The Fault of the Main Body, Doing Its Duty

The concern in her voice was obvious, and though Lin Qingyun couldn't see her expression, he could sense her worry.

He answered in that same casual tone: "Losing my voice or my sight has nothing to do with my health. More importantly, Xiao He, why the sudden visit? Did something happen?"

Startled by his question, He Zhuoming's lips parted, but no words came out.

She had even imagined that if she climbed all the way up the steps, maybe there really would be a True Deity sitting at the end. But there was no True Deity—only Lin Qingyun.

She couldn't exactly ask Lin Qingyun about period cramps. He was a guy; he wouldn't even know what menstruation was, so how could he understand...

Wait—huh? It didn't hurt anymore?

Realizing belatedly, He Zhuoming hesitantly pressed a hand to her lower abdomen. She still felt the usual period sensation, but the pain was definitely gone.

"Mm... Nothing really. It's just that Li Shui told me that no matter what difficulties I faced, I could solve them by walking up the steps and coming here. She was being all mysterious about it, and I got curious, so I came to check it out." He Zhuoming glossed over her true purpose.

Lin Qingyun smiled faintly, his voice light and tinged with pride: "She wasn't wrong."

Perhaps because his eyes were covered by the white silk, He Zhuoming felt that Lin Qingyun's smile seemed a little different from usual.

But she couldn't quite put her finger on what was different.

Also, Lin Qingyun's words were so bold, very unlike his usual self. Although as a nominally attached musician of the Pear Garden, calling it his turf was reasonable, saying that he could solve anything was a bit of an overstatement... Did the original male lead even have a trait like this?

He Zhuoming stared at Lin Qingyun's smiling face, racking her brain to recall the original lead's characterization.

But the more she tried to remember, the fuzzier it got. She could only vaguely recall impressions like 'pushover' and 'bad with words.' Surely boasting counted as 'bad with words,' right?

Lin Qingyun tilted his head slightly toward He Zhuoming and asked softly: "Xiao He, why did you suddenly go quiet? Did you go mute too?"

His smile and voice were both very gentle, but there was a subtle sharpness hidden in his words.

He no longer used so many filler phrases as before. With that coquettish tone gone—the mask he used to disguise himself—all that remained was an air of lofty condescension.

He Zhuoming didn't pick up on those subtle shifts. She scratched the back of her head and said, "Nothing, I was just thinking about something I couldn't figure out... You—"

She looked around. The spacious room was bare—there wasn't even a mat, let alone a bed or a single chair.

He Zhuoming asked, full of concern: "Are you going to stay here the whole time? What about sleeping?"

Lin Qingyun replied: "I don't sleep."

He Zhuoming's eyes widened in surprise: "So you're going to stay here without eating, drinking, or sleeping?"

Lin Qingyun gave a slight nod. "Yes, I have to stay here until the Day of Divine Celebration ends."

He Zhuoming: "Why—oh, is that also a secret you can't tell?"

Lin Qingyun smiled without saying anything, and He Zhuoming got her answer from his attitude.

His reaction was very much in line with those white-robed girls in the Divine Palace, and even his expression—smiling without speaking—was just like theirs. So for once, He Zhuoming's mind caught on quickly, and she understood what he meant without needing him to say it.

He Zhuoming pouted, feeling a bit gloomy. She realized that Lin Qingyun had far too many secrets he couldn't tell his friends!

The only thing she was hiding from Lin Qingyun was her transmigration. But ever since she'd entered this white room, Lin Qingyun had already accumulated several secrets.

Every question she had seemed to immediately turn into one of Lin Qingyun's secrets. But she wasn't the type to pry into a friend's secrets, because that would make her look nosy and low-class.

"Fine, if you can't say it, you can't say it." He Zhuoming stood up and smoothed the wrinkles on her clothes, saying with emphasis: "Well, I'm off then. It's late, and I need to go back to sleep."

She took only a step and a half before her pant leg was caught. She had no choice but to stop and look back.

He was still sitting in the same spot, holding the candle in his left hand, and had grabbed the hem of her pants with his right.

He tilted his face up. His brow area was completely covered by the white silk, leaving only the bridge of his nose and a crescent-shaped smile. His distinctive dimples were fully exposed because of his grin.

Lin Qingyun spoke slowly, mimicking He Zhuoming's way of talking: "It's so late. Walking back down all those steps by yourself is such a hassle. Why not spend the night here and leave once it's light?"

He Zhuoming was startled for a moment, then seriously considered it: if she went back to her room now, she'd be all alone, and it was so boring being alone, plus she'd end up thinking about all sorts of things. Staying here... while Lin Qingyun wouldn't sleep, he could at least chat with her.

She really wanted to say yes.

