【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 487 [Empire] Nausea

In my dream, everything seemed shrouded in a hazy mist. I wandered in that blurry space, a faint fragrance filling the air, a familiar scent lingering around me. The scent gently stirred my senses, refreshing yet with a hint of warmth, like some kind of comfort, or perhaps an invisible bond.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The scent was a citrus fragrance, like morning dew, with a hint of grapefruit sweetness, but not quite the familiar fruity aroma. It was fresh, but not overpowering, just the right amount, like a gentle breeze through the treetops, bringing a touch of freshness. That scent seemed to be his usual scent, light and gentle, yet with an undeniable presence.

I slowly opened my eyes in my dream, my vision blurry, then the fuzzy image gradually became clear. I saw him standing in front of me, with a gentle smile on his face. That familiar fragrance seemed to come from him, refreshing my heart.

However, in the dream, my thoughts were not completely clear, but rather more confused and vague. The fragrance lingered around me, as if everything in the dream seemed more real because of it, and I lost myself in this reality.

For some reason, a complex emotion welled up in my heart, both familiar and unfamiliar. It was as if the distance between us had suddenly become so close under the influence of this fragrance. Yet, I didn't dare to touch it.

My heart seemed to relax and soften on this frozen, unknown planet. It seemed like there wasn't anything wrong with this. There wasn't much to struggle with.

On this frozen planet, everything seemed subdued by the cold, even my heart growing silent. Yet, amidst this chill and loneliness, a warmth quietly grew, like a subtle flame, inadvertently igniting a corner. Perhaps this was the influence he brought, that gentle care, silent yet leaving a mark on my heart.

Gradually, I stopped resisting this warmth and even began to enjoy its tranquility and peace. Perhaps this relaxation was exactly what I longed for. Amidst countless distractions, complex emotions, and pervasive pressure, I began to learn how to calm myself and appreciate that simple comfort—on this strange planet, being with him, even just the ordinary daily moments, no longer felt so strange.

I no longer dwelled on the regrets of the past, nor did I dwell on the uncertainty of the future. It was as if everything had become lighter in that moment, like ripples on the surface of water as ice and snow melted. I no longer feared being dragged into an unknown emotional vortex. In this peaceful and chill environment, I found I could slowly accept things, even feeling an unexpected sense of contentment. It wasn't so much an adjustment as a sense of inner lightness and relaxation.

Perhaps, all the struggles and anxieties in life are just for the peace and warmth of this moment, and the doubts that once lingered in the heart are gradually covered up and wrapped in this gentleness.

Gradually, my heart has become more tolerant, less clinging to past beliefs and impulses. Those once intense emotions, the ones that, as the nightingale mentioned, pushed aside all obstacles and grasped at everything with all their might, no longer matter. I no longer rush to prove anything, nor do I worry about what the future holds. The rhythm of life has become gentle, even mild. Perhaps because of this, I've slowly begun to accept this quiet time, like snowflakes on an icy planet, quietly drifting into the silent night sky.

Perhaps it was because I knew I would eventually leave, so I was enjoying it. Or perhaps it was because I didn't want to struggle anymore. I didn't have the same resolve I had when I faced the nightingale, nor did I have that compulsive need to compete for supremacy. Just like that, I remained silent.

Whenever I return to the dormitory and face Qianmo's gentle gaze, my heart no longer wavers as it once did. Perhaps, as I've said, I'll leave this place sooner or later, but at this moment, I no longer feel it's a burden. On the contrary, every time I walk side by side with him across the training grounds, occasionally exchanging a few words over a steaming meal, I feel a strange sense of peace deep within. It's like lying in a warm bed, not rushing to drive away the cold of winter, but slowly savoring the quiet and gradually enjoying this moment of warmth.

My relationship with Qianmo grew increasingly complex, yet also increasingly simple. I found myself no longer dwelling on what he had done to me, or how he would respond. I no longer rushed to push him away, nor did I feel uneasy about getting too close. I no longer fought with my former self, overturning all rules and constraints. I simply sat quietly, feeling the warmth flowing from every little detail. Yes, this tranquility didn't require explanations or answers; simply existing was enough.

The feeling of no longer having to struggle made me wonder if I was being too lazy, and sometimes even thought I'd given up on my pursuits. But then I couldn't help but smile. This letting go felt surprisingly lighthearted. It didn't bring a burden, nor did it leave me feeling empty. Instead, it allowed me to find a different kind of freedom.

Perhaps, as the nightingale once said, all struggle and pursuit are but a cycle. But that cycle doesn't always require a relentless pursuit; sometimes, letting go allows for a clearer perspective. Right now, I seem to have let go of the baggage of the past, letting life take its course.

That day, after training, the evening air was a touch chilly, perfect for a stroll. We walked along the path, our steps light and steady, each at a leisurely pace. Qianmo walked beside me, occasionally glancing down at me with a gentle, calm gaze. Our tacit understanding had taken root so deeply that even this simple stroll brought unspoken understanding.

But at that moment, my gaze involuntarily lingered ahead. Two figures caught my attention almost instantly. They stood by the roadside, their backs against a large plant, huddled close together, their intimate gesture unabashed. Unaware of us, they continued their kiss, as if the world had vanished and only they were present.

My heartbeat quickened, and my steps unconsciously slowed. A chaotic whirlwind of emotions raced through my mind, and my body reacted with unnatural sensitivity. My cheeks flushed, and an inexplicable nervousness welled up within me. That scene seemed to make me realize something—no, it was just that, despite being so intimate, why did I feel so nervous? What was making me feel uneasy, even breathless?

