The moment Chen Tian stepped through that conceptual door, he didn't feel the spatial tearing or dimensional dislocation he had anticipated.
Instead, it felt more like… pushing open an ordinary, slightly old door.
He took one step forward.
Suddenly, everything became clear.
The scene before him caused the vast power within Chen Tian to momentarily freeze.
There was no boundless void, no divine hall, no twisted dimensional labyrinth.
It was just the interior of an extremely ordinary residential apartment in Dragon Kingdom.
It was a standard three-bedroom (or perhaps three and a half?) layout, with white walls that had yellowed slightly in places, adorned with remnants of faded cartoon stickers, and common light-colored laminate flooring, slightly worn at the edges.
The living room held a common fabric sofa with slightly sunken cushions, and on the glass coffee table in front of it, several fast-food boxes, torn chip bags, and a fingerprint-smudged wireless game controller were haphazardly piled.
The air was filled with a complex scent—leftover instant noodle broth from last night, a faint smell of dust, a subtle hint of sweat and smoke (though no ashtray was visible).
Outside the window was a city scene at dusk, with towering buildings, and the lights of countless homes appearing like nascent stars, while the distant street traffic lights trailed like flowing ribbons of light.
Chen Tian's eyes, deep as an abyss, swept over this utterly mundane scene, and an almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of his lips.
A very familiar feeling.
Once, before he was run over by that unreasonable dump truck and dragged into this infinite adventure, he also lived in such an ordinary, lively residential building in Dragon Kingdom.
Now it seemed, it wasn't fictional… but rather that the "creator," when depicting his character, subconsciously projected his most familiar living environment into his "background setting."
He chuckled softly, his voice low and almost inaudible:
"Heh…" It carried a hint of self-mockery, and an indescribable sense of absurdity.
Just then—
"Ahhhhhhh—!!!" A frantic, deeply frustrated male wail abruptly emerged from the small room next to the living room, which was partially covered by a frosted plastic curtain!
The voice was young, hoarse from staying up late, and carried a deep weariness, as if his spirit had been completely drained.
"Stuck on a chapter again~~~ Forget it, I'll play on my phone for a bit." The owner of the voice seemed to give up instantly, his tone sliding from the edge of despair to one of casualness, laziness, even a bit of a devil-may-care attitude.
Following that, a clear female voice with a strong electronic quality penetrated the door, clearly a character line from a mobile or computer game:
"Let us hunt those who have fallen into darkness!" (Vayne's line)
This voice made Chen Tian's eyes stir slightly.
Then, the young male voice sounded again, this time with a lewd and excited smirk, completely different from the exhaustion he showed when he was stuck on his writing:
"Hehehe, it's time to reveal my hidden identity as a 'Void God' fan!"
"Void God"?!
Heh, Uxi? Is he mocking himself, or teasing?
He barely thought, his steps steady and silent, like a Shadow merging with the environment itself, walking without hesitation towards the half-open room with the curtain.
The curtain was of common translucent frosted plastic, printed with blurry geometric patterns.
Chen Tian did not reach out; he merely looked at the curtain.
The curtain seemed to be parted by an invisible force, quietly sliding open to both sides, revealing the scene inside.
This was a typical otaku's work and entertainment corner.
The space was small, with a slightly old, light wood desk against the wall, its surface cluttered—several open books lay face down on scattered manuscript paper, and a Mark cup with a two-dimensional design had deep brown cola stains.
Next to it was the working laptop, its screen glowing faintly, seemingly paused on a document interface.
Above the computer screen, simple White acrylic display shelves were nailed to the wall, carefully holding several exquisite figurine models: Iron Man MK7 in red and gold, in its classic landing pose.
Next to it was the silver-haired, sword-wielding, cool-looking 2B girl.
Beside 2B was an old-looking Freedom Gundam figurine, and a Deadpool model with his iconic wide grin, yellow eye mask, and comical pose.
A pen holder with several pens and a half-drunk can of cola, with fine Water droplets condensed on its aluminum surface, also sat on one corner of the desk.
The room's main light source came from an adjustable desk lamp on the desk, its light barely illuminating the desktop, as well as the faint glow emanating from the computer screen itself.
And the owner of the room, at this moment, was sitting with his back to the door, deeply ensconced in an old-looking black computer chair.
