A gift from Lady Nepheli.
The runaway dean from the Academy Benevolence Departnt had a joyful conversation during a recent tour of the millennium-long Long Night, leaving behind this small nto.
Even the core characteristics of this item were briefly explained at the ti, as it can resonate with another in one’s eyes—a special mysticism call device.
At the ti, I also gave a high evaluation to Lady Nepheli for this little trick she left.
Whether to accept it, whether to call, whether to answer, how to answer...
Regarding such an object, the operations between both parties were full of gas and probes.
It was exactly because of this consideration that I specifically took it out of the warehouse earlier.
And within just a few hours, there really was so movent.
Such a harmonious mont, for a ti it seed almost sinful not to pay attention.
However, Fu Qian really did not pay attention, idly playing with it while walking into the vast night.
...
Lady Nepheli seems very persistent.
The night was deep, but Fu Qian’s steps were not fast.
With precise control, each step’s ti and distance were maintained remarkably consistent, achieving an alternative tir effect.
However, when the tir reached the three hundredth step, the resonance showed no signs of stopping—and Fu Qian still paid no heed.
After all, they once brewed tea together and discussed heroes; such a stance indeed seed sowhat resolute.
But for Fu Qian, this actually had ample reason—how to respond?
The function module hasn’t been equipped yet, has it?
Under zero perception, more than half of his equipnt cannot be activated, let alone sothing with full spiritual attributes.
Indeed, it hasn’t even risen to the level of personal willingness; Fu Qian indicated that for him, there wasn’t even a call button at this point.
Such a situation undoubtedly leads to inevitable misunderstandings.
Even for the learned Lady Nepheli, it would be difficult to foresee such circumstances.
But it doesn’t matter; one must believe in human subjective initiative.
Like diligent seekers of knowledge who persist even deep into the night.
Fu Qian’s gaze fell upon a familiar scene by the roadside.
...
So did he forget to turn off the lights when he left?
Such resource-wasting behavior is truly sowhat inappropriate.
Watching the familiar layout under the light, Fu Qian did not stop his steps, casually pushing open the door to the bookstore.
Indeed, although the station where he alighted wasn’t close to the bookstore, after just a few hundred steps he was back here, evoking a deep sense of bonds of knowledge.
And this bond still wasn’t over—
The store was empty of people, including behind the counter belonging to the proprietor, fully demonstrating that the previously lit lights were indeed a waste of resources.
Yet, on the counter, lay a not-too-thick book, directly spread open there.
...
Considering the excessively classical binding style, Fu Qian could confirm it was not rchandise from his own store.
However, he didn’t hesitate, the next mont directly sitting down and casually began flipping through.
Captivating.
Though the cover didn’t even have a title, with just a quick glance, one could feel the deep resonance within.
This was no re praise, for it was not just about the words.
Between the pages, it almost seed one could hear a nasal chuckle, akin to waking up in the morning light unwilling to get out of bed.
The boundary between text and sound blurred in that mont, even evoking a picturesque feeling.
Together with the book’s content, it fully allowed one to experience what is 5D reading.
Moreover, it seed this book was written in the first person, our protagonist being a young lady...
Casually flipping through, Fu Qian absorbed those deeply stream-of-consciousness words, even without finding the protagonist’s na, while the rich emotions seed ready to burst forth.
Joy, hesitation... and pain.
The change was so swift—just as Fu Qian turned to the next page, the initially lively atmosphere turned, and a sobbing sound had already appeared.
Upon careful listening, the sound seed to co from beneath.
As if there was an unknown void there, allowing this resentnt to play back incessantly.
anwhile, the Princess Xing’s Eyes by his side had already quietly settled down.
...
Well.
After much trying, still unable to figure out the protagonist’s na.
Fu Qian didn’t insist, the next mont directly putting the book down and turning to begin a journey of a thousand miles.
Standing up, he followed the sound to a position behind the stairs.
Previously unaware, it turned out to be quite the lucrative position.
Truly not an illusion, there revealed an entrance in a space usually used for storage.
Even with a thick door tightly sealing it, the ethereal sobs still couldn’t be stopped from emanating.
At a glance, the door wasn’t locked; a push would open it, albeit with a sowhat retro style, sowhat eerie atmosphere, like a bridge to past mories.
By reaching out and pushing it open, one can touch an inconceivable scene but will also bear the risks brought by this magic.
Lady Nepheli indeed had a good hand.
The previous descriptions weren’t re rhetorical flourishes; Fu Qian could clearly see that it was indeed a choice before him.
As one should believe in human subjective initiative, in refusing calls, the other side had evidently unwilling to give up, taking so further asures to strive.
Dreams or illusions, these lights and cries were clearly induced by the eyes in hand, with not high reality.
No surprise that the Prison Angel Commander had even sought out Miss Wen’s door previously; a replication of one’s place of business by the Native Council was nothing strange.
This series of experiences mainly counted as atmospheric rendering in Fu Qian’s view, and now the true invitation appeared.
Whether to push open this door likely equated to whether to answer.
If one truly chose this imrsive reading, the process of disengaging might not be so free—creak!
The style was not only nostalgic but even the quality was quite traditional.
Amidst the enduring, piercing, deeply aged friction sound, Fu Qian had already pushed open the narrow brown door.
...
Indeed, it wasn’t wrong.
At that instant, Fu Qian felt the vicissitudes of ti rush upon him.
This wasn’t an exaggerated statent; sothing truly surged forth.
Decay, damp heat, moisture—those elents quite common to basents had already filled the entire space without Fu Qian even taking a step, as if the transmission process had been omitted.
In rely a mont, Fu Qian seed to see the swift accumulation of historical depth on the shelves, even mushrooms sprouting.
The invitation had been accepted.
This scene of opening the door to history undoubtedly verified the previous judgnt of the door’s implication.
Amidst the many uncomfortable elents, the protagonist’s shift in the story from joy to pain suddenly beca easier to understand.
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