Chapter 1339

NO. 243: Thank You, Little Aomo

"Hmm… Not disturbing or interfering with anything, right?"

Looking at the long-haired little boy sitting beside her, the hand holding the gourd stiffened somewhat, caught in an ethical and legal dilemma.

Should this wine cup be served or not?

Continuous rain fell, the towers soaring into the clouds, vast enough to illuminate the pale moon and the occasional stars visible in the boundless darkness, together constructing this strange scene that defies reason.

The stars are living beings.

Behind the full moon, light extends into endless chains, forever connecting to the existence that closes its eyes and remains silent in the depths of darkness.

For both, this scenery's essence is easy to see; it is the deepest part of Aomo's dream.

In reality, as time passed, Aomo Lindun's height successfully broke through 1.6 meters, appearing to approach his original 19-year-old form ever more quickly, suggesting that the source-energy perception elixir he drank yesterday and the spirit-body balance elixir are compensating for each other in some give-and-take.

Of course, this is not the idle chatter Aomo might mutter about; the hair-growth side effect that lets hair steal nutrients from the brain is essentially channeling an external intake of energy to strengthen and direct it to the head.

After all, that is precisely what it is meant to do: strengthen source-energy perception, a spirit-type demonic elixir.

This external energy, after Aomo ingested the spirit-body balance elixir the next day, leading to his bodily juvenation, although he remained fixated on the limits of his hair, was also being pulled and divided by the body's restorative instinct, in effect accelerating the demon's recovery speed.

But these are all grounded in the real world.

In the dream, where the recovery speed is not instantaneous as in reality but merely a slow restoration dragged along, Aomo Lindun still appears as his original child self.

Bixi is shorter, and the little guy who fiercely competes with Chairman Thus we output: Thus we output: QiuChuan possesses only a head of black long hair and a strand of narrowly extended, slightly curled white moon, like a horse girl's shooting star, making him stand beside Chazuo like a earless sibling.

Even after growing a few years, his appearance at the Border Gate District government meeting still caused many members' eyes to dart between him and Zhouri Ningjing.

It's hard not to feel that the two share some kind of familial relation.

But frankly, this is based on the premise that many people are face-blind toward outsiders, even Earthlings.

Those girls who see each other daily need not be mentioned; a certain woman surnamed Chuang can instantly tell the difference between Zhouri Ningjing and Aomo cosplaying, and an elderly gentleman from the Kazdair Military Committee even said Aomo reminded him of a deceased person; compared to hairstyle and hair color, the obvious difference in facial structure is what they instantly recognize as proof.

In response, the unnamed Miss Chazuo from Mancity silently gave a downvote.

Besides, setting aside the training staff's oddly imaginative little girl, the current drunkard has no opinion on whom this child resembles.

She only felt seeing youthful Aomo smiling at her:

You're sweating profusely, right, friend. jpg

Really, these words almost have a sound!

Persuading a child to drink is practically the biggest challenge I've faced these years; first to waver is one's moral standards.

But if she doesn't persuade drinking, those somewhat embarrassing things she wants to say, she doesn't know where to start.

She deeply knows that what she wants is merely an atmosphere.

Whether someone gets drunk is not important; what matters is having alcohol to be able to get drunk with peace of mind, not just entering that state upon seeing the other person, which feels like being poisoned.

However, speaking again, when the other party shows up for the appointment looking like this little kid, Ling even wondered if she herself might really be drunk.

"No, rather it's exactly the time."

In response to the initial hesitation, the child, more carefree and unrestrained than an adult, raised his hand, and the wine gourd that Ling had just lowered a bit flew into his hand.

Condensing ice into a cup, using the cup to hold wine, his control over this dream is exactly the standard the dream master should achieve, even more crisp and concise than the Aomo Ling had seen before in dreams.

A very unique state, more flawless than the fragments shown in dreams before, also more like that second brother, letting her become slightly sober.

However…

"Isn't it still not okay for a minor to drink?" As the boy raised the wine cup, Ling reached out and covered it, feeling that some things should still be upheld.

Especially in this dream where every action may affect the subconscious.

"Its taste is very clear in my memory…" The boy, after saying that to her, also lowered his wrist, subconsciously making the preparatory motion to splash, but then paused.

"However, since you insist…"

He extended the ice cup: "Nice to meet someone like you."

"..."

Putting these words here is somewhat out of nowhere; even Ling was startled.

But when she took the cup, her fingertip touching that bone-chilling ice surface, she realized the premise of these words, and thus more deeply understood that there indeed exists a difference between the other person and the Aomo she knows.

Separating herself from the ordinary, she would evaluate her own insistence on not letting him touch alcohol as if meeting for the first time; this child before her eyes is indeed like a child independent of Aomo.

But if that's the case, then isn't she…

"No wrong person found, no wasted determination."

Both hands resting on the wooden chair, gazing up at the endless monster eye outside the pavilion, little Aomo outright denied her thought, causing her, who had raised the wine to drink it all in one go, to cast a complex glance at him.

"Tonight, no, perhaps not even that late; relying on the rest effect from this dream entry right now, perhaps by evening, the Aomo Lindun you know will contact you, for he can 'see' the present and also 'see' your determination."

No sense of immersion, nor the responsibility and heavy obligations that come with it; little Aomo's understanding of these romantic feelings is limited to the unfamiliar sensation from synchronized crystal core memory, and a brief resonance after sketching his youthful self.

Indeed, that can quite perfectly recreate 19-year-old Aomo Lindun, and can be used not only in planning arrangements but also in the present moment of seeing Ling.

But little Aomo still did not do that, because that would be the stupidest choice.

Not out of ethics, but out of self-meaning considerations; simply put: 19-year-old Aomo Lindun fundamentally cannot handle this on the spot.

At this time when it's inconvenient to contact the two girlfriends, at the beginning of the newly set grand plan, and even now, before the start of two important matches—

If you pull Aomo out, he'll only say something like 'give me some time' as if standing in punishment, which is logically acceptable but emotionally nonsense.

Wasting this time, wasting the other's feelings, and while getting tangled up over this, it hinders the upcoming action mindset.

He knows himself too well.

Such entanglement doesn't make him feel weakened; after all, he can correctly view the changes in that heart, bringing more observational perspectives and opportunities.

This is like a sacrifice, paying what cost to gain what return—in this soul-related transaction, little Aomo's conclusion is that it's worth more than its cost.

Since it's worth more than its cost, there's no room for complaint; with a gaze of not understanding but respect, he reviewed the content of the past half year or so, little Aomo finally focused on the present, easily opened Ling's message, and thus had this present dream meeting.

This should be a familiar scene in memory that's hard to confirm the exact number of times, but for little Aomo it's full of freshness, including gazing at the demon god Zero that slumbers together with everyday notions.

In the era truly belonging to little Aomo, it lacked such a clear outline, nor such a complete form, and even lacked the sense of self that can be felt as a vivid existence simply by calming the heart.

That part should still have been merely a fragment of the child's inner self, not yet split open by future worries and repression, until it became a non‑independent yet restless entity.

But now, past and present coexist in a misaligned way.

Aomo Lindun gazed at the part of themselves that belonged to the future, observing the half‑body that had grown from mistaken indulgence yet had braked in time, not overly distorted.

They deeply felt that the future must not be left unchecked.

Although Aomo Lindun had embarked on an over‑valuable future path, there remained room for optimization, both now and in the future.

Therefore, Aomo Lindun must give their past self a plan that only the present can fulfill.

And the first step of that plan, naturally, is to use this present interference to dispel the impending mother‑in‑law over the next few days.