He was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with a messy black short hair like a bird's nest, as if he had just fought a three-hundred-round battle with his pillow.
He wore a faded, slightly loose-collared gray cotton T-shirt and loose dark athletic shorts.
He leaned slightly forward, head down, his neck line stiff from concentration, holding his phone in both hands, wearing black over-ear headphones, his fingers rapidly and excitedly sliding and tapping on the screen, making dense "da-da" clicks.
His entire body swayed slightly with the tense rhythm of the game, and he occasionally let out unconscious, low "tsk" sounds, or short, lewd "hehe" laughs when he saw impressive plays (presumably enjoying the "Void God's" performance).
He was completely immersed in the World of combat within the small confines of his phone screen, utterly unaware of the "uninvited guest" who had appeared silently behind him—the existence he had written into countless adventure stories, who had experienced life and death, had just punched through the "box" barrier, and now stood like a ghost at his study door.
Chen Tian stood quietly at the entrance where the curtain parted, expressionlessly watching the young man's back, engrossed in his game, having completely fallen into the virtual World after his frantic writing block.
"Quadra Kill!"
An excited female voice came from the phone.
The young man instantly got hyped, yelling at the screen: "Penta Kill! My Penta Kill! Daddy! Give me the Penta Kill!!"
At the doorway, Chen Tian's lips involuntarily curled, and he let out a soft chuckle.
The sound was very light.
But the young man, wearing headphones, suddenly stiffened, his neck rigidly, little by little, turning sideways, his peripheral vision quickly sweeping over the silver-haired, unusually imposing figure at the door.
Zero point one second!
He snapped his head back to face his phone as if electrocuted, so fast he nearly sprained his neck.
But his body began to tremble slightly.
Fear instantly overshadowed the fervor for a Penta Kill.
The young man frantically flipped his phone, which was in landscape mode for gaming, upright with a "shua," the game screen vanished, instantly switching to the dialer interface.
On the screen, three prominent numbers were clearly visible:
1 - 1 - 0
His index finger was already hovering above the red dial button!
Chen Tian sighed helplessly, feeling a bit like rubbing his forehead.
What a misunderstanding…
"Ahem," he began, his voice calm, "I mean no harm."
The young man shivered violently, but his finger didn't press down, his back stiff as a board.
"My name is Chen Tian," Chen Tian continued, looking at the rigid back, "I am from—"
He paused, a smile of unknown meaning playing on his lips.
"—a certain World."
The young man's index finger, hovering over the dial button, suddenly stopped.
The young man's body remained taut, still not turning around, muttering in a voice like a mosquito:
"Is my novel that famous? There are even crazy fans? And they Cosplay my protagonist?"
His voice was as thin as a mosquito's buzz, but Chen Tian heard it clearly.
"I am not your fan," Chen Tian's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable tone, "I am Chen Tian."
The young man's trembling suddenly stopped.
He slightly turned his head, revealing only his right eye, his voice tinged with a hint of probing and caution:
"Proof?"
Chen Tian sighed.
Troublesome.
He casually reached out, his hand entering the seemingly empty air before him—a movement as natural as pulling something from a pocket.
The next second, a uniquely shaped "Azure Rose" pistol, gleaming with cold metallic luster, was gently placed on the ground with a soft "clack," as if he were tossing a toy.
Then, he lightly pushed it with his toe, and the pistol slid precisely to the young man's feet.
The young man's peripheral vision caught the gun, and he was visibly stunned.
He hesitated for a moment, bent down, and grabbed the gun handle, intending to pick it up—
"Ugh?!" He let out a muffled grunt.
The gun body didn't budge, heavier than he could have imagined!
He immediately switched to using both hands, and it took all his strength to lift the cold metallic lump.
Chen Tian was somewhat surprised.
This seemingly ordinary otaku, upon getting the gun, his eyes suddenly sharpened.
His fingers expertly pressed and toggled several key points on the gun body.
"Click!"
The cylinder swung open!
Inside, the gleaming special bullets were exposed in the dim desk lamp light.
The young man quickly removed a bullet, held it between his fingers, examining it carefully, feeling the cold metallic touch and the heavy weight, as well as the subtle, non-decorative inscriptions on the casing.
His breathing suddenly quickened!
The next second, as if electrocuted, he sharply turned around!
