Chapter 107: The Most Frequent Address in the Thick Notebook: My Wife
A thunderous boom exploded in his mind, and for an instant, his brain went blank.
Shen Zhuoâs fingers went numb as a piercing ringing noise stabbed into his consciousness.
A heart-wrenching pain detonated within him.
Those trembling inner thoughtsâthoughts filled with intense terrorâechoed in his ears once more, one by one.
[It doesnât matter if you donât remember.]
[No matter how long it takes, no matter how many times, I will wait for you to love me.]
[If I canât save you, I will go mad.]
[Just once⌠even if itâs just onceâŚ]
It was as if his body had been filled with glacial ice.
Even his scalp felt waves of numbness, a cold so severe it was suffocating.
These deaths and dates were not prophecies.
They were not Du Xunâs past life.
Nor were they the dreams he had spoken of.
Everything was realâ
They were deaths that belonged to Shen Zhuo.
This was why Du Xun was so worried and fearful, why he was so cautious.
It wasnât because of some illusory dream.
It was because hundreds of attempts had ultimately turned into bubbles and burst.
No matter how he intervened, no matter the method.
Shen Zhuo would always die in the autumn or winter of the year 534.
He would die before his twentieth birthday.
In that instant, the boy felt as though a thousand-pound boulder was crushing his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
No wonder Du Xun said he had liked him for a very long time.
No wonder he felt so familiar when he first came into contact with Du Xun.
No wonder, no wonderâŚ
Shen Zhuo watched his own fingers trembling violently. A shudder, like one caused by extreme cold, began to spread through his entire body.
Before his eyes, the dates expanded and shrank, spun and blurred, turned upside down, and then appeared again with emphatic clarity.
Every stroke of the pen seemed to be a condensation of the manâs pain.
He didnât dare imagine how Du Xun had stood here, numb and mechanical, writing down his date of death over and over again.
A mist of tears blurred his vision.
Even Du Xunâs handwriting smeared into ink stains.
Shen Zhuo only understood now.
The Du Xun who met him at eight years old had not been plotting for a long time.
The sorrow in the Alphaâs eyes back then⌠Shen Zhuo had merely interpreted it as the sadness of having no family or friends.
The eight-year-old Shen Zhuo was too naive.
He didnât knowâŚ
He didnât know that the person he had met was a Du Xun who had already looped through time hundreds of times.
Every record on that wall proved that Du Xun had been secretly trying to change the trajectory of his life.
Different professions, different lives.
He even thought his own existence caused Shen Zhuoâs death, going so far as to push his beloved toward others.
Yet, he still could not retrieve himâŚ
The Imperial Commander-in-Chief, omnipotent in front of everyone else, could only watch helplessly as his lover died, time and time again.
Returning to the past, again and again.
Making efforts, again and again.
And failing, again and again.
Exhausting all his strength, cycling endlessly, yet the ending never changed.
Shen Zhuo had never experienced such pain, but in this moment, he was enveloped by a massive sense of helplessness.
It was a despair more cruel and suffocating than experiencing death firsthand.
What kind of state of mind must that be?
Just thinking about it made Shen Zhuo feel like he couldn’t breathe.
Yet Du Xun, carrying such a state of mind, had smiled in front of him.
He had said it was nothing.
He had said it was all in the past.
Just then, Shen Zhuo seemed to sense something.
The boy turned his head slowly and stiffly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw marks on the adjacent wall.
They were words carved into the wall by Du Xun with a sharp object.
They occupied the entire wall.
Mixed with bloodstains, large and small, densely packed, chaotic and manic, yet incomparably firm.
There were only four wordsâ
I WILL SAVE YOU
.
Shen Zhuo stood in the center of the room. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing half his body in bright light.
His shadow stretched out at his feet, the shade shifting slowly with the movement of the clouds.
He didn’t know how much time had passed.
Only then did Shen Zhuo snap back to reality, as if waking from a dream.
