Chapter 648: Flying Over the Asylum

Zhou Mingrui woke up early today.

What you think about by day, you dream about by night; in his dream, he replayed the events of the past few days.

Because of this, he noticed many things about recent events were off—or rather, this oddness had been gradually appearing since he drank that “Assassin” functional beverage that granted superpowers.

“Lu Mingfei… Su Yuling…”

Whenever he saw these two, he unconsciously felt conflicting sensations of vigilance and relaxation, along with a sense of déjà vu—not from memory, but from some elusive, mystical feeling.

Of course, this didn’t mean he had any romantic interest in them.

In fact, Li Jiatu had once given him the same feeling, and that was how they became close friends.

Li Jiatu had said before he died that Su Yuling was standing right in front of him, but Zhou Mingrui later verified that Deng En’s police identity was genuine—so why did Deng En claim Su Yuling was dead?

Lu Mingfei and Lu Mingze showed no emotional reaction to Li Jiatu’s death.

Huai Zhi also differed slightly from the girl in his memory; she chose to return now, and still carried the scent of smoke…

This wasn’t normal.

Zhou Mingrui wrote the names of these three people on a blank sheet of paper and tapped the long table with his index finger: “Maybe I’m just too paranoid—or is my mind really starting to break?”

He remembered his third-to-last blind date, a female psychologist, who had told him he showed signs of mental health issues from years of overwork.

The horizon had begun to lighten with the first pale glow of dawn; lost in thought by the window, Zhou Mingrui suddenly smelled the sweet, steaming aroma of rice and flour, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Has Master Wei reopened his shop?

Just one whiff felt like standing in a rice field, golden waves rippling under a gentle breeze, just as described in elementary school textbooks.

Hss—

Ha~

The illusion vanished; Zhou Mingrui hurriedly pulled on a jacket and leapt straight out the window from upstairs.

He landed as lightly as a feather; luckily, even students were scarce at this hour.

“Two red bean buns, a cup of sweet soy milk, and a bowl of beef noodles—no green onions.”

It was his usual order.

The red-haired young man glanced at him and said, “Wait a moment.”

Zhou Mingrui froze; that familiar sense of déjà vu returned again—this time from Master Wei.

What’s going on?

“Want anything else?” Master Wei asked. “Sweet tofu pudding isn’t available today, but we have fresh milk pancakes.”

“Please add one,” Zhou Mingrui said politely. “Have the wedding arrangements in Germany been completed?”

It sounded like casual neighborly chatter, but it was a test—he sensed something had changed in Master Wei.

“.” Master Wei’s expression grew complicated.

Did I just step on a landmine?

In an instant, a dozen melodramatic soap-opera plots flashed through Zhou Mingrui’s mind.

“My sister is taking the college entrance exam, so we canceled it,” Master Wei said.

“Do you need every single family member present for weddings over there?” Zhou Mingrui asked curiously. “A whole loving family gathered together?”

Master Wei lifted the noodles from the pot and said, “After all, she’s the bride.”

Zhou Mingrui was stunned.

He remembered Master Wei’s sister was a silver-haired, red-eyed girl who supposedly attended high school—but she looked more like a middle schooler.

“It’s the 21st century—arranged marriages are out of style,” Zhou Mingrui said incredulously. “Your sister’s so young—who’s the monster she’s being forced to marry?”

Master Wei placed the noodles in the bowl, added bamboo shoots and beef, paused for a moment, then said, “It’s me.”

Zhou Mingrui finished breakfast and left.

Although Emiya Shirou had seen him secretly pull out his phone and press 110 several times, he never actually dialed.

Thank heaven.

“Master Emiya, you’re here too?” Huai Shi came downstairs carrying a transparent bag filled with yesterday’s kitchen waste.

“Evaporated milk… chicken broth paste,” Emiya Shirou’s attention had been on Huai Shi’s skirt, but upon seeing the trash bag, he grew agitated:

“What the hell is that?”

“Oh, this?” Huai Shi held up the bag. “Yesterday I was pressed for time, so I used some tech.”

Thud!

Emiya Shirou slammed his fist on the table and roared, “That kind of cooking has no soul!”

