As an emergency room doctor at a psychiatric hospital, Zhao Meiyou could actually sympathize with Taizhu’s behavior. The move was quite creative—full marks for imagination.
Replacing a person in reality with the brain of their isotope might have some moral loopholes and involve certain philosophical quandaries—when the brain transplant succeeds, is the survivor the isotope or the original? Is the soul determined by the mind or the flesh?
But those were Zhao Meiyou’s own thoughts. Once a patient was discharged, they were no longer his concern; it wasn't his place to interfere in others' lives. If Taizhu truly achieved what he sought, Zhao Meiyou, as a friend, would simply be there to cadge a drink in celebration.
As long as he didn't get himself killed.
An adult could have it all, provided they didn't end up losing both the lady and the spoils.
Zhao Meiyou straightened out his thoughts and found his own perspective rather interesting. He believed he was extending kindness to a friend, maintaining a neutral stance while waiting for the right moment to lend a hand. But what was the motive? To help Taizhu get what he wanted?
Forget it. He just knew he’d be sad if his friend died.
And he didn't want to be sad.
If it wouldn't make him sad, then whether the man lived or died would have nothing to do with him.
Thus, self-interest was indeed the primary driving force of human behavior. Zhao Meiyou reached this conclusion and felt instantly refreshed. The caffeine was throwing a rave in his brain—the coffee Diao Chan bought always had a god-tier effect. He definitely wasn't sleeping tonight. Zhao Meiyou decided to strike while the iron was hot, immediately heading to the 777th floor to take the plunge, leaping off like a great roc spreading its wings.
A balloon popped with a *bang*, and he found himself sitting in a bright red spectator seat.
Lions leaped through hoops of fire, aerialists showered the air with gold tinsel, and crackers sprayed orange dust and blue-violet sparks. Dwarves, giants, snake women, clowns, and Frankensteins danced on the sand. Darts popped balloons on a spinning wheel, a herd of elephants entered the ring, and a flock of white birds flew out of a magician’s top hat. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Greatest Show!"
Zhao Meiyou couldn't tell what era this was. The world was like a giant circus, an endless amusement park. He emerged from the tent and walked for a long time along streets hung with colorful lights. The scenery shifted from a Victorian haunted house to roller coasters and drop towers from after the Third Technological Revolution. The crowds were dressed in all sorts of attire: ladies with peonies in their hair, court nobles in *kariginu*, missionaries, Western noblewomen, punk girls, and hip-hop crews... The children seemed to be celebrating Halloween, wearing macabre, vibrant skeleton suits, some even carrying heads made of plaster.
Zhao Meiyou had come in to try his luck, hoping to run into that old gentleman who drove the taxi. But looking around now, the streets were a chaotic flow of traffic—griffins pulled four-wheeled carriages at a gallop, flying carpets cruised through the air, along with broomsticks, paper planes, Wind-Fire Wheels, a certain carriage from the Hogwarts Express, and a car whistling past the moon—the DMC-12 from *Back to the Future*.
In short, this place was a collection of every crazy idea in the world. It was virtually impossible to find a normal taxi.
Well, since he was here, he might as well make himself at home. Zhao Meiyou adapted with extreme speed, immediately finding an arcade and losing himself in it. These retro game centers were rare in the Metropolis, even in the lower sectors; people preferred immersive "dream-walking" that plugged directly into the nerves, or at the very least, holographic games.
This resulted in Zhao Meiyou, who had only ever played holographic games, getting absolutely slaughtered at the various arcade cabinets. The kids weren't interested in playing with him, and even turning into a hot beauty didn't help—pre-pubescent boys only cared about Ultraman. Zhao Meiyou had never seen Ultraman, so he tried to manifest one based on their descriptions, only for them to mock his Taro for not having horns, calling it a knock-off.
Rapidly relegated to the bottom of the gaming food chain, Zhao Meiyou could only resort to the claw machine.
Fortunately, his claw machine skills were decent. A little girl stared at him for a while, then tugged on his coat. "Auntie, can you help me catch a March Hare?"
"Change how you address me and I'll catch it for you." Zhao Meiyou stared at the claw inside the glass, unblinking.
The little girl thought for a moment and said decisively, "You old hag!"
Zhao Meiyou’s hand relaxed, and a plushie plopped out of the chute. "Here, you little brat."
"I wanted the March Hare. This is the Red Queen," the little girl said, dissatisfied.
Zhao Meiyou: "Crazy hags only get Red Queens."
The little girl stared at him for a moment, then *crack*—she twisted the Red Queen’s head off. One, two, three, ready, go—she began to wail.
By the time the girl’s father finally found them, he saw two figures in front of the claw machine: a woman standing steady as a mountain and a little girl screaming like a banshee. Beheaded Red Queens were piled like a mountain in the shopping basket, and the floor was littered with doll heads.
