Chapter 23
Berlin preferred actions over verbal promises.
Just as he wouldn’t make grand promises to his parents after failing a midterm exam, assuring them, “I’ll be in the top three for the finals,” but would spend the next half-semester getting up at 5:30 every morning, creating a reasonable study plan, and working hard until the finals—when the results came out, Berlin would show his mom the report card, “Hey, I got first place! Isn’t that amazing?”
He could say with confidence and pride: I did it.
Saying things wasn’t important; doing things was.
So, he only thought about it briefly, not continuing the conversation with Cecil, simply nodding and pointing to the food on the table, “Aren’t you eating?”
Berlin thought simply.
He was an idol, diligently practicing singing and dancing offstage and shining brightly onstage, bringing joy and strength to his fans.
And his fans unconditionally supported him; the moment their lightsticks bearing his name lit up the dimly lit audience, it was a manifestation of love. They were always in a mutual pursuit.
He had so much wholehearted love and affection that he wasn’t afraid to give trust.
People standing in the light dared to reach out to the darkness because they had the courage to make mistakes.
Cecil watched Berlin nod and sat down at the table.
Berlin neither comforted Cecil nor expressed sympathy, nor looked at him with pity. Yet Cecil relaxed, his goodwill increasing by another point.
“Actually, I don’t need to eat. I don’t get hungry, and I don’t need food for energy,” Cecil took a bite of bread, “But the temple still sends food, because my normal eating habits make them feel at ease.”
It was self-deception. The food wasn’t for Cecil, but making Cecil appear more human reassured the priests.
Hearing this, Berlin silently raised his hand, his eyes showing curiosity, “So you still have a sense of taste, right?”
Cecil seemed to not understand Berlin’s focus. He paused before answering, “Mm, yes.”
Berlin, “Wow!!!”
Cecil, who was being looked at with intense envy for the first time, “…?”
Berlin’s eyes sparkled as he looked at the table full of at least well-presented food, and then at Cecil’s tall and powerful figure: He could eat constantly without worrying about his appearance! Wasn’t this the highest dream of a foodie?
Remembering Wu Hengyao’s Luffy-like appetite, Berlin didn’t understand the physical structure of supernatural beings, but he knew Wu Hengyao never went to the gym and still had naturally sculpted eight-pack abs. He took a scholarly approach to confirming this, “Since you don’t get hungry, do you ever feel full?”
Cecil was puzzled, “Full?”
Berlin gestured, “If you eat too much, do you feel overly full?”
Cecil: “…”
He tilted his head, looking at Berlin for a while, not understanding why he would ask from so many unexpected angles, but he still thought carefully before answering, “No. When I first entered the temple, after prolonged starvation, I would unconsciously eat far beyond the normal amount…but I didn’t feel full.”
Berlin: !!! qaq. I should withdraw that, it’s not good for me.
Influenced by Berlin, Cecil subconsciously asked, “What’s wrong?”
Berlin’s eyes showed longing as he waved his hand in the air, “That’s so blissful! In winter, steaming hot freshly baked roasted sweet potatoes, candied chestnuts, candied haws—to control my figure, I can only choose one at a time. During the comeback period, I need to cut fat and carbs, and to ensure I look good on camera, I only eat cucumbers, boiled corn, boiled chicken breast, boiled carrots for all three meals…”
“If I could eat without worrying, I wouldn’t have to worry about making choices! I could eat whatever I want, as much as I want!” Berlin’s eyes grew brighter as he thought about this; images flashed through his mind, and he looked blissfully happy, like a soft, sweet glutinous rice ball, “Mmm, hot pot for breakfast, iced watermelon juice, barbecue for lunch, tiramisu after, and then I’d go out for barbecue for dinner, with fried chicken and ice cola, hehehehe.”
Cecil watched Berlin mutter and giggle happily, unaware that the corners of his lips had slightly turned up.
He didn’t understand many of the words, but he could feel the pure, infectious joy radiating from Berlin.
Perhaps it was because he had never experienced envy; this experience was new, and Cecil’s goodwill rose by another point.
Berlin noticed, and generously didn’t mind his stinginess: It’s fine, his mother had instilled in him the virtue of thrift since childhood, so he was good at squeezing toothpaste.
He wanted to sit down, forgetting that he couldn’t touch anything here, and sat down on the floor without warning.
Berlin, dazedly sitting on the floor through the chair, fell into thought: “…”
Seeing him not moving for a long time, Cecil reached out, “Did you hurt yourself?”
Berlin accepted the other’s kindness, took his hand to get up quickly, shaking his head, “I was thinking, since I can’t sit down, why can I stand?”
Cecil: “…?”
What was he thinking about?
Berlin tried stepping on the ground, muttering softly, “The earth is round; I should be falling further down to be consistent with scientific logic.”
Cecil was silent for a moment, “What is earth, and what is science?”
“Right, I can dream of you, what’s science for?” Berlin scratched his head, trying to explain, “The earth is the land and ocean where all things grow, and science is the explanation of the principles and laws behind everything and thought.”
Cecil pondered. He looked at Berlin, “Can I learn? You seem to know a lot.”
The temple needed tools who knew nothing, not too smart people, and Cecil hadn’t learned anything in fifteen years.
In other words, Cecil’s current understanding of the world was almost a blank slate.
Whatever Berlin taught him, whatever colors he painted on this blank slate, Cecil would be shaped in that direction.
If Berlin painted “rich, democratic, civilized, and harmonious” on it, then Cecil would become a successor to socialism.
