Chapter 120: Swordsman Online 3 BL (Extra II)

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Chapter 120: Swordsman Online 3 BL (Extra II)

Yang Qifeng Extra:

They all said that he had gone mad. Perhaps he really had. Perhaps he was simply clear-minded, living in a world where he was still with him.

Sunlight spilled across the red bedding. This was a room filled with red: a bright red carpet, bright red bedding, and even dazzling red wallpaper. Although the patterns kept it from looking too horrifying, it clearly went against the decorating principles of an ordinary person. The entire room was saturated with red, and when illuminated by sunlight, it looked just like flowing blood. Not everyone could bear it.

A person lay on the red bedding, sleeping in an extremely strange position. He was lying on his side, one hand propping himself up at an odd angle, forming a vague shape together with the arm resting on the bed. From the distance he maintained, it was faintly possible to tell that his posture seemed to be embracing something. The space he left was roughly the size of a human body. His face had grown increasingly pale, his brows slightly furrowed as though he were experiencing something painful. Yet in the next second, the corners of his lips curved upward, as if he were having a beautiful dream.

Yang Qifeng opened his eyes, the curve of his lips deepening slightly. The smile on his pale face was so pure that it bordered on dreamlike, beautiful enough to seem as though it contained all the tenderness in the world. His arms still maintained that awkward posture, as if he were gently drawing something closer and bringing his lips toward the ‘person’ he was embracing.

“Good morning, Chenchen.”

‘A new day had begun. How wonderful. You are still accompanying me today…’

His voice was filled with happiness, and his eyes seemed to clearly reflect the image of another person. He carefully got out of bed, as though afraid of waking someone. Yet once he left the bed, its surface was completely flat, with nowhere for anything to hide.

Afterward, he said softly with a hint of annoyance, “I still woke you up.” His words sounded especially strange in the empty room, while the blissful smile on his face became even more pronounced.

There were two bathrooms in this room. Yang Qifeng first entered one of them. He patiently filled the tub with warm water, then tested the temperature of the shower and left it running. He went into the other bathroom and began washing himself. From time to time, he would turn off the shower and listen to the sound of running water from the other side, the smile on his lips remaining unchanged.

He came out wrapped in a bath towel and entered the other bathroom, turning off the running water. A twisted madness that seemed to want to destroy everything flashed through his eyes, along with a well-hidden fragility and pain, but in the next second, they once again became a bone-deep tenderness. As though nothing had happened, he walked out of the bathroom and habitually served food onto the plate beside him at the dining table, occasionally saying something. Sometimes it was about matters concerning Yang Corporation, sometimes about the sanatorium, and sometimes about other things entirely. He completely disregarded the old rule of “no talking while eating or sleeping.”

After breakfast, he personally drove a bright red car toward the sanatorium. He stopped at the entrance, opened the car door, and smiled as he watched a person who existed only within his line of sight walk into the sanatorium. Only then did he drive toward the Yang Family’s commercial building. The moment he entered the building, he once again became the brilliant president, the head of the family whom the Yang Family needed. Yang Qifeng only possessed this tenderness when he was beside “Miao Lichen.”

Looking at the financial newspaper in his hands, he did not know why, but the person on the cover seemed to have put on that bright red outfit. And he, dressed entirely in black, was drawing close to his body in intoxication. They were even… kissing. His eyes grew moist, and drop after drop of tears soaked the newspaper in his hands. His fingers touched his neck and pressed down slightly. He could clearly hear the sound of his own pulse, alive and beating strongly, unlike the lifeless stillness he had felt that day.

How could Miao Lichen have died? They were all lying to him. They had to be lying to him. Yang Qifeng’s tears gradually stopped, and his face took on a brutal, vicious expression. Those people spreading false information really were irritating.

When his assistant entered the office and sensed the cold atmosphere inside, he accurately judged what kind of mood his boss was in. Then, following the psychologist’s instructions, he asked a few questions about that person while handling the day’s business. Just as expected, the cold atmosphere gradually warmed, even taking on a hint of spring returning to the world.

The assistant let out a quiet sigh and walked out, closing the door behind him. Looking at the tightly closed door in front of him, it was just like the tightly closed heart of their president. Only, he had not isolated himself from everyone’s world. Instead, he had locked himself inside with a dead man.

That person was a legend in high society. Although some people looked down on him, no one could ignore his influence on the country. The Yang Family and the Mu Family were both forces whose decisions could make the country’s economy tremble. It was just… he was already dead. Fortunately, he was dead. Otherwise, a struggle over him would have caused who knew how much chaos… Although he knew that such thoughts were cruel to certain people, he still could not help feeling relieved.

