Chapter 1177: Do not think improperly

NO．81：Do not think improperly

Whether to speak or not, Aomo still suspected that someone knew about this morning's incident.

Not from the possible extension angles of Xintiao Qian and Qielenina. Texas respectively, but from the cause of my own drowsiness.

Although this is merely a speculation lacking evidence.

But from Qian's smug display of achievements afterwards, and then raising accusations, came the words about why last night, after being covered up a bit, I just went along with it and fell asleep.

Aomo felt a genuine sense of dissonance.

After all, he never said he went along with it; he simply could not deny that his mental state yesterday was indeed poor, and after detaching from the work situation at Rhodes Island, that restrained fatigue surged like a tide.

After letting him go home, he just lay on the sofa like a corpse, and then Qian came down to show concern and chat, even giving him a knee pillow at the forefront of Jidong's social customs.

Although it wasn't very comfortable due to insufficient meat on the leg, that doesn't matter.

What mattered was that he initially felt quite sleepy lying on the sofa, but when Qian and Qielenina. Texas came over one after another to show concern and comfort, he instead became less relaxed, so that sleepiness naturally got restrained.

But then, in that situation, did I actually fall asleep?

Especially since the reason for falling asleep was still the facial cleanser?

What a joke!

He still remembers his struggle then, trying to regain air but not wanting to hurt the other party, which left him feeling a long‑absent helplessness; even after belatedly realizing he could calm down, hold his breath, and play dead, the meditation he undertook to sharpen his acting also had no immediate effect of putting him to sleep.

The function of meditation is to dispel stray thoughts; at that moment, if you want to sleep, you can indeed fall asleep quickly.

But at that time I didn't want to sleep!

But the fact is, in the pitch‑black before his eyes he saw light, and then the scene suddenly opened up to a cloudless sky.

Fatigue remained, and even as the scent filling his nostrils subtly shifted, he felt a bit dizzy.

That was the aroma of wine.

A familiar, rich wine scent made him seem to forget real‑world matters, and he naturally greeted the great Chazuo and Ling who were welcoming him, speaking as they expected about the unfinished business from reality.

Trexis's qualifications were confirmed, Miss Xi came over scolding and demanding answers, Miss Niyan arrived late to greet him, and, under the reluctant gazes of the individual researchers, Aomo took the Grezila monster card and discussed with the Doctor and his party the time for tomorrow's visit……

It was as if he had already started drinking, so he easily brushed aside the irrationality of just a few seconds before.

In the dreams of old, I certainly hadn't been lacking in this, but I also always couldn't recall such dreams.

What I could recall—those lucid dreams reached via dream servers and the like—were paradoxically always detailed down to the minutest detail.

This once led him to think that the Federation's dream server, stable only after centuries of development, versus Ling's folk remedy achieved by ability, having such a difference was perfectly natural.

Especially since Ling's remedy also always made him lose memory, this shortcoming fit Aomo Lindun's stereotype of the Dongyan folk remedy even more.

But lately, meeting Ling in dreams has indeed become increasingly clear.

No longer is memory a hazy mist; one can somewhat recall where they went, what they did, and see how the other side appears both strange and familiar.

Such clarity, growing more evident with the passing days, once led him to consider it a kind of adaptability.

Gradually adapting, then beginning to eliminate side effects—don't say it isn't so; this likewise matches his vision of the Dongyan folk remedy!

After Chazuo also started appearing alongside her, he couldn't help but think this might be the intervention of 'proper technology'—after all, Chazuo truly studied the Federation's mainstream dream‑building, only this little girl fails the minor‑year review and keeps using her sister's spirit as a skin.

Aside from her golden pupils, she is completely the spitting image of Zhouri Ningjing, down to the outfit, which is the same windbreaker Aomo himself had equipped in his dreams.

Leaving aside whether the growing clarity of memory is due to Chazuo's involvement in linking up, Aomo indeed felt that the timing of his entry into last night's dream was too much of a coincidence.

Even the sluggish senses in ordinary dreams ought to have been recently smoothed out bit by bit as an 'optimization' anomaly.

Likewise, there is a kind of artificial intentionality.

