Love Travels through Time (My father who traveled through time and space to cultivate immortality came back to pick me up) - Chapter 69
Chapter 69: No Road Back from Bian City (6)
Yin Changli complained inwardly at almost every single sentence he read, and when he reached the word “youth,” he nearly threw up for real.
He only felt a burning pain on his face, as if he had been slapped across the cheeks dozens of times.
He turned his eyes away, his features scrunched into a tight grimace, overwhelmed by an impulse to gouge out his own eyes.
Fortunately, these sticky, nauseating, absurd, and childish words were written inside his Sea of Consciousness where only he could see them; otherwise, he wouldn’t have the face to see anyone for the rest of his life.
Before being done in by the Celestial Emperor, he would first be done in by himself.
He even had the wicked thought that experiencing the downfall of his clan back then might not have been entirely a bad thing—growing up with such an insufferable disposition would have been truly horrifying…
According to Little Bai, Xiang Haikui had said that he previously suffered from an illness called “chunnibyo.”
He now had a proper understanding of this illness.
Horrifying.
Furthermore, Yin Changli failed to get the answer he wanted from these entries.
Because from beginning to end, what was displayed was still nothing more than an imprint mechanism—bottomless praise and brainless self-indulgence.
So, believing that he had fallen in love for real now must also be an illusion, right?
After all, that strand of Xiang Haikui’s hair had already fused into his body, which was why he would experience these strange feelings…
Yin Changli drew a deep breath to compose himself.
There was still a long passage left, and he decided to finish reading it first before saying anything else.
—
I am about to wake up.
When I read all these feelings written over the past ten years and develop the urge to gouge out my own eyes, I know that I am not far from awakening.
I really want to erase those childish, ridiculous records and pretend that nothing ever happened.
Otherwise, when I wake up, I will definitely feel like throwing up and have no face to see anyone.
How could I possibly view a stupid, reckless fool as being as brilliant as the sun, and even keep using “beautiful” to describe her?
I must have lost my mind.
No matter what, I can no longer find reasons to convince myself.
This really might just be an imprint mechanism.
It’s only because her strand of hair injected vitality into me when I was on the brink of death that I kept clinging to that warmth.
Let me think it through clearly.
Think it through.
My head hurts so much.
—
Alright. Using my current mind, I have thought through everything from the beginning, and I have it clear now: this is not an imprint mechanism.
Whether it was my amnesia or that strand of hair sewn into my body, they were both merely an opportunity for me to keep my focus undivided and look at her alone.
Precisely because there was enough focused gaze, I was able to clearly see her virtues and certain things that were originally invisible.
For instance.
After the Crisis of Silver Sand was resolved and Xiang Tianqing left with Jingwen, Xiang Heng hosted a banquet for me.
At the table, when Xiang Heng asked about Little Kui’s life back in her hometown, Little Kui began to talk about it.
I listened intently, my heart aching for the terrifying ordeals she suffered at such a young age, yet she suddenly shifted the topic to telling jokes, her jumping thoughts leaving everyone utterly bewildered.
Except it wasn’t that at all—she had seen Xiang Heng cast an extra glance toward the empty seat beside him that belonged to Xiang Tianqing, lost in a brief daze, which was why she switched the topic.
Was she foolish? She understood everything.
—
Yin Changli froze slightly.
That was indeed the case. Back then, hiding inside that vial of antidote, he had accompanied Xiang Haikui.
From her very first day back in Silver Sand, when she noticed that calling Xiang Heng “Papa” left him somewhat bewildered, she immediately switched to calling him “Father” alongside Xiang Tianqing—and when Xiang Heng failed to notice it in the slightest, she must have understood.
Xiang Heng had already found a sense of belonging in this world; the only outsider left was herself.
This girl was indeed exceptionally perceptive.
—
Back then, her smile stung my eyes.
I wanted so badly to hold her hand, to let her keep talking, to tell her that I was listening, that I cared, that my heart ached for her.
Yet I feared that laying it bare would make her feel awkward and even unhappier, so I held back.
From then on, I never heard her mention her past again.
And I kept striving, hoping she would take the initiative to tell me about her past.
Regrettably, I never succeeded.
For another instance.
During those ten years spent hunting down demon beasts along the border to gather demon power, no matter how harsh the environment was, she could lie down and fall asleep at a moment’s notice.
Yet at the slightest rustle of wind, she would wake up instantly.
Was that alertness? If one looked closely, one could see the fear filling her eyes the moment she awoke.
The more terrified she was, the louder she spoke. The stronger the opponent, the harder she fought.
Was that recklessness? She simply understood that she had no retreat and no one to back her up; she had no choice but to bite the bullet and carve out a path through blood.
Gradually, what she brought me was no longer a “maternal” warmth.
Quite the contrary, on many occasions I wanted so badly to hug her and give her some warmth.
Yet she consistently insisted that I was a “patient.” Whenever my illness flared up again, she would use “Tian Kuang” to strike me and knock me out.
This was all my own doing.
—
Yin Changli read through entry after entry, taking in dozens of “for instances.”
Even a mundane little detail about her from daily life was dissected and analyzed meticulously.
He gradually became immersed in reading, because as the entries progressed, the mindset aligned more and more with his present self, evoking an increasing resonance.
He read carefully, all the way to the very end.
—
For yet another instance.
When I asked her for a token of love, I wanted a strand of her hair, yet she gave me a kitchen knife.
Was she truly completely devoid of romance?
She had consistently rejected me firmly, so naturally she wouldn’t give me a real token. Yet, having just seen some of my disgraceful memories, she couldn’t bear to let me down or leave me sad, which was why she brought out that kitchen knife.
Just like when she suddenly started telling jokes at the dinner table back then.
Speaking of which, the reason I chose her to alter my fate in the first place was because I couldn’t figure out her ways.
Actually, her ways are very simple—it’s just that understanding her requires more than just eyes; it requires heart and careful attention.
Peeling back her layers reveals that she is not a sunflower born facing the sun.
She is rooted in the mud, striving with all her might to face the sun and chase after it.
This is what touches me the most about her.
Compared to me, who hides in the darkness out of fear of pain, she is a hundred times superior.
If all the suffering in my life stems from fate’s harsh treatment,
Only missing out on her would be my own self-inflicted downfall.
If I cannot treasure her after waking up, I might as well let her go—or piss off far away, because I am not worthy.
—
The wall covered densely in tiny writing ended with the phrase “I am not worthy.”
Yin Changli stared at those four words, “I am not worthy,” for a long time.
His train of thought gradually shifted from “Should I accept this weakness?” to “Am I worthy of possessing this weakness?”
Xiang Haikui was a peerlessly fine girl.
He himself was merely a pile of mud.
He pondered for a long time.
Huh? Wait, this isn’t right?
“Reverse psychology?” Yin Changli suddenly came to a realization.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he suddenly found it somewhat laughable, like his left hand playing a mind game against his right hand.
“Attacking my own mind, washing my own brain—is that really a thing?”
Yet after reading through all of it, Yin Changli truly felt that if he missed out on her, it would be like missing out on some incredible treasure.
He started reading again from the entries written ten years ago, and for some reason, it didn’t seem quite as nauseating this time.
As he read, he even let out a soft smile, his peripheral vision catching the rows of sunflowers whose broad faces seemed to be baring their teeth in mockery at him.
He immediately wiped the smile off his face.
Truly disgusting. This time, he was cursing at himself.
Yin Changli then closed his eyes. The words detached from the spiritual wall string by string, soaring down to encircle his body before beginning to burrow into his spiritual platform.