She pulled her pant leg free from Lin Qingyun's palm and said, "But there's no bed here. I can't sleep on the floor now."

Lin Qingyun patted the ground beside him—and at some point, a set of bedding had been laid out there. Of course, the bedding was pure white as well, almost blending into the spotless white floor.

Lin Qingyun: "There's a bed."

He Zhuoming was taken aback: "When did that show up?"

Lin Qingyun smiled and said, "It was always there. It's just that Xiao He didn't notice."

He Zhuoming tried to recall, but she couldn't remember any details about this room at all. Because there were no details in this room—the only impression it left her with was that everything was white.

He Zhuoming: "Alright, even if there's a bed, there's no hot water, and no food... I mean, it's still too inconvenient."

Lin Qingyun's smile slowly faded, his dimples becoming faint. Although his eyes were covered by the white silk, his face stayed turned toward He Zhuoming.

He let out a long sigh and complained: "Xiao He, you really ask for a lot."

At some point, Lin Qingyun had picked up the coquettish tone with all those filler words again.

He tapped the ground lightly with his fingers, and with a soft 'tock tock,' the pure white room rapidly transformed into a bedroom that looked oddly familiar to He Zhuoming.

He Zhuoming let out a 'wow' and walked over to push open the bedroom window. Outside was no crabapple tree—just a field of pure white.

Outside the door was the same. Beyond it lay the same spacious pure white room.

He walked a lap outside, then stepped back in, asking in utter shock: "How did you do that? Did you just move the room over here?"

Her voice pitched high in surprise, and Lin Qingyun could almost imagine her expression—eyes wide with wonder. What a shame, he had no eyes, and he'd never even seen what He Zhuoming looked like.

That faint pang of regret passed through the puppet's mind, and he dismissively ignored it.

Lin Qingyun said: "I didn't move it. It's just a simulation, a boring little trick. Can you spend the night here now?"

He Zhuoming: "Yes, yes!"

She kicked off her shoes and socks, flopped onto the bedding, and squeezed the pillow and blanket with a sense of novelty. Lin Qingyun said it was just a simulation, but He Zhuoming felt it was exactly the same as the real thing.

She rolled from the middle of the bedding to the edge, propping her face up with both hands to look at Lin Qingyun—he was still sitting on the floor in his original posture, holding the white candle with both hands, his head drooping slightly.

The room was a bit dim now, not as bright as before. Candlelight flickered upward across his face, alternating between light and shadow.

He Zhuoming: "I thought you didn't know that kind of spell."

Lin Qingyun slowly turned his face toward her, a faint smile on his lips: "Why?"

He Zhuoming: "Because you said you don't even know a simple laundry spell. You told me you never bothered learning boring little tricks like that."

Lin Qingyun listened quietly, then his smile widened: "If I had plenty of fun things to do, I naturally wouldn't waste time learning such boring spells. But—"

"You saw it yourself, Xiao He. There's nothing here. I've been stuck here all this time, so I have to find some way to amuse myself."

He Zhuoming thought about the empty room she'd first seen when she walked in, and she could understand where Lin Qingyun was coming from: "Ah... yeah, there's nothing here, and you have to be alone all the time. It must be really boring."

"But that's okay! The Day of Divine Celebration only lasts fifteen days, a little over two weeks, and it'll pass in no time! And I'll come visit you often..."

Her voice grew softer and softer until it almost faded away.

Lin Qingyun tilted his head, listening for a moment, but heard no more of her voice. He spoke softly: "Xiao He?"

There was no response, only the steady, even sounds of breathing, the gentle rise and fall of a sleeping body, the faint rustle of hair sliding across skin—the puppet collected these subtle sounds with its ears, quickly drawing a conclusion: He Zhuoming had fallen asleep.

Without the cramps to bother her, she ought to have been asleep long before this hour.

But this Lin Qingyun didn't know that. He only found it fascinating—how could any living creature stay so soundly asleep right beside him? Didn't she sense the dangerous aura about him?

He slowly turned his neck to face the bed. Of course, he still couldn't see a thing.

Since the moment he was created, he had been blind. He had dwelled here for a long, long time, never leaving. As a diligent puppet, he guarded the Divine Palace, faithfully relaying every believer's prayers to his main body, and executing the disloyal followers from time to time.

The main body would occasionally return to the Divine Palace to personally listen to those tedious wishes. But those visits were rare, and even when he came, he never deigned to speak with the puppet.

The puppet could feel it—just as it looked down on other living beings, the main body looked down on them, whether it was this puppet, the closest to the main body in power, or the other puppets scattered across the world.

It was precisely because the main body looked down on them that, when crafting the puppets, he deliberately left them flawed—some blind, some mute, some deaf, some crippled.

