse, as if the emotions that had been suppressed for a long time had finally found an outlet:
"Cerie, why did you suddenly disappear back then?"
"It's been twenty-five years, why haven't you changed your voice or appearance?"
Hearing this, Xirui looked down at Atalan in his arms, with complex emotions flashing in his eyes.
His fingers gently stroked Atalan's golden hair, his movements gentle and delicate, as if he were touching a precious treasure.
The male insect's voice was soft, with an indescribable affection: "Lanta, let me tell you a long story."
Atalan did not move, but listened quietly.
His body was still curled up in Xirui's arms, as if this would allow him to completely immerse himself in the scent of ebony and agarwood.
The king's fingers, as pale as bamboo, unconsciously clutched Xirui's clothes, as if he was afraid that he would disappear again.
Xirui paused, lowered his eyes slightly, as if penetrating the air in front of him, looking at some distant and unreachable place.
"My hometown is called Earth."
There was a hint of nostalgia in his tone, "That was a very far away place..."
The voice gradually became lower, and the tail tone almost dissipated in the air, like stars blown away by the night.
——
Xirui is a student at A University, a top university excelling in engineering. Physics and computer science are the two main majors of the university.
Because they always invite various academic masters or truly talented technical personnel, the lecture halls of University A are usually full.
That day, Professor Krostin gave a lecture.
Professor Krostin is an alumnus of University A and a legendary figure. He holds many patents. Not only has he made remarkable achievements in the academic field, but he also keeps up with the trend of the times and even developed a popular game called "Zerg Frenzy".
Of course, because Professor Christian is a very handsome, exotic guy with deep eyebrows and eyes, the hall was packed.
Some of them rushed there because of the professor's looks, while others really wanted to learn something.
However, Xirui was dragged there by his roommate and just sat there and listened to the whole class.
"General relativity states that matter and energy can warp the spacetime around them. This curvature of spacetime manifests as the effect of gravity."
Professor Christine's voice is steady and powerful, as if with magic, bringing students into a universe full of mysteries.
"In theory, wormholes require negative energy matter, or exotic matter, to remain traversable."
He paused and continued,
"Negative energy matter has negative pressure, which can resist the gravitational collapse of the wormhole. However, the existence of negative energy matter has not yet been experimentally confirmed."
The students in the audience held their breath and were obviously very interested.
"The tunneling effect in quantum mechanics shows that particles can pass through potential barriers that are considered insurmountable in classical physics."
Professor Krostin continued,
"The phenomenon of quantum entanglement shows that two or more particles can be separated in space, but their states remain correlated."
…
After the speech, Professor Krostin invited students to ask questions.
Professor Christian stood at the podium, his eyes radiating a deep, stern expression. His features were distinct, his bones sculpted, and his features were quintessentially Western, with an innate elegance and aloofness.
Those dark blue eyes were like an unfathomable sea, sparkling when calm, and seeming to swallow all light when deep.
The professor was tall, with broad shoulders and a steady, relaxed gait. His every gesture exuded an aristocratic air, straight out of an oil painting. His attire was simple yet refined, his well-cut suit framing his slender figure, his collar slightly open, evoking a casual elegance.
In the classroom, sunlight poured in through the tall glass windows and fell on the podium.
Professor Krosten stood there, holding a piece of chalk in his hand, with a little white powder on his fingertips.
His voice was low and magnetic, like the sound of a cello strings, slowly flowing in the air.
Even those seemingly dry and obscure theories became vivid under his narration, as if every concept was given life and was fascinating.
A student sitting in the front row raised his hand, his eyes filled with curiosity and confusion:
"Professor, I have a classic question - the 'Grandfather Paradox'."
He paused and continued, "If a person goes back in time and kills his grandfather, then that person will no longer exist and thus cannot go back in time and kill his grandfather. How do you explain this problem?"
Professor Krosten smiled slightly, his eyes gentle and deep. He gently put down the chalk, placed his hands on the edge of the podium, leaned forward slightly, and spoke in a steady and clear voice:
“That’s a good question.”
He said, "In order to avoid paradoxes, some theories propose the hypothesis of a 'self-consistent universe', which holds that any time travel behavior will automatically adjust to ensure the consistency of history."
The student was obviously not completely satisfied with this answer and asked to get to the bottom of it:
"If the theory is correct, what is the driving force behind the automatic adjustment of the world's logic?"
After hearing this, the professor spoke slowly and smiled after a moment:
"Although this is only a small part of the conjecture at present, conceptually, if parallel universes and different small worlds really exist, they would be like gravitationally captured, and they would compete for resources with each other."
“So what is this resource?”
The classmates followed closely, with a gleam of curiosity in their eyes.
Professor Krosten did not answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze passing over the students in the front row to the back of the classroom.
Xirui was sitting there, dressed casually, with the hood of his hoodie casually draped behind his head and the brim of his baseball cap pulled down low, covering most of his face.
He half-lowered his head, his fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard, writing code vigorously, completely immersed in his own world.
The professor's gaze lingered on Xirui for a moment, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, revealing a meaningful smile.
Xirui seemed to have noticed something and suddenly raised his head, meeting the professor's gaze. He was stunned for a moment, with an inexplicable blank look in his eyes: "?"
The professor retracted his gaze and looked back at the student who asked the question. His voice was calm, yet it carried a power that was hard to ignore:
"energy."
He paused, and his eyes swept over Xirui's face again, his eyes deep and meaningful.
"Or, to use the term in comparative literature, it is a strong and stable soul."
"Of course, this is just a hypothesis spread within a small area. If different worlds compete for resources and energy, negative energy matter may have certain selection patterns."
"It has life, and it can judge."
When Xirui heard this, he didn't fully understand what the professor meant. He simply didn't think it had anything to do with him.
Until later,
For a period of time, Xirui dreamed every day.
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