After Being Mistakenly Taken for a Fellow Traveler by Emperor Long Aotian - Chapter 159

Chapter 159: “Do You Want to Take a Gamble?”

 

Over the next period of time, Cheng Hang felt deeply that his roommate next door must have struck a streak of incredible luck.

 

If one stroke of luck could be considered stepping in dog poop, Cheng Hang believed that Rong Haoyu must have been completely buried in it on some day he wasn’t aware of—literally sunk into a pit.

 

After the first-author publication in a top-tier journal, his previously strict and cold advisor seemed to have found a new girlfriend, arriving at the lab every day with a blissful smile. For Rong Haoyu, who had already met the graduation requirements, the advisor was now warm and gentle, assigning no more tasks and even telling him that he could graduate a year early and promising to write him a glowing recommendation letter for a top company in the field.

 

Then came scholarships, honorary student titles, and countless other strokes of good fortune seemingly crashing down on Rong Haoyu’s head. Even the laundry room staff told him they found a lottery ticket in his pocket. The very next day, he saw news that the ticket had won 200,000 yuan. With graduation eligibility secured, a lenient advisor, and even a lottery prize—Rong Haoyu was living what should have been the happiest and most carefree days of his life.

 

And yet, shockingly, he declined all party invitations and instead devoted himself to either the lab or staying cooped up in his apartment.

 

It wasn’t until Cheng Hang barged into his room on someone’s behalf that he discovered—

 

Rong Haoyu was watching a time-travel drama?!

 

“Damn it, your taste has gone bad—watching a time-travel drama!” Cheng Hang exclaimed, covering his eyes. The room was unlit, so he turned on the lights himself, only to be stunned by what he saw.

 

The entire room—walls upon walls—was plastered with printed papers, posters, and photographs of inexplicable events.

 

“Quantum foam, wormholes, string theory… What the hell,” Cheng Hang muttered as he scanned the marked-up documents. Unable to suppress his scream, he blurted out, “Are you planning to switch fields for another PhD after you graduate? Are you…”

 

But when he saw Rong Haoyu, his voice gradually faded.

 

Rong Haoyu sat at his computer desk, his eyes bloodshot. His hair was disheveled, and his face was scruffy with stubble—clearly, he hadn’t slept well in days. Empty coffee cans were strewn chaotically around him. Rong Haoyu, though a bachelor, had always been clean-cut and fitness-loving. But now, he looked like a tech fanatic teetering on the brink of madness.

 

Cheng Hang had never seen him in such a state.

 

“Buddy, you, wake up—what’s going on? My God…” Cheng Hang murmured in disbelief. “What is all this stuff…”

 

Then, he saw piles of notes and manuscripts.

 

“Interstellar, Steins;Gate, Groundhog Day, Contact…” Cheng Hang pushed Rong Haoyu aside and checked his computer history. The more he saw, the more alarmed he became. It was just too bizarre.

 

“You…”

 

He hesitated before asking, “What the hell…”

 

“I’ve never felt so stupid in my entire life,” Rong Haoyu muttered. “No clues, no direction at all. When I work on a project, I know where to go and where to find information. But this time, there’s nothing—nothing to find, nothing to grasp.”

 

He added after a pause, “It’s so frustrating.”

 

Then, after another moment, he muttered, “It’s so frustrating. If I go back and…”

 

If I’m already old, or if he’s already old, what then?

 

“You…” Cheng Hang stared at him. After a long while, as if making a decision, he closed the door.

 

“Are you going to report me to the campus counseling service?” Rong Haoyu asked from inside.

 

Cheng Hang swallowed hard and, after a moment, said firmly, “Dude, I really thought you’d lost it earlier—was about to call the cops. But look, you’ve had luck recently that anyone would envy like crazy. Even so…”

 

He sat down beside him. “As your bro, I’ve got to know what’s really going on. And as your bro, I should believe in you.”

 

Rong Haoyu stayed silent for a long time before finally speaking.

 

“I want to go back,” he said firmly. “I want to go back.”

 

“Go back? Back where?”

 

“Back to that dream,” Rong Haoyu said. His fingers clenched on the papers in his hand. “There’s someone there waiting for me.”

 

After a moment, his disheveled and scruffy face suddenly softened with a smile. “If I’m gone, he must be so worried, so scared.”

 

“I can’t let him be scared. I promised him I’d stay with him for life.” Rong Haoyu said this as he abruptly stood up.

 

Clenching one fist, he pointed to the sky. “An emperor never breaks his word!”

 

Cheng Hang: …

 

After a long pause, Cheng Hang sighed and said, “Fine, I’ll help you find information.”