I instinctively turned to look at Qianmo, hoping to escape this sudden confusion. However, he didn't seem to share my reaction. Qianmo remained calm, seemingly unmoved by the scene. I couldn't help but feel a little anxious, my nervousness intensified by the contrast. Was I being overly sensitive, or was this emotion truly connected to me?

I wanted to ask something, but I closed my mouth. The words seemed to be stuck in my throat, unable to utter them. I didn't even dare look at the two boys. The air suddenly felt confined, and the surrounding scenery became blurry. An indescribable emotion seemed to overwhelm me, overwhelming me.

"Let's go." Qianmo's voice broke the silence. He didn't look over there, but naturally pulled my sleeve and gently led me forward.

I nodded, took a deep breath, tried to get my heartbeat back to normal, and tried not to think about that scene anymore. Qianmo's relaxed tone seemed to make me feel relieved instantly. At least he didn't notice my uneasiness, or maybe he didn't have any special thoughts at all.

However, the indescribable tension in my heart still persisted. Perhaps, that involuntary nervousness and heartbeat wasn't entirely caused by others, but... by myself. Perhaps...

He tugged at my sleeve, the warmth of his palm penetrating the thin fabric, and I could almost feel the unyielding strength. He didn't let go, nor did he speak, simply holding my hand quietly, his steps neither hurried nor slow, yet carrying a hint of determination.

There seemed to be some kind of tacit understanding between us, or perhaps a connection that could not be ignored. His hand did not touch me gently as usual, but with a sense of tension, as if protecting something, as if ensuring that something would not disappear.

I couldn't help but turn around and glance at his usual calm face. Although he didn't show any special emotions, the hand holding my sleeve made my heart tighten.

"Are you..." I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat, and I couldn't get them out. In truth, I didn't know what I wanted to ask, I just felt confused, nervous even. Why did my heart race at this moment, as if this simple tug carried an inexplicable weight?

He lowered his head, as if he'd noticed my gaze, or perhaps our eyes simply met. In that instant, a subtle signal seemed to pass through the air, like the tacit resonance of two hearts. I didn't dare say anything else, only silently following him down the path.

The distance between us seemed to be shortened at that moment, not just physical contact.

Qianmo didn't seem to want to explain anything, simply quietly pulling me forward. His gaze occasionally drifted forward, then down at me, his lips curling up slightly in a barely perceptible smile. I knew he didn't speak, as if he simply wanted to keep this going, to maintain this calm yet profound atmosphere.

I didn't ask any more questions, but just remained silent and walked in rhythm with his steps. Gradually, the tension in my heart quietly dissipated in this quiet night.

Perhaps we both understood something, no need for words, no rush to push boundaries. We walked along the quiet path, the night stretching our figures out in the distance, so quiet that even the stars seemed to whisper. Our steps were unhurried, as if time had stood still.

I could feel his presence beside me, cool yet warm, as if an invisible force was pulling me closer and closer, yet maintaining a safe distance just the right amount. Neither hurried nor slow, as if this path was the rhythm of our relationship, neither rushing to reach the end nor to touch upon those unspoken things.

He tugged at my sleeve, but without any intention of forcing me. His hand was warm and light, occasionally exerting a little pressure, as if to confirm my presence by his side. And I, too, always subconsciously slowed my pace, feeling that silent protection.

We didn't talk much, but we seemed to have a tacit understanding. Occasionally, he would glance at me, his gaze indifferent but filled with deep warmth, and in that moment, I understood its meaning: this relationship wasn't about rushing to define or change, but about letting it flow naturally until it reached a place we both wanted to go.

Sometimes, silence is more powerful than words. Whether it's walking side by side or the simple bond between us, it all conveys a sense of security. We're not eager to complicate anything, nor do we need to challenge anything. Even the moments of hesitation seem perfectly timed.

I was no longer anxious, the tension I'd felt about the unknown gradually dissipating, replaced by a sense of ease and comfort. There were no excessive expectations, no excessive worries, just the two of us walking calmly and quietly on this slightly cool night.

Perhaps, we all know, this state is good enough. There's no need for much change, and no rush to pursue anything. At this moment, walking this path, accompanying each other, is the most appropriate choice.

The dormitory at night was so quiet I could almost hear my own heartbeat. Starlight from outside filtered faintly through the curtains, illuminating the bedside, its soft glow making everything seem especially warm. A faint, cheesy feeling permeated the dormitory, as if the very air itself had become gentle, gently enveloping us.

I sat on the bed, feeling a slight unease, yet unable to ignore the quietly flowing atmosphere. Qianmo sat across from me, quietly flipping through a book, occasionally looking up, his gaze meeting mine with an elusive warmth. The silence in the air wasn't awkward, but it wasn't entirely comfortable either. Every time our eyes met, my heartbeat would unconsciously accelerate, and the slightly warming feeling even made me feel a little overwhelmed.

He sat not far away, yet seemingly too far to be easily reached. That distance seemed to create a subtle tension between us, not a harsh barrier, but a quiet, gentle bond. Occasionally, he would look up at me, his gaze always gentle and calm, as if silently observing me, without excessive expectations or attempts to challenge anything.

My gaze involuntarily drifted away, resting on the night sky outside the window, trying to ignore the emotions quietly brewing within me. But even so, my mind was still filled with subtle stirrings. I knew I couldn't escape that invisible pull, that warmth yet also a subtle unease.

There were no words between us, no physical contact, but the quiet atmosphere made me feel a gentle pressure. It wasn't uncomfortable, but rather a quiet satisfaction, as if two people in this small space could clearly feel each other's presence without too many words or actions.

Although nothing happened, the atmosphere seemed to have changed subtly.