He gently stroked the dense, overlapping carvings. A faint scent of rosemary lingered within the dried blood.
He could almost envision those days when he wasn’t by Du Xunâs side: the Alpha, reeking of alcohol, locking himself in here, gripping a broken wine bottle, the glass shards slicing his palm.
Repetitive, mechanical movements, performed with absolute focus.
Pain brought clarity, while reason was voluntarily numbed.
Every life, every lifetime.
Constantly suppressed, constantly self-doubting.
Emotions pricked at his nerves; Shen Zhuo had a splitting headache.
He opened his mouth, but only managed a heavy inhale.
There was no time to be sad.
That brief daze was the limit of the emotion he could afford to indulge.
Du Xun was not safe yet; there were enemies outside the manor.
The vortex of emotions threatening to erupt was forcibly suppressed.
Just like Du Xun, who reformulated his plans after every failure.
He could not collapse.
It was far from the time for that.
Shen Zhuo immediately began looking through the other piles of things in the room.
Many were notebooks and thick stacks of paper covered in writing.
Shen Zhuo gathered all the materials together, sat cross-legged on the floor, and categorized everything useful.
He read quickly. Du Xunâs notes in this room were roughly divided into two categories.
One was related to military deployment, which took up a very small portion.
The other was about him.
All the items prepared, the overall structure and details of the manor, the layout style and purpose of every room, and various other things related to Shen Zhuo.
Every time he mentioned him in writing, Du Xun used only two wordsâ
My Wife.
[My Wife likes light-blocking curtains; pairing them with sheer curtains would be better. Dark blue or dark gray.]
[My Wife likes sweets, but cannot eat them often. Can make a small dessert once a week.]
[Build a greenhouse for My Wife to raise Epiphyllums.]
[The blooming time of the Red Epiphyllum can be extended further. Last time, it was developed to bloom for a month. The formula is as follows…]
[March 22nd, there is a gray-blue gemstone auction. Make a proposal ring.]
[My Wife…]
[My Wife…]
In the thick notebook, the handwriting hadn’t changed much. Ninety percent of the content started with “My Wife.”
It seemed to have been written in one go, from start to finish.
Many daily records, so much love.
Shen Zhuo stroked the handwriting on the pages.
It was written fast, but not messily.
Without excessive thought, without crossed-out corrections.
“Every reincarnation, you write this… don’t you?”
Hot tears fell onto the back of his hand. Shen Zhuo flipped the notebook to the very last page.
His gaze stopped.
His eyelashes trembled and twitched a few times.
On the last page, several large words were written with great force.
[Must succeed before compatibility reaches 110%]
Surrounding this, densely packed, were the words “No time left.”
Apart from the central sentence, the surrounding area was almost completely covered by “No time left.”
Layer upon layer, forming a patch of black ink.
It looked like the madness of a manic episode.
What did it mean?
What did “before compatibility reaches 110%” mean?
…Wasn’t his and Du Xunâs compatibility naturally 103%?
Shen Zhuo couldn’t imagine a second person capable of tampering with such an innate attribute.
No, not a person.
“System.” This was one of the few times Shen Zhuo took the initiative to call the system.
His voice was cold.
The instigator of everything.
The beginning of everything.
It was the System.
“Du Xun… was he also chosen by you? What is going on with the compatibility?”
There was no one else in the room. The System remained silent for a long time.
Just as Shen Zhuo thought it wouldn’t answer, a voice emerged:
“Yes. Du Xun can undergo reincarnation. As long as he dies, he can return to the beginning. The price is that in every life, the compatibility with you increases by 0.4%, and the reincarnation does not refresh the pheromone link.”
Shen Zhuo was stunned.
For two people in love, a compatibility within 100% is a joyous thing.
But once it exceeds this limit, it becomes like what he and Du Xun were now.
Every heat cycle and susceptibility period was poison.
