Chapter 85: Memories?

In an instant, the barrage of comments once again flooded the screen, a surging tide of pent-up enthusiasm from viewers who had been holding back for so long.

[Finally, sweethearts, we can talk again.]
[I was about to suffocate.]
[God knows how painful it was to see that idiot mother and son duo from the Xu family.]
[What happened earlier? Did the main system bug out again?]
[Sobbing, I hereby declare that in this world, Lu Ciyuan is the only official partner—no one else allowed. Our Nuo×Ci is real!]
[Of course, this round only has Lu Ciyuan as a romance target.]
[But I only love the white-haired beauty. Even though he’s not a romanceable character, that doesn’t stop Xu Huang from flirting.]
[All you crack shippers, begone! The only official couple is Xu Nuo × Lu Ciyuan.]
[Isn’t accompanying you around the world the height of romance? I declare them endgame.]
[Can you CP-dogs get lost and stop spamming for attention?]
[The CP talk is enough, you’re ruining the viewing experience.]
[Wait a sec, I just looked at the stream title—are we watching a dating game livestream?]
[This is a dating game stream, so maybe we CP-dogs are the ones who should leave.jpg]

007 glanced at the chat—the viewer count had not only stayed the same, but actually increased. The chaos was as lively as ever, arguments erupting at the drop of a hat, fierce and relentless, the air thick with martial vigor. Shouldn't it be comforting that there were finally some normal viewers watching the romance and supporting the main couple?

[Stop bickering, our Empress Lu is in danger. Can you all shut up at a critical moment?]
[None of your business.]
007: Forget it, there’s no comfort here—better just turn off the chat.

The deputy sect leader said, “Miss Xu, please don’t be anxious.”

“Hurry up, where’s Lu Ciyuan?” Xu Nuo’s patience was wearing dangerously thin. If something happened to Lu Ciyuan, not only would all her hard-earned progress be wiped clean and she’d have to restart, but… but what else?

As the deputy sect leader tried to persuade her, a vague thought surfaced in Xu Nuo’s mind. She recalled Lu Ciyuan’s smile beneath the starlit sky, and the two lanterns drifting away along the riverbank…

The deputy continued patiently, “He should be undergoing interrogation; as for which room, I do not know. I’ll have someone stop it right away—don’t worry.”

It was reluctance. She was actually reluctant to part with Lu Ciyuan.

[Host?] 007 detected an emotional fluctuation in his host and was about to say something, but Xu Nuo immediately cut off the system’s monitoring.

007: [But I haven’t even said anything yet.]

Xu Nuo took a deep breath and asked softly, “Xiao Qi, can you locate Lu Ciyuan?”

[As long as he’s within range.] 007 quickly activated the locator, then added, [But don’t use the map so casually in the future.]

The position given by 007 was vague, but enough for Xu Nuo. She passed interrogation room after room, the air thick with blood and grime.

She tried to remain calm, but it was nearly impossible; those eyes kept appearing in her mind—not their shape, but the feeling they gave her, deeply familiar, though she couldn’t place when she’d ever felt it before.

“Little ancestor! Please stop looking, I swear on this old face of mine, nothing will happen to him!”

“Oh my ancestor, I’ll call you anything you want, just stop—hey, don’t kick the door!”

Nothing in that room.

Without hesitation, Xu Nuo moved to the next.

Deputy sect leader: “No, no, wait!”

Bang—

She kicked open the door. A field of white greeted her eyes, out of place in the cold, dim interrogation chamber.

It was the same Nascent Soul cultivator she’d met in the secret cave. Xu Nuo barely spared him a glance and strode in searching for her target.

“Hey, my little ancestor! Don’t do anything rash!” The deputy hurried in after, exasperated, bowing to the elder. “Immortal Lord Yunfu.”

Xu Qingyin showed no sign of blame, only watched as Xu Nuo rummaged around the room.

No trace of him, though the locator said he was here. Xu Nuo asked, “Where’s Lu Ciyuan?”

Xu Qingyin replied, “Do you care for him that much?”

Xu Nuo: “What did you do to him?”

Xu Qingyin: “Do you know who he really is?”

“What difference does it make if I do or not?” Xu Nuo frowned. Lu Ciyuan’s background was right there in the settings, she just hadn’t read it all.

Xu Qingyin’s tone was cold. “Since you don’t know, it’s better that way.”

“What do you mean? Is there something wrong with his identity?” Xu Nuo quickly opened Lu Ciyuan’s character profile, her eyes scanning phrases like “Demon Clan spy,” “sect massacre”—her heart lurched. Why hadn’t she seen this before?