A face filled with uncertainty and the fatigue of staying up late was fully exposed to Chen Tian's sight—
Chen Tian's pupils constricted slightly.
This face…
Although their temperaments were completely different (one a decadent otaku, the other more handsome), the contours of his eyebrows and eyes were actually six parts similar to his own!
The young man was also stunned when he saw Chen Tian's appearance, but then his attention was completely drawn to the object in his hand.
"Where did you custom order this 'Azure Rose' model? It's amazing!"
He exclaimed excitedly, but then his fingers, caressing the bullet, paused, and his face changed drastically, "No! This weight… this texture… these inscriptions… it's a real bullet!"
The excitement in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced only by vigilance and a hint of ruthlessness.
With fluid motions, he precisely pressed the heavy bullet back into the cylinder with a "clack," and snapped it shut with a flick of his wrist!
His movements were swift and clean, carrying a sense of practiced familiarity from years of immersion.
He laboriously raised the heavy weapon, its dark muzzle pointed at Chen Tian at the doorway, his voice tight but commanding: "Now! Get out! Immediately!"
The heavy gun body made his wrist tremble violently, making it impossible to aim steadily.
Chen Tian looked at the wildly shaking muzzle and sighed helplessly: "Why bother."
He casually raised his right index finger, a faint blue electric arc flashing across its tip.
Buzz!
The young man felt his hands suddenly lighten, and the heavy Azure Rose, as if drawn by an invisible magnet, flew out of his grasp with a "shua," landing steadily in Chen Tian's open palm.
The young man froze completely, his eyes wide as saucers: "This… this is impossible! You…"
"It's Shadow," Chen Tian said faintly, uttering two words, and casually tossed the pistol, which symbolized power, to his side.
There was no sound of it landing.
The Azure Rose, as if entering Water, instantly vanished without a trace, leaving no ripple behind.
The young man's pupils widened in shock!
This scene… this scene was too damn familiar to him!
The protagonist he wrote about, whenever he dealt with something, would also toss it casually like this, and the item would enter that damned summoning space that only he could open!
This wasn't Cosplay!
This was the damn ability he had written into his settings! Right there in the document where he was stuck on his writing to death!
"You… you…" The young man pointed at Chen Tian, his lips trembling, his worldview completely shattered, "You really are Chen Tian!"
The young man's finger, pointing at Chen Tian, hadn't dropped yet, when the horror on his face was suddenly replaced by a fervent, almost perverse excitement!
"Holy crap! Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap!"
He bounced on the spot like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and in one leap, he was in front of Chen Tian, completely forgetting his earlier fear and the gun pointed at him.
He circled Chen Tian for half a turn, scrutinizing him up and down, left and right, uttering "tsk tsk tsk" in awe, his eyes shining like searchlights.
"So handsome! This model… no, this Zhenren! This texture!" His speech was as rapid as machine gun fire, "Silver hair! These cold little eyes! This aura! Absolutely incredible! A million times more perfect than I imagined!"
He suddenly stopped, his head almost pressed against Chen Tian's chest, asking excitedly:
"Oh, right! Why didn't you bring 2B and the others? I really want to see what they look like in real life! They must be a million times more stunning than the figurines! That skin material! The effect of each strand of hair!"
Before Chen Tian could answer, he suddenly took half a step back, gesturing with both hands: "And! Can you do a Demon Transformation for me to see?! Just once! The kind that's so cool it blows up the sky! I want a live version!"
He babbled incessantly, almost spitting, his dense words like a barrage of cannon Fire, filled with the unique fanaticism and naive curiosity of an otaku.
Chen Tian felt his temples throb, and finally couldn't help but raise a hand to interrupt: "Can you stop talking for a moment?"
His voice was not loud, but it instantly cut off the young man's chatter.
The young man seemed to be on pause, his torrent of words abruptly stopping.
He froze for a moment, then awkwardly scratched his messy hair, revealing an embarrassed smile: "Uh… sorry, sorry, I got too excited! I've lived for decades, and this is the first time I've encountered something so fantastical, it's even more unbelievable than what I write myself!"
As he spoke, he squeezed past Chen Tian into the living room and pressed the overhead light switch with a "click."
Light instantly dispelled the gloom of the living room.
Then, he walked straight to the refrigerator in the corner, pulled open the refrigerator door, and a blast of cold air mixed with the scent of various foods wafted out.
