Chapter 1322: NO.226: Is this reasonable?

NO. 226: Is this reasonable?

Although people are taught from birth to understand the world with intellect and logic.

Although everything in this world indeed follows various trajectories and chains.

But between those trajectories there is often no focus; the result of their collision instead gives rise to commonsense akin to a paradox.

In the Border Gate District, especially Aomo Lindun, who grew up in the Dongyan District, was forced to start on the same line as other Dongyan kids to understand what is meant by 'raw fish slices are dead fish slices, being alive is being dead, firefighting is extinguishing fire, a refrigerator is a box, a fridge is a cabinet, a nightclub is for drinking, a hotel is for staying overnight'……

This series of anti-commonsense traps once left the Berger kids feeling at a loss, but it fortunately gave the foster father a rare chance to display his advanced age and experience.

Morison Lindun has lived over a hundred years; although he has no particularly outstanding achievements, he has at least been to many places, seen many local customs, and, due to working long-term in the Border Gate District, has become quite integrated locally.

When the Dongyan speech with a northeastern flavor and the Jidong speech with a Kansai accent coexist in a blond, blue-eyed vampire…… young Aomo, though unaware of the eeriness, could still see the vampire's splendid reaction from his foster father's and others' exchanges.

That is largely likewise a radical degree of anti-commonsense—young Aomo had once realized this only after the fact.

During that time he had received enough inspiration to more fully comprehend the world's complexity.

Thinking under commonsense often falls into misconceptions; so‑called reason is often a circular argument invoking collective wisdom, and within it lies a trap that makes it hard to face all kinds of seemingly absurd realities.

For example, two retired Triple Crown horse girls both want you to become their trainer, and likewise two horse girls about to retire have the same expectation.

What is especially worth mentioning is that one of the latter.

He too is a Triple Crown champion; although he has a past of falling from the cloud summit, that past instead makes this expectation seem all the more 'absurd'.

——Can he re‑prove himself, can he recover everything?

That final hope, she places on you.

Heavy is the only description.

It also defies the commonsense of too many people, and will surely stir up a major wave in the days ahead on major forums, communities, and even news headlines.

But facts are always like this; there are constantly countless occurrences that defy commonsense, just like the repeated challenges of alien organizations, and like a certain demon whose sixteen‑year‑long attitude changes overnight— the genuine step taken is not the result of deliberate deliberation, but is hastily formed under a friend's surprise attack.

Is this reasonable?

Reasonable.

At least, for the parties involved, that's how it is.

Their perspective grasps enough information, their actions follow their own logic‑driven chains, so naturally there is no serious 'anti‑commonsense' or 'incomprehensible' from outsiders.

So……

Like that drunkard who idles all day saying 'I'd rather be me, the cup never stops,' able to spare a few days to stare at himself— what kind of information is this, and what logical chain does it follow to finally yield this result?

Sitting in the fully turned chair, Aomo crossed his fingers openly and looked opposite.

While throwing that question at the other party, it was as if he also tossed aside his earlier embarrassment.

This is no illusion.

Everyone's psyche more or less has some 'switches', but lacking self‑awareness, one never notices that when involved in certain fields, with certain people, or on certain topics, one will show a face‑changing phenomenon.

Those who understand it well can always skillfully use this psychological‑hint‑like little trick to quickly adjust their state.

As for demons, asking about this very act is itself a switch that can let him swiftly enter his habitually slightly icy intellectual state.

But usually speaking, even if he readjusts his mindset, it does not mean his stance is reversed.

"Hmm, worries… if one said there were none it would blatantly ignore the facts, but this time coming… wait……"

So when embarrassment is arbitrarily shifted onto the other person, Aomo's eyes will slightly narrow.

There's a kind of fluke where the first pull already bursts with golden light.

But in his impression, the game named *Arknights* shows another landscape of Rhodes Island.

The focus is on the rainbow.

However, this period's five‑stars seem harder to collect than six‑stars—Aomo, having heard this claim but not being certain, will tentatively apply it now.

After all, whether it's a hit or a miss, getting results on the first question at the start is inevitably uplifting.

"Take your time, no need to rush," he gently advised, his attitude instantly becoming composed, "If it's inconvenient to sum up, you might as well give a rough outline; let me sort out the context for you."

"You?"

The other's expression turned strange, as absurd as finding out she could watch him for several days.

Showing joy and anger on one's face is always a good thing; such people, in Aomo's eyes, always have many lexical tags, which can to some extent be used to infer their current state and what they were doing before.

If one could read more information from skin and clothing, it would also not be impossible to judge recent living conditions, social background, and interpersonal relations.

But unfortunately, under the federation's overly convenient life hacks, what lets Aomo put on that airs are those who don't hide—indeed, not just not hiding, they practically beg everyone to look at them, their peers.