Is it Ling?

Or Chazuo?

Or perhaps both……

……

Aomo has no evidence, and he isn't really inclined to think that way, so he feels this is merely speculation.

Yet he also finds it hard to ignore the abnormality of his entry into last night's dream.

If it were artificial intent, it could equally be understood as the other party paying attention to his reality here, thus specially intervening to break the encirclement.

That undoubtedly involves a privacy risk.

But frankly, if that were truly the case, all one could say is that it's a case of 'smash the pot and smash the jar'.

Ling has already seen some of his unspeakable dreams, and looking at reality she likewise finds it hardly worth mentioning, while Chazuo……

Chazuo has always been a good child, but Aomo worries about the possible negative influence of inappropriate content on a minor.

This isn't a matter of possibility; sexual activity is always the most direct stimulus for minors, regardless of gender, and whether it's on screen or in real life, seeing it inevitably leads to wild imagination—if everyday exposure is low, the stimulus only becomes sharper—this point isn't just noted in social surveys; Aomo himself has experienced it as a party involved.

Which teenager hasn't had an age when those things stimulated him to think east and west? Even someone as inorganic as Aomo Lindun had the same experience during his most self‑destructive teenage years.

However, verifying this risk is actually simple; at the current time, 7:40 a. m., having arrived at the activity room and received the first cup of coffee from Chazuo, Aomo Lindun, with just a brief observation, ruled out Chazuo's suspicion.

Her usual dull and silent demeanor does not hinder the trainer's judgment; on the contrary, precisely because Chazuo's daily performance has been unchanging month after month, it is quite easy to discern—just as Miss Rongjin Shanyao also leads a steady, clock‑like life, any slight deviation in such a routine would be especially noticeable.

Conversely, if your daily words and deeds were as random as a Qianming representative or a golden ship, others would really struggle to gauge your condition.

This is the cost of observation and judgment.

Manchester Chazuo is the lowest‑cost type; it's easy to clear Aomo's suspicion there, so the doubt shifts back to Ling.

Ling……

If it were her, Aomo would be completely overwhelmed.

Just as Aomo above has not lacked analysis of the changes in seeing Ling in dreams, and then all kinds of uncertainties, in his heart the uncertainties surrounding Ling have always been many.

The more this uncertainty accumulates, the more the speculative branches pointing from it increase.

This certainly heightens his anticipatory observational mindset, but if those uncertain variables keep pulling at him from different degrees and directions, his perspective will lose that objectivity.

The chain of logic will also skew and twist, for example, the most superstitious kind.

Female comrades are indeed comrades, yet they also unconsciously sigh at that beauty, and from time to time become aware of the allure in the other's figure and attire.

Asking whether Aomo had ever fantasized even a little, the denial would lack persuasiveness.

When laying out the chain of reasoning, it's inevitable to be pulled toward many possibilities that lead to life's illusions.

But that remains impossible.

In the many vague dreams of the past, Aomo still recalls the poetic words and phrases among the fragments.

Distant mountains, no spring breeze.

Drawing from the West River, pouring from the Northern Dipper, all things become guests.

Who says the general has a death wish? Year after year, old forts and new willows.

Vast mountains and rivers, the bustling human world—nothing is you, yet nothing is not you.

What do you mean?

How could such a bold, carefree person have the delicate maiden's sentiment she mentions?

Indeed, he knows people are many‑sided, but not every facet can be fulfilled as fully as one's achievements.

Some temperaments always clash, and some aspects are always incompatible.

Thus fantasy must give way to reality; one must uphold reason and not chase what remains unrealistic.

But when that ordinary‑faith dream shatters, Aomo no longer knows what she really means, or what heart she has in doing those things.

One can only set aside those chains awaiting time's chance, and pour oneself into that cup of black liquid at hand.

Needless to say, under Chazuo's wide‑eyed stare, one must down that gulp as if flinging it from the mind.

He then hands the cup back to Chazuo.

"Another cup—I'll sip it slowly this time."

From the lingering bitterness of that sip, he collects his thoughts, shifts into work mode, always doing so, declaring the formal start of a new day.