The boy had not yet truly been born—he wasn’t a fully realized existence. He could only manifest using the power of the world’s origin and move within its confines.
His world was a low-level one, utterly incapable of withstanding Si Ming’s presence, not even at the core of its origin.
Using overlapping spatial rifts, Si Ming set up a transfer array between the boy’s world and the origin of His own world, allowing the boy to enter His domain directly.
Of course, he could still only reach the core of the world’s origin there.
Until the boy was truly born, he could neither leave the origin’s core nor was he permitted to.
If he stepped outside, his presence would leak.
Though the boy longed to see the world beyond, he was obedient—exceptionally so. Even knowing Si Ming had the power to let him out, he never once threw a tantrum or begged to leave.
Too well-behaved. So much so that it was impossible to dislike him. It almost felt… pleasant, keeping such a docile little creature.
Perhaps driven by this sentiment, Si Ming moved His divine palace directly into the world’s origin, allowing the boy to roam freely within its halls.
The boy was, of course, overjoyed. It was the first time he had seen anything beyond an endless expanse of white.
He turned to the man with a radiant smile, his beautiful eyes sparkling like stars.
"Thank you, Teacher!"
The boy’s thirst for knowledge was boundless—like a kitten, curious about everything. Yet he spoke little. Aside from greeting Si Ming politely each morning and evening, he sought answers on his own, burying himself in books. Si Ming, as his "teacher," might as well have been a decoration.
Despite the palace now housing two, the silence persisted as if He were still alone.
But Si Ming knew otherwise. He could sense the boy’s heartbeat, his breath, every flicker of his existence.
Even his happiness.
The boy’s joy was simple and pure—sparked by a newfound discovery, or merely the satisfaction of solving a puzzle.
Si Ming’s palace had always been vast and empty. Yet, at some point, it began filling with countless objects, including an entire library.
The books had started as casual gifts, brought back whenever Si Ming noticed the boy’s fondness for reading. Without realizing it, they’d multiplied into a towering collection.
It became the boy’s sanctuary. After his daily greetings, he would vanish into the library, often staying there until nightfall.
All the temples were under Si Ming’s control, so of course He was aware of the boy’s every move—even if He didn’t deliberately pay attention.
Including when the boy arrived, and when he left.
Si Ming had been waiting for the boy to say goodbye, but today, it seemed the boy had forgotten entirely, returning to his own world without a word.
When Si Ming sensed the temple was empty again, His eyes darkened with an inexplicable irritation.
He’d let the boy occupy His space, even provided him with books to read—and now the boy couldn’t even bother to say goodbye before leaving?
Hmph.
***
Si Qing really had forgotten. He’d been too excited after finding the answers he sought, and the farewell had slipped his mind. It only occurred to him after he’d already returned to his own world.
Not that it mattered much, anyway. It was just a perfunctory courtesy—that man probably didn’t care either.
Dismissing the thought, Si Qing settled in for a peaceful sleep.
But the next day, when he returned, he was met with a man shrouded in gloom and icy displeasure.
Si Qing was highly sensitive to emotions. Even without a change in the man’s expression, one glance was all it took to recognize His foul mood.
…He was angry?
Who would dare provoke this man?
Though Si Qing had never interacted with others, he understood the man’s power all too well. The pressure He exuded surpassed even the force of the World’s Origin—the most formidable existence Si Qing knew, the core that sustained an entire world.
Just how terrifying was this man, then?
Not daring to test His temper, Si Qing offered a polite bow and a quiet greeting before quickly turning to leave.
"Stop." Si Ming’s detached voice cut through the air behind him.
"Has no one taught you basic courtesy?"
His tone was calm, almost indifferent, as if discussing something trivial—yet it sent an involuntary chill down Si Qing’s spine.
The boy’s slender frame stiffened mid-step. He froze, realizing abruptly that he was the reason for the man’s anger.
His mind raced for an explanation. Surely Si Ming wouldn’t be upset over something as small as an unsaid goodbye.
…Was He just looking for an excuse to kill him?
So, in the end, he still couldn’t tolerate him?
Si Qing had known all along that the man wanted to kill him. How could he not sense it? A terrifying presence had entered his world. But the other was simply too powerful—he stood no chance at all.
All he could do was pretend to sleep, praying the man was just passing through.
But the man wasn’t passing through. He had come to kill him.
If Si Qing kept pretending to sleep, he would die.
So he "woke up," searching for a chance to escape.
Yet the man seemed to have changed his mind. Playing along, Si Qing acknowledged him as his teacher.
It was no different than keeping company with a tiger—but he had no choice.
The weak could only ever obey the rules.
Si Qing didn’t understand why the man had decided not to kill him, but he avoided contact as much as possible. He didn’t dare truly treat him as a teacher, limiting himself to a polite "good morning" and "good night" each day.