Without looking, he casually pulled out two cold red cans of cola from inside and turned to place one with a "thud" on the coffee table next to Chen Tian—the table was still cluttered with last night's leftovers.
He himself walked to the other side, grabbed a large 1.5-liter bottle of mineral water from beside the water dispenser, and gulped it down, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.
Half the bottle of water disappeared instantly. He heavily set the bottle down, let out a loud burp, and then exhaled a long breath, his face showing a complex smile intertwined with excessive excitement and dreams coming true, as he looked at Chen Tian again:
"Sorry… it's mainly that the shock was too great, my brain kind of rebooted." He pointed to the cola on the coffee table, "Want some? It's cold."
Chen Tian said nothing, his gaze sweeping over the can of cola next to the greasy fast-food box.
He silently reached out, his slender fingers pulling open the tab with a "hiss," and took a gulp.
Cold liquid with a strong fizziness and sweet taste surged down his throat.
The young man watched Chen Tian drink the cola as if he were admiring a rare treasure, his eyes still shining. He licked his somewhat dry lips, and curiosity once again got the better of him:
"Oh, right! Chen Tian, how did you get here?"
He lowered his voice, with a hint of mysterious excitement, "Was it through Deadpool? Like… in 'Deadpool Kills the Marvel Universe'? Did he break the fourth wall?"
Chen Tian put down the cola, the condensation on the metal can wetting his fingertips.
He nodded, seemingly confirming the young man's first question. But then, his handsome eyebrows suddenly furrowed:
"You… guessed it?"
The young man felt a bit awkward under Chen Tian's gaze and instinctively touched his nose, but then he straightened his chest, his face showing a unique expression of a creator, mixed with pride and embarrassment:
"Of course I knew! I laid that foreshadowing!"
He rubbed his hands and explained, "At the time, I was just writing for fun, to logically include that chatterbox Deadpool, and also to incidentally introduce the later 'Infinite Ultron' and 'What If…?' multiverse storylines…"
As he spoke, he squeezed back into the study, pulled open a desk drawer, and rummaged through it, papers rustling. His tone carried a hint of reminiscence and self-mockery:
"Actually, after writing the plot around Sokovia in 1999… the reader reviews weren't particularly good." He pulled out a stack of worn-edged, sloppily written printouts, twirling them with his fingers, "Many reviews said the pacing was a bit off, and there were setting conflicts… My mind was a mess at the time."
He leaned back in his chair, casually tossing the stack of manuscripts onto the even messier desk with a soft "thud," a somewhat embarrassed wry smile on his face:
"At that time, I actually considered modifying the plot about the Demon Transformation interference and Time Stone energy overflow before the time travel." He tapped his temple with a finger, "Or I thought about simply having a longer time travel, jumping to the future or an even older era to start a new main storyline, which might help improve the reputation…"
The young man sighed, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands unconsciously rubbing together: "I tried writing several draft outlines, Universe reboot, the original Avengers, the fusion of DC comics… They all sound grand, right?"
He looked up at Chen Tian, who stood silently at the doorway like a statue, his eyes filled with helplessness, "But when I wrote them, I always felt… it didn't feel right. It was dry, the transitions were stiff, like changing maps just for the sake of changing maps, and I couldn't find that seamless feeling I had when I wrote before the time travel."
He shrugged, his tone carrying a sense of resigned acceptance: "So in the end… I hastily concluded that time travel plot, making it seem a bit anticlimactic. Let the readers complain, I accepted it."
At this point, the young man's tone suddenly changed. The previous awkwardness and helplessness vanished, replaced by a nearly fanatical gleam burning in his bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes.
He suddenly sat up straight, pointing excitedly at Chen Tian with his finger:
"But! That Deadpool line! I just couldn't bring myself to delete it!" His voice rose slightly with excitement, carrying the fervor of a gambler hitting the jackpot, "Do you know why?!"
He didn't wait for Chen Tian to answer, but instead slammed the table with his hand, making the mug and cola can on the table rattle:
"Because he's Deadpool! That lunatic! The only guy who knows he's a comic character, can talk to readers, and even jump out of the frame!"
The young man's breathing became rapid, his face filled with undisguised, almost childlike fantasy, "At that time, a thought just popped into my head… What if? What if the protagonist I wrote, who experienced everything… could also find me through this lunatic?!"
