Chapter 29 part 1
◎ Can I Buy You a Coffee? ◎
Berlin tilted his head back and laughed. “Ah, I can’t believe I just told you that so easily. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else.”
Cecil didn’t show any particular reaction to these words. He could sense, more or less, that Berlin wasn’t speaking out of trust, nor did he view Cecil as someone particularly close.
On the contrary, perhaps it was simply because, to Berlin, Cecil was merely a shadow in a dream—someone he might never see again at any moment.
They appeared to have crossed paths, but in reality, they remained two parallel lines that would never intersect. Cecil was a phantom shadow, existing yet non-existent. It was as if, even though Cecil was listening right now, he wasn’t truly by Berlin’s side. Knowing the past that Berlin kept suppressed in his heart didn’t mean Cecil had truly entered his world.
That was why Berlin could relax and speak aimlessly, without worrying about how it might affect their future interactions. He could truly let his guard down.
Cecil knew that right now, to Berlin, he was likely just a “tree hollow”—a safe place to vent that required no response.
He just needed someone to listen to him. He didn’t need comfort, and he didn’t need a reaction.
Berlin probably had many friends in his world, but those people weren’t suitable listeners.
Cecil understood this best.
Fundamentally, the things one experiences in life are relevant only to oneself. Bystanders can see things clearly precisely because their emotions aren’t triggered—because it’s none of their business.
In the temple, he had encountered all sorts of people. The looks in their eyes weren’t entirely indifferent. Aside from the priests, there were low-ranking handmaidens, patrolling guards, and believers who were never qualified to step inside the temple.
They didn’t speak to Cecil, yet their eyes revealed a great deal.
Fear, rejection, pity, disgust… and even a well-hidden hint of envy.
The people at the bottom couldn’t get enough to eat. They didn’t feel that being confined to one place with nothing to do was oppression; they thought it was a blessing, a form of salvation, a god’s enviable favoritism.
Some could empathize with Cecil’s plight to a certain extent, but ultimately, it would only evoke a fleeting emotion. The moment they turned their heads and were distracted by some trivial matter, they would cast it to the back of their minds.
That kind of confiding was unnecessary. Cecil would never mention anything about himself to them.
But sometimes, he would talk to himself, addressing the relief sculptures or the vegetation in the courtyard.
Cecil didn’t mind that Berlin treated him as a friend who existed, yet didn’t exist.
After basking in the sun for half the day, Berlin stretched lazily, feeling refreshed. He hopped down from the edge of the pool to give Cecil his lesson.
Sunlight absorbed, charging complete.
“Time is limited, and I haven’t exercised my memory in a while, so I’ll teach you as much as I can recall.”
Back in high school, Berlin always felt that time flew by when he was just listening to lectures. But now that he was the one teaching, the night became exceptionally full and long.
Cecil was very intelligent; he understood things instantly and could even draw inferences from one instance to another.
This made Berlin’s teaching efficiency incredibly high. He couldn’t slack off like his high school chemistry teacher, who would fish for wages by dawdling through a forty-minute class only to explain two multiple-choice questions.
Even for Berlin, who usually loved to talk, after chattering away for the entire night, he felt inexplicably parched—even though one doesn’t get thirsty in a dream.
When he woke up, Berlin lay paralyzed on the hotel bed like a corpse for a while. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, rolled over, and chugged an entire bottle of mineral water in one go.
Oh mother, I’m so tired. No wonder teachers, stand-up comedians, and the like are said to be quiet in their private lives. It’s not because of some complex reason like social withdrawal; it’s simply because it’s exhausting!
There’s a lyric about “dancing 007 in the dance floor.” Sigh, if this kept up—working in the entertainment industry during the day and teaching Cecil eight classes of Chinese, Math, English, Biology, Chemistry, Civics, and History in his dreams at night—not even “007” could catch up with him. He would be living a veritable “0247” (working from 0:00 to 24:00, seven days a week).
Just thinking about it was… “thrilling.”
