CHAPTER 972: CHAPTER 969: "THEY HAVE ALL FOUND HAPPINESS." (THANKS TO "GUANGYU GONGXIU" ALLIANCE HIERARCH)

He had never imagined such a good ending.

Everything had returned. Zhai Xing was not ruled by High Dimensional beings, nor was it plunged into the chaotic war like Acto, everyone returned to their ordinary daily lives. No one was in despair, no one died.

The years were peaceful, civilization endured.

The seemingly desperate scene—instead was a HE he never dared to dream of.

...So good it felt shattering.

He hugged Yuanyuan tightly. The heavy rain fell on their closely leaning heads. Passersby looked at them strangely, but no one stopped, no one shouted, as if Su Ming’an was really just an insignificant ordinary person, requiring no more attention.

This gave him a long-missed tranquility.

As if he had once again become that ordinary eighteen-year-old boy.

His fingers trembled slightly.

...I once thought that after the World Game ended, Zhai Xing would still be under High Dimensional rule, everyone living in panic.

...I once thought that in the final moments, conflicting wishes would create a scenario no one wanted to see, war raging, the human race ending, Zhai Xing falling into deathly silence.

...I once thought that the final Points progress bar wouldn’t reach its mark, people dying in tears, no one able to return home.

...I even thought I would fail, stuck in a Death Rebound, the entire Human Civilization endlessly repeating a fixed Time, until eternity.

...I never thought, there would really be such a beautiful ending.

Although I’ve turned into a Madman, but everyone has come back, humanity did not fall into the chaos after the World Game. With this, I’m already... very happy.

This proves I realized the ideal, proves my efforts were not in vain, this proves... I successfully saved you all.

Although it’s illusory.

"...Yuanyuan," Su Ming’an said softly.

"Mm," Yuanyuan’s voice was still gentle. She would always be by his side, even at his most difficult times.

"Take me... home," Su Ming’an thought. Since he could not temporarily break the dream, he could only wander around.

He never dared to think he could go home too.

"Okay," Yuanyuan said.

She held his hand, slowly walking in one direction under the heavy rain. After turning the corner, Su Ming’an stood at the familiar house door, somewhat dazed.

...How long had it been since he returned to this home?

Even in dreams he did not dare to recall. Because he was afraid of becoming weak.

Familiar table and chair arrangement, familiar old electric fan, familiar desktop computer. On the bedside table was a photo with his father, the sensitive plant on the windowsill still thriving, his father smiling at him in the photo, as if always waiting for him to come home.

From memory long buried, he slowly retrieved memories of this home, then overlapped the current scene one by one...

"I’m back," Su Ming’an said.

No one responded to him.

Since he was ten, every day when he returned, he would stand at the door and shout "I’m back," hoping someone at home would respond, even just one. But there never was.

"..."

He walked into this familiar home, the floorboards creaking underfoot. Yuanyuan followed quietly behind him.

He walked into his own room, turned on the desktop computer, the screen lit up, the mouse paused on the PR editing software, which still held several unfinished horror game livestream videos. They were edited overnight before the World Game began, but never released.

He clicked open these videos, hearing the somewhat strange, lively, his own voice.

"...There’s a cabinet at the corridor corner, you can hide in it. Then hide from the wooden door into the save room, offer an incense stick... Ok, saved."

"There will be ghost hands above, so you need to quickly identify which is the correct door, or else the ghost hands will increase."

"Paper Wedding Dress? I recorded that, the audience can check my homepage."

"This way... you can trap grandma inside, see, she absolutely can’t do anything to us..."

Su Ming’an watched these unfinished game footage over and over, repeatedly listened to his own voice, feeling incredibly unfamiliar.

...So lively, was that my... voice?

He subconsciously pressed his finger to his vocal cords, trying to produce a similar sound, but couldn’t. As if something had long blocked his throat, swallowing down all the past.

Clearly only five months had passed... why could he no longer produce that voice?

Once again he looked around, trying to find a way to break the dream, but the Deity seemed to deliberately keep him here, simply not responding to him.

