Chapter 391: Qian Yin's Private Time

When Qin Hao emerged from the meditation chamber, a month of seclusion had already passed.

His entire aura had become more restrained, his gaze as deep as the universe itself, and in every gesture lingered a hint of effortless authority.

The brilliance of divinity nearly eclipsed the last trace of his humanity.

Just as he was about to link to the Heavenly Heart Command Center to inquire about the Dimensional Gate's construction progress, a holographic projection appeared uninvited before him.

It was Luo Lao.

"How does it feel?"

Luo Lao looked at him, his tone as gently as always.

"Very good."

Qin Hao replied succinctly, "Control over power has reached a new level. The Overlord's meme technology is fascinating."

"Fascinating?"

Luo Lao, keenly catching the word, sighed, "Qin Hao, you've been in continuous seclusion for a month.

I know you crave power, you yearn to find a way out for civilization. But a string pulled too tight will snap."

Qin Hao furrowed his brow, "I don't feel any tension."

"Just because you don't feel it doesn't mean it isn't there."

Luo Lao's tone grew serious, "Just now, the Supreme Command passed a new resolution specifically aimed at you."

"Aimed at me?"

"Yes."

Luo Lao nodded, "The resolution is simple. Starting today, each month you must compulsorily undergo a twenty‑four‑hour 'Humanity Maintenance'."

During that time you may not engage with any work or research matters; you must rest and relax like an ordinary person."

Qin Hao's expression darkened, "That's a waste of time; the Overlord's core could at any moment…"

"This is not a discussion; it's an order."

Luo Lao cut him off, his demeanor unusually resolute, "This is the collective will of the civilization's senior leadership. Xiao Qin, we need you not to be an emotionless war machine.

You have borne too much for civilization, but you must not lose yourself because of it."

Qin Hao fell silent.

He could feel the concern in Luo Lao's words and understand the higher-ups' worries.

Since his power has grown, he indeed feels his emotional fluctuations diminishing, and his perspective increasingly shifts toward pure rationality and logic.

"Alright!"

After a long while, he uttered two words.

Luo Lao smiled reassuringly, "Go, someone is waiting for you outside."

The projection vanished.

Qin Hao stepped out of the captain's quarters and indeed saw Qian Yin waiting outside, a little uneasy.

She wasn't wearing the white lab coat of a researcher today; instead she wore a light‑blue dress,

which gave her a look less of a scientist's rigor and more of a neighborly girl's gentle charm.

"Um... Luo Lao said you have free time today,"

Qian Yin glanced at him, her eyes a bit evasive, "I... I know a place that was just restored. Would you like... to go see it?"

Qin Hao looked at her, and the still, ancient well of his heart stirred a ripple...

He nodded.

The place Qian Yin mentioned was a massive biosphere inside the Heavenly Skull Fortress.

It perfectly recreated the ancient Jiangnan garden scenery of the Yanhuang mother planet.

When Qin Hao and Qian Yin entered, a breath of fresh air tinged with mist and earthy fragrance washed over them.

Before them were small bridges over flowing water, pavilions and towers, and distant mountains shrouded in misty rain.

Beneath their feet lay blue‑stone slabs, and willow branches swayed in the wind along the path.

Everything here clashed with the cold, majestic steel universe outside.

The two walked side by side under the rain‑soaked corridor, listening to the patter of rain on banana leaves, both falling into a brief silence.

Eventually Qian Yin spoke first, seeming to look for a topic to break the slightly awkward quiet.

"When I was a child, I loved rainy days the most,"

She turned her head, looking at Qin Hao, "Back then, my grandfather never let me go out, fearing I'd get sick from the rain.

I would secretly climb out the window and splash in the puddles in the courtyard."

"One time I played too wildly, fell into a pond and almost drowned."

"My grandfather pulled me out, and since then I never dared to run about on rainy days again."

Qian Yin recounted her childhood anecdote in a soft, nostalgic voice.

Qin Hao listened quietly.

At first, his mind was still subconsciously simulating scenarios for meme weapon deployment.

But gradually, Qian Yin's voice, the images in her story, and the surrounding environment

like a warm stream, slowly seeped into his divinity‑cloaked heart.

He discovered that he could clearly imagine,

a little girl frolicking in the rain and an elderly man calling out anxiously.

That image was very warm.

He hadn't felt such a sensation in a very long time.

A gentle breeze brushed by, mingling with fine rain threads, ruffling the strands of hair across Qian Yin's forehead.

A lock of hair playfully stuck to her cheek; she, feeling somewhat vexed, wanted to reach up and brush it away.

Just then, a hand reached out.

Qin Hao instinctively reached out his hand.

His movement was light and gentle, carrying a hint of care he himself hadn't noticed.

His fingertips gently tucked that wayward strand of hair behind Qian Yin's ear.

In that instant, his fingertips inevitably touched her warm, moist cheek.

Both of them froze.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

In the air, only the sound of rain and each other's heartbeat remained.

Qian Yin's cheek quickly flushed crimson at a visible pace, spreading up to her ears.

Qin Hao, too, jerked his hand back as if shocked by electricity.

He stared at his fingers, as if the warm, moist sensation from that moment still lingered on them.

A strange yet intimately familiar feeling surged up from his heart.

It was warmth, it was flutter,

it was…… the emotion of being human.

He had always thought that for the sake of civilization, he could sacrifice everything, even his humanity.

But only now did he realize that the things he had forcibly suppressed had never truly disappeared.

They were merely waiting for a trigger to awaken them.

"I…"

Qin Hao wanted to say something, but found his throat a little dry.

"Th… thank you." Qian Yin lowered her head, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

Qin Hao watched her bashful expression, watched the Jiangnan misty rain, and a strong impulse suddenly welled up in his heart.

He wanted to protect all of this.

Not to protect the vast collective of the Yanhuang Civilization,

but to protect the girl before him who would blush, to protect this rain that could bring him peace.

To protect those human emotions that are simplest and most precious.

After a long while, he finally found his voice again, though it was a little hoarse.

"Come on, there seems to be a pavilion ahead where we can sit."

That afternoon, they no longer spoke of anything related to war or technology.

Qian Yin told him many amusing childhood stories; although Qin Hao was not talkative, he listened attentively.

When the twenty‑four‑hour "vacation" ended and Qin Hao returned to the meditation chamber, he felt he was somewhat different.

【Humanity Anchor Stability Greatly Increased!】

【Mental Bulwark Strengthened, Resistance to Meme Contamination Increased!】

【Detected Increase in Host's Spiritual Power Alignment with Rules, Bottleneck Broken, Solid Foundation Laid for Future Advancement!】

A series of system prompts made Qin Hao blink in surprise.

He extended his hand, and a cluster of golden divine power appeared in his palm.

He could feel that this power was more condensed, more rounded, and…… more full of "vitality".

It turned out that pure divinity was not the only path to ultimate strength.

Preserving humanity is what gives divinity a true foundation.

Qin Hao's lips curled into a long‑absent, heartfelt smile.