If they marked each other, the dependency would only grow.
If they used inhibitors, it would be a fate worse than death.
Unless they were together forever, if either one left, it would be like stepping into purgatory. Every heat or susceptibility period would feel like burning alive, stripping bones, and piercing the heart.
And the fact that reincarnation didn’t refresh the pheromone link meant…
He and Du Xun were together in the first life; after completing the mark, a link was formed.
And this link would not be erased even if Du Xun reincarnated again. His craving for the Epiphyllum pheromones would only deepen with time.
Furthermore, with the rising compatibility, it would grow exponentially.
Which meant…
Shen Zhuo could marry someone else, accept someone else’s mark, and love someone else.
He could even never touch rosemary again.
But Du Xun could not.
Lifetime after lifetime, forever and everâ
He could only belong to the Epiphyllum.
Shen Zhuoâs pupils trembled, and even the tail end of his voice shook slightly.
He turned his head to look at the rows upon rows of dense dates on the wall:
“Our compatibility at the very beginning was… 24%?”
“To be precise, it was 23.4%,” the System replied.
23.4%. A number so low that they might pass each other on the street without a glance, without any attraction.
It didn’t even reach the passing line of 60%.
It was a level where the Civil Affairs Bureau wouldn’t even approve their marriage application.
So…
In the first life, they couldn’t have gotten married.
Perhaps in many subsequent lives, they couldn’t truly be together.
Yet Du Xun had saved him one hundred and ninety-nine times.
So how did they know each other in the beginning?
Why didn’t he give up with such low compatibility…?
It wasn’t nine times.
Shen Zhuo suddenly lost his concept of numbers.
He only felt his heart being squeezed tight; even its beating was excruciatingly painful.
In his daze, he felt suspended on a single-plank bridge in the middle of a cliff.
Below was not a rushing river, nor a precipice.
But those gray-blue eyes that looked at him every single time.
Those sad eyes that had never revealed a truly happy smile.
In his stupor, he heard the System say one more sentence:
“110% is his limit, but not yours.”
Shen Zhuo raised his head. His vision was blocked by a film of water, distorting everything into crystalline shapes.
The System paused, but finally said:
“You only have this one chance.”
“You have no next life.”
After speaking, the System fell into a long silence and did not respond again.
Shen Zhuo sat there, lost in thought for a long time.
Like an empty shell without a soul.
Subconsciously, he flipped the notebook forward.
His gaze was somewhat vacant.
Until a line of words brought his eyes into focus.
Now is not the time to be emotional.
Just as the notes said.
Neither of them had any time left.
Shen Zhuo pinched his arm hard, not stopping until blood seeped out, forcing himself to step out of his collapsing emotions.
He believed Du Xun had left more clues.
He had to find them.
Time ticked away, second by second.
Shadows slanted until the electric lights pressed them underfoot.
From daylight to darkness, and back to daylight.
The last bit of sunset had vanished from the horizon two hours ago.
Stars twinkled outside the window; the sky was a deep blue-violet.
An stood at the door, holding the dinner Shen Zhuo had just refused.
Suddenly, the sound of the door opening rang out.
Shen Zhuo came out, holding a small notebook, heavy dark circles under his eyes.
He held the spine of the book and showed the contents to An.
“Go to the Royal Palace. Du Xun will definitely return there.”
In that notebook was a complete structural map of the Royal Palace’s underground.
Several pages at the front had been torn out, likely because they were drawn incorrectly.
This indicated that Du Xun had only found this discovery in this current lifetime.
The drawing showed three underground levels in the palace, each labeled with extreme clarity.
Du Xun had circled the third underground level and written a line of text next to it. It had been crossed out many times, yet was still written down:
Insect Mother, Tiya.
An leaned in closer in disbelief and read it again.
Then he looked at Shen Zhuo.
“Tiya… Isn’t that Queen Minya’s real name?”
Recommended Reads