"Ming’an, after finishing your medicine, shall we play games?" Yuanyuan stood at the doorway: "The jumping game."

"..." Su Ming’an was silent for a moment, slowly responded.

Yuanyuan’s game skills had increased a lot, he actually found it a bit difficult to beat her. They sat on the bed, the evening breeze blowing through the window screen, lifting her jet-black hair, she focused on the handheld game, unaware that a few strands of hair brushed Su Ming’an’s cheek.

He gently brushed aside her lemon shampoo-scented hair, focused on the game console.

Time seemed to stop at this moment, the game-playing young man and woman quietly immersed in the small square screen, outside the window came the cries of street vendors, the ringing of bicycles, the music from the distant Wan Plaza. Other than that, only the "tick-tock" sound of the game console, the sunset light through the window screen dyeing the woman’s floating black hair, everything beautifully as if eternal.

"Ming’an, would you want to play It Takes Two in the future?" Yuanyuan said.

"Sure."

"Overcooked seems interesting too."

"Mm."

"We can have a chance to play together. You can continue being an up host, I will toss a coin in each video of yours."

"Okay."

"And then... continue with the Youth Exploration Club, I see you’re always interested in Detective and puzzle books."

"Not that one."

"Ming’an..."

"I’m not interested in puzzles anymore."

"Okay, actually whatever you want to do, there’s plenty of time, college students have the most time to spare. Whatever interests you, you can go do—you’re free, Ming’an."

Su Ming’an’s fingers paused slightly.

Yuanyuan was resting her chin and looking at him, the handheld game console lying on her knees. The blood-red sunset kissed her face, and her eyes blinked.

In that moment of clarity, he realized that her gaze was not that of an eighteen-year-old naive girl, but of Yuanyuan who had experienced many phases of life, independent and self-reliant. She could acutely perceive his emotional changes and timely say something to comfort him. She prepared medicine to accompany him, silently watching him go mad, then soothing him.

...At what point did it change from her relying on him, and him leading her, to her taking care of him, guiding him?

The Savior who had completed his mission, after retiring, was accompanied by the ever-sword-bearing Knight on the final journey.

In that moment, sharp voices clamored incessantly in Su Ming’an’s heart, saying that all of this was false, just a fleeting warmth; your ending should not be like this, it doesn’t suit you, and you don’t deserve it.

He suddenly began to gag, setting down the game console and slowly bending over, clutching his chest but unable to throw up anything. The intense tension felt like a giant stone piling up in his chest, inch by inch pressing against his throat. The pain was like a sharp long needle piercing into his brain.

...This warmth does not belong to you.

Go back, go back, go back!

He repeated this thought. He was afraid even to dream, feeling that touching even a bit of warmth was inappropriate.

"Deity... please let me leave here..."

"Deity...!"

Once again, Su Ming’an tried to find an exit, but no one answered.

He felt the world before his eyes begin to whirl like a vortex, vibrant colors filled his vision, and the chairs, tables, windows all danced wildly before his eyes until his consciousness plunged into a void for some time.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the bed, and Yuanyuan was no longer in the room.

Outside the door came very faint sounds of discussion, yet Su Ming’an could hear them clearly.

"...Is his mental state still the same?" Lv Shu’s voice.

"Yes. He always thinks he’s still in the World Game, and the psychologist thinks his condition is very serious. He was playing a game with me just now and suddenly passed out again." Yuanyuan’s voice.

"Hypnosis is still the option. Since medication adjustments haven’t worked, we can only make him forget that memory." Yamada Machiichi’s voice.

"I know. Lu has some connections, he knows some reliable hypnotists from abroad." Lv Shu’s voice.

"Hahaha... Lu has some connections, that sounds so funny..."

A few people laughed, seemingly trying to lighten the atmosphere, but the laughter held only bitterness.

Su Ming’an peered through the crack in the door at the few people at the entrance.

Lv Shu seemed in good spirits, wearing a tracksuit, cheeks rosy, even a few centimeters taller, showing he had adequate nutrition. His illness was also cured. A white Samoyed followed behind him, the dog smiling adorably. He even kept a pet now.

