Chapter 68: Cage (Cultivation)

Yang Yixie just smiled and said nothing more, then kept his mother company with some small talk, sharing what he saw at the market, chatting about the neighbors' amusing stories, until he saw a hint of fatigue on his mother's face.

After his mother lay down and closed her eyes to rest, he quietly began tidying the bowls, chopsticks, and water cup on the bedside table, sealing the insulated lunchbox tightly, moving as silently as possible.

Once everything was in order, he nodded toward the caregiver Auntie Wang, who was also sorting items nearby, and Auntie Wang returned a reassuring look.

Yang Yixie then lifted his things and, as if fearing to disturb a fragile dream, moved out of the ward with extreme lightness and slowness, closing the door behind him.

The ward door cut off the hallway noise, and the room returned to silence, only the medical equipment emitting a regular "tick‑tock" sound.

Auntie Wang, while delicately tucking Zhiruo's blanket corners and straightening the slightly messy bed, again sincerely sighed toward the mother who was resting with closed eyes.

"Zhiruo, I'm not the one saying this, but you are truly blessed—both sons are so accomplished. The elder son works in Shoudu, and the younger son brings you delicious dishes in ever‑changing ways every day, rain or shine."

Yet the mother slowly opened her eyes, gazed at the high‑hanging, somewhat glaring sun outside the window, and gently shook her head.

Her gaze seemed to pierce the wall, seeing farther away, and her voice carried a faint, all‑knowing wistfulness.

"Filial piety is filial piety… but my own sons, I know them too well."

She paused, as if weighing her words.

"That child Yichen looks refined, seems hesitant in his actions yet measured, but deep down he's quite tough. When the critical moment arrives, his decisions are more decisive than anyone's, and no one can stop him…"

Her voice lowered, carrying a complex, unspeakable emotion.

"And Xiao Xie… this child, fundamentally, is not a 'well‑behaved' child."

That child has always acted very sensible, but he simply forced his restless thoughts down, locking himself inside a cage called 'well‑behaved'.

Because he thinks that this way he can ease my worries, and the family needs him to be like this…

Auntie Wang looked at Zhiruo with some puzzlement, unable to grasp the deeper meaning of those words.

In her view, Yang Yixie is already the model "other‑family child"—sensible, diligent, filial; what could Zhiruo still be dissatisfied with about him?

Zhiruo fell silent for a moment, withdrew her gaze from the window, letting it rest on her own slightly pale, feeble hand; her voice grew softer, tinged with a barely perceptible tremor and bewilderment.

"Sometimes, when I look at him now, his sensibility is so heartbreaking."

"I wonder if I, as his mother, have become the rope that ties him, binding the wings that should have let him soar higher…"

She feels both proud of her son's mature responsibility and cannot help but doubt whether her own circumstances forced the child to suppress his nature prematurely, breaking his wings.

In the ward, only the instrument's regular tick‑tock and the increasingly dim twilight outside the window remain.

————————————————

The afternoon passed swiftly while doing nothing.

He returned home, rested a bit, browsed the latest updates on a video site, picked a recently popular game, recorded a commentary video, edited it, and uploaded it.

In the blink of an eye, the sky outside the window gradually darkened, and it was time again to prepare dinner and deliver it to the hospital.

After delivering the dinner and returning home at night, Yang Yixie felt both body and mind weary, planning to play a game for a while to relax his tense nerves.

He just turned on the computer, logged into his account, and a friend's message popped up.

It was a longtime online friend he got along with well; they had tackled countless high‑difficulty raids together, fought side by side in multiple games, building solid rapport.

They shared game insights, discussed equipment builds, and even set records in some speedrun challenges that can still be found online today.

【Hehe! What have you been playing lately? Any game recommendations worth picking up? I feel we've been in a bit of game drought recently; games all seem so repetitive.】

Yang Yixie gripped the mouse, ran through the games he had recently played in his mind, and replied.

【I'm currently playing a pixel‑style single‑player game; the gameplay is rather classic, but some of its settings are quite interesting. It's still an unfinished early‑access version; I got stuck halfway and have to wait a while before the new storyline unlocks.】

The other party clearly wasn't keen on pixel games and quickly replied:

【Pixel games, huh… that mosaic art style just kills my desire to keep playing; it feels like archaeology. I prefer something more realistic and thrilling.】

The two chatted a few more lines, venting about several recent high‑profile games that flopped.

Suddenly, the tone shifted, and the other asked a wildly fanciful joking question.

【Partner, suppose one day our world suddenly turned into an inescapable game, everything digitized with a Blood Bar, skills, a quest system… what would you do?】

Yang Yixie barely thought before answering, typing a reply with the confidence of a veteran player and a hint of playful sarcasm.

【What can one do? Since it's a world‑class, massive‑scale real game, let's set a small personal goal first.】

The other seemed intrigued and probed further:

【For example? Earn money for that small goal? Or become a Ten‑Mile‑Slope Sword God?】

Yang Yixie habitually curled the corner of his mouth upward, his fingertips dancing across the keyboard.

【For instance, try to snag the top spot on the leaderboard first?】

————————————————

Time slipped away quietly amid the relaxed chatter.

Yang Yixie glanced at the time in the bottom right corner of the screen and realized it was still far earlier than his usual streaming slot.

"Waiting around is no fun."

He muttered to himself, moved the mouse casually, and neatly closed the game client and the assorted web windows running on the computer; as the tower fan's whirring faded, the screen dimmed.

He stretched lazily, his gaze scanning the slightly messy desk before finally landing on the phone lying quietly on the charging cable.

"Speaking of that…"

He reached for the phone, unlocked it with his fingerprint, and the screen lit up, revealing a simple‑styled yet slightly mysterious pixel icon.

"It seems today's notification says a new storyline has unlocked; I haven't had time to check it yet."

Anyway, since I'm idle now, I might as well kill the empty time before the stream.

With that thought, his body instinctively found a more comfortable posture, his back supported by a soft pillow, his fingers lightly tapping as he entered the game.