The Vicious Cannon Fodder Despised by Everyone Really Doesn't Want to Go Viral - Chapter 37

The surrounding noise was blocked out completely. The world seemed to shrink into a single beam of light, pinning Mu Sui’s gaze and that word, “beautiful,” firmly into Lin Zhiyu’s mind.

He could even feel the dryness in his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed. He felt like someone who had never tasted strong liquor suddenly forced to swallow a glass of high-proof whiskey; the sting and the mellow richness intertwined, instantly seizing all his senses.

His face burned as if a layer of disguise had been stripped away, leaving him exposed under a harsh spotlight. He pursed his lips, forcing himself to break away from that searing gaze, and whispered, “What brings you here today?”

“Didn’t I say?” Mu Sui responded nonchalantly. He sat with his hands folded over his knees, his eyes slightly cast down as he repeated his words from the day before, syllable by syllable, “See you tomorrow.”

Lin Zhiyu remembered how he had tossed and turned all night over those three words. Hearing Mu Sui bring them up now so casually filled him with a sense of helplessness.

“You certainly are a man of your word,” he squeezed out dryly. His voice was softer than usual, sounding almost guilty.

Mu Sui did not rush to reply. His wheelchair rolled forward a few meters, and his deep brown overcoat traced his tall frame even while he was seated. Lin Zhiyu instinctively took a step back, only to find the lounge door already pressed against his spine.

The bells hanging from his waist hit the door panel, letting out a frantic ringing sound.

Mu Sui’s long fingers hooked the silk ribbon at Lin Zhiyu’s waist. His fingertips brushed against the bell, which was stained with prop blood. As the crisp sound erupted in his palm, Lin Zhiyu felt like a cat being picked up by the scruff of its neck.

Mu Sui’s gaze was detailed and candid. It bypassed the patterns on the leather belt and swept over Lin Zhiyu’s cinched waist. A faint, cold fragrance enveloped Lin Zhiyu like an invisible net, tightening rapidly until there was nowhere to hide.

“If I had not come now, I would not have been able to see this,” Mu Sui said.

Lin Zhiyu’s throat moved. A strange thought rose in his mind, but he did not dare probe or think too deeply. He could only harden his resolve and reply, “How could that be? Once it airs, you can watch it whenever and wherever you want.”

Mu Sui looked up, staring straight into his face. No light reached this enclosed corridor; his eyes looked dark and heavy, giving Lin Zhiyu the illusion of being stared down by a hunting predator.

“It is not the same.”

Lin Zhiyu’s heart skipped a beat. His throat felt obstructed, and his breathing became labored.

“What is not the same?” he repeated subconsciously, his voice trembling slightly.

Mu Sui gave a low “Mm.” He let go of the ribbon, and the bell began to fall back toward Lin Zhiyu’s legs under the force of gravity. However, Mu Sui’s other hand caught it mid-air. With a slight tug, Lin Zhiyu was forced a step forward, his thigh nearly brushing Mu Sui’s knee.

His emotions plummeted and soared like a roller coaster; his heart felt as if it might stop.

“Between a screen and right here,” Mu Sui looked at him playfully, “seeing the real person, is it the same?”

Lin Zhiyu’s mind went blank. He was not sure why Mu Sui insisted on seeing him, and he did not dare dwell on it. That cold, restrained aura acted like a tide, trapping him firmly. He could only lower his head, staring fixedly at the bell held in Mu Sui’s hand.

“This, of course it is the same?” Lin Zhiyu’s voice grew smaller. “It is still two eyes and a nose. What is the difference?”

“Liar,” Mu Sui interrupted. His voice remained calm, but the undertone was extremely low. “Lin Zhiyu, I did not realize you were so good at being perfunctory.”

Well, thanks for the compliment?

Lin Zhiyu rubbed the fabric of his sleeve, thinking idly to himself that brushing off the boss is an essential survival skill for corporate workers.

Despite his internal snark, Mu Sui gave him no room to breathe.

Mu Sui toyed with the bell in his hand with a half-smile. The other end of the ribbon slid back to Lin Zhiyu’s hip, and Mu Sui’s gaze followed it. “This outfit, who chose it?”

“The costume designer prepared it,” he answered honestly. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“I recall you were only supposed to have one role.”

Lin Zhiyu said gloomily, “It is because they offered way too much money.”

Only an idiot turns down a paycheck.

Mu Sui let out a low laugh and slowly withdrew his gaze, the corners of his mouth curling into an ambiguous arc. “It suits you very well.”

Lin Zhiyu did not catch the deeper meaning; he took it as a simple compliment. He waved his hands hurriedly, trying to change the subject. “If you think it looks good, then that is great. Actually, it is not…”

Mu Sui’s finger suddenly touched the red mole under Lin Zhiyu’s eye. The cold, slightly rough sensation made Lin Zhiyu flinch, and he instantly fell silent. The finger slid along his lower eyelid toward the corner of his eye, brushed past lightly, and then pulled away.

The lingering sensation on his skin felt like a heavy shackle, pinning his limbs so that he had no way to defend himself.

He stared blankly at Mu Sui. The latter’s eyes were excessively calm, as if he did not realize how much of a misunderstanding he had just created.

The air seemed to freeze for several seconds.

“Beautiful indeed,” Mu Sui said, suddenly turning his wheelchair and backing away half a step.

The bell dropped back against Lin Zhiyu’s thigh, finally jolting him back to his senses.

