“Go outside?” Fengguang blinked in confusion. “Go where?”
“To the most prosperous planet in the galaxy—the place known as the Holy Capital. I need to pick something up there,” Xu Wang said as he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m going to give it to you.”
Her curiosity was piqued, and she propped herself up with a sweet smile. “What is it?”
“I can’t tell you yet. When I have it, I’ll give it to you myself.” He kissed the corner of her eye and smiled softly, unusually playful in keeping it a secret from her.
The truth was, if there were something Xu Wang didn’t want her to know, then she’d never find out—ever.
“Fine then…” she pouted and lazily flopped back down on top of him.
Ever since Cecil went off-script and kidnapped Fengguang, Xu Wang had shut down every robot in the castle. Cecil and Xiao Xiao were technically just extensions of his consciousness, but Xu Wang was petty like that. Anyone who dared covet Fengguang—even if it was another version of himself—would be ruthlessly dealt with on principle.
Before Fengguang came along, Xu Wang’s storyline had repeated without fail, year after year. But now that she was here, he had no intention of continuing with the same script.
Consciousness could influence other consciousness. And since Xu Wang now had feelings for Fengguang, there was no telling what those soul-bearing puppets, who relied on his mental strength to exist, might do.
There’s that old saying, after all: “Like master, like servant.”
So for now, the only two living beings left in the castle were Fengguang and Xu Wang. He didn’t mind the quiet—he’d lived alone for years—but he worried she might get bored. That’s when he remembered something he’d hidden in the Holy Capital over a decade ago and decided to take her out on a trip.
He’d learned from her that, ever since she arrived in this world, she’d been taken away by Yan Yu and had never seen any planet besides this prison world. Suddenly, the idea struck him: if he could travel with her to the places he’d once been, then years from now, when they looked back, it might become a beautiful memory.
In the past, what Xu Wang found meaningful was watching human expressions twist in fear. What he found most meaningful was making her smile.
Even watching her press up against the glass window, gasping in wonder at the glittering stars, felt like pure joy.
“Xu Wang, that star is so bright!”
“That’s Venus—also called the Morning Star.” Xu Wang held her hand as they stood together at the transparent window. The sights of space were nothing new to him. After all, besides being known as the Grim Reaper and the Executioner, he had another title: the Wandering Dead of the Stars.
She looked up in awe, just like always. “So that’s the Morning Star… No wonder it shines so brightly.”
No matter how many times she saw the galaxy stretch across a black sky from their spaceship, she never stopped being fascinated. Maybe the locals would think she was just some bumpkin, but the man beside her was endlessly patient in explaining things to her.
“Xu Wang…” She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting starlight like they were glowing themselves. “I still think the Morning Star isn’t as dazzling as you.”
“No, you’re wrong.”
“Wrong?”
A gentle warmth shimmered in the depths of his dark eyes. “Fengguang is the brightest light in this entire universe.”