Chapter 238 The Ninth Day of Entering a Restricted Novel

Chapter 238 Day Nine of Transmigrating into a Forbidden Novel

An Yi sensed him following, kept his eyes forward, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile curved at the corner of his lips before he spoke, his tone carrying a hint of teasing: "So, did you find out why your cactus died?"

He remembered that a few days ago, Chu Chen had sadly shared this gardening tragedy with him over text.

Upon hearing this, Chu Chen turned his head, adjusted his glasses, furrowed his brows slightly, and became thoughtful: "I haven't reached a definite conclusion yet. I observed that the cacti here are planted closer together, and the soil composition listed on the info board is quite similar to my 'Scientific Formula Plan One'."

He paused, then proposed a hypothesis that even made An Yi take notice: "After ruling out significant differences in water, light, and soil composition, I suspect... perhaps my cactus died of loneliness?"

An Yi couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

His laughter wasn't loud, but it was clear and melodious, standing out distinctly in this quiet space filled only with the breath of plants and the faint sound of water.

It wasn't that he found the conclusion particularly absurd, but rather because of how seriously Chu Chen had said it—his expression so earnest, his gaze so focused, as if "cactus dying of loneliness" were a serious hypothesis rigorously derived through scientific reasoning.

Chu Chen watched him laugh, first stunned, his eyes behind the lenses widening slightly, as if he didn't understand what was funny.

But seeing the relaxed smile on An Yi's face, as if infected by some warm emotion, the corners of his own mouth curved up in a very small arc.

"When you smile..." Chu Chen looked at An Yi, his tone serious: "You look really good, especially good!"

An Yi stopped laughing. He turned his head to glance at him, his eyes still holding the lingering sparkle of joy, radiant, and his tone carried a slight upward lilt at the end: "Thank you?"

They stopped talking and continued strolling along the winding path.

Passing through the simulated marshland, the humid air carried the scent of water and the green, fresh smell of ferns.

Emerging from a tropical rainforest area filled with aerial roots, the view opened up a little.

An Yi raised his hand and glanced at his watch. It was about time.

He turned to Chu Chen beside him and said, "Dr. Chu, I need to leave."

Upon hearing this, Chu Chen opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just nodded and replied simply, "Okay."

A trace of clear disappointment flickered in his eyes. He looked seriously at An Yi and said earnestly, "I hope we can meet again soon. I will miss you very much."

An Yi's lips curved into a slight smile and he said calmly, "Goodbye."

He turned to leave.

Watching his departing figure, Chu Chen seemed to remember something and quickly called out, "Oh, An Yi!"

An Yi paused mid-step, turned sideways to look back, letting out a soft questioning hum: "Hmm?"

Chu Chen looked at him and made a very earnest request: "Can you not call me 'Dr. Chu'?"

He further explained, his tone carrying a hint of anticipation: "If you're willing to call me by my name directly, it would make me very happy. That's how you address someone you're close to."

He paused, as if remembering something, and added, "You can also call me 'Xiao Juan' (Little Curls)."

He raised a hand and gently curled a lock of hair on his forehead, his movements clumsily endearing: "Because my mom says my hair is always a mess of curls, like uncombed wool, impossible to straighten. That's the nickname she gave me."

Little Curls?

An Yi paused, almost imperceptibly.

This nickname formed a strange contrast with the young man standing before him—over 185 cm tall.

A soft feeling, accompanied by a hint of amusement, quietly stirred in An Yi's heart.

He found himself subtly charmed by the name and Chu Chen's earnest, slightly shy expression at that moment.

"Little Curls?" An Yi repeated, his voice gentler than usual.

Hearing him say that name, Chu Chen raised his hand again to touch his own slightly curly hair ends, and the shyness on his face seemed to grow more apparent: "Yes, Little Curls."

It was as if he were saying that the little boy with messy hair that the nickname represented was already a distant memory.

An Yi smiled, didn't continue the topic, and smoothly changed how he addressed him: "Chu Chen, I need to leave."

Hearing his name called, Chu Chen immediately nodded: "Okay."

The two walked out of the ecological landscape hall one after the other, returning to the bright afternoon sunlight, the city's ambient sounds flooding back.

Standing on the open square outside the hall, Chu Chen looked at An Yi, who was about to walk towards the waiting car, and said, "Thank you for letting me meet you today."

He paused, stating plainly: "I'm very happy."

An Yi turned back, gave him a slight nod without another word, turned, and got into the car.

The black sedan pulled away smoothly from the square.

Chu Chen stood there, watching until the car merged into the traffic and disappeared from sight. Only then did he raise his hand and gently touch the corner of his mouth that had just lifted slightly.

The night was thick, swallowing the tall buildings and sprawling mansions of the city. The city glowed with tiny pinpricks of light.

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An Yi stood by the window of his apartment, overlooking the winding river of car lights below.

Last night's conflict... men like Wu Zhishang and Jiang Lin, vengeful and spiteful, would never let such a loss stand.

Rather than waiting for them to pull some underhanded tricks, it was better for him to strike first, using a simple, brutal method to completely eliminate this potential trouble.

He had never liked dragging things out.

After confirming that there was nothing unusual around him, An Yi's figure flickered slightly, like a drop of ink dissolving into water, and vanished silently from the room.

When he reappeared, he was already on the outskirts of a luxurious villa area.

The Wu residence, not far away, was brightly lit, with figures of security personnel moving here and there.

But these defenses posed no obstacle to An Yi.

Like a ghost, his figure wove through shadows and blind spots, leaving only faint afterimages in his wake at such incredible speed, evading all surveillance cameras and patrol routes.

Within just a few breaths, he had infiltrated the main house and located Wu Zhishang's bedroom on the second floor with precision.

Only a dim lamp beside the bed was lit.

Wu Zhishang was lying on his back on the wide bed, muttering obscenities under his breath, his face contorted with anger and pain.

The kick An Yi had delivered last night was forceful. Although it hadn't caused any serious internal injury, it left a large bruise on his chest that ached with even the slightest movement.