Feeling incapable of handling this “Cold-Faced Great Demon King,” Lin Zhiyu decided to use his best skill: playing dumb. He forced a relaxed smile and took a step back. “I should go change. I have other scenes this afternoon. If you are tired, feel free to stay in the lounge for a bit. I will have my assistant brew you a cup of coffee.”

“No need,” Mu Sui’s tone returned to its usual coldness. “I have seen what I wanted to see. It is time to go back.”

This sentence was like a thorn, instantly puncturing the shield Lin Zhiyu had managed to raise.

He opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to use a light tone to diffuse the atmosphere, but he did not know what to say.

“Then take care?” Lin Zhiyu finally spoke in a low voice, squeezing out a polite smile that failed to hide his unease.

Mu Sui looked up at him without saying another word. His fingertips manipulated the wheelchair, calmly turning it around to head toward the end of the corridor.

It was not until his back had completely disappeared from the set that Lin Zhiyu finally exhaled. He slipped into the lounge, and the crisp ringing of the bells at his waist sounded particularly rushed.

He leaned against the door and slowly slid down to sit on the floor. He looked down at the bell Mu Sui had touched; the dry patterns of prop blood remained, but his skin still felt the warmth of the man’s touch.

Lin Zhiyu could not help but rub his face hard, as if he could erase the trace Mu Sui had left behind.

“What the hell,” he muttered to himself. He covered his forehead with his hand; his face was still flushed with an unnatural heat.

He did not understand Mu Sui’s intentions at all.

And he did not dare to understand.

After that day, Lin Zhiyu did not see much of him again.

The scenes for Shen Xiuming were relatively easy to film. Lin Zhiyu nailed almost every scene in a single take, and the filming for the Suyu City arc soon came to an end.

As for the plot after Shen Xiuming’s escape, in the original book, it was described in a single sentence: Shen Xiuming’s head rolled onto the ground, his eyes still wide open, staring in disbelief at the person sitting in the master’s seat.

His character death came very quickly. Lin Zhiyu was very satisfied with this.

Xie Zhuoyu followed the trail of the array Shen Xiuming used for his escape all the way to Tianque Manor.

Tianque Manor was the home of the largest noble family in the Central Plains. The current head, Luo Xingzhi, was ambitious and plotted to unite the immortal sects. To this end, he reversed the Great Array of the Central Plains, causing all spiritual energy to flow into Tianque Manor for his own cultivation. Unexpectedly, the array spiraled out of control, causing the spiritual energy to dissipate instead.

Fifty years ago, the dissipation of spiritual energy was accidentally discovered by Xie Yunce and his friends. Seeing that Xie Yunce had uncovered the edge of the truth—and had even unearthed other dirty secrets of Tianque Manor—Luo Xingzhi, in a fit of rage, sinisterly drove monsters into the Xie territory. He set a trap to slaughter the Xie family and silence Xie Yunce.

Xie Yunce exhausted his cultivation to cast a Distress Array to protect the citizens of the city, but the thousand-year-old Xie Manor was swallowed by flames. Xie Zhuoyu luckily escaped but went missing, disappearing until the beginning of the story.

When Xie Yunce died, he used his final strength to pass the truth to his four closest friends. At that time, Yun Qi was in seclusion; despite her elders’ interference, she tried to force her way out of the Tianji Pavilion but was stopped by Wei Zheng and Zhou Zhongxing.

The innocent young master of the Academy then proposed a plan that shocked everyone.

The power of Tianque Manor was so vast that the four of them were like ants trying to shake a giant tree. Even if they told the truth, few would believe them. It was better to weave an even larger net, drawing everyone’s attention and leading them step by step toward the Luo family, while also weeding out their supporters.

Thus, Yun Qi returned to seclusion to break through to the God-Transformation realm. Wei Zheng changed his study to arrays to find a way to repair the Great Array. Zhou Zhongxing inherited his father’s position as the Libationer, networking with other families and gaining unparalleled prestige. Yan Linxue fought his way through the Yan family struggles to become a guest of honor to Luo Xingzhi.

Their plan began in Yinshan City, the home of the Xie family.

But Yun Qi never expected that on the day the plan came to fruition, she would see the long-lost Xie Zhuoyu.

The once spirited, vibrant, and passionate youth who used to follow them was now deathly silent, unable to hide the eerie, bloody aura surrounding him.

Yun Qi did not know where he had gone or what he had experienced over those years. She only knew that if Xie Yunce knew in the afterlife that his precious younger brother had become like this, he would likely blame his old friends for being incompetent and cold-hearted, failing to fulfill even his last wish.

Consequently, Yun Qi abandoned their original plan and stepped out from the shadows. She disguised herself as a wandering female cultivator and appeared by Xie Zhuoyu’s side, moving into the open. Starting from the Xie Manor, they traveled through the Southern Borders, the Northern Regions, and the Eastern Sea, passing through Changqing Town and Suyu City, finally investigating their way to Tianque Manor.

If one were to connect the places they had visited, they would form the character for “Luo.”

Now, Yun Qi looked at Xie Zhuoyu standing before the Luo Manor with his sword. For a fleeting moment, it felt like fifty years ago when they were still at the Academy: carefree, talking boldly about life, death, and the Heavenly Dao.

I know not how high the blue heavens are, nor how thick the yellow earth is. I see only the cold moon and the warm sun, which come to wither the lives of men. [Note 1]

Fifty years. It should finally end.