 

“Wait, wait—senior, aren’t you still delayed on your dissertation?” Rong Haoyu was shocked and nearly fell over.

 

“Damn it! Do you have to bring up my pain points every time?!” Cheng Hang roared.

 

After a while, he said, “Scientists are inherently weirdos and madmen! PhD students are weirdos and madmen too—it’s normal!”

 

Rong Haoyu gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. Cheng Hang covered his face and muttered, “Fine, I’ll just start practicing Qigong next year… Oh, right.”

 

He added worriedly, “I read a novel where the protagonist had to get electrocuted to time-travel. Don’t you dare—”

 

“Of course not. Such a non-replicable and low-success experiment—how could I possibly choose that method?” Rong Haoyu replied. “Besides…”

 

Cheng Hang: ?

 

Rong Haoyu: “I wouldn’t try crawling into a toilet either.”

 

“…What the hell have you been watching…”

 

——

 

Gradually, everyone knew that Rong Haoyu was very interested in time travel.

 

Gradually, everyone knew that Rong Haoyu seemed to be searching for someone.

 

Before Christmas, Kang Xin finally left school and returned home in China. Before leaving, she met with Rong Haoyu. Sitting across from him, she said, “To be honest, I’ve never really understood why you liked me. We weren’t even that close. And… you already have someone, don’t you?”

 

Kang Xin smiled, her cheeks flushing red. “When we were at the subway station, you helped me retrieve my laptop bag from that big guy. There were so many people around me, but only you—someone I barely knew—stepped forward. At that moment, I felt that you were brave and resolute.”

 

“Uh, really?” Rong Haoyu muttered.

 

“I know you have someone you care about. And I also know that some people have been whispering behind your back, saying you might be cracking under pressure or having psychological issues.” Kang Xin spoke earnestly. “But someone like you doesn’t speak nonsense. I, and others, can tell. When you say you need to find him, it means you absolutely will. You won’t stop until you do.”

 

The originally sheepish young man finally quieted down.

 

“Wow, you’re…” He smiled wryly. “You’re a kind-hearted girl. Thanks for the blessing.”

 

When he smiled, it was still bright and open, and Kang Xin smiled along with him.

 

“Your friends care about you a lot, you know?” she said. “You’ve always had good relationships; people like you. Even that guy Bob from the law school asked if something had happened to you. His family is quite influential, so if you need help, you can go to him.”

 

Rong Haoyu had received so many inquiries and concerns like this recently. He merely smiled.

 

After a while, she asked, “What if you can’t find him?”

 

The young man stopped smiling. He looked out the window at the heavy snowfall outside.

 

Snow fell thickly into the night.

 

“Then I’ll keep searching,” he said softly, before suddenly smiling again. His smile was still as warm as before. “I’ll keep searching my whole life if I have to—I’ll find him eventually.”

 

The snow covered the streets of P City, as well as the red faces of pedestrians braving the cold. When Rong Haoyu left the café, he exhaled into his hands and looked up at the distant moon in the sky.

 

“What are you doing right now?” he murmured.

 

He thought about it for a moment, then suddenly remembered how, in the cold winters, Zhou Xun would curl up in his furry cloak, leaning against his arm like a cat that hated the cold. Thinking of that scene, he almost felt the soft touch on his arm again, and he couldn’t help but smile happily.

 

He always thought of him.

 

Rong Haoyu walked back to his apartment. After he left, a figure emerged near a mailbox outside the café.

 

The person held an umbrella, their doll-like face expressionless.

 

——

 

During the holiday, Rong Haoyu returned to China.

 

First, he tidied up his home in Shanghai, then he began a tightly scheduled journey, visiting all the famous museums across the country. His goal was to see every painting—both online and those not recorded online.

 

His efficiency was remarkable, and his itinerary was packed.

 

He believed that Zhou Xun must have left him some kind of message. He was sure he’d be able to see something left for him thousands of years ago.

 

If they existed in the same world.

 

Even if he couldn’t find Zhou Xun, just knowing he was doing well would bring him some comfort.

 

And he had a faint hope, a strange premonition—that as long as he could find traces of Zhou Xun’s existence in this world, he could find him.

 

Time is a one-way street; time travel is impossible. From a scientific perspective, or even a rational one, no one could provide an explanation for it.

 

But what about irrationality?

 

What about irrational love… and bonds?

 

He was certain he would find him, because he knew Zhou Xun was waiting for him.

 

History is filled with nations that shone briefly before disappearing into the sands of time. Over and over, Rong Haoyu searched, hoping to find them. His actions even alarmed his cousin in Beijing—a history major who loved delving into the past. Her family had always been kind to him after his parents passed away.