Berlin rubbed his eyes and tried to psych himself up, adopting the self-deceptive morning pep talk of insurance agents and sales workers: “Alright! Another day full of energy!”
He couldn’t tell if he counted as having slept or not.
Physically, his body seemed to have rested; his arms and legs weren’t sore at all. But mentally, he had genuinely spent the entire night lecturing Cecil.
Coupled with the previous night, Berlin had gone roughly two whole nights without mental rest.
When he got out of the car at the airport, Berlin was in a trance, drifting like a ghost moving on inertia. His limbs perfectly demonstrated what it looked like to have just been attached to a body—
He stumbled, tripping over his own feet, and nearly slammed headfirst into Hua Yan, who had gotten out of the car in front of him.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Hua Yan spun around with lightning speed and grabbed him, steadying Berlin by the arm so he could stand upright.
The fans picking them up let out a small gasp of surprise. After confirming Berlin was okay, they all scanned him nervously with concern.
“Oh my god, that scared me!! Is Little Lin too tired these past few days? Did he not sleep well?”
“Must be. I saw a fansite master say that on the first day of recording, she watched from a high-rise opposite the stadium with binoculars. She didn’t reveal the specific content, but she said it was very physically draining.”
“Hua Yan’s reaction was so fast, ahhh! I didn’t even see how he turned around!”
“Boohoo, sorry but this is love.”
Hua Yan looked Berlin up and down suspiciously. “You okay?”
Berlin touched the back of his head. “Good, I very am.”
Hua Yan: “…?”
Berlin was so sleepy his mind was incoherent; he didn’t even realize his language center had malfunctioned. Spirit has left the chat.jpg.
The fans gathered nearby captured this scene. Those close enough heard clearly what Berlin said and couldn’t help but whisper to each other, amused and exasperated.
“Comrade Little Lin, do you want to listen to what you’re saying?”
“I finally understand why some moms roll up their sleeves wanting to give their kids a beating. My fist is itching.”
“My bad, I automatically autocorrected that sentence in my brain, I didn’t even realize anything was wrong…”
Jiang Shuiran and Wu Hengyao, who had already walked a few steps ahead, doubled back. The teammates frowned, scrutinizing Berlin with confusion, puzzled by his current state.
Skye had been active together for over two years. There had been busier times before, yet they had never seen Berlin this exhausted. Moreover, he was perfectly normal yesterday.
Only Han Yuzhe seemed thoughtful, linking it to the matter of the dreams.
I thought it had no effect on Berlin. Is that not the case?
Before getting their tickets and passing security, Berlin obediently listened to the fans’ nagging instructions. He nodded all the way, repeatedly promising that he would eat well (his assistant held back from snitching to the fans that Berlin hadn’t skipped a single bite) and sleep well.
The flight wasn’t long. Usually, Berlin would fall asleep the moment he sat down to catch up on rest.
But now, his gaze lingered hesitantly on the ring on his index finger.
The ring still looked ordinary, without any special halo or anomaly.
However, the dream realm was most likely connected through this ring. When Cecil wore it, his power was suppressed, and he couldn’t forcibly remove it. So, as an ordinary human, if Berlin took it off, would there be any negative side effects?
To be safe, it seemed he shouldn’t try it lightly. But Berlin knew this wasn’t a sustainable solution. Being lucid and dreaming all night was clearly affecting his condition; if this continued, his mental state would only deteriorate.
So, Berlin made up his mind and took the ring off.
The ring lay quietly in his palm. Nothing happened.
Berlin breathed a slight sigh of relief, threaded the ring onto his necklace, and decisively put on his sleep mask.
His brain was jamming and couldn’t really process thoughts. Berlin was so sleepy he just wanted to pass out.
Perhaps he was too tired; it took only a short moment for Berlin to fall into a deep sleep.
Sitting next to him, Han Yuzhe helped him pull down the window shade. His gaze lingered for a moment on the ring around Berlin’s neck before he, too, closed his eyes.
“…Outdoor temperature is six degrees Celsius. The aircraft is taxiing…”
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