“I had no choice—I saw Brother Zhou was starving…” Huai Shi coughed awkwardly twice:

“There were no fresh hens around, only frozen chicken, but I improved it with alchemy—the taste was definitely better… sorry, I won’t do it again.”

Facing his Japanese culinary master, Huai Shi felt a pang of guilt.

Compared to a sword immortal, Huai Shi thought “Cooking Immortal” suited Emiya Shirou better—maybe next time he should invite him to the Cooking Demon Championship?

“By the way, Huai Shi,” Emiya Shirou gave him a strange look. “Why are you back as Huai Zhi, dressed as a girl again?”

“.”

Of course it’s because I’m Huai Zhi now.

Huai Shi thought for a moment, pulled out a functional beverage, handed it over, and asked, “Master, don’t you notice anything different about me?”

“Different how?” Emiya Shirou took the drink, puzzled. “Isn’t it the same as usual?”

Dark tone, ink-blue hair, skin pale as if never seeing sunlight—besides wearing female clothes again today, what’s different?

“.” Huai Shi stared blankly for a moment.

He snapped back to reality, watching Master Emiya pull the tab on the can, about to drink the functional beverage—and suddenly realized something.

Why did I assume anyone else could notice my dong was gone?

Huai Zhi Su Zi’s identity has been public knowledge for ages; as a mountain spirit and future Shao Siming, haven’t I always been a cross-dresser?!

If I don’t say anything, who’d know my dong disappeared?!

Wait—

Coach, is something wrong here?

Zhou Mingrui returned to the company today to report to Huang Tao about Taichu Group’s current acquisition intentions.

He didn’t understand why Huang Zong was so resistant to being acquired by Taichu Group—those funds could easily buy him ten more identical companies elsewhere.

But wasn’t there a saying: just drive the car… slipped into the wrong channel—do the work you’re paid for.

He was just using Li Jiatu’s connections as a tool; whether it succeeded or not didn’t matter to him.

Fortunately, Huang Zong didn’t think with his genitals every second; after hearing about Li Jiatu’s death, he simply told Zhou Mingrui to do his best, even offering some humane words of comfort.

“You say the chairwoman of Taichu Group is a girl?”

“Yes, and she’s young and beautiful.”

“I’d like to speak with her directly—do you have her contact info? If you’re tired today, take the day off; I’ll go with the Nidhogg Group’s idol heir.”

“.”

Take back my words—he’s already had his brain taken over by his second brother.

Leaving the company, as agreed, Lu Mingfei was already waiting in a parked Bugatti Chiron.

Zhou Mingrui spotted her from afar and walked over to open the door—but to his surprise, the driver was the little girl, Lu Mingze.

“I have a driver’s license,” Lu Mingze smiled elegantly, as if reading his thoughts.

Zhou Mingrui nodded awkwardly.

The drive was smooth; Zhou Mingrui didn’t initiate conversation with Lu Mingfei.

Though she was his “idol,” and he loved the music she composed—still topping internet charts today—they weren’t close enough to chat casually.

No wonder she vanished after barely debuting, having saved Nidhogg Group’s entertainment industry.

How could a heiress with unimaginable wealth spend every day singing, dancing, and rapping for fans?

“Want a drink?” Lu Mingfei pulled out a can.

“Thanks,” Zhou Mingrui took it but didn’t drink—just held it.

“Do you like playing video games?” Lu Mingfei asked.

“Yeah,” Zhou Mingrui nodded. “I prefer souls-like games; occasionally I play tabletop RPGs.”

Lu Mingfei nodded. “I prefer MOBAs.”

“Li Jiatu did too,” Zhou Mingrui replied instinctively.

He suddenly wondered if mentioning Li Jiatu’s name was inappropriate—he’d only been buried yesterday…

“Indeed,” Lu Mingfei responded immediately, gazing at Zhou Mingrui for a long moment before whispering softly:

“I used to have a friend who loved souls-like games, especially Bloodborne—he especially enjoyed playing as a Hunter and hunting Outer Gods.”

Great minds think alike!

But why “used to”?

