Apocalyptic Era: Starting from picking up a Bishoujo
Chapter 338 - 315 Changan

Chapter 338: 315 Changan

The clues proving that Little Bowl was "the childhood Zhu Shi" were growing.

Perhaps after this affair is over, I should turn back and ask Zhu Shi if she has many abandoned toys, and whether her mother, Zhu Jiu, has stored them in a white box. Though I haven’t formally asked, I’ve prepared myself for the answer to be "yes."

But this Zhu Shi in the dream seems slightly different from the Little Bowl I remember.

The Little Bowl in my memory, though only ten years old, seemed mature beyond her years. Beneath a first impression of timidity, she hid a calm yet gentle disposition, with a character full of tolerance.

Yet the Zhu Shi before me now seemed more her age. After getting over my shock that Zhu Shi and Little Bowl’s appearances were exactly alike, I couldn’t help but focus on the mismatched details. However, my understanding of Zhu Shi is limited to the few scenes I’ve just witnessed, perhaps in other settings, Zhu Shi could behave more like the Little Bowl in my memory.

Moreover, Little Bowl had gone through trials and tribulations during the Doomsday Era, so it’s entirely plausible for her to act beyond her years. Even if we set aside that, if Little Bowl really regressed to a young girl due to some unknown accidents as Zhu Shi, then she might inherit some of the adult Zhu Shi’s traits—although I think the maturity shown by Little Bowl is somewhat different from the real Zhu Shi.

In any case, the puzzles related to Zhu Shi and Little Bowl probably won’t find real answers here. Everything has to wait until I return to the real world. For now, I should focus on Changan’s end.

Little Changan looked at his sister tidying up the toys, his expression growing even more desolate, saying, "Every day Jiuxing has to undergo strict training, yet I know nothing and my mind is filled with childish worries..."

"Are you talking about how no one seems to believe what you say?"

While I’m contemplating how to awaken Changan and try to at least make him remember me, I said: "But... It’s not like nobody believes in the existence of supernatural creatures. There should be people who actively investigate urban legends and seek to encounter real supernatural entities... You must have met such people, right?"

After a moment of silence, he said, "...Yes, there are such people. There was a weirdo at the high school I attended who loved to investigate urban legends, his name was Zhuang Cheng..."

He started speaking of matters beyond his current background again. Although now he appears as a grade-school boy, he mentioned "the high school I attended in the past"... Speaking of which, did he know me during his high school years?

While talking, Little Changan began to walk again. At this time, the scene around us transformed once more, turning into a high school’s teaching building. In the corridors were many students enjoying their break time outside, while many others were chatting in the classrooms. This was a place I was extremely familiar with; it was the high school I attended.

So it seems Little Changan wasn’t making things up; he apparently really did attend the same high school as I did. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to recreate this high school’s scenery so vividly and in such detail in the Spirit World. With this thought, I suddenly understood what the sense of incongruity I had been feeling was about.

Right, if this is merely Changan’s Spirit World, then the dream would only show what he knows. If that’s the case, what was that earlier conversation between Mr. Zhu and little Zhu Shi about, and the scene of little Zhu Shi tidying her toys in her room?

That must have taken place after Changan’s memories related to the abnormal world were sealed. It’s impossible for him to know that Zhu Shi took over his training as a demon hunter afterward, nor that Zhu Shi abandoned all her toys. Even if he had seen it, he wouldn’t have understood Zhu Shi’s true motive; it wouldn’t have left such a profound impression.

Yet, if that were a memory he conjured up in his own mind, it seemed too authentic, also matching up with some clues I have.

As I mulled over the possible reasons, Little Changan stopped in front of a classroom door, looking at a student inside.

It was an unremarkable-looking boy, seated in the middle of the classroom. He wasn’t chatting with other students or reviewing his lessons, but just propped up his chin, idly playing with a suspicious-looking feng shui ornament on his desk.

That was me in high school.

Back then, I was still exploring urban legends everywhere, usually traveling by subway to the outskirts, since I had basically exhausted all the local legends in Saltwater City. Sometimes I’d hear about feng shui masters or Magicians coming to Saltwater City to swindle people, and I’d check them out, only for it to end in exposing them as frauds, all my eager hopes dashed.