After Yang Qifeng finished dealing with the company’s affairs, he logged into Swordsman Online 3 as usual. He took out a luxurious laptop. Both its specifications and exterior were clearly top-of-the-line. The computer was not a new model. In fact, it was already several years old, yet it had been maintained so well that it looked almost new. No one knew how many internal components had been replaced, but its exterior remained the same as before, and the familiar texture remained unchanged. He could even faintly sense that person’s warmth.

He carefully opened the computer and caressed the keyboard and mouse. Then he logged into the Qixiu character he had long since become intimately familiar with. The Qixiu danced on the screen, almost pressed against a Beggars’ Sect character standing beside her whose appearance bore little resemblance to that of the Beggars’ Sect. From their clothing and hairstyles alone, it was easy to see the connection between them.

Fireworks rose beneath the two characters. One heart-shaped firework after another surrounded them. He simply sat there quietly looking at the scene before him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he repeatedly murmured the words he had said countless times in his heart. ‘Chenchen, I love you. I only love you.’

“Mm, I know.” The reply from the past echoed in his ears, so clear that he could almost hear it. He paid no attention to the so-called tycoons flooding the world with messages and cared nothing for the opinions of others. He began doing the “two-person” daily quests as usual.

The guild, which had always been lively, remained full of vitality. Only the people they had once known spoke in the chat, those whom Miao Lichen had genuinely regarded as friends. They neither tried to persuade him nor revealed anything. They simply behaved as they always had, as though that person still existed, satisfying his fantasy.

Every week, there was one day when he would go to a villa rather than the sanatorium. That was the place where that person liked to stay on that particular day. He would remain there for the entire day, unable to go anywhere else. Perhaps only on that day would he acknowledge that person’s death. Because he could not deny that person’s grave. Even if it was only a lifeless gravestone, even if it was only a photograph without any life in it, as long as it belonged to Miao Lichen, he could never deny it.

His fingers rubbed over the face in the photograph. He felt cold, so cold that it was as though he had become as cold as the stone itself. Was he even colder lying inside there? Yang Qifeng had no answer. Perhaps he did not want to know the answer either. He simply insisted on believing that he was always by his side, always accompanying him.

His encounter with him had been a conspiracy. A noble young master had originally been falsely accused of being mentally ill by his own biological older brother and directly sent away to an obscure psychiatric hospital. At that time, he had almost wanted to destroy the entire world. Even his closest relatives could treat him like this. His biological parents, his elder brother, all of them could become like this for the sake of a single piece of paper, a will. What about everyone else? They would surely be even colder.

He had almost become hysterical in his desire for revenge, wanting to destroy everyone. But it was at that moment that the person stood by his side. Protecting him again and again, never begrudging him tenderness. Every time that person looked at him, it was as though he were the only person in his world. Although he knew perfectly well that it was merely his own illusion, he still could not stop himself from sinking deeper into it.

Under his comfort, he gradually calmed down, becoming even calmer and more rational than before. He still wanted revenge, but he wanted the Yang Family even more, because he wanted to possess the person who could give him tenderness. They said that when people were desperate, they would cling to whatever piece of driftwood was beside them. For him, Miao Lichen was that piece of driftwood.

For more than a year, he had gradually filled every corner of his life, making it increasingly impossible for him to let go. Even though there were things he could never say aloud and desires he could only endure alone, he had been willing to accept all of it. The smile at the corners of his lips gradually became warm, and the temperature beneath his fingers no longer seemed bone-chillingly cold. But then, without warning, the scene changed, making him tremble as he abandoned the memories. The color of his lips seemed to become as pale as his face.

That scene of blood splattering was his eternal nightmare, yet it replayed in his dreams every day. But he would never suffer from insomnia. Because he could not bear to. He could not bear to lose the familiar face he saw in his dreams, nor could he bear to lose the sensation of the warmth that had once been held in his arms before gradually becoming cold.

He did not kill Wang Yumo, because keeping that woman alive was more painful than allowing her to die. Although there was still confusion in her eyes, one day she would understand exactly what Miao Lichen meant to her. By then, pain and regret would drive her mad. Just like him now, calmly mad.

He also did not take revenge on Yang Qijing. It was as though as long as they still existed, there might still be a way to undo everything. He felt as though he had become two people. One clearly knew everything and remained awake in his pain. The other knew nothing and possessed the companionship of his beloved… Perhaps he really had gone mad.

Because if he truly remained awake the entire time, he would not be able to stop himself from destroying himself as well. Then how could he remain clear-minded enough to remember his face, remember his smile, and even remember every word he had spoken and every movement he had made?

He knew that Miao Lichen was dead, yet he would never acknowledge his death. Even if he existed only as a shadow within his fantasies, he still wanted him to “live.” Even if doing so meant splitting his own soul, even if it might lead to the creation of a so-called second personality.

And so, he remained mad while clear-minded, and clear-minded while mad.

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