"Doudou!" The man rushed forward. "Causing trouble again!" He quickly apologized to Zhao Meiyou. "I'm so sorry, miss. My child is being difficult. I'll definitely scold her when we get home..."
"Eh, it’s fine." Zhao Meiyou pulled the joystick. "Your daughter has a good set of pipes."
The little girl was all thunder and no rain; she had been howling for ages without a single tear. Now that her parent was here, she stopped acting, climbed up from the floor, and said to Zhao Meiyou, "Sister, you have a good set of ears too."
Zhao Meiyou smiled, caught a March Hare, and handed it to her. "Drink more water when you get back."
The father nudged the girl. "Say thank you."
Little girl: "Thank you, Auntie."
Zhao Meiyou: "..."
This little girl was a real character. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He looked up at her father. "Your daughter really is..." He stopped mid-sentence.
The man hurriedly corrected the child, "Doudou, call her Sister!"
"It’s fine. There are a lot of people here; be careful she doesn't get lost." Zhao Meiyou waved them off and turned back to his claw machine.
The man thanked him and led the girl away. Waiting for them nearby was likely the girl’s mother; the woman held three sticks of cotton candy, presumably intended for the whole family, but she had already eaten more than half of them herself. The girl shrieked and scrambled over to grab one. The mother laughed and teased her, the two of them skipping and jumping.
Quite the family.
Zhao Meiyou inserted a coin and moved the joystick. The claw wobbled in the machine, his movements slightly off—he was watching the family of three through the reflection in the glass.
That man was Li Daqiang. The archaeologist who had gone missing in Ruin A173.
The mother and daughter were undoubtedly his wife and child, who had died long ago in reality.
What was going on? Was Li Daqiang’s ability also Creation? No, he remembered this man’s ability was clearly... Zhao Meiyou had a momentary lapse in focus, his hand twitched, and the plushie in the mechanical claw fell with a *thud*.
The little girl nearby heard the sound and turned her head. Her mouth split all the way to her ears, revealing a Cheshire Cat-like grin.
"Daddy, he’s a fake."
In the next second, Li Daqiang seemed to appear out of thin air behind him.
A sharp pain flared. In a daze, Zhao Meiyou looked down and saw a blade protruding from his abdomen.
This was Li Daqiang’s ability: "Leap."
Zhao Meiyou couldn't remember the last time he had sprinted like this. Even when Old Man De wanted to castrate him, it hadn't been this thrilling. Li Daqiang seemed able to control a portion of the ruin; numerous creatures began to hunt him down. He now had an entire Jurassic Park on his heels. Zhao Meiyou felt like he was being tracked; he turned into the Big Bad Wolf, then Ursula, then Tarzan, yet he was still spotted. In his desperation, his features became so distorted that he accidentally caught a glimpse of himself in a funhouse mirror and was so revolted by his own ugliness that he stumbled—he currently had three damn breasts.
Why was this Li Daqiang so vicious? Did the government owe him money, or did some colleague sleep with his wife? Or was Zhao Meiyou not the only one who had come looking for him, and others had tried to kill him, so the man was just striking first?
As he ran, Zhao Meiyou raised his hands and shouted, "Li Daqiang! I'm not here to kill you! Let’s talk!"
Li Daqiang was more unmoved than a wife scorned by a cheating husband.
Zhao Meiyou was despairing; Zhao Meiyou wanted to give up; Zhao Meiyou didn't dare give up. Li Daqiang’s Leap ability could instantly shorten the distance in space-time. Once surrounded, it was game over. He had no choice but to hide within the chaotic crowds. That initial stab had gone straight through him and then sliced sideways, his intestines spilling out. Zhao Meiyou didn't have time for first aid; as long as his brain wasn't damaged, he could live. He just tied them in a haphazard butterfly knot, stuffed them back in, and kept running.
Honestly, this knife work was no worse than his own when slaughtering pigs. If he weren't the one being stabbed, he’d have complimented the craftsmanship.
Wait, I’m a pig-slaughterer. I’m a butcher. Why am I running? Zhao Meiyou stopped. Fuck it, let’s take him!
He remembered Taizhu saying that excessive emotional fluctuations would cause an archaeologist to get lost in a ruin—he was likely in that state now, his emotions being led by the nose, unconsciously becoming the "hunted" party in the scenario.
Having realized this, Zhao Meiyou prepared to fight. Just then, a car flew through the air and sent him flying. A second later, the vehicle slammed into the ground and exploded. In the massive shockwave, someone grabbed his hand and pulled him along at high speed. A moment later, the noise faded, and Zhao Meiyou finally saw the person before him.
The elderly man had silver hair combed back and a straight back. It was Taizhu’s husband.
The old gentleman led him to a building in the amusement park. Just as Zhao Meiyou was about to speak, the man patted his shoulder and whispered a sentence before pushing him inside.