Yamada Machiichi wore a Lolita skirt quite naturally. His expression appeared very bright, the gloom from their first meeting had completely faded. He was no longer that high school student who had been criticized for cross-dressing and almost jumped into the river. He held a drawing board in his hands, seemingly going out to sketch.

Standing beside were Mo Yan and Lin Yin, also dressed warm and their faces rosy, attire neat. Lin Yin carried a guitar on her back, seemingly going to a guitar class.

...They all obtained happiness.

Su Ming’an stood pale at the door, seeing his own hands that were almost skeletal, seeing the dense pinholes and protruding blue veins on the back of his hand, and then he smiled faintly.

...So good.

Deity, the future you’ve crafted cannot defeat me, but instead, it makes me feel happy.

Next, he tried walking around, attempting to find a way to leave the illusion. Lv Shu and the others stayed by his side continuously.

Everyone tacitly avoided topics related to the past, no one mentioned the World Game in front of him. They laughed together, maintaining a warm facade, pretending not to notice the antidepressants in Su Ming’an’s pocket.

Whenever Su Ming’an picked up something sharp, they anxiously crowded around him to help take it from him, as if afraid he might harm himself. Each time Su Ming’an called out for the Deity, they remained silent in place, with a quiet, respectful attitude, waiting for him to finish calling, then handed him the medication.

...This made Su Ming’an feel as if he were a pale puppet. Led by some non-present threads of existence,

each time he saw Lv Shu’s eyes that wanted to say something yet hesitated, saw the sadness buried deep in Yamada Machiichi’s eyes, saw Yuanyuan’s calm and apathetic gaze, his heart would involuntarily ache.

...Are you satisfied?

...Are you really satisfied?

He could not be sure of this.

He could not give a definite answer.

People have self-interest, and while altruism cannot be publicly celebrated, most people’s hearts strongly recognize this concept. This makes them feel salvation has nothing to do with them and should not harm their own interests. If they had to endure the pain of repeated death, it might be better to submit to High Dimensions ruling their homeland, indulging in their abilities amidst the fervent admiration of the masses.

But Su Ming’an thought, he felt that some ideals outweighed self-interest.

He too was human and often questioned whether it was worth it. But whenever he felt confused, he was always drawn back by the kindness of others, no matter how minor that kindness seemed compared to malice.

So, who would believe someone could selflessly dedicate themselves to the world?

Even Su Ming’an himself was close to disbelief.

But he just couldn’t let go.

If the Authority of Death Rebound was Zhai Xing civilization’s final outburst, the last embers sent by the human race, he could not be indifferent upon receiving this gift. He could not deceive himself into becoming a bystander, indulgent in self.

He couldn’t let himself become Edward, nor could he let himself become Mizushima Kawa Sora. He was Su Ming’an, only Su Ming’an.

He turned back, looking at them. He saw Lin Yin pick up a camera and smile while taking his picture, Lv Shu petting the Samoyed’s head, Yuanyuan holding a chocolate stick in her mouth and smiling with squinted eyes. The riverside wind blew through their hair, black and white tangled in the wind, with a click, their smiling faces were captured like blossoms.

Su Ming’an smiled slightly in this river breeze, as if seeing fields of sunflowers.

...So kindness is like sunlight slanting through the cracks, precious in the darkest places.

...So he built a Lighthouse, making himself a symbol, near collapse countless times yet moving forward again, struggling countless times with fear, loneliness, and pain.

So he couldn’t escape.

...

While crossing the river bridge, Su Ming’an saw a person.

That person sat alone on the railing of the bridge, gazing out at the fishing boats shuttling on the river. He wore a khaki trench coat, his shirt still untucked, the moist river breeze billowing his coat, his face held a quiet and aged expression.

Su Ming’an walked over to him silently, accompanying him in watching the ever-flowing river.

That person glanced at Su Ming’an, quickly and lightly withdrawing his gaze, as if he had been burned.

They watched for a long time until the sunset dwindled to the last tail.