But even so, it seemed the man still couldn’t tolerate him.
Si Qing’s slender, pale fingers clenched tightly beneath his sleeves, his entire body tensing. Slowly, he turned and bowed to the lofty figure before him.
"This disciple is foolish. Please enlighten me, Teacher."
Si Ming said nothing. With a wave of his hand, a scene materialized in the air—footage from the previous day, when Si Qing had left.
In the vision, the young man closed his book, returned it to the shelf, and then walked back to his own world without a backward glance.
Si Qing: "......?"
What did this mean? It was no different from what he always did. The man had never objected before.
...Could it be because he hadn’t said good night?
The idea seemed absurd, but he could find no other mistake. The only deviation was that single missing "good night."
He lifted his gaze cautiously, testing the waters. "My apologies, Teacher. Last night, I was exhausted and forgot to bid you good night. It was not intentional."
The cold aura around Si Ming lessened slightly, the oppressive weight in the air easing a fraction.
Si Qing: "..."
So it really was because of that.
Si Qing couldn’t understand—was a simple "goodnight" really that important? The books clearly stated it was just a polite greeting.
Could it be... the books were wrong?
Si Qing combed through every book in the library but found no answer. It seemed it really was just a formality.
Perhaps the man simply disliked anything slipping beyond his control.
From then on, Si Qing grew even more cautious. And the man watched him even more closely—so closely that he began accompanying him in the library.
Accompanying him? Or monitoring him?
Si Qing couldn’t read the man’s thoughts, nor decipher his intentions. All he could do was try to ignore his presence.
But the man’s aura was too overwhelming to disregard. Under the weight of his gaze, Si Qing fidgeted like he was sitting on pins and needles. For the first time, time itself felt unbearable.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Setting the book aside, he walked over to the man and lowered himself to sit at his feet in a posture of submission. Tentatively, he spoke.
"Teacher... what is the world outside like?"
Si Qing rarely heard the man speak. Every morning and night, his greetings of "good morning" and "goodnight" were met with silence. This time, too, he expected no reply.
Yet unexpectedly, the man responded.
Si Ming snapped his fingers idly, and countless images unfolded before Si Qing—scenes from three thousand different worlds.
Lush, dense forests. Lakesides alive with birdsong and blossoms. Pristine snowscapes where plum blossoms bloomed defiantly. Every living thing, every corner of existence.
Endless vistas played out in those visions, weaving together the tapestry of all worlds.
Si Qing’s eyes widened, fixed on the spectacle before him. For once, even the terrifying man beside him faded from his mind.
Utterly entranced, he leaned forward unconsciously for a better look.
And as he did—his body accidentally brushed against Si Ming’s leg.
Si Ming had never tolerated anyone touching him. Yet when the boy’s unconscious contact came, his heart skipped a beat without warning. His body tensed, frozen in place, as if forgetting to pull away.
Si Qing, meanwhile, noticed nothing. The contact even became a support, and he instinctively leaned closer.
Though their teacher-student relationship had lasted years, this was the first time they’d been so near.
The warmth of another’s body seeped into him. Si Ming pressed his lips into a thin line, his posture rigid, fingers gripping the edge of the chair.
The boy was being audacious. He ought to kick him away—teach him his place.
But he’s so weak—if I kicked him, he’d probably cry for ages.
Si Ming remained motionless for a long moment, his expression cold and detached as he allowed the boy to lean against him.
It wasn’t that he was giving him special treatment—he just couldn’t stand it when people cried.
Si Qing finally realized he was resting against the man’s leg. A flicker of panic crossed his delicate face as he hurriedly straightened up.
"Apologies, Teacher. Si Qing has been disrespectful."
The moment Si Qing pulled away, an almost irritable emotion flashed through Si Ming’s mind. His indifferent gaze swept over the boy before his figure dissolved into black mist, vanishing from the library in an instant.
Left alone, Si Qing seemed to lose all strength, collapsing weakly to the floor—the inevitable result of extreme mental exhaustion.
He had done it on purpose. He had been testing the man.
The man had been acting too strangely lately, so strangely that it unsettled him. He was afraid the man wanted to kill him.
But that didn’t seem to be the case. The man’s odd behavior didn’t appear to be a prelude to murder.
Si Qing couldn’t figure it out. He couldn’t decipher the man’s thoughts. But as long as the man didn’t want him dead, that was enough.
Though the man had left, the illusion conjured by his power hadn’t yet faded.
Si Qing gazed at the snow plum blossoms standing proudly in the wintry scene, his beautiful eyes filled with pure admiration. Without thinking, he reached out to touch the image—but before his fingers could make contact, it dissolved into black mist and vanished.
He stared blankly at the dissipating darkness at his fingertips, the reflection of the snowy landscape still lingering in his eyes.
I really want to be born soon.