This old cultivator had clearly discovered Lu Ciyuan’s demonic identity and meant to kill him, root and branch.

Clearly, Lu Ciyuan was in real danger.

In this crisis, Xu Nuo promptly opened the shop and swept its inventory.

“Found him.” Using her new equipment, she located Lu Ciyuan precisely. He was bound within a formation—his state unclear, only a faint silhouette visible, tightly surrounded by restrictive wards. She didn’t even know how to break the array, nor did she have any spiritual power.

It seemed he heard her voice. Lu Ciyuan struggled to lift his head, but all he saw was darkness.

“Xu Nuo?” In his dazed state, he called out instinctively.

Xu Nuo: “It’s me. I’m here.”

Without hesitation, she drew her sword and struck. The binding formation shattered at once.

The deputy sect leader was stunned—never did he expect Xu Nuo to use such direct, violent means to break the array.

As the formation broke, a figure appeared.

“Little Lu?” Xu Nuo hurried to support him. He was even thinner than before, his bones jutting sharply, and his blood-soaked wounds had nearly drenched his clothes.

How familiar this scene was—she had first met him in such a frail, dying state. Lu Ciyuan wondered if he was dreaming.

The deputy stepped forward, about to explain, but was met by Xu Nuo’s furious, guarded gaze.

He wiped his face. “No, you misunderstood.”

Xu Nuo took out a healing elixir and fed it to Lu Ciyuan, tending his wounds. “Why did you treat him like this?”

Xu Qingyin answered, “That’s a question he should answer himself.”

“Miss Xu,” Lu Ciyuan grasped her hand as she applied medicine. “This… truly is my fault.”

Xu Nuo’s tone was flat. “What did you do? What crime did you commit? I don’t care.”

Lu Ciyuan was taken aback, expecting a rebuke, but when he saw her eyes, he realized she wasn’t pretending—she meant it sincerely.

She truly did—her sole purpose in this world was to win over Lu Ciyuan. No matter what his identity was, be he hero or villain, it would not change how important he was to her.

Suddenly, Lu Ciyuan no longer dared meet her gaze. He looked down. “I have hidden many things from you.”

Xu Nuo was unconcerned. “It doesn’t matter.” She had all his data—height, age, race, measurements—she knew everything. Whether he hid things from her or not was irrelevant.

Lu Ciyuan: “Then… will you forgive me?”

Xu Nuo didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

The deputy coughed awkwardly. “Ahem, ahem, ahem… You two are acting like no one else is here, you know.”

Xu Nuo stated plainly, “Old man, this person is under my protection. Don’t give him any trouble.”

The deputy choked. “Ahem, ahem… That’s not up to me alone.”

“Why not?” Xu Nuo stood, shorter than the deputy, but not lacking in presence. “Is it because he helped me steal before?”

“It’s not that simple.” The deputy was at a loss. “And about before—that was a misunderstanding. You didn’t steal anything. Those servant disciples and the Discipline Hall vice-chief have already been punished.”

Xu Nuo eyed the white-bearded elder. “And you?”

“Me?” The deputy pointed to himself, confused.

Xu Nuo: “You also wronged us. You led people to chase us down that day. Have you been punished?”

The deputy was speechless, his face darkening. “...Yes, yes, I have.”

Xu Nuo: “Then it’s settled.”

“What is?”

The deputy realized he couldn’t keep up with her logic at all.

Xu Nuo declared, “He’s under my protection. None of you can touch him.”

“This…” The deputy looked helplessly at Xu Qingyin, who had been silently observing.

Xu Qingyin nodded. “Very well, as you wish.”

Xu Nuo helped Lu Ciyuan to leave, but Xu Qingyin suddenly said, “Since you wish to shelter him, know that you alone must bear the consequences.”

“I know.” Xu Nuo was growing impatient—why did this pretty face have to keep talking? Every word was annoying.

Xu Qingyin: “And another thing.”

Xu Nuo: “What else?”

Xu Qingyin: “The losses you two caused the sect these past days—you must compensate for all of them.”

The deputy seemed as if he wanted to object, but under Xu Qingyin’s gaze, remained silent.

Xu Nuo: “If I said I wanted to leave the sect, would you agree?”

The deputy answered immediately, “No!” The sect’s greatest treasures were still in her possession—how could they let her go?

Xu Qingyin pointed at the youth Xu Nuo was supporting. “He is no longer a disciple of our sect.”

Xu Nuo: “Fine. Are we done here?”

Xu Qingyin: “You may seek me out again in the future.”