His gaze was locked onto Chen Tian, a brilliant, almost goofy smile spreading across his lips, as if his lifelong dream had just become reality:
"Look!" He spread his hands, looked around his messy study, and finally his burning gaze fixed on Chen Tian's stern, perfect face, his voice trembling with excitement:
"Isn't this my dream come true?!"
That nameless fire in Chen Tian's chest instantly flared up! Under his white hair, his deep eyes instantly ignited with long-suppressed fury, his voice like rolling thunder:
"Dream come true?!" He took a step forward, his aura suddenly erupting, and the air in the entire room seemed to thicken, "Then do you know! How crushing it is to know you're just a character casually sketched by someone else! To know that everything you experience, even saying a word or taking a step, might be pre-set! How despairing is that?!"
The smile on the young man's face instantly froze, stunned by Chen Tian's sudden outburst of anger.
But then, to Chen Tian's surprise, the young man not only didn't shrink back in fear, but instead grinned, revealing an even brighter, almost relieved and proud smile:
"But," the young man pointed at Chen Tian's nose, his eyes shining remarkably, "aren't you now breaking through my 'setting' and standing here alive in front of me?! Your presence here is the greatest rebellion against my 'creation'! The most perfect proof!"
Chen Tian's surging anger was abruptly choked by these words, and his powerful aura paused for a moment.
He… broke through the setting?
The young man gave him no time to think, suddenly standing up.
He was about one meter eighty tall, standing half a head shorter than Chen Tian.
But he didn't care, grabbing Chen Tian's arm with a strange excitement and determination!
The grip wasn't strong, but it was unusually firm.
"Come with me!" The young man said without explanation, pulling Chen Tian a few steps to his desk piled with clutter.
He slapped his still-lit laptop screen with a "thwack." The screen clearly showed the blank document interface that had driven him crazy and stalled his writing, the cursor blinking indifferently in the empty space.
"Look!" The young man turned, his burning gaze fixed on Chen Tian, his face showing the abandon of someone who had completely let go, "You said everything about you is in my manuscript? Fine! From now on, this thing belongs to you!"
He abruptly turned the laptop screen towards Chen Tian, his movement carrying a sense of burning bridges:
"The knife of the story has been in my hand long enough," he grinned, his tired, sleep-deprived eyes still sparkling, "Now, it's yours! You decide! How it's written next, it's up to you! Your story, you write it yourself!"
Chen Tian was completely stunned.
He had imagined countless possibilities.
Coercion, temptation, even a bloody Carnage like Deadpool…
But he never expected that this seemingly decadent otaku (decadent otaku -decadent means decadent or dispirited, otaku means otaku, a male who is obsessed with computers or anime and has little interest in other people. So it describes someone who is a dispirited otaku) "creator" would so easily throw the "right to create," which he considered the foundation of his life, to him!
He stared blankly at the blinking cursor, then at the young man beside him, whose smile was open and eyes clear.
A feeling of utter absurdity, yet carrying an indescribable weight, heavily struck his heart.
The young man seemed to see through the turmoil in Chen Tian's mind, his smile becoming a bit clearer, even with a hint of cunning.
He released Chen Tian's arm, casually spread his hands, and leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed:
"Look," his voice returned to its previous casual tone, "You said you are a character born from my pen, every word, every action, every thought, even every breath, might be set by my typing. That feeling is indeed messed up, I can understand your anger."
As the young man spoke, he nodded earnestly, as if agreeing with Chen Tian's anger.
But then he changed the subject, his tone becoming playful:
"But you overlooked something, a phrase that every author truly immersed in creation can vaguely sense—" He paused, his gaze locking onto Chen Tian like a searchlight, "'Every protagonist in an author's work is essentially an extension of their subconscious, a projection of their desires or fears, an embodiment of their soul fragments in the story World.'"
Chen Tian's brows were tightly furrowed, his silver hair appearing even colder in the dim light.
He didn't interrupt, just listened in silence, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the cold metal of the cola can, leaving a few condensed water Marks.
The young man pulled over a chair, sat down with a thud, crossed his hands behind his head, leaned back slightly, and his gaze drifted to an old cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, as if lost in some memory:
"Do you know? Before this concept of you truly came into existence in my document… they already existed." His voice had a dreamlike quality, "In countless late nights of brain-numbing work, when I drifted off to sleep, in my dreams… endless fragments of illusions would appear."
