【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 256 [Empire] Hindsight

My former "bullying" behavior seemed both childish and dangerous here. I was so confident I thought I could handle this situation with ease, but now I'm starting to feel like this might be too late to resolve.

I looked at the young seedling, a complex mix of emotions filling my heart. Regret, fear, and unwillingness all intertwined, leaving me breathless. I realized that my power wasn't omnipotent, and that the rules of this world were far more cruel and unfamiliar than I'd imagined.

The feeling of gradually losing control was like an invisible shackle, slowly being put on me, getting tighter and tighter.

I stared at it, my mind swirling. Perhaps I should be cautious and not open this door with such confidence and without knowing anything.

"What on earth have I provoked?" I murmured softly, my eyes falling on the leaves of the green tiles. I took a deep breath, but I couldn't calm the lingering regret in my heart.

The wind blew in from the window, brushing my cheeks with a hint of chill. I clenched the pen in my hand and tried to calm myself. There was no point in regretting.

The students' looks became complicated.

Once, when they saw this seedling sprout, they were filled with surprise and shock, some even with undisguised envy, and they discussed it incessantly. But now, there were emotions in their eyes that I couldn't quite place: doubt, fear, even a hint of rejection and unease.

Everyone had a different expression, but perhaps because they were in class, they didn't show it too obviously.

I can still feel those eyes falling on me from time to time.

He looked at me, then at the seedlings.

I seemed to be able to hear the questions in their hearts, even though no one said them out loud.

They dare not express it directly, nor do they dare to approach easily, but they cannot ignore it.

I lowered my head, not wanting to meet their gazes or have any connection with their emotions.

Among my current contractors, four are plants from this world.

The green ivy is capable and considerate, a companion I trust most. It never causes me any worry. It trusts and obeys me unconditionally, actively protecting me. More importantly, it's incredibly sensitive to my moods, sometimes even feeling like a silent caretaker, always reminding and protecting me at just the right moment. The green ivy's presence has given me a rare sense of security, the initial source of confidence since I came into this world. It's my most important source of confidence.

As for the three giant man-eating flower buds, while their functions weren't particularly prominent, and even seemed somewhat useless at crucial moments, they were also quite docile and obedient. They never initiated trouble, nor did they cause trouble when they shouldn't. I never had high expectations for them, and naturally, I wasn't disappointed. They didn't display the ferocity and violence of the giant man-eating flower. Instead, they were quiet, almost endearing. Every time I looked at them, I had the illusion that I might be able to control the plants of this world and make them serve my own purposes.

I thought everything was under my control.

Only later did I realize that I didn’t know this world at all.

I lay on the patchy lawn, the blades prickling my skin a bit, but the coolness was just right. Above me was a deep blue sky, with a few clouds drifting lazily, like white streaks casually sprinkled on a canvas.

My thoughts are like this too, intermittent, vague and unclear, like threads blown away by the wind, unable to grasp the key points and unable to make sense of them.

The sky above is vast and boundless, so blue that it makes people feel dazed. It makes people think of the blue tiles.

He looked at the sky with a dazed look.

Occasionally, fragments of the past flashed through my mind, intermittent and vague, like stories told by others rather than my own experiences. Transmigrating to this world, contracting the plants, dealing with those people... everything, pieced together, felt like a dream, and that green seedling, like a shadow from which I couldn't wake up, lingered.

The wind rustled past my ears, carrying with it the whispers and murmurs of the surrounding world. Perhaps it was the laughter of my classmates, the clatter of footsteps, or the chirping of distant birds, but the sounds seemed to be veiled by layers of gauze, becoming hazy and distant. I couldn't even tell if they were real or merely a figment of my imagination.

The grass tips gently touched my fingertips, cool yet carrying an inexplicable sense of reality. This subtle touch tugged at my consciousness, preventing me from completely sinking. I tried to grasp a clear thought, but found my mind blank, filled only with vague emotions that lingered like fog.

"This world is so strange." I murmured to myself, but even I couldn't hear my own voice. All that was left was the empty blue sky and the coolness that came from nowhere in the wind.

However, I soon came to a crossroads in my life - should I go back to Wen Ya's home, or go back to the villa that Dan Qi was going to give me but was occupied by another man.

This question caught me off guard.

But to be honest, although this seems confusing, in fact, anything is possible.

I finally returned to the villa.

The moment I pushed open the door, a familiar air rushed into my nostrils, carrying a heavy and slightly cool feeling. The scene before me hadn't changed much. The man was still there, the man who deeply loved Shan Qi. He was sitting in the living room, two sets of tableware and a carefully prepared dinner on the table. The hot soup was still steaming, but no one paid any attention.

He looked up and saw me, was slightly stunned at first, then gave a forced smile, as if trying to appear friendly, but that smile hid fatigue and loneliness that were difficult to conceal.

"You're back." He said in a flat tone, without much emotion.

I nodded, but didn't respond, silently gazing at the dinner on the table. The dishes were plentiful, the presentation exquisite, each plate filled with care, yet it seemed singularly deserted—not because the food wasn't hot enough, but because the scene itself evoked a sense of loneliness.

I know this is what he waits for day after day. Preparing dinner for Shan Qi, hoping for his return. This feeling of loss day after day never stops.

Will it stop one day?