A sharp, empty cramping pain came from Chao Youye's stomach, reminding him that this body had been overdrawn to the limit after experiencing high fever, backlash and a huge emotional breakdown.
Physiological needs are like the most primitive beasts, roaring in the ruins of the soul that cannot be ignored.
resist.
instinct.
pain.
eager.
Countless extreme forces were tearing and crashing wildly in his body.
He bit his lower lip hard, tasting the stronger smell of blood, trying to use the pain to suppress the primitive, weak desire that belongs to "human".
The faint light after the snow outside the window shines through the gaps in the curtains, casting a cold and blurry band of light on the floor, like a dividing line between yin and yang.
I don't know how long it took, maybe just a few minutes, maybe like a century. The pain in my stomach reached a peak, accompanied by a strong feeling of dizziness.
Chao Youye's body twitched uncontrollably. He closed his eyes, his thick eyelashes trembling violently like the wings of a dying butterfly.
The hand that was not receiving the IV drip, before its consciousness had completely succumbed, had already reached out towards the bedside table extremely slowly and tremblingly, relying on the most primitive instinct.
His fingertips touched the cold edge of the porcelain bowl, and the cold touch made him shudder.
But he did not retract his hand. Instead, he used all his remaining strength to grip the edge of the bowl with his fingertips, as if grabbing a life-saving straw.
With great difficulty, bit by bit, he dragged the heavy white porcelain bowl towards him. His movements were clumsy and slow, as if he were dragging a thousand-pound weight.
The bottom of the bowl rubbed against the wooden table, making a slight rustling sound that was particularly clear in the silent room.
Finally, the bowl was dragged to the bedside. The warm, rice-scented mist gently brushed against his dry, pale lips.
Chao Youye still kept her eyes tightly closed and tilted her head, refusing to look at the bowl of porridge that represented "survival." But the hand that gripped the edge of the bowl stubbornly refused to let go.
It was as if by grabbing this bowl of porridge, I was grabbing something... a faint reality that belonged to "this moment" that was completely different from that cold and hopeless throne, those blood-stained memories, and the damage I had caused with my own hands in this world line.
He maintained this awkward and resistant posture, like a statue on the verge of breaking, clinging to that faint warmth from the mortal world on the edge of the abyss of self-loathing.
In the living room on the first floor of the villa, outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows is a quiet courtyard after the snow, and the accumulated snow reflects the cold light in the moonlight.
There was only a warm yellow floor lamp on in the living room, and the light softly enveloped a small area.
Mu Xinrong curled up in a corner of the large sofa, his body deeply sunk into the soft and comfortable cushions.
He took a shower and changed into the clean and soft home clothes prepared by Ye Qingliu. His body was warm, and the soothing feeling brought by the bowl of warm chicken porridge in his stomach was still there.
But my heart felt like a piece of it was hollowed out, and the cold air was leaking in.
He held a cup of cold cocoa in his hand, staring blankly at the blurry snow scene outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
The suffocating scene in the guest room replayed in his mind over and over again: Chao Youye's pupils suddenly contracted when she saw him, the intense pain and deep resistance in her eyes, and the hoarse and broken "Don't touch me!"
Why?
Was it because of those reincarnation memories? Was it because he had killed her countless times that she hated him?
Or... is it because in this world line, my last heartbreaking roar and desperate plea made him feel bored and burdened?
Or...both?
A huge sense of bewilderment and helplessness enveloped him. He thought that after experiencing the shock of memories at Wutong Road and witnessing Chao Youye's tears and pain, there would at least be some...different understanding between them.
He thought this world line was his last hope, but the pure resistance in Chao Youye's eyes, as if seeing poison, completely shattered all his fantasies.
Was he...really not supposed to be there? His very existence was an unbearable stimulation and pain for Chao Youye?
Just like Ye Qingliu said, is it the "high entropy chaos point" that causes the core of the rules to collapse?
A cold despair, like the night outside the window, weighed heavily on him. Mu Xinrong buried his face deep in his knees, his body trembling uncontrollably.
What should he do? Leave? Disappear from his world completely, like he did the last time they broke up? But... he couldn't let go! He couldn't let go of Chao Youye, the one who had curled up on Wutong Road and said, "I'm in pain!"
He couldn't let go of the figure spurting blood in the snow, the throne shattered! He couldn't let go of... the boy who clumsily put a scarf on him long, long ago, with a bright and warm smile!
Just as he was wallowing in the quagmire of self-loathing, a very faint sound of footsteps came from the stairs.
Mu Xinrong suddenly raised his head.
Hua Jinyue was wearing furry pink bunny pajamas, rubbing her sleepy eyes, and slowly walked down the stairs like a lost animal.
She had apparently been woken by some noise downstairs, or perhaps she was simply thirsty in the middle of the night.
When she saw Mu Xinrong curled up in the corner of the sofa, exuding a huge sense of sadness, a hint of surprise and confusion flashed in her big gray-blue eyes, which were exactly the same as Ye Qingliu's.
"Brother Mu?" Hua Jinyue's voice was soft and sweet, as if she had just woken up, and she called out tentatively.
She walked barefoot on the soft carpet and quietly to the sofa, looking curiously at Mu Xinrong's red eyes and distraught look.
"What's wrong with you? Is it that sick friend... serious?" Her voice was filled with cautious concern. There was no deliberate comfort from an adult, only the simple doubts and worries of a young girl.
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