As for making such……

"How? This worry can also involve me?"

Usually that habitual drunkard's appearance is actually full of 'fake moves'; at a glance it's all sorts of half‑true, half‑false tag labels, but now this appearance, without saying it's a big information sell‑off, at least is written on the face.

But the characters that can be written on that face are only these few.

For these experienced long‑livers, the combinations of those tags can often exceed your comprehension, just as a child may sense an elder's emotion but cannot grasp their thoughts.

Insufficient self‑accumulation limits the space for inference and imagination, so Aomo at most tries to feel the mindset of such existences, rarely guessing or speculating about their thoughts.

Compared with visible traits, verbal sparring can often convey more meaningful information, just as when mentioning oneself now, the other's reaction.

However, Ling the great poet is still as lofty as ever, waving an arm as if announcing some great matter, his voice ringing: "No problem! This isn't important!"

"It's all in the past; you don't need to worry that I'll keep watching the spectacle."

"Have you figured it out?"

"I've figured it out."

"Was it discussed with family?" Although he didn't think Ling would do the foolish thing of forsaking the near for the far, he still asked it out of habit.

The Sui Beast family ought to be old‑timers in life experience, ought to be highly rated mentors; you could ask them any question, but there also exists in this world the condition of 'some worries not wanting to be told to family'.

That is usually a more sensitive, more embarrassing topic, making one more likely to seek out those who are half‑acquainted, or even people especially trusted outside the family.

Within this interval, the proportion of netizens is quite high.

But you can't rely on netizens to be reliable.

"Yeah," Ling laughed, relaxed, "How do you ask like you're doing a household registration check?"

Does the Flame Country also have household registration checks?

Yes, there is, but for our kind it's like the Year Bureau—do you still remember the Year Bureau?

You mentioned it in that garden dream—the organization that manages the giant beasts.

"Then it's much easier," Ling said, giving a slight shake and leaning casually against the headboard, "You do remember, but I'm talking about the ones we met in this world."

"That's also true—the Transmigration Management Bureau always treats everyone equally," Aomo nodded, "but since you're looking for family, I won't ask about it."

What, if it's not you, you have to ask?

"If you're not sure whether the other party is reliable, you should still ask," he shrugged, "hidden dangers should be eliminated if possible."

This isn't something someone who would agonize over a problem for days would say.

So I'm making an effort; before that, I still need to hold double standards for a while, without hesitating over others' affairs.

"Then you just keep at it," Ling said, suddenly sitting up and clapping her hands, "Seeing how busy you'll be these days, I won't disturb your hard‑earned leisure."

No need to say that—leisure should be spent chatting with others to relax, which also counts as double relaxation; Ling, you've probably felt that too, right? Aomo asked with a smile.

Chatting nonsense with friends, doing pointless stupid things, the memory is oddly clear—whenever I recall it, I feel relaxed.

"Huh… that makes sense," he raised his hand and drew from the arm draped over his shoulder a wine gourd crafted by Jin Hua; Ling suddenly stepped close, leaned in, and asked him, "But saying that, what do you think of me as that kind of friend?"

""

At that close distance where one could count the eyelashes and see the crimson eyeshadow on them, the warm breath from those words inevitably came.

Aomo leaned back slightly, fell silent, and the relaxed smile vanished from his face.

Although he usually kept a prudent distance from others, even easily dodging Hol Hai Ya's occasional grabby hands, moments like this still caught him off guard.

Eyelashes, eyeshadow, jade nose, lips—his eyes wandered aimlessly but could not escape this narrow view; it was as if, after staring too long, he suddenly realized it was an acrylic plate lacking its protective film.

Once removed, it was stunning enough to leave him astonished.

"What are you looking at? Why aren't you looking at my eyes?"

She didn't ask why he was silent; by saying that, she gave his wandering snake‑like eyes focus.

Gazing at those clear, pond‑like cyan rhomboid pupils, he also saw his own stiff reflection within them.

"We're already two people, yet you still look like a dull scholar—shall I recite a poem for you?"

"Uh…" he couldn't get a word out, his voice bubbling; then he vanished from Ling's side, reappearing a split second later on the other side as Aomo tugged and straightened his collar, saying, "This joke went a bit too far, Ling."

"Joke~joke…" Ling, mulling those words, laughed as she looked at him.

What if I wasn't joking?

Then I'm probably still dreaming.

Want to let this dream last a bit longer?

""

"That was just a joke." Ling smiled, took a sip from the wine pot, then waved her hand.

"Well then, I won't disturb you—someone should be coming to find you."

Ding—

As the words fell, the door sounded a notification of a visitor.

Aomo, sitting in the chair, looked surprised at the door, then at his own computer chair, rose and walked over to see the bedspread bearing no trace of pressure.

He stayed silent for several seconds, until the doorbell began to ring urgently.