"It’s not safe here. You leave first."
The door slammed shut. The building was a hall of mirrors.
The old man’s words still echoed in Zhao Meiyou’s ears. A moment later, he realized why the man had brought him here.
He reached out, making an embracing gesture. Through the refraction of light, two figures appeared facing each other on the mirror’s surface. Zhao Meiyou softly hummed a melody and finished a tango.
This place was indeed slightly different from the previous Ruin A173; the details were coarser. For instance, the previous ruin required a two-person tango to leave, but here, the figures in the two mirrors were both dancing the male part. As the last note fell, the familiar sensation of being pulled away descended.
When he opened his eyes again, it was the night sky of the Metropolis’s 777th floor.
The next day, Zhao Meiyou did something rare: he submitted a leave request to the hospital, citing "work-related injury."
Diao Chan was surprised to see the request. Injuries in a ruin didn't carry over to reality; the common occupational hazards for archaeologists were mental traumas. But Zhao Meiyou was just like his name—he practically had no heart. Even if someone died next to him, it wouldn't stop him from sleeping like the dead. So why was he taking leave? Had the "Mad Butcher" gone out for a street fight again?
Zhao Meiyou wasn't home. Diao Chan asked around the streets, but nothing had happened last night. He went to the theater, but the stagehand told him, "Don't bother looking. He left word—Boss Liu isn't in the 33rd Layer today!"
If Taizhu wasn't in the 33rd Layer, then he had entered the ruin.
He jumped from the 777th floor, vanishing into the clouds. As the quantum magnetic field surged past, he opened his eyes. The familiar touch of velvet upholstery came from beneath him, and the scenery flashed past the window.
The elderly driver smiled at him and handed him a cigar. "You've come."
"You changed cigar brands? Last time in Paris, you were smoking Havanas."
"Indeed. I re-read some Jules Verne recently," the old man’s voice was gentle and composed. "This is a gold-leaf cigar made from seaweed, as used by Captain Nemo."
The sound of a cigar cutter echoed in the cabin. A moment later, smoke drifted through the car. "No need to open the window," the old man said. "The scent of seaweed and elm oil isn't unpleasant when mixed."
The scenery outside the window had turned into a vast white void, like the static and snow on an old television with no signal. "Where are we going?"
"To the end of space-time. The Old Home." The old man smiled peacefully. "I've been out for a long time. I think it’s time to go home."
The taxi emerged from a tunnel. Ahead lay an ancient manor situated by a lake. It seemed a heavy rain had just passed; the air was thick with a rich fragrance of honey and citrus, ambergris and manure. The vineyards on the hillside were faintly visible.
They passed through an archway and entered the house from the side yard. "Come, the garden is too damp at this hour." The old man got out of the car. "I believe there are some cinnamon and oranges in the kitchen. We can mull a pot of red wine."
They walked down a corridor covered in linoleum. There seemed to be someone in the room at the end. "Back?" The kitchen door was pushed open. A barefoot youth was munching on an apple. When the youth saw them, he froze, then his voice suddenly spiked: "Sir, why did you bring him here?"
"He is you," the old man sighed. "Qijue, you have to accept it eventually."
"I know he is me! I created him with my own hands!" The youth picked up a paring knife and slammed it into the apple. "His duty is to live in the real world in my stead, not to appear in the ruin, not in the Old Home!"
If there were an observer looking down on the room at this moment, they would see three people standing around the dining table: the youth, the old man, and a fat young man. If the observer knew more about their identities, they would realize that the youth and the fat man actually shared a single identity—
Liu Qijue.
The "Young Master Liu" of his youth, and the bloated Taizhu.
Diao Chan had once said that the Liu Qijue of those years could push "Creation" to an unimaginable degree. This scene was the ironclad proof.
Young Master Liu had created "Taizhu" to live in reality in his place.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, and I am well aware of my identity." Taizhu glanced at the old man beside him. "I came to tell you that in reality, he’s not going to make it."
The youth fell silent abruptly. A moment later, he spat out: "...That is your responsibility."
Taizhu didn't yield an inch, stepping forward sharply. "Are you just going to keep immersing yourself here? Escaping reality?" He picked up a bottle of red wine from the table. "How is this any different from living in a drunken dream?"
"I don't need you to tell me that! You were created by me!" The youth also stepped forward, staring at him intently, the corners of his eyes reddening. "I created you... I created you for this very reason." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't watch him go. I can't do it."
Taizhu looked at him, two sets of nearly identical eyes locked in a standoff. A moment later, the adult turned, smashed the wine bottle against the edge of the table, and the liquid exploded amidst a floor of shards.
The youth’s hand was shaking. He wiped the corner of his eye.
"One more thing." Taizhu stood by the window with his back to him. "Yesterday, Zhao Meiyou caused quite a stir after entering the ruin. Did you know?"