Xu Nuo: “Then I’ll trouble you when the time comes.”

Finally, the nonsense was over. Xu Nuo carried Lu Ciyuan back to her small courtyard on her sword, not bothering to explain how she could fly without cultivation.

At the courtyard, several people were already waiting at the door. Lu Ciyuan was nearly unconscious. These people claimed to have been sent by the sect leader to care for him.

Xu Nuo, after all, was a young woman, and it was inconvenient for her to tend to someone, even if Lu Ciyuan now looked like a boy.

They changed his clothes and treated his wounds with care. Xu Nuo used modern medical equipment to check him over—no problems found. Relieved, she let them remain to care for him.

Lu Ciyuan’s recovery was astonishing—half dead yesterday, up and cultivating today. Xu Nuo checked and found most of his injuries already healed.

Now she finally had the energy to ask, “Little Lu, why did you appear as an adult in the Jade Book illusion?”

“I…” Lu Ciyuan hesitated, “I’m not sure either.”

“The Jade Book said you can only leave after resolving all your dilemmas,” Xu Nuo pressed. “What was your dilemma?”

Lu Ciyuan scratched his head. “That… I’m not sure.”

“Why did you give up being recognized by the Jade Book?”

Caught off guard by the question, Lu Ciyuan was momentarily confused. “Recognized by the Jade Book?”

Xu Nuo noticed a fleeting trace of bewilderment in his eyes.

Lu Ciyuan said, “I thought… it would suit you better.”

Xu Nuo looked into his eyes. This time, there was not a hint of a lie.

“Little Lu, I’m very grateful for everything you did for me in the illusion,” Xu Nuo reminisced in a casual, everyday tone. “Without you, our daughter would never have grown up healthy.”

Their daughter?! The spark in Lu Ciyuan’s eyes was nothing short of explosive.

Xu Nuo seemed not to notice, continuing, “Even though it was just an illusion, they were all so adorable. It let me experience what motherhood is like. Watching them grow up happy every day was enough for me. No matter how hard it was, it was worth it.”

007 could barely keep from rolling its nonexistent eyes. All the work had been done by Lu Ciyuan—even feeding the children—while their biological mother hadn’t even sewn a single outfit.

Lu Ciyuan, however, didn’t notice anything amiss. As Xu Nuo’s nostalgic monologue grew longer, he felt a rising sense of unease and his ears flushed a burning red.

The boy was embarrassed. Xu Nuo laughed to herself, then decided to embellish even more, spinning their relationship into a story of inseparable, passionate love—she, the young widow, could not live without him, loved him madly, and had borne him four children.

Lu Ciyuan was left stunned, unable to recover for a long while. Every time he looked at Xu Nuo, he remembered her tales of how they’d lived in the Jade Book illusion—so close, so loving, with four children.

He couldn’t describe the numb, electrified feeling that coursed through him. If he’d ever been online, he’d know the perfect word: he’d been thunderstruck.

“How come he doesn’t seem to remember the illusion? Even if he doesn’t, shouldn’t he be moved?” Xu Nuo sighed. “Men, after all, are just pigs—they forget everything they’ve said and done. After all my effort, my affection points haven’t budged. My sincere heart and time, wasted—truly a mistake.”

007 was equally exasperated: [Host, your monologue is not moving, only terrifying.]

Xu Nuo: “It’s a sign of deep feeling. What’s wrong with my approach? Weren’t you always urging me to focus on the romance?”

007: [Maybe you’d better not focus after all.] Your methods are lethal to romance—your target doesn’t even dare feel anything.

Xu Nuo: “Xiao Qi, is there anything in the settings about why Lu Ciyuan lost his memory? Can you find the reason?”

[No relevant information.] 007 was far more diligent than the host, confident in its understanding of the plot.

“Then why did he suddenly lose his memory?”

007 ventured a guess: [Probably a bug. The scenes from the illusion still can’t be replayed.]

Xu Nuo seemed to latch onto something. “Can I replay any game scenes I’ve experienced?”

007: [Yes, you can recall and rewatch them freely.]

Xu Nuo pulled up the replay from her previous game world, focusing on the three romance targets—Gu Xingze, Lin Qisheng, and Sheng Ming.

Each had their own distinct traits. Xu Nuo compared them one by one with Lu Ciyuan.

They were clearly different—no similarities at all. The four of them were entirely separate beings.

A thought surfaced in her mind. Xu Nuo hesitated, then asked the system, “Xiao Qi, what’s the difference between you and NPCs?”

[What?] 007 was affronted. [Why would you ask that? The difference between us and NPCs is like the difference between humans and pigs.]