His eyes sparkled with a strange light:
"A silver-haired warrior swinging a sword in ruins… a seductive witch in a tight suit smiling charmingly under the moonlight… a mechanical maiden standing quietly… and that garrulous, flamboyant, and damn genius scientist Tony Stark. We would joke around in my dreams, I could even feel the cold touch of his Mark armor when he patted my shoulder… I dreamed of possessing the power to tear apart stars, traveling through bizarre dimensions…"
The young man lowered his head, his gaze refocusing on Chen Tian, as if piercing through Chen Tian's appearance to directly look at the core of his existence:
"These chaotic, magnificent, and power and desire-filled illusions… they didn't appear out of nowhere. They are the desires of my subconscious, my yearning for the 'extraordinary,' the escape of my spiritual World under the pressure of ordinary life. And then—"
He pointed to the computer on the desk, "—they became the works of my pen, they became you, Chen Tian, they became your adventures, your power, your companions, your enemies."
The study was so quiet one could hear the faint hum of the computer fan.
The young man's words were like stones thrown into a calm lake, stirring up layers of ripples in Chen Tian's heart.
That anger and despair seemed to be diluted by a larger, more chaotic confusion.
The young man watched Chen Tian's changing expression, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, and then he threw out an even more astonishing assertion:
"So, Chen Tian," his voice was soft, yet like a heavy hammer, "you are me. You are my 'extraordinary projection' in another dimension, another form of existence. We are two sides of the same coin. How can you be sure that I am controlling you?"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the still-blinking cursor on the document interface, then returning to Chen Tian, his smile carrying a hint of fatalistic strangeness:
"Perhaps… this mind-bending conversation we're having right now isn't the 'first' time it's happened? Perhaps, this is precisely the new chapter you yourself typed after 'taking' control of the computer from me? Your future self decided that we would meet here, and have this conversation, at this very moment?"
Boom!
Chen Tian felt as if his brain had been struck by an invisible bolt of lightning!
The young man's words were like a sharp scalpel, precisely cutting into the weakest link in his chain of logic.
The shock of the "control" being handed over had not yet subsided, and now it was imbued with the eerie possibility of a time loop!
He abruptly looked at the flickering, seemingly alive document cursor.
The young man seemed to find it insufficient; he raised his head, his gaze once again sweeping across the old, cracked ceiling, as if to pierce through it and look into the more distant, unknowable depths of nothingness, his voice carrying a philosophical etherealness:
"There are many forms of novels, with complex and diverse settings. But there's a saying that's been repeatedly mentioned in discussions among countless readers, carrying a humorous yet insightful truth—'This World is like a giant novel.'"
His gaze fell back on Chen Tian, his eyes as deep as an ancient well:
"So, Chen Tian, you've broken through layers of barriers and arrived in my World. You and I are, at this moment, having this conversation that will determine the direction of the 'story'... How can you be sure that this so-called 'reality,' beyond this World I live in..."
The young man paused, then clearly articulated the chilling possibility, word by word:
"...There isn't a larger, more indifferent 'Author' observing with interest, or writing everything that's happening to us right now?"
"Our struggles, our awakenings, our conversations... even the raging storm in your heart right now, could it all just be a plot point written by a narrator 'outside the box'?"
The young man's words were like a boulder thrown into a deep pool, stirring not ripples, but a cold vortex capable of swallowing everything.
The image of "boxes within boxes" spread wildly in Chen Tian's mind—he had struggled with all his might to tear open one barrier, breaking free from the "Creator's" writing, only to potentially find himself falling from a smaller cage into a larger, more illusory narrative labyrinth.
Meaning was infinitely diluted; the struggle itself might become a script for higher-dimensional entertainment.
"...No meaning..." Chen Tian murmured to himself, his voice so low it was almost drowned out by the fan's hum.
That faint glimmer of hope, just ignited by "regaining control," was instantly extinguished by this ultimate, unresolvable sense of nullity. He felt like a pebble casually tossed, making an insignificant sound as it struck the giant wall of the Universe, while beyond the wall, endless indifferent gazes watched.
The young man keenly caught the light in Chen Tian's eyes that instantly burned out.
