[Cloud City · Downtown Luxury Apartment]
Yin Wuwang jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. He scanned left and right with alert wariness before remembering where he was—the modern world.
He'd been dreaming. In the dream, he'd returned to the Wuwang Sea, where Fuguang's sword had pierced through him and he'd fallen from the sky. Fuguang had hovered high above, looking down at him. He'd struggled with everything he had to raise his hand, longing to touch Fuguang's silhouette one last time. But in the next instant, he'd tumbled into a warm embrace—and the one who caught him was Fuguang, tears streaming down his face.
He let out a sigh. Blame it on this modern world's bed being too soft—like sleeping on clouds. That's what caused such a ridiculous dream. Fuguang crying for him? How could that be possible? Him crying for Fuguang would make more sense. Definitely just a dream.
He rubbed his face and walked into the bathroom, following Little Deer Assistant's instructions from yesterday to brush his teeth and wash up. He grumbled internally the whole time. What a hassle. He'd lived three thousand years without ever brushing his teeth, and he'd never had a single cavity. Mortal bodies were simply too fragile!
He recalled the dental implant procedure that Little Deer Assistant had shown him on the television yesterday and couldn't help but shudder. Mortal methods were downright brutal. When he wanted someone to lose teeth, it was just a flick of his finger... a punch at most. But look at what mortals did—using instruments to wrench teeth out by the roots, drilling into mouths, hammering in nails... It seemed these so-called "modern people" were quite different from the mortals he'd known.
Yesterday had been their first day after landing in this apartment. They'd done nothing but spend the entire day learning how to be modern humans.
Little Deer Assistant had first turned on the black rectangular board called a "television" in the living room, then spent the whole morning playing various footage—news, documentaries, lifestyle programs. Yin Wuwang had initially scoffed, finding these mortal imaging devices crude and unrefined. They couldn't even project a proper illusion realm that let you experience it firsthand. But after watching for half a day, he had to admit the things were actually useful. At least now he knew that a "phone" wasn't some kind of handheld weapon, a "refrigerator" wasn't an ice-type artifact, and a "microwave" wasn't some miniature fire formation—though he'd genuinely believed that at first.
Xie Qingyan adapted even faster than Yin Wuwang. His approach to learning was always calm and efficient. He'd spent half a day examining every appliance in the apartment, figuring out where the switches were and how to operate them. Little Deer Assistant 9528 provided real-time guidance in his mind, and he approached each attempt with the seriousness of cultivation practice. Within a few hours, he could already operate all the electrical appliances proficiently and was ready to learn how to use the laptop.
At the time, Yin Wuwang had been sitting beside Xie Qingyan, naturally draping his arm across the back of the sofa behind him, pressing close as if wanting to see what he was doing. Xie Qingyan had turned to give him an expressionless look. Yin Wuwang stiffened almost imperceptibly but brazened it out, his face the picture of entitlement: "Since we have to play a couple, we need to get used to physical contact."
Xie Qingyan hadn't objected or punched Yin Wuwang across the room. He'd simply lowered his head in silence and continued studying the pinyin letters on the keyboard. Yin Wuwang had secretly rejoiced while simultaneously finding it absurd that Fuguang's slender fingers—which usually gripped a sword—were now tapping away at little black squares. But undeniably, Fuguang with short hair and modern clothes looked good doing anything.
Xie Qingyan's lips were slightly pressed together, his gaze focused, his long curved lashes trembling gently against that cold, snow-white face.
Watching him look so earnest—as if he were studying some peerless sword manual—the teasing glint in Yin Wuwang's eyes gradually faded, replaced by an almost imperceptible solemnity.
Yin Wuwang remembered how, at the Mending Heaven Waystation, Xie Qingyan had first learned he was nothing but a character in a book. In that moment, he'd coughed up blood on the spot, nearly suffering complete Dao heart collapse. Yin Wuwang understood that Xie Qingyan needed "something to do," needed to "be relied upon," needed to prove that his "existence had meaning." Back in the cultivation world, Xie Qingyan had been a Sword Sovereign admired by tens of thousands, a sect leader his entire sect depended on. In the immortal sects, his sword dao was unmatched, his position unshakeable—that had been his reason for existing.
Yin Wuwang mused to himself. He'd always been wild and untamed, dismissive of birth and bloodline. Who told the author to give him such a bizarre background—not only half-immortal, half-demon, but also an atavistic bloodline. Honestly, when Elder Mo had told them they were merely characters in a book, he'd actually felt a kind of liberation. At least now he and Fuguang were equals—both merely created characters.
But Fuguang's nature wasn't like his own careless indifference. After learning he was nothing more than a character from an author's pen, his pride demanded that he find himself anew, prove that he was more than just a book character whose life was manipulated by an author. Although these collapsed novel worlds they experienced had no spiritual energy, no swords, no Dao—perhaps they could give Fuguang another way to prove himself.
Yin Wuwang sighed silently in his heart. He didn't speak or disturb him, just maintained his arm draped over the sofa, quietly accompanying his Sword Sovereign as he "cultivated" modern appliances.
This peaceful companionship had continued until evening.
At dinner, Xie Qingyan had pan-fried two steaks using ingredients from the refrigerator and served them with a large plate of green salad. Yin Wuwang had complained aloud that mortals were such a hassle, needing to eat all the time, but internally he was floating on clouds. This was food Fuguang had cooked! Even if the beef was still bloody and the salad was raw, it was a delicacy worthy of the immortal realm.
After dinner, Little Deer Assistant had played a few episodes of a crime drama to familiarize them with investigation procedures. Yin Wuwang had little interest in mortal case-solving methods—only the guns in the detectives' hands sparked some curiosity. Xie Qingyan, however, watched attentively. By the third episode, he'd suddenly frowned.
"After the forensic pathologist finished the autopsy, he went back to write his report." Xie Qingyan pointed at the screen. "He didn't go to the crime scene with the detective."
Little Deer Assistant 9528 answered quickly: "In real procedure, forensic pathologists indeed don't accompany detectives on field work. But this is a story, and the world operates according to the author's settings. In the original draft, the forensic pathologist and detective were a CP who investigated together throughout, inseparable for the sake of showing off their relationship. So in this world, it's normal for the forensic pathologist to accompany the detective to crime scenes. The NPCs won't find it strange."
Xie Qingyan's frown deepened: "That's far too sloppy."
Yin Wuwang lounged against the sofa, digesting this information without a flicker of change in his expression. But internally, he developed a subtle fondness for this garbage author he'd never met.
How was this a mistake? It was written perfectly. This sovereign wholeheartedly approves of this setting.
[End of V2_Chapter 03]
Next: Sticky notes that say "Knock," a frying pan disaster, and the three sweetest words: "Nice heat control."