“He fell asleep.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Cough—”

Lu Mingfei covered her mouth and began coughing violently, as if choking on her own saliva.

“Are you okay?” Zhou Mingrui was confused.

“I’m fine,” she wiped her lips ungracefully with her sleeve, lifted her head, took a breath, and sighed:

“I don’t like single-player games—even playing King of Fighters with elementary school kids in an arcade feels more fun than playing solo.”

I didn’t used to know why, but over the past two years I figured it out: because I couldn’t find any sense of achievement in single-player games.

Playing single-player feels like being back in high school class—no matter how well you play, if you take damage without dying, no one notices.

Zhou Mingrui, hearing the other man bring up such personal topics, tactfully wanted to take a sip of water, but found the soda can unopened.

“You agree?” he ventured to ask.

Otherwise, it would just be him talking to himself, and the atmosphere would gradually grow awkward.

“I agree,” Lu Mingfei nodded, admitting:

“Games are the simplest channel and cheapest way to gain others’ approval, so I like competitive games—CS, Warcraft.”

Exactly like Li Jiatu.

Zhou Mingrui remembered how, when he went out with Li Jiatu, that top-tier rich kid, they never went to fancy places—just countless internet cafes.

Every time, he’d always get free internet and takeout, even free Nutri-Quick.

“Actually, many people recognize you,” Zhou Mingrui wanted to say that the man had a massive online fan club, but something felt off.

“I got lucky—I suddenly became impressive, inherited a fortune, and found the best partner in the world. But when everyone thinks I’m amazing, I still feel no sense of achievement.”

Lu Mingfei shook his head and said:

“I still love games, but now I enjoy more kinds of them—even playing Mario with my partner in the room never gets boring.”

If someone had once sat in a luxury car and told Zhou Mingrui these things, he’d have thought the person was being pretentious—but looking into the man’s eyes, he was momentarily dazed, as if Li Jiatu sat right before him.

“That sleeping, foul-mouthed keyboard warrior sometimes drinks cola and eats sweets in his rented room, gripping the controller and boasting about breaking his own record, and I snatch the controller to deflate his ego.”

“The other guy dabbles in everything, but he prefers watching others play, pointing and criticizing their moves, then casually eats junk food and calls it ‘perfect for meals.’”

“Compared to before, I’ve met many friends now—all good, all talented—but I still feel we four get along best.”

“Maybe it’s because we’re both introverted, or because we’re the kind who only get motivated when under pressure.”

Lu Mingfei shrugged and said: “So every time I beat them, I feel more accomplished than with anything else.”

Zhou Mingrui imagined the scene—it really did sound relaxing.

“It’s a pity, though—that guy’s still asleep and hasn’t woken up yet.”

What a sad thing.

“Miss Lu, may I ask something?” Zhou Mingrui furrowed his brow slightly, thoughtful, and asked: “Is your sleeping friend…”

He paused mid-sentence.

Lu Mingfei nodded, urging him to continue.

“Is he your partner?”

“I bought a watch last year—beep—beep—!!!”

Zhou Mingrui never expected his idol to curse—and such a crude curse at that.

Under the blazing sun, beside the shade, several luxury cars sat parked in front of a white building.

“Hehe~ Girl, smile for me.”

The man, handsome, with a flame mark on his forehead and long black hair, grinned, revealing a bright, warm smile:

“How about I smile for you?”

Zhou Mingrui felt he’d seen this man before—he recalled: this was Xiao Yan, chairman of Danmeng Pharmaceuticals.

This isn’t Taichu Group.

Lu Mingfei actually laughed, then tossed a drink to the man.

“Thanks,” Xiao Yan glanced at the drink, popped open the can, and drank it straight down.

“The chairman of Taichu Group asked us to meet here,” Lu Mingfei told Zhou Mingrui, pointing to the building.

Zhou Mingrui looked inside and saw several ambulances parked.

The metal sign above the door read: “Old Day Hospital.”

“Zhou Mingrui?”

A clear, melodious voice rang out, instantly soothing.

Zhou Mingrui turned to see his blind date, Audrey—tall, with smooth golden hair—standing there.