 

Hearing his detailed description, his cousin furrowed her brows and muttered, “This sounds so familiar…”

 

Rong Haoyu quickly asked her to help investigate.

 

The next day, he had plans to visit a small, secluded museum in Beijing. Standing at the entrance with his ticket, shivering in the cold, he suddenly heard his cousin’s call.

 

“Big bro, that dynasty you mentioned—the one with Zhou Xun—I remembered! I’ve definitely seen it before…”

 

Rong Haoyu’s eyes immediately lit up.

 

He had never been so afraid of not being able to hold his phone steadily, never been so afraid of it shutting down in the freezing cold. He exited the queue and moved to another side, walking as he asked her, “You found it? What is it? What is he actually…”

 

But what he heard was his cousin’s hesitant voice.

 

“I really found it, every detail matches, I really found that ‘Zhou Xun.’ But, brother…”

 

Her rare hesitation made Rong Haoyu even more anxious.

 

“Little sister, just say it! I’ll treat you to hot pot. What is it exactly…”

 

The next moment, he heard her voice:

 

“But that Zhou Xun… is a supporting character in a novel.”

 

“And that Jing Kingdom, too.”

 

Rong Haoyu heard the sound of his own breath catching.

 

The weather was so cold, yet he felt his eyes were dry, red, and cracking.

 

…

 

“‘Spring Joy on the Imperial Stage’ is a well-written danmei novel serialized on XX Literature Network…”

 

Rong Haoyu sat in his room, holding his phone. For this novel, he even downloaded the official app and topped up thirty yuan.

 

And now, he sat in the darkness, quietly reading.

 

He read quickly, as he always did—ten lines at a glance. Back in high school evening study sessions, he could finish a magazine like Vision Weekly or Southern Breeze in one-third the time it took others, then pass it on and hum while doing practice problems until the teacher came to inspect.

 

But this time, he hated his reading speed.

 

Because he read too fast, but the passages where Zhou Xun appeared were too few.

 

This novel revolved around a young man named Zhou Cai and his turbulent journey, navigating relationships with several men and eventually becoming emperor. In his youth, he bore the weight of his family’s expectations and his mother’s demands, treading carefully at every step, never truly living for himself. Later, through a twist of fate, he met a prince who mistook him for his lost love. Using this misunderstanding to his advantage, he gained the prince’s support and earned the emperor’s recognition, eventually becoming a top scholar. Meanwhile, his greedy and vain younger brother, who had always looked down on him and made his life difficult, ended up as a mere concubine in the prince’s residence, ultimately going mad and attempting to assassinate the emperor.

 

That younger brother was beaten to death with clubs and thrown into a mass grave. As for Zhou Cai, this incident not only created friction with the emperor but also brought them closer. To maintain his “upright gentleman” image, Zhou Cai married a noblewoman, Yan Ruoqi, through subtle manipulation. Yan Ruoqi, though meek yet stubborn, attempted suicide several times upon realizing she’d been deceived. When she finally accepted reality, she stumbled upon Zhou Cai’s affair with the emperor. Unyielding and traditional, she sought to defend her marriage.

 

Then, Zhou Cai used subtle tactics to ensure Yan Ruoqi died during childbirth. The emperor was also complicit in this, leading to the prince growing estranged from Zhou Cai due to his ruthlessness. Following this, the princess sought revenge against Zhou Cai, but the emperor exiled her to the Northern Wei Kingdom for a diplomatic marriage. Later, the Northern Wei Kingdom faced rebellion, with three border prefectures falling, floods in Qingzhou, and a nationwide epidemic spreading from Xizhou. The once-flourishing capital descended into chaos. To avoid the fallout of Yan’s minister’s revenge, Zhou Cai volunteered for military service.

 

During his mission, he encountered the prince of Northern Wei, who fell in love with him at first sight and demanded him as a condition for peace negotiations.

 

Zhou Cai was taken to Northern Wei, where he maneuvered through the courts of Northern Wei and Western Liang, eventually bringing down the Northern Wei Kingdom, killing Lin Yan, and returning to the emperor’s side. At this point, Zhou Xun, thought to have died, reemerged from the mass grave to kill him…

 

In the end, it was the prince who deeply loved Zhou Cai who took the fatal blow for him. Zhou Xun died. Zhou Cai lived a life of delicate balance among the emperor, the Northern Wei emperor, and the Western Liang emperor, enjoying a blissful life.

 

Rong Haoyu’s hands trembled. After a long time, he turned off his phone.

