“Eh?”
Lin Qiyou’s voice was like an electric shock; she seemed to sense something, her heart jolting sharply. But when she looked around, there was nothing.
Her vision blurred with tears as she struggled to leave the backyard, leaning heavily on her sword.
Behind her, Qing Mu silently followed.
Qing Mu felt utterly helpless because he was now completely passive.
He had thought that by completing the system’s simulation task ahead of schedule, he would exit the simulation, but instead, he entered a state of helpless limbo.
His soul had left his lifeless body and was drawn, pulled by the spiritual veins inside Lin Qiyou’s body. For days, he had been by her side.
This had started when Lin Qiyou was unconscious. During that time, she had muttered in her sleep, and he had mistakenly thought she could see him.
But now it seemed he had become a spirit—unseen, untouchable, unheard.
It was estimated that he would have to remain in this spirit form here for a few more months before the simulation could be completed.
And there was a serious problem: in this spirit state, he couldn’t leave the simulation and return his consciousness to the real world.
Fortunately, the next few months wouldn’t feel too long in real-world time, and the system confirmed that the task was indeed complete.
Even in spirit form, his senses remained intact. When Lin Qiyou walked away, Qing Mu could feel his body being pulled by an unseen force. He didn’t need to move himself; he was drawn forward.
But the sensation of being dragged unsettled him. He didn’t want to be forcibly controlled even in spirit form, so he forced himself to take steps, following behind Lin Qiyou.
Qing Mu’s mood was surprisingly relaxed—he felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted, even though he was essentially dead.
Still, being in spirit form was, in a way, a blessing.
It allowed him to take one last look at this simulated world.
Halfway through the Lin family courtyard, Lin Qiyou stopped.
She lingered in place for a long while before finally leaving the Lin family estate.
Before leaving, she asked the accountant for some compensation, handed it over to her master in the sect who had taken care of her, then found a secluded cave dwelling to begin her cultivation retreat.
Qing Mu had no choice but to sit beside her and keep her company.
“It’s all fake… As long as time passes, I’ll forget him…”
Lin Qiyou said this quietly.
Qing Mu’s heart ached sharply at her words.
But it was okay—just as Lin Qiyou said, it was all fake. When she turned eighteen, with the spiritual vein connection fading and his spirit disappearing, the simulation would end.
These strange feelings born from the connection would vanish like smoke.
Qing Mu had long since reconciled with the truth of his feelings for Lin Qiyou.
If feelings exist, they exist; there was no need to be afraid to admit them.
After all, it was all fake.
Qing Mu placed his hand over his chest, feeling the heartbeat there despite having no real heart, a look of acceptance settling over his face.
Yes, just like that.
It was best for both of them to let go and wait for these feelings, born from the spiritual veins, to dissipate.
Then, they would each go their separate ways.
They were people from two different worlds… Or maybe she wasn’t even human at all?
Still, the Lin family patriarch was honorable, and he truly cared for his younger siblings… Sigh, it’s all fake—why bother caring so much?
Lin Qiyou sat in meditation, eyes closed, but Qing Mu could not. He could only accompany her in silence, while she remained unaware.
Boredom inevitably brought wild thoughts.
He recalled the moment he first saw Lin Qiyou—not by the lake after his transmigration, but when he was found in rags, facing that noble young lady.
Since then, they had been inseparable.
Those ten-odd years had felt so real, so deeply experienced, even with countless regrets in his heart.
This time, Qing Mu carefully observed Lin Qiyou in the secluded chamber.
She had taken off her shoes, her white socks crossed neatly on her knees, palms resting upward on her lap, toes pointed, eyes tightly closed, lashes interlaced, breathing steady and calm.
A slender beam of light shone through a tiny crack above the chamber, casting an aura of profound mystery over her head.
Clad in white as pure as snow, graceful and elegant, her skin like polished jade—the fairy seemed to be the focal point of the world, naturally drawing Qing Mu’s gaze.
He had never looked at her so closely before.
What struck him was that Lin Qiyou seemed to have suddenly grown up.
She was actually seventeen?
They had grown up together.
Perhaps leaving behind that body, or the gradual fading of the spiritual vein’s emotional bond, made him feel as if separated by a lifetime.
Qing Mu was so entranced by Lin Qiyou that he lost track of time, staring blankly for who knew how long.
Then, without knowing when, Lin Qiyou suddenly woke.
Her deep, dark pupils trembled as she looked toward Qing Mu.
Qing Mu was startled by that gaze and instinctively called out, “Qiyou?”
But Lin Qiyou naturally couldn’t hear him—she could only see the chamber walls.
After a moment of lowered gaze and contemplation, she closed her eyes and resumed meditation.
Disappointment flickered across Qing Mu’s face as he realized how intimate it was that he had just called her by name.
He lowered his head, noticing that his spirit form had become much more fragile than at first.
Soon, he would disappear entirely.
Would his false feelings for Lin Qiyou still remain then?
Memories of Lin Qiyou surfaced again in his mind.
After a long moment, he pursed his lips and furrowed his brows.
Maybe it was because he was trapped in the simulation?
How long had Lin Qiyou been meditating now?
He had forgotten the time and felt his mind growing heavy.
It must be because his spirit form was gradually fading…
He shifted to a more comfortable position beside Lin Qiyou.
His eyes unconsciously fixed on her white socks, recalling the day under the tree when Lin Qiyou had made him help put on her shoes.
Lin Qiyou had forced him to speak, and he had fought back.
It was quite amusing…
They were like foxes, probing each other…
And after twelve years of testing, neither said what the other wanted to hear.
After who knew how long passed, Qing Mu whispered softly, “Ah… farewell.”
A goodbye destined never to be conveyed, with both already prepared to vanish from each other’s worlds.
He leaned slightly closer to Lin Qiyou, then closed his eyes.
Lin Qiyou opened her eyes.
Nearly a year had passed since she began her retreat.
The connection of the spiritual vein to its previous owner had completely faded two or three months ago.
She had already broken through to a realm far beyond what she had initially imagined.
Expressionless, Lin Qiyou stood from the ground and exhaled a heavy breath.
She left the chamber, the sunlight outside making her squint.
Looking at the verdant mountains and clear waters within the sect, a long-suppressed voice escaped her throat:
“Ugh… it’s a lie—the heart still hurts so much… It has nothing to do with the spiritual vein! Qing Mu, wuuuu, I’m sorry!”
Her foolish avoidance, her lack of confidence in love, felt like a heavy foot brutally stomping down on her heart, already riddled with wounds from guilt.