So, hearing this, he considered it seriously, suddenly regretting that he couldn’t bring things from reality into his dreams. Otherwise, he could call Lin Ma and ask her to pack and mail all his elementary and high school textbooks, buy several sets of “Tianli 38 Sets” and “Five Years of College Entrance Examination and Three Years of Simulation,” ensuring Cecil would have a very fulfilling time; an additional problem could easily consume two hours of his time.
He didn’t refuse, “We can take it slowly, there are so many things to talk about.”
Poetry, history, geography, humanities, science, biology, physics, chemistry, philosophy…hmm, throwing in some personal stuff, teaching Cecil every song from their Skye album.
Berlin, the soon-to-be-teacher, imagined a scene: teaching Cecil their group’s songs in the future; what would that be like?
He shook his head to dismiss the strange image, clearing his throat nervously.
You can’t eat a fat pig in one bite, luckily Berlin had been a tutor in high school and had experience teaching elementary and middle school students. Cecil’s knowledge reserve, in his opinion, was probably worse than the level of his teammates thinking five plus five equals ten; he needed to think carefully about how to lay the foundation.
Berlin needed time to prepare; he agreed, “I need time to prepare.”
After saying this, he tried to touch the food, but unfortunately couldn’t.
“By the way,” Berlin remembered something he had overlooked, “What do you mean by prophecy?”
He vaguely felt this was important, but the other hadn’t explained it clearly, and he didn’t understand.
Cecil didn’t speak. He continued to bite his bread, showing his lack of experience in conversation, his method of changing the subject was clumsy, “What do you mean by joke?”
Berlin looked at him, not pursuing the question but following his topic, “Mmm. A joke is a little story that makes people laugh. So a dark joke is a little story that people don’t find funny, but because it’s so unfunny, it’s even funnier.”
Cecil: “…”
He looked at Berlin with a speechless expression.
This person was the strangest person he had ever met; the priests were rigid and hypocritical, their smiles were sanctimonious and false, like a mask. Berlin’s smile didn’t need strenuous interpretation; he simply felt joy easily.
Just as now, after Berlin explained, he couldn’t help but laugh, “I found that my explanation just now is a little bit of a dark joke.”
Cecil, “I think I understand.”
Berlin saw Cecil’s goodwill increase by two points this time.
He was encouraged, although he felt a little manipulated. After several increases of only 1 point, an increase of just two points made Berlin feel invigorated.
Berlin reasonably deduced that Cecil liked dark jokes, so he smiled, thinking it was simple, “Okay, next time I come, I’ll prepare a few more dark jokes for you. With me chatting with you, you’ll definitely have a very fulfilling life!”
Cecil held a piece of bread, sitting on the carpet.
He didn’t speak, but his gaze fell on the space beside him, clearly wanting Berlin to sit with him.
Cecil was sitting comfortably in the chair, yet he switched to the carpet. Berlin wasn’t stupid; he could tell Cecil didn’t want him to sit on the floor alone or stand for a long time.
Berlin was a little happy. He readily accepted the other’s kindness and sat down beside him.
Cecil didn’t know what to say; he had nothing to share and didn’t know how to start a conversation. But as long as Berlin was there, it was hard to have a lull in the conversation.
Berlin hugged his knees and swayed, like a little dumpling, “I don’t have many jokes left, my fans have heard them all…but you definitely haven’t, so let’s make do with them.”
Cecil looked at him, “Fans?”
Berlin touched his chin, explaining earnestly, “Uh, they’re people who like and support me. They’re scattered all over the world; when I face difficulties, they cheer me on; when I get a new job, they’re happy and promote it everywhere; every time I go to a new city, they come in advance to see me. We need each other, support each other, and become better together.”
Cecil, separated from him by a cultural and cognitive Mariana Trench, “Are you a god too?”
Berlin couldn’t help but shake his head, “Ah, no. Gods help people fulfill their wishes, and fans are selfless beings who help me realize my dreams.”
Cecil, “It sounds like the latter is more like a god. Real gods don’t help people fulfill their wishes; that’s just a trick to gain faith.”
He paused, “I don’t believe there are such people. Humans are never selfless; humans are the most selfish creatures and will never give unilaterally. Every seemingly selfless act has a purpose.”
This was what Cecil had learned over the years.
“That’s how fans are, you just haven’t seen them. They’re very warm and a little silly,” Berlin’s expression became more serious as he recalled slowly, “They’ll stay up all night decorating flower walls, carefully designing many banners and lightsticks, making cotton dolls, and holding up banners in the cold wind, just to let the person they like know that they have support.”
“Every time we meet, they tell me I can move forward without worry.”
Knowing that his views couldn’t be corrected in a short time, Berlin didn’t force it, nodding with a good attitude, “Okay, let’s not talk about something so big and vague as gods; I’ll tell you a dark joke first.”
He sat upright, asking seriously, “Why do foxes often fall?”
Berlin’s “Because foxes are cunning (their feet slip)” was already on the tip of his tongue when he saw Cecil frown and ask, “What’s a fox?”
Berlin: “…”
How could this be? A major blunder. He crashed right at the start.
He sighed to himself, “Right, I forgot about the information gap between us.”
Berlin organized his thoughts, confidently stating, “Forget the last one, let’s start over.”
Cecil watched him quietly without comment.
Berlin silently eliminated all jokes about animals, as he didn’t know if their names were different in this world.
Then he belatedly realized…all the jokes he could remember were about animals. Because they involved puns or characteristic puns, he couldn’t simply and roughly replace the animals with something else.
Berlin: Big trouble.
He secretly glanced at Cecil, who was still looking at him, and cleared his throat calmly.
He silently met Cecil’s gaze.
Berlin: I will not allow myself to crash twice in front of my future student.
But what to do? Waiting online, urgent TT.
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