“Standing around won’t get us anywhere. Let’s look around,” Jiang Bai said.
He was still startled by suddenly finding himself standing in a field of stars, but at this point, they could only take things one step at a time.
“Alright.”
This space was bizarre—it had no sense of direction. Jiang Bai felt like they’d walked a great distance, yet their surroundings hadn’t changed at all.
It gave him the illusion that they were just walking in place.
“Director, this place feels seriously weird…”
He turned to speak to Hu Tao, but in that instant, she vanished without a trace. He stood alone in the boundless starry void.
Jiang Bai’s heart skipped in panic. He anxiously called out, “Director! Hu Tao! Where are you?! Can you hear me?!”
“Hehehehe…”
A strange laughter suddenly echoed by his ear.
It was impossible to tell whether the voice belonged to a man or a woman. It resonated directly inside his mind, like an eerie vibration rippling through the entire space.
“Who’s there?!”
Instantly alert, Jiang Bai glanced rapidly around, but besides the endless stars, there was nothing else.
“Outlander from the Abyss… Your reflection lies beneath the false sky, kept beyond reach…”
“Fate holds no claim over you… appearing before me… Tell me… your… purpose…”
The cryptic sentences seemed disrupted by interference, breaking intermittently. Jiang Bai couldn’t grasp their meaning at all.
Yet his intuition told him clearly—he was here precisely because this voice wanted him here.
“Outlander from the Abyss” he could somewhat understand; it probably meant he’d come from the Abyss. But what exactly was the Abyss?
He often heard Katheryne say, “Ad Astra Abyssosque,” yet he’d never quite grasped what “Abyss” really meant.
And what on earth was that “false sky”? Or the mention of a “person without fate”? It made no sense to him.
He didn’t believe in fate. Fate was something you held in your own hands.
“Who are you? What does that mean? Appearing before you? Where even are you?”
Jiang Bai fired off a barrage of questions, but received no answer.
“When the loom of fate… weaves destiny… we shall meet again…”
“What the hell does that even mean? What words did you skip over?” Jiang Bai was completely bewildered. But the voice gave no further reply—it was gone.
Frustration surged through him. He’d just gotten separated from Hu Tao, and now some mysterious voice was throwing vague riddles at him.
He desperately wanted to track down whoever was messing with him and teach them a lesson.
He cursed out loud, not caring whether that voice could hear him or not.
“What kind of cryptic riddler are you? Can’t you speak normally?! If we ever do meet, I’m not Jiang Bai if I don’t punch you in the face!”
He refused to dwell on the mysterious nonsense. Right now, finding Hu Tao was the most important thing.
“Director! Hu Tao!”
He shouted repeatedly as he walked, hoping for any response.
Not long after the voice disappeared, the surrounding stars began fading, losing their brilliance as if shrouded by mist.
The entire space grew darker, enveloped by a heavy, oppressive gray fog.
Jiang Bai noticed the change and felt a growing sense of dread, his anxiety increasing.
“Hu Tao! Can you hear me?!”
Tap—tap—tap—
He ran through the seemingly endless space, each step sending out wide ripples beneath him.
At some point, those ripples gradually formed a reflection beneath his feet, as if he were running atop a mirror. Whatever movements he made, his reflection copied exactly.
Yet while their faces matched perfectly, the reflection wore entirely different clothing.
The reflection’s Jiang Bai wore sleek, streamlined combat gear, devoid of any unnecessary decoration. It wrapped his body tightly for maximum protection without limiting movement.
Even the expression on the reflection’s face was completely different.
Though running and calling out just like the real Jiang Bai, his expression was cold and detached, his eyes empty and dull, as if nothing mattered. There was a mechanical numbness about him.
He resembled Jiang Bai back when he’d first awakened.
There was something else, too—wariness.
The reflection seemed eternally on guard, alert to possible threats even as he ran.
Anyone unfamiliar with Jiang Bai might’ve mistaken them for two entirely different people.
The only thing identical about them was Baiyuan, the gauntlet on their wrists.
But Jiang Bai didn’t notice this abnormality; he was too anxious.
Hu Tao had been badly injured and was still extremely weak. If she encountered any danger now, he didn’t dare imagine the outcome.
After running for a long time, Jiang Bai finally paused, gasping and leaning on his knees. His gaze suddenly met that of his reflection below.
Their eyes locked. It felt both instantaneous and eternal. Then, like a floodgate opening, countless memories surged into his mind.
Jiang Bai stared blankly at the familiar yet unfamiliar reflection. Suddenly, he clutched his head.
Scenes flashed rapidly through his mind as a dead, numb emotion spread along with the memories. Blue veins bulged across his forehead. The intense, stabbing pain made his expression twist horribly as a low, anguished growl escaped his lips.
He collapsed, clutching his head as the world spun violently around him.
The stars, his reflection—everything shattered like glass.
“Jiang Bai!”
Just as he was about to pass out, a familiar voice rang out.
The voice was joyful, infinitely familiar.
He lifted his head, spotting that beloved figure running towards him. The agony on his face slowly faded, replaced by relief.
He slumped heavily to the ground, panting raggedly, his body soaked with cold sweat.
“You suddenly disappeared just now! You scared me half to death!”
Hu Tao had seen Jiang Bai vanish suddenly, just as he had experienced losing sight of her.
Though she was still some distance away, she’d immediately recognized him and sprinted over, skidding to a halt just before crashing into him.
Jiang Bai lay pale as paper on the ground, radiating an aura of lifelessness, devoid of any vitality.
Hu Tao’s heart instantly sank. Clearly, something terrible had happened in her absence.
“What happened to you? What’s wrong?”
Jiang Bai didn’t have the strength even to lift a finger, much less respond. He stared blankly into space, his gaze empty and unfocused.
—
This is a fan translation of 胡桃拿我冲业绩 by 余溯. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
do you guys even read this :sob: ima do a poll
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