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Doomsday Wonderland (Web Novel) - Chapter 1597: A Story Falling on Paper
Chapter 1597: A Story Falling on Paper
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At first, she thought Wu Yiliu had come looking for her by following the broadcast.
Qiao Yuansi sat by the chair, holding her breath and listening for a moment. The door was slightly ajar, and the footsteps in the hallway outside came in clearly, one by one. The sound of heels striking the floor was bright and round, like that of a pair of women’s mid-heel shoes—not Wu Yiliu’s. It must be some posthuman.
Qiao Yuansi silently sighed. She was very tired, and she leaned back against the chair’s backrest, making it creak. The footsteps outside suddenly stopped. She simply rested her head on the back of the chair, relaxed her shoulders, closed her eyes, and called out, “Looking for me? I’m here.”
Soon, the door was pushed open.
Qiao Yuansi waited a few seconds, no one spoke, so she opened her eyes.
A young girl stood at the door, looking too young, making her feel a bit dazed. Sometimes, when she doesn’t look in the mirror, she imagines herself as plump and fresh like this; only when she passes a window and accidentally catches her reflection does she get a shock, as if she has just discovered that she has been robbed of a whole phase of her life and suddenly aged.
She still sat in her chair and said, “Is that you, Milan?”
The girl tilted her head, looking a bit surprised but didn’t deny it.
“Wu Yiliu told me about you. We were locked in an iron cage all day; we had plenty of time to talk,” Qiao Yuansi said, smiling faintly. “I’m old and tired after these tense days. If you don’t mind, regardless of what you plan to do with me next, let me continue sitting, please.”
Milan seemed unprepared for her calm response, bit her plump lips, thought for a moment, and asked, “Did Wu Yiliu suspect me all along?”
“Not really; he even had a good impression of you,” Qiao Yuansi replied, thinking of the boy.
He was clever and righteous enough, but she was worried about him. She always felt that somewhere in Wu Yiliu’s future life lay a massive tragedy or disaster, and its root might be Wu Yiliu himself. How many people in the world can, after assessing the situation and making up their minds, unhesitatingly gamble with their lives and push the world they grew up in into an apocalypse?
Such a quality was as rare as it was dangerous—especially for Wu Yiliu.
Milan coughed a bit, seemingly awkward.
“I’m not a cruel person,” she said. “I had my plan set, so I can’t just let you ruin it. I won’t harm you, but I might have to inconvenience you for a while.”
Now it was Qiao Yuansi’s turn to be surprised.
Thirty-six years before, she heard many doomsday stories, all carrying a cruel undertone. She always thought that once a posthuman discovered her, she would be killed instantly. But now, she not only escaped death but even found Milan’s conversation courteous. When she walked out the door at Milan’s gesture, she could hardly believe it herself.
“I just don’t quite understand how you knew his name,” Qiao Yuansi said as they entered the empty hall, noticing her voice was a bit hoarse. “Most people might not believe my story.”
Listening to her voice, she sighed inwardly: For the first time in thirty-six years, since the world was reset, she was nervous and uneasy like a young girl, even though she was already an old woman.
“I like to have a sense of security,” Milan said softly. “In posthuman society, two things ensure security: force and Special Items. Just like in human society, if you have power and money, you won’t lack security. The same logic applies. The wealth gap in your world is as large as the disparity in Special Item ownership among posthumans. So, I am very obsessed with collecting Special Items. Maybe everyone is.
“Among my belongings, there is an interesting little thing called [Randomly Appearing associated Words]. When someone is elaborating on something, it can pick a few words or phrases that the person is thinking about but has not spoken and display them to me. It sounds useful in theory, but in practice, the words won’t make sense. For example, when Wu Yiliu was speaking, I received several inexplicable associated words and phrases like ‘teacup,’ ‘logic,’ ‘the window glass is too clean,’ … there was only one exception.”
She paused, then said, “When I heard ‘Shoreis,’ I guessed who it was in that story.”
Qiao Yuansi always felt that her life was like a long dream; now it was certain that it was indeed a long dream. Otherwise, why would the mere utterance of two words from someone else wash away all the colors of the surrounding world? Standing blankly in a snow-white mind, she didn’t even know when she had stopped.
For thirty-six years, Qiao Yuansi harbored some vague fear. In this world, she was the only one who had seen Shoreis, knew of Shoreis’ existence; it was all possibly a dream, a fantasy from her youth, a story she had even convinced herself of. Now that she heard the name from Milan’s mouth, she felt as if Shoreis’ existence had been confirmed, gaining a slight sense of reality.
Though she also understood that, fundamentally, Milan and Wu Yiliu were the same, just repeating a name that had come from her.
She paused a few seconds before taking another step.
The situation in the false pocket dimension might be urgent, but Milan was gentle with her, not hurrying her or using force. Thinking about it, Qiao Yuansi didn’t know why she, an ordinary person, was worthy of such consideration.
“Are you so polite to all ordinary people?” Qiao Yuansi asked calmly.
Milan looked somewhat embarrassed. “Uh, no… of course not.”
She lowered her head, as if unsure how to continue.
“Maybe… I’m just a romantic at heart. After hearing your story, I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days. I even found myself asking about this guy.”
Qiao Yuansi stiffened.
“Then you…”
Milan glanced back at her.
“I didn’t find anything.”
That was natural, considering the millions of apocalyptic worlds. Finding one person—
“Although the world of doomsday is endless, from the description, he must be a powerful and unforgettable person. He should have left traces in the Twelve Worlds Centrum at least,” Milan said softly.
Yes — he had explicitly told her that he had been to the Twelve Worlds Centrum and was even a regular visitor.
Qiao Yuansi stood still, feeling like she was undergoing a trial without even knowing the charge.
“But my sources say they’ve never heard of him. In the past decade or so, he hasn’t seem to have gone to the Twelve Worlds Centrum even once.” Milan seemed to want to smile but looked even more serious. “Maybe I haven’t asked enough… but I don’t plan to continue.”
By this time, the two had already walked to the open door. Qiao Yuansi watched Milan step out and look at the stone pavement and green trees outside. She felt that she was supposed to follow but suddenly stopped and said, “I’m not going.”
Milan turned her head, not surprised.
“Thank you, but I’m not leaving,” Qiao Yuansi said softly. “I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I just want to stay here.”
Milan slowly nodded.
A small noise suddenly came from somewhere on Milan’s body, and she slapped something against her ear, seemingly a communication device. The person on the other end seemed to be under great stress, and their raised voice faintly echoed through the small communicator for a moment. Milan responded with a few words, but Qiao Yuansi didn’t take in any of it; she only noticed when Milan ended the call and looked at her, asking, “Should I not have told you?” That’s when she heard.