The main body could freely rifle through the memories of all the puppets and freely influence their emotions with his own likes and dislikes. But the puppets could never spy on the main body's memories, nor could they ever influence the main body's emotions.

Still, the puppet didn't see anything wrong with living this way.

They were simply part of the main body—a single drop of blood, or a piece of flesh. It was only natural that the whole body looked down on its parts. Their entire reason for existing was the main body.

No drop of blood, just because the brain looked down on it, would raise a ruckus about rebellion, demanding to become the new brain—that would be absurd. Without the main body, blood and flesh were just blood and flesh, with no meaning whatsoever.

The puppet had always thought this way. So even though it was boring here, even though the wishes relayed from the statues were all idiotic and listening to them was a waste of time, it had never once considered leaving. At most, it used the long, tedious hours to study equally tedious spells.

Its heart had always been empty, just like this pure white room. Nothing had ever been born there, and nothing existed there.

The puppet found that normal. It was only a puppet, not the main body. That its heart was empty, that it had no thoughts or feelings of its own—all of that was perfectly normal.

Until one day ago, when the main body suddenly came to this room. This was only the second time the puppet had seen the main body since it was created; the first time was back when it first gained awareness.

The main body was off to meet with the other True Deities. It had come only to give the puppet three commands.

The first command: take care of Xiao He.

The second command: disguise as Lin Qingyun—the puppet found it strange who Lin Qingyun was, but it didn't ask, because questioning the main body was not an option.

The third command: Xiao He must not discover that it was a puppet.

It had never seen Xiao He, because the main body did not share memories with its puppets.

But it could sense Xiao He—from the moment she set foot in the Divine Palace.

The puppet had presided over the Divine Palace for far, far too long. Everything in the palace could serve as its touch, its smell, its hearing.

Just as it faithfully guarded the Divine Palace, it faithfully looked after Xiao He.

If nothing unexpected happened, it and Xiao He should never have met. Because this was the Earth Immortal's palace. Besides the puppet, the attendants and musicians of the Pear Garden would also take care of Xiao He.

She would never run into any danger. She'd only need to happily play around the palace for fifteen days, like a field trip, meeting some young friends her age.

Once the main body returned, the puppet's mission would be complete, and it could stop its constant attention on her and go back to sitting here, listening to those tedious wishes.

Theoretically, that was how it would go.

But Xiao He could not be judged by common sense—she hadn't encountered a single danger, and still, she'd come all the way here, holding a candle.

From the moment He Zhuoming stepped onto the stairs, the puppet had been puzzled. It was certain that it had been watching Xiao He all day, and she hadn't run into any trouble at all...

Could it be because of her period?

Just because of something so trivial?

The puppet couldn't understand. It didn't actually want to meet Xiao He—there was no particular reason.

Though the main body hadn't said anything, the puppet could sense that he wasn't too keen on them meeting. The main body's thoughts were the puppet's thoughts, so the puppet didn't want to meet Xiao He either.

It had already transferred away Xiao He's pain while she was on the stairs, hoping that once she realized she was no longer aching, she'd turn around and head back.

Then it had also thought about how long that staircase was; to take care of Xiao He, it should shorten the stairs a bit.

But it hadn't expected Xiao He to be so dense that she never noticed her cramps were gone. Nor had it expected that shortening the stairs would only make her reach the top sooner and see the puppet.

But—since she'd come, now that she was here, Xiao He was so delicate. How could it drive her away alone in the dead of night?

It had to follow the main body's commands and take good care of Xiao He.

Letting Xiao He stay overnight was also part of taking good care of her. Mimicking Xiao He's way of talking was to keep her from discovering it was a puppet... Would the main body mimic Xiao He too?

Probably.

Because the way Xiao He talked was adorable.

If the main body didn't mimic her, Xiao He might sense the subtle difference between it and the main body... But that clearly wasn't the puppet's fault.

It was only a dutiful puppet. The main body refused to share his memories, leaving the puppet completely in the dark about Xiao He. So if any problems came up during the act, of course, it was all the main body's fault for not providing enough clues.

He Zhuoming woke up from sleep, and the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Lin Qingyun's face, so close to hers.

She stared blankly for a moment, blinking in confusion. Lin Qingyun smiled at her, his voice cheerful: "Good morning, Xiao He~"

He Zhuoming: "Ah... good morning... wait, why are you sitting by the bed?"

She remembered that before she'd gone to sleep the previous night, Lin Qingyun was still sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.

Lin Qingyun raised his right hand for He Zhuoming to see: their right hands were clasped together.

Lin Qingyun let out a soft laugh: "Because Xiao He kept calling for her mother in her dreams. I thought it was so pitiful, so I wanted to wake you up. But the moment I got close, you grabbed my hand and refused to let go."