Looking back now, it feels as though everything that happened then occurred in a previous life. Even though, by real-world time, it’s only been a month since Mazao helped me escape my insatiable yearning for the abnormal world.

"Zhuang Cheng... he was different from me," Little Chang’an said, "During high school, I had already given up on proving the existence of the abnormal to others. I gradually resigned myself to the ordinary world and my ordinary self.

"And yet, he continued to tirelessly explore another world, never giving up regardless of how many times he failed. To me, he was truly dazzling. Hence, I could only observe him from afar, secretly gathering all the information about him.

"I often fantasized about approaching him and striking up a conversation but didn’t know how to break the ice. Perhaps I was afraid. While I admired his courage, I didn’t want to get involved in his explorations, because I knew it was doomed to fail in the end. I no longer wanted to be disappointed..."

He kept moving forward, and the surrounding scenery shifted again. This time, we were on a university campus bustling with young men and women in the prime of their youth.

I intentionally avoided interrupting his narrative because it seemed that as his story progressed, the timeline within this dream was also moving forward. Perhaps if he just continued his tale until it synced up with the current reality, he would regain his self-awareness of the real world.

Yet, his appearance remained that of a little boy barely into his teens. Even though the backdrop kept changing, he showed no signs of growth. This seemed to suggest that his situation may not be improving as optimistically as I had hoped.

"Later on, you and Zhuang Cheng—became friends with me, right?" I said.

"Yes... we became friends," he said with a sigh, "It was by chance. I caused some trouble outside and ended up being kidnapped and beaten up in a sack. At that moment, he stepped in and saved me.

"He didn’t realize we had been high school classmates, and I knew he didn’t have friends in college. So I took that opportunity, gathered my courage, and just like that became his only friend in college."

I still remember that incident. I had heard of a ghost in white clothes being sighted in the wilderness and was investigating nearby. In the end, as expected, I found out that the so-called ghost was merely a piece of white cloth hanging and fluttering from a branch.

Then on my way back, I happened to run into a group of suspicious people beating up a stranger. Out of my frustration from the failed investigation, I took out my anger on those men under the guise of saving someone and, by a stroke of luck, made a friend in Chang’an.

After that, we went through a lot together. Once I found out he was a troublemaker from a well-off family, I wanted to cut ties with him. Even with his assurances that he wouldn’t make trouble again, I didn’t believe him. But as persistent as he was, I couldn’t help but watch his transformation little by little, until I finally believed his nature wasn’t all that bad.

Although he fell short of my ideal standards for friendship, from another perspective, it could be considered a fateful bond. "Fateful bond" — this was a term I liked very much, frequently appearing in those surreal stories. Thinking this way, I readily accepted the friendship.

Thereafter, he often joined me in investigating weird incidents. Having Hua Sheng, who was always screaming and calling out, alongside me on my lonely ghost-hunting journeys, made them lively and bustling. Every time I returned disappointed and felt deceived, I had someone to share my feelings with.

We would discuss how to handle demons and devils if encountered when setting off in the daytime, and after coming back at night, we would go to the night market, have barbeque, and complain about the unreliability of those ghost stories and the rumors spread by fabricators. Occasionally we’d run into danger in some poorly patrolled backwater areas, and I would covertly solve the problems with my powers, then act as if nothing had happened.

The reason I never told him the truth about being a supernatural power user was that, at the time, I still regarded such ability as extremely dubious—something that had emerged without reason and might also disappear just as mysteriously. Now that I’m aware my powers awoke from the Vermilion Bird Seed of Yin Mountain Liangyi, it could be said that it confirmed my suspicions all along.

In any case, I was perhaps not as perseverant as he imagined. From the beginning, I stood on a different standpoint — I always knew the existence of the abnormal was real because I myself was the evidence. Naturally, I wouldn’t easily give up.

Little Chang’an continued to walk, with the scenes around us constantly changing, all familiar places we had once experienced, evoking nostalgia.

And finally, he arrived at a door.

It was the "haunted" room he had once rented on the fifteenth floor in Saltwater City.

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