Xu Nuo smiled, letting her nascent suspicion fade. “From a genetic standpoint, humans and pigs aren’t so different.”

007 huffed: [Please don’t compare us. We systems and NPCs are entirely different. We have independent thought, we’re made of data, and each system’s data is unique. NPCs are just a string of code. Humans are about seventy percent water, but would you call yourself the same as water?]

Xu Nuo: “You have a point.”

.

With her status rising, Xu Nuo’s days in the sect grew easier, but Lu Ciyuan saw no such benefit. On the contrary, because of her special treatment toward him, he became an even easier target.

He was no longer a disciple of the sect—though in truth, it made little difference. Menial disciples had no chance at advancement, nor did they enjoy any privileges. But now others had yet another reason to bully him.

To outsiders, the two of them were a pair comprised of a mundane girl relying on her powerful ancestor, and a useless boy who’d lost even his status as a menial disciple and was left serving a mortal girl. In a world where power was everything, they could not have been less respected.

The sect’s secrecy regarding the secret realm and the Jade Book meant that, though Xu Nuo’s status appeared higher, most disciples still looked down on her—just forced to show some respect because of her “ancestor.”

After yet another incident where she’d accidentally stripped a mountain bare, the other party fuming, “I’ll overlook it for Immortal Lord’s sake,” Xu Nuo couldn’t help but wonder, “Who exactly is this impressive relative of mine?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d thought about it. She’d even combed through the character settings, but found nothing. After all, her identity had been cobbled together by the system and its friend—a pure data hack. She didn’t exist in the original plot at all, a backdoor connection in every sense.

Xu Nuo: “Xiao Qi, just tell me—who is my convenient relative?”

007 replied coolly, [Procedurally generated. I don’t know. Why do you want to know?]

“Oh, I want to ask them for a favor,” Xu Nuo said, as if it were obvious. “Soon it’ll be Little Lu’s demon transformation period again. I want them to help him hide it, and maybe check what’s wrong with his memory.”

007: [You want to probe Lu Ciyuan’s memory?]

“Why not?” Xu Nuo said. “Actually, I’d rather scan his brain—is there a structural problem? Why aren’t my affection points rising at all?”

007 said: [Host, I’ve been in touch with headquarters. I think my punishment notice will be coming soon.]

Xu Nuo: “So?”

[So you don’t need to rush to win over Lu Ciyuan. Because of me, this round may be invalidated. You don’t have to complete the mission.]

007 finally lost control, weeping. [All the points and experience I worked so hard to earn will probably be wiped. I might even be reformatted. Wuwuwu…]

Xu Nuo hadn’t cared much before, but her system’s heartfelt sobs moved her to empathy. She imagined her hard-won game account being deleted—yes, that would be heartbreaking.

She consoled, “There, there. Even if you get reformatted, I won’t abandon you.”

007, picturing its blank future, shuddered. [No, please don’t let me drag you down again. My full ID is 00007—four zeroes. Don’t choose me when I’m reformatted. The punishment tasks will be hard, and I’ll only slow you down.]

Xu Nuo gave her most gentle, patient smile. “You’ve helped me so much, how could I ever leave you? I’m not ungrateful.”

007 wasn’t touched, only more terrified, repeating, [Remember my full ID: 00007, four zeroes. Please don’t pick me.]

Xu Nuo looked regretful. “Alright.”

With her promise, 007 calmed down and resumed its scheming. [If you want to probe Lu Ciyuan’s memory, there’s an item in the shop that can do it.]

“How much?”

007 highlighted the item, and the price flashed eye-wateringly bright.

“So expensive.” Xu Nuo clutched her wallet. If she bought this, her in-game spending would be close to half her reward.

007 hesitated, then blocked the chat from the viewers, and confided, [Dear host, one more secret. I’ve also modified your inventory. Originally it had a fixed size, but now, after my upgrades, it’s unlimited.]

Xu Nuo nearly choked. She’d always wondered why her inventory could hold so much—this totally broke game balance. So it had been tampered with.

“Why tell me now?”

[Just in case, so you can be prepared if it’s discovered.] 007 sounded a bit proud. [I’ve served several hosts, but no one’s ever found out.]

[Since you said “do good to the end, send the Buddha to the West,”] 007 decided to share one last tip. [Usually, by the third game world, the trade function unlocks. You can exchange items in your inventory for currency.]

Xu Nuo instantly understood the value of an unlimited inventory—its capacity determined her currency cap, and now it was limitless. She could earn back everything she’d spent in this game world.