 

“I actually think the protagonist of this book has some pretty twisted morals. He acts like everyone owes him something, and he’s so petty, always scheming. But lots of people call that decisive and pragmatic—it’s how palace dramas should be,” his cousin said. “And those women in the book, I think they’re pretty pitiful. But…”

 

But what about Zhou Xun? Rong Haoyu thought.

 

His Zhou Xun, who taught him to read, rested his head on his arm, breathed softly, and looked up at him like he was unknowingly being coquettish, smiling softly, tender as a spring brook.

 

That vivid, living lover of his. His beloved.

 

So soft and lovely, clear and gentle, like new snow on a branch.

 

The person he kissed, the one whose favorite fish was sea bass, who disliked bony carp, who loved wearing blue but hated beige, whose last strokes of his handwriting always tilted upward. That living, breathing Zhou Xun who existed in his arms.

 

In this book, he was only a few short sentences.

 

A few chapters.

 

A character no one would remember. A mere passerby in Zhou Cai’s grand love story. But he was real to him, alive, with every detail and every embrace so genuine.

 

How could he believe he was just a few lines? How could he believe…

 

That everything Zhou Xun left for him, he could never see?

 

He was just a character in a novel. He changed his life, but that too existed in a world he couldn’t reach. In that world, Zhou Xun altered his future, but in this one, they were separated by a barrier of worlds, one where he couldn’t even glimpse the starlight Zhou Xun had sent across. He couldn’t see the traces Zhou Xun left in history.

 

In that world, no one loved Zhou Xun, cherished him, or held him dear as he did.

 

To those people, he was just a supporting role.

 

Just a few lines.

 

“Brother, when did you read this book? Brother? Brother?”

 

“I’m going out for a walk,” Rong Haoyu said in a low voice.

 

“Oh… okay.”

 

She had never seen her cousin with an expression like that.

 

Rong Haoyu left the house.

 

He wandered the streets alone, swaying as he walked. The Lunar New Year was approaching, the streets were cold, and most people were home. His mind was blank, and he thought he needed a place to sit.

 

Where could he go?

 

You could imagine traveling through time and returning to the past, but who could enter the world of a novel?

 

When he came back to himself, he was already sitting in the waiting area of an old cinema. The cinema was nearly empty, showing a few old films.

 

He bought a ticket casually and sat there waiting. While buying the ticket, the seller enthusiastically recommended their popcorn, so Rong Haoyu bought a bucket as well.

 

A bucket of popcorn and a cup of cola.

 

The screening room was small, with only a few people scattered inside. When Rong Haoyu found his seat, there was already someone sitting next to him. That person sat upright, their skin very fair.

 

Rong Haoyu wasn’t in the mood to look at him.

 

The movie he was watching was called Ashes of Time, a very old film. Eating popcorn while watching such a movie felt inappropriate, but Rong Haoyu just wanted to fill the silence around him—nothing more.

 

He was merely using those things to fill the void, so he wouldn’t realize he had nowhere to go.

 

But when he reached into the popcorn bucket, he heard the person next to him speak: “You’ve taken my popcorn.”

 

“Oh, oh, sorry.”

 

Rong Haoyu apologized awkwardly and turned to the other side, finding it empty.

 

“I was joking,” the person sitting next to him said, sounding amused. “It’s definitely your popcorn.”

 

Rong Haoyu: …

 

He heard the person beside him eat another piece of popcorn.

 

The movie continued. He watched this hopeless love story until, before he realized it, the film ended.

 

But the lights didn’t come on. The other viewers in the small theater had disappeared.

 

Only the gray screen and himself remained.

 

No, not just him.

 

There was also the person beside him, eating popcorn.

 

Rong Haoyu slowly turned his head and heard the young man next to him say, “Stay calm. Don’t scream.”

 

“You saw the movie’s ending, right? But I don’t think you were in the mood to watch. Huang Yaoshi and Ouyang Feng drank that jar of wine called ‘Drunken Life, Dreaming Death.’ One of them forgot everything, while the other remembered even more clearly,” the young man said.

 

His eyelashes were long, and he looked like a professional movie enthusiast.

 

“Who are you?” Rong Haoyu asked.

 

“Currently the administrator of this world. I’ve completed many quick-transmigration tasks, so I have a little authority. Also, I enjoy watching the drama.”

 

The young man placed the empty popcorn bucket aside, clapped his hands clean of crumbs, and said, “The movie’s over. I saw you crying.”

 

“I…”

 

“Oh, by the way,” the young man suddenly looked up. His eyes, with their upward slant at the corners, resembled a cat’s. “Do you want to take a gamble?”

 

“A gamble on what?” Rong Haoyu couldn’t help but respond.

 

“A gamble on whether you can return to the time you left behind,” the young man said.