Chapter Thirty-Four: The Golden Cage (Part Two)
Outside the window, Chang'an welcomed the height of summer in the twenty-seventh year of the Zhenguan era. Cicadas chirped noisily, trees provided ample shade, and the entire city exuded a vibrant energy and bustling desires under the scorching sun. But this vibrancy, as seen through Liu Bao'er's eyes, seemed to be separated by an invisible film; the colors remained, but they could not touch her heart.
"Master, these are newly arrived lychees from Lingnan, chilled. Would you like to try one?" A maid's cautious voice sounded behind her, interrupting her gaze.
Liu Bao'er turned around, her gaze sweeping over the translucent, dew-kissed fruit in the glass cup in the maid's hand. She recalled the complex emotions she felt years ago, when Cui Jiulang first sent someone to deliver this rare delicacy—a mixture of surprise and calculation. Now, these fresh fruits from Lingnan could be found in baskets on her desk, but she could no longer taste the flavor of those days.
She picked one up and put it in her mouth. The sweet juice exploded on her tongue, and the cool sensation dispelled some of the summer heat. The taste was real, the texture was real, but was this "realism" merely a highly accurate sensory signal simulated by code?
"It tastes good," she said calmly, her tone unreadable. The maid breathed a sigh of relief and quietly withdrew.
She walked to the huge rosewood desk, on which several of the latest drawings were spread out. One was a detailed map of trade routes extending to Persia and Byzantium, marked with newly established contact points and planned remittance networks; another was a draft of the "maritime insurance" charter that Datong Bank was preparing to implement next; and yet another was a speculative map she had drawn privately, about optimizing shipping routes in Southeast Asia by utilizing monsoon patterns.
Her life, her thoughts, seem unable to stop this expansion and calculation. It is both her instinct and like some kind of underlying program that cannot be uninstalled and continues to run.
When Cui Jiulang visited, he saw her staring intently at the world map. He was still dressed in a moon-white robe, holding a jade ruyi, but the look in his eyes was more complex than ever before. There was submission, admiration, an inseparable connection of interests, and perhaps, a trace of worry that even he himself was unaware of, for his kind to fall into an unknown abyss.
"What are your plans for the next step?" he asked, breaking the silence in the room.
Liu Bao'er's fingertips slid across "Constantinople" on the map and landed on the unknown area further west marked "Endless Sea".
"Jiulang, what do you think... the end of the world will look like?" She didn't answer, but instead asked a seemingly unrelated question.
Cui Jiulang paused slightly, then chuckled, though the smile didn't reach his eyes: "For merchants, wherever there is profit, that is the world. The end? Perhaps it means the end of profit."
“The end of profits…” Liu Bao’er repeated softly, a smile that seemed both mocking and longing curving her lips, “Perhaps it also means the end of some kind of… constraint.”
Cui Jiulang remained silent for a moment. He keenly sensed the unusual meaning in her words; it was no longer a simple business ambition, but a more abstract and resolute exploration. He couldn't fully understand it, but based on the absolute rational trust they had built (or rather, absolute reliance on her abilities), he chose not to delve into it.
“No matter where it leads,” he finally said, “the Cui family, and Datong Pawnshop, will always be your support.” This was a promise, and also a bond.
Liu Bao'er glanced at him but didn't say thank you. Between them, such superficial politeness was no longer necessary. This relationship, built on rational calculation and shared interests, had become one of the most "real" connections for her in this illusory world—because it was pure, untainted by emotions she couldn't discern as genuine.
However, rational resonance cannot dispel the fog of existence.
In the stillness of the night, alone, she would take out the strange stone tablet she had brought from prison, which contained the "system's" information, and make a rubbing of it (she had ordered someone to use special materials to make a rubbing of the pattern). She no longer tried to "scan" it, but instead gazed at the inhumanly complex pattern as if meditating.
The system hadn't disappeared; it was merely lying dormant. She could clearly feel that cold, emotionless gaze still lingering in the underlying code of this world, like a shadow cast from a higher dimension. The "temporary administrator privileges" she had acquired seemed to have limitations, or perhaps there were rules she hadn't yet grasped. Although the "formatting" command had been deleted, the "experiment" itself was far from over. She, this "variable," was still being observed and recorded.
An absurd yet incredibly powerful thought became increasingly clear during these lonely nights:
If this world is virtual, then where are its "boundaries"? Physical boundaries? Data boundaries?
If I were code, where would my "creator" be? Would it be a researcher in a laboratory? Or some higher, non-human being?
Is the only way to break free of this golden cage... to reach the end of this "world" and witness the barriers of the "system" firsthand? Or is it to continuously expand, using my rules to override the system's rules, until my will becomes the "new underlying logic" of this virtual world, thereby "finding" or even "defining" the creator?
This goal is far grander than "earning enough 10,000 strings of cash to redeem one's mother," and even more insane than "establishing a financial empire." It is also the ultimate questioning and rebellion against the meaning of one's own existence.
She picked up her pen again, dipped it in thick ink, and forcefully wrote down a new goal in the blank space of the map of trade routes that symbolized endless wealth and power and stretched across the world. No longer were specific figures of wealth, nor vague sentiments, but rather—
"Let the flying money of Datong Store resound throughout the thirty-six kingdoms of the Western Regions, all the way to the end of the last marked point on the map."
"Let the tentacles of capital reach into every unknown sea, measuring every inch of this world's virtual or real boundaries."
"Let the boundaries of the system keep receding, twisting, and collapsing under my relentless pace."
"Let history remember that there was a female merchant in the Tang Dynasty who became a widow at the age of three, had the world counting her money at the age of fifteen, and at the age of eighteen... we must make this world acknowledge her 'existence'!"
The ink flowed freely, carrying an almost tragic resolve, as if pouring all the confusion, loneliness, and resentment into the sweeping strokes.
This golden cage cannot confine a heart that yearns to break free and seek the truth, regardless of its true nature.
This endless experiment will eventually reach the point where the variables completely spiral out of control and turn against the Creator.
Outside the window, the night in Chang'an City was ablaze with lights, like a flowing galaxy formed by the convergence of countless people's fates and desires.
Her war never ended; it simply shifted to a vaster and more solitary battlefield.
This time, her opponent is fate, the rules, the very essence of her existence, and that lofty "Heaven".
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com