Chapter 721: That's All

Qingque perched on the fish's back, curling herself into a tiny ball, her chin resting on her crossed arms, emerald‑green eyes staring through the string of slowly rising translucent bubbles in front of her, fixed on the golden Branches moving gently a short distance away.

All around were Bubbles, big and small, round and plump, their semi‑transparent surfaces shimmering with a faint lapis‑blue glow, drifting up and down lazily in the air.

From afar it looked as if someone had lifted a patch of the sea floor into mid‑air, a mass of jellyfish‑like light Bubbles stacked layer upon layer, completely enveloping her silhouette in this makeshift refuge.

The outermost layer of Bubbles was gently swayed by the wind from above, refracting tiny specks of rainbow light that flickered on her gray‑white hair.

She hadn't even fully processed what had just happened.

When a golden branch dozens of meters thick swept in from the side, she instinctively raised a hand to block it, thinking "It's over, I'm about to be flung away," but the moment her palm touched the branch, the golden branch suddenly began to disintegrate from the point of contact, turning into a mass of light, floating, semi‑transparent Bubbles just as she had once unintentionally turned a building into droplets.

The newly formed Bubbles even spread back along the branch for several meters, wrapping the still‑unpulled segment of the trunk behind it.

At the break of the branch, strings of new Bubbles kept emerging, more and more, filling the entire area around her.

Qingque herself was stunned for a while, staring at her own palm for ages.

That hand had just been used to toss jade tiles, and now it could turn a Shuhuo branch into Bubbles.

Though she couldn't tell which hidden function this was, the discovery saved her a life right now.

The branches seemed to have no special reaction to the Bubbles themselves; the golden trunks swept the outer edge of the Bubble cluster several times, each time probing a short segment, stirring a few strings of Bubbles, then retracting, like a blind snake searching for prey in murky water.

Finally, the last branch drifting nearby sluggishly withdrew back into the distant golden forest.

Qingque waited a moment longer, confirmed no new branches were coming, then let out a long sigh, and her tense shoulders finally slumped.

Her whole body lay on the fish's back as if its bones had been pulled out, cheek pressed against the icy fish scales, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

It took a while for her to recover; she reached up to wipe the cold sweat from her forehead, her fingers sticky with something she couldn't tell whether it was seawater or sweat.

"How unlucky."

She muttered, her voice muffled soft and mushy by the surrounding Bubbles.

Thanks to the inexplicable trick just now, she had turned a trunk into a heap of Bubbles, much like the earlier operation that turned a building into droplets; otherwise she'd probably have been chased around the world again.

At least she was temporarily safe now; as long as these Bubbles didn't burst, she could linger here a little longer.

What should she do next?

She sat cross‑legged on the fish's back, hands resting on her knees, her gray‑white hair falling from her shoulders, a few strands damp with cold sweat clinging to the side of her neck.

Judging the situation, she felt she still couldn't win; the swelling confidence she had earlier was pierced to pieces during the tentacle chase.

Tens of thousands of jade tiles slammed down, the visual effect was indeed spectacular, but the actual damage was barely enough to give that tree a little itch.

When the opponent flicked a whip at her, she had to risk her life just to dodge.

She had indeed overestimated herself a bit.

Not to mention that she had kicked Shuhuo out of the dream; even to live another ten minutes she had to rely on a sudden burst of luck and a lucky boost.

Does that mean she'll be trapped here to death?

She lowered her eyes; once her thoughts began to sink, they wouldn't stop.

In her mind she flipped through, like turning pages, every person she could remember from childhood onward.

Mom, who always said she was lazy; Dad, who whenever she was caught slacking by Tai Bu Si and criticized, would pat the back of his head, dry‑laugh twice, and say "Whatever Mom says."

Grand Diviner, Qingque's thoughts snagged on the words Fu Xuan, then turned the page again.

Roadside card friend A, tea‑house card friend B, the round‑faced aunt who runs the tea shop she frequents and always gives her an extra plate of osmanthus cake, the old clerk in Tai Bu Si who once swiped snacks from her, and the tricolored cat that always naps at the foot of the stone lion by the Construction Office.

That's all for now.

Qingque tilted her head, a curve forming at the corner of her mouth, an expression that was neither a bitter laugh nor self‑mockery.

The giant tree in the distance kept expanding, new branches sprouted from the joints of the old ones, and the fully formed human faces on the trunk began to open their eyes slowly.

She was too lazy to care where those eyes were looking.

On the back of the blue fish she was sitting on, several golden little flowers blossomed again, lining up along the fish's spine; a few vines had already wrapped around her calves, and she was too lazy to pull them off.

She even discovered a small golden five‑petaled flower with a tuft of fine threads growing in the hair behind her ear.

She lifted a hand to touch it; it felt soft, cool, and surprisingly cute.

Her body began to feel warm and cozy.

Warmth surged from deep within, like being soaked in warm water, spreading from her fingertips and flowing over her entire arm.

Drowsiness followed, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, heavy enough that she was too lazy to keep herself upright.

Qingque squinted, curled her legs, lying on her side on the fish's back, cheek pressed against the icy fish scales.

That's probably what a demonic shadow body feels like, she thought.

When she was on Luofu, she had seen the final form of those who fell into a demonic shadow body: golden Branches poking out from cracks, limbs twisted, unable to speak clearly.

She used to think that was terrifying; now it was her turn, and she found it wasn't that scary after all.

She was just a bit sleepy, a bit warm, and couldn't recall what to do next.

Her mind was still mechanically flipping through page after page of Memory.

When she reached the page on Fu Xuan, she finally slowed down.

She thought of many things: Grand Diviner's stern face each time he caught her slacking off, yet never actually increasing the penalty when she was forced to copy files; Grand Diviner's repeated remarks that she was good for nothing, while her evaluation sheet was always marked satisfactory; that day in the dream bedroom, Grand Diviner sitting on the bedside, looping her hair around his fingertip half a turn, his tone low as if speaking to someone who couldn't hear, monologuing; and, in a deeper dream, the sensation of Grand Diviner's lips pressing down, slightly cool, carrying a faint hint of tea fragrance.

Her eyelashes twitched lightly.

If she could wake up once more, she wanted to hug them.

Not the kind in the dream.

She buried her face in her own arm's crook, the curve at the corner of her mouth softening a little.

Then hear the other call her by name, or hear the other say in that annoyed‑yet‑helpless tone, "Why are you slacking off again?"

The only regret was that she was too lazy to lift her head to look at the blue moon hanging in the sky.

That direction was too far, her eyelids too heavy.

She'll talk about it in the next life.