It was a deeper despair, more thorough than any failure his protagonists had experienced in his stories.
His heart tightened, and he instinctively reacted.
"Hey! Why think so much!"
The young man suddenly stood up, his voice rising with a deliberate, almost rough vitality.
He strode to Chen Tian, and while Chen Tian was still immersed in the cold, cosmic void, his strong arm had already firmly, almost "like brothers," wrapped around Chen Tian's slightly stiff shoulder.
This sudden physical contact and scolding-like tone, like an electric current, forcibly interrupted Chen Tian's chain of thoughts sinking into the abyss.
Chen Tian's eyelashes trembled slightly, his gaze instinctively focusing on the young man's close-up face, which was filled with excitement and a hint of imperceptible tension.
"Why are you always pondering things outside of the World, and outside of that?" The young man shook Chen Tian's shoulder hard, as if trying to shake the water out of his brain, his tone a mix of casual intimacy, "It just adds to your troubles! You're worrying for nothing!"
As he spoke, he put his arm around Chen Tian, turning purposefully towards the still-lit laptop, its cursor stubbornly blinking.
He released Chen Tian, his movements as fluid as if practiced countless times—he bent down, pulled out the Bluetooth adapter connected to the laptop with a "snap," then cradled the machine, which held countless hours of his effort (and writer's block pain), and solemnly, almost "shoved" it into Chen Tian's arms.
The cold metallic touch transmitted through the thin clothing, carrying the faint warmth emanating from inside the machine.
The weight of the laptop pressed heavily against Chen Tian's chest.
The young man's hands did not immediately leave the computer; instead, he pressed them firmly on Chen Tian's hands, which were holding the computer, leaning slightly forward, forcing Chen Tian to look directly into his eyes, which were now unusually bright and sparkling with a certain light.
"Chen Tian," the young man's voice deepened, losing its previous exaggeration, leaving only a pure, heavy sense of entrustment, "Now, this... I'm giving it to you."
He pressed Chen Tian's hand harder, as if confirming the signing of a contract.
"How do you want your story to go?" the young man asked, word by word, his gaze almost tangible, "Will it be a river of blood, slaughtering through the Nine Heavens? Or will you lay down your blade and rebuild a peaceful home on the wasteland?"
The young man's words carried immense temptation, each word painting a different, magnificent picture of fate.
"Or—" The young man's tone suddenly rose, filled with the exhilaration of destruction and reconstruction, "Do you feel everything is too far gone? Then damn it, restart the World! Format! Start from Zero! Let the Universe have another Big Bang!"
He released his hands, stepped back half a pace, and spread his arms wide, as if to present the entire Universe, constructed by his imagination yet out of control, to Chen Tian:
"All of this! All possibilities! It's all yours!"
Chen Tian completely froze. The laptop in his arms felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, yet also like a scorching energy core.
He had thought about resisting fate, even thought about eliminating the "Creator" before him. But what the young man offered now was not a weapon of destruction, but... a scepter of creation?
"What... I want?" Chen Tian lowered his head, his gaze falling on the laptop screen's solitary, blinking cursor, waiting for input.
The cursor seemed to be questioning his soul.
What did he want? The thrill of slaughter? The weariness of peace? Or the nihilistic liberation of destroying everything? Or was it... his own path, which he had never clearly defined?
The young man nodded vigorously, his eyes burning as if about to ignite: "Yes! It's what you want! No matter which path you choose, no matter if the outcome is heaven or hell... This is your choice! Your will!"
The immense impact left Chen Tian's mind blank.
He almost instinctively, like a drowning man grasping for driftwood, his fingers trembling slightly, very slowly raised his right hand and reached for the cold keyboard.
His fingertips hovered above the smooth keys, trembling slightly.
Just by pressing down, a character, a word, a sentence... could move the gears of the entire story, changing the direction of all the pain and struggle he had experienced.
His fingertips hovered above the cold keys of the keyboard, trembling slightly.
The flickering cursor was like a silent, eternal question.
Chen Tian's gaze pierced through the screen, as if seeing fragments of his past experiences: the brutal fighting in ruins, the wreckage of Tony's armor, the faces of deceased villains, the unspeakable threats from deep space in the Universe.
...Countless grand and cruel images rolled and burned in his pupils.