"I know." The youth stared at the floor, his bare feet stepping into the vivid red wine, the glass shards piercing his soles. The old man sighed and quickly brought out gauze and iodine.
The youth sat on the table, watching the old man disinfect and bandage his feet. His tone finally calmed down. "You need to eat more and get even fatter."
"If I get any fatter, I'll lose my damn life." Taizhu turned around.
"Don't make me say it twice," the youth said. "You are a quantum creation within the ruin. You shouldn't be able to exist in the real world. Even if my ability can stabilize your form, the prerequisite is that you must absorb as much matter from the real world as possible—carbohydrates, fats, even diseases. The larger your volume, the better. Otherwise, you might spontaneously dissolve one day."
The youth seemed to realize something. He looked at Taizhu, a hint of interest in his eyes. "You're becoming more and more like a real person."
Taizhu looked at him expressionlessly.
"Your mental state used to be very calm—calm in a way that wasn't human. But that makes sense; you are my creation, yet you are also me. The real world should have made you feel despair." As the youth spoke, he reached out to the old man, their palms overlapping. "But recently, you suddenly started having mental fluctuations, even showing signs of quantum dissolution. The government even tracked you. I thought about it for a long time before I understood why."
"Because you've started to care about reality." The youth glanced at him. "That lunatic named Zhao Meiyou—you've taken him as a friend, haven't you? So you've begun to perceive joy and sorrow."
"Why bring up Zhao Meiyou?" Taizhu suddenly realized something. "The kidnappers from 1999—that was your doing?"
"I went out and found a little girl, gave her a few suggestions. If Zhao Meiyou didn't have the talent of an archaeologist, he wouldn't have been drawn in." The youth shrugged. "Don't look at me like that. I was helping you. If Zhao Meiyou is completely swallowed by the ruin, he becomes your companion in the truest sense... He can stay with you forever. Whether it's the quantum field threshold or lifespan, nothing will ever be able to separate you."
Without waiting for Taizhu’s answer, the youth continued, "Or does Zhao Meiyou have something he cares about? Like Li Daqiang. I can split a portion of the ruin’s control and give it to him. As long as he stays in the ruin, he can have whatever he wants. That way, he can stay with you forever."
"Why do you want him to stay with me forever?" Taizhu finally spoke. "What right do I have to make him stay in the ruin with me?"
The youth looked puzzled. "Aren't you friends?"
"Can friends go that far?"
"Why not?" The youth looked even more confused. "If I had a friend like that before I met Sir, I would have been willing. What is there in the Metropolis worth lingering for?"
Taizhu suddenly found himself speechless. He decided to change direction. "You just said you’d split the control of the ruin."
"Exactly. If Zhao Meiyou is willing, and if he really likes the Metropolis, I can build a Metropolis within Ruin A173 and hand the control over to him." The youth said, "His control over the ruin might be a bit crude, but it doesn't matter. If there are any problems, you can come to the Old Home to find me anytime."
"You said you’d build a Metropolis?" Taizhu asked.
"Based on your previous descriptions, doesn't Zhao Meiyou like the Metropolis very much?" As the youth spoke, he snapped his fingers. The room suddenly vanished, and everything in the manor was erased as if by an invisible hand. Then, the youth gathered a ball of air in his palm, molding it out of nothing. Ahead, a street of flickering neon lights appeared.
It was the streetscape of the 33rd Layer.
The ultimate form of "Creation"—Genesis.
Just as Yahweh created the universe in seven days, all matter within a ruin, even living organisms, could be created. It was like the authority of a god.
This was why Ruin A173 held such high affinity for humans—because the one who created it was a human.
The youth waved his hand again, and everything vanished like grains of sand. With another snap of his fingers, they were back in the room of the manor.
"Think about it?" The youth looked at Taizhu. "Let Zhao Meiyou become a part of the ruin."
The old man sighed. "Qijue."
"Sir." The youth gripped his hand tightly, not looking back.
The brilliant youth and the bloated adult formed a sharp contrast in the room. Something was on the verge of breaking. Taizhu’s lips moved, about to speak: "You..."
In the next second, the room door was kicked open. "Zhao Meiyou, what the fuck kind of message did you leave for me at the theater? What do you mean 'Boss Liu isn't in the 33rd Layer today'? How the fuck did I not know I wasn't there?"
The air froze instantly.
the fat man who had just burst in was the real Taizhu.
There were now four people in the room: three Liu Qijues and one elderly man. The "Taizhu" by the window stretched and suddenly began to laugh.
The bloated body began to shift, finally becoming lean and tall. Zhao Meiyou, having returned to his original appearance, pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
During the frantic escape from the circus the night before, the old man had saved him, brought him to the hall of mirrors, and finally said one thing to him.
"Tomorrow, please come find me disguised as Qijue.
"I will take you to see the whole truth."