The young man did not urge him further, simply stood quietly to the side, hands in his pockets, his gaze calmly observing Chen Tian's tense profile and his hovering finger.
He could feel the storm in Chen Tian's heart, which was not merely a choice of an ending, but an ultimate inquiry into the essence of his own existence.
Time solidified between the two of them, only the low hum of the computer fan, like a countdown.
"Chen Tian," the young man finally spoke, his voice very soft, yet clearly breaking into the silence, "Ask your heart, peel away all the anger, fear, responsibility, and grand cosmic questions... What is it that you truly desire deep down?"
These words were like a clear spring, instantly washing away the blood and Fire, stars and abyss that churned in Chen Tian's mind.
The black pupils in his eyes suddenly contracted, as if struck by a strong light, then slowly expanded again, as if trying to focus on something long neglected, buried beneath layers of combat instincts and survival anxiety.
Those images changed—
No longer blood-stained blades and endless battlefields.
But... the sunlight of a peaceful afternoon, sunlight filtering through the gaps in palm leaves.
Water droplets from the sprinkler on the leaves, casting colorful light and Shadow on 2B's delicate face.
The sweetness of the strawberry ice cream in 2B's hand;
2B smiling gently at him: I want to make Master happy.;
It was... a tranquility that didn't require constant vigilance against void whispers, didn't worry about dimensional invasions, and didn't have to bear the pressure of the entire Universe's survival.
"I..." Chen Tian's throat moved, his voice dry, carrying a sense of bewilderment and relief that was strange even to himself, "I want... stability."
The word left his mouth, light as a feather, yet heavy as a thousand pounds.
He looked up at the young man, the sharp edge of a warrior receding from his eyes, leaving only a pure, tired longing:
"No more of those extraordinary things... no need to constantly worry in my heart if there are more enemies lurking beyond the void... if there are endless people beyond the Universe who want to invade and plunder... I just want my World..."
He paused, as if confirming the weight of the word, then clearly articulated:
"As ordinary as it is."
The young man's smile instantly bloomed, a smile without mockery or disappointment, only a great, heartfelt sense of relief and approval.
"Ha!" He let out a short laugh, as if a long-held knot in his heart had finally untied.
The next second, he suddenly stretched out both hands, firmly grasping Chen Tian's shoulders, and with an irresistible yet strongly encouraging force, pushed him down!
"Then write it the way you want!"
The young man's voice was decisive, carrying a raw impetus.
"Write what you want! Write that damn, ordinary, stable land that belongs to you! Right here!" He slapped the worn computer chair, "With your own fingers! One word! One word! Type it out!"
Chen Tian was caught off guard, firmly pressed by the young man onto the chair that still carried his body heat. The smell of mixed leather and synthetic leather filled his nostrils, a bit cheap, but incredibly real.
The young man bent down, his face close to the screen, his eyes burning as he looked at Chen Tian, a brilliant, even somewhat arrogant smile spreading across his lips:
"Even if—readers who see your story later scream at the screen 'Damn author, it's a bad ending!' or 'This ending is so boring!', you just keep typing it out according to your own ideas! This is your story! It's Chen Tian's choice! To hell with grand narratives! To hell with epic scale! What's wrong with me wanting to see the protagonist retire and farm?! It's awesome!"
Chen Tian was stunned.
He looked at the young man's face, a bit distorted from staying up late and his current extreme excitement, listening to his rude yet incredibly transparent words.
Those heavy boulders of "meaning" weighing on his heart, the shackles of "grand narrative," the fear of "disappointing expectations"...
At this moment, they were shattered by the young man's almost nonsensical roar!
A very faint, somewhat bewildered and incredulous smile quietly crept onto Chen Tian's stern lips.
Though shallow, it was a real smile, his own.
He took a deep breath.
The air in the study was a mix of dust, leftover takeout, sweat, and the young man's shampoo, not pleasant, but full of the vivid scent of "reality."
He no longer hesitated.
His long, strong fingers slowly descended, hovering above the keyboard.
Then, with a resolve as if pushing open the door to a new World—
Just as he was about to press the keyboard, Chen Tian paused, turning to look at the young man.
"I still don't know your name."
"Me? My name is Chen Tian!"
Chen Tian paused, then laughed.
Click.
The crisp sound of a key resonated in the quiet study, like the first note struck as a brand new World was opened.
-----------------------
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