VAP - Chapter 147
Chapter 147: The Intersection of Illusion and Reality (12)
Jealousy makes one childish, which is another way of saying it makes one stupid.
When it came to jealousy, the personality “Jealousy” was second to none. And for that very reason, as she gritted her teeth, she failed to notice the change in Yue Du’s gaze.
Subtly, her expression shifted from simple, doting affection to one of thoughtfulness, a mix of exasperation and amusement.
The case was solved.
Yue Du wasn’t stupid; in fact, she was quite sharp. The dramatic change in her host’s learning progress, the return of a healthy appetite at nearly the same time, and Xiao Yi’s reminder from long ago… all pointed to a conclusion that seemed impossible, yet was the most logical explanation.
There were two hosts—or more accurately, the host had two sides. And both had tacitly agreed to hide the truth from Yue Du. Especially the Ji You with the poor appetite and overflowing possessiveness; she impersonated her other self so convincingly she could win this world’s Oscar, and Yue Du would gladly present it to her!
But acting couldn’t conceal the logical inconsistencies. If Yue Du hadn’t been so completely unguarded around Ji You, she would have pieced together the truth much sooner. It should have been crystal clear.
Thinking back, Ji You had always kept her mental space tightly sealed. She likely didn’t want Yue Du to discover this secret. After all, with two sides inhabiting one body, the structure of her mental space was probably different, and noticeably so.
One look would have made the truth self-evident.
Yue Du sighed silently. She assigned a dictation task to the genuinely young and naive Gluttony, who only half-understood everything. Then, she cast a light glance at Wen Yilan, who was trying to play dead to avoid the assignment, before using the excuse of boiling water to step out of the room.
Once out of Ji You’s sight, Teacher Yue no longer had to manage her expression. She walked slowly to the kitchen, ladled water, and set it to boil. As she stared at the white steam rising from the kettle’s spout, she frowned in thought.
Why was Ji You so reluctant to let her know?
Whether it was a case of dual personalities, two souls in one body, or simply a rotation of temperaments, Yue Du didn’t feel it would change her attitude toward Ji You. And she knew Ji You felt the same.
Should she confront her and ask directly?
Or should she feign ignorance and continue to observe?
Yue Du had a hundred ways to coax the truth out of Gluttony, whether through casual remarks or indirect questions, but she never once considered using such tactics on the person she was closest to.
There was no need for a direct confrontation, nor for deliberate concealment. She would let things unfold naturally. If Ah Jiu truly didn’t want to talk about it, and as long as it wasn’t harmful, then it didn’t matter.
Having come to a decision, Yue Du’s expression softened. She poured two glasses of water and brought them to the two people writing in the room.
Ji You took the glass, first saying sweetly, “Thank you, Sister,” then immediately shot a subtle glance at Wen Yilan.
Wen Yilan was completely oblivious. She had just been stumped by a rather complex word and was holding her glass while bargaining with Yue Du. “Can I look at the book again? Just a peek, I really can’t remember how to write that word.”
Ji You then added faintly, “Sister, I’ve finished my dictation. What should I do next?”
She showed the chef absolutely no respect.
Yue Du: “…”
No wonder she’d been fooled for so long. Even the child version had that possessive, jealous streak. While it wasn’t as intense as the “actress’s,” it was far more obvious and poorly concealed—which was precisely how Yue Du had seen through the act.
A few more days passed, and it was the day the opera star Dai Mi, as advertised on the posters, was scheduled to arrive at the stronghold.
In this era, ordinary people lived from hand to mouth, and even ability users could die at any moment. For the more vulnerable, their spirits were like tightly wound strings, prone to snapping.
Performers and “purifiers” like Dai Mi existed to ease the tension of those taut strings. They braved the danger of being devoured by Scarlet Beasts, crossing this treacherous and unpredictable land to tour from one stronghold to the next.
Yue Du held the hand of her squad’s only other member with her left, while on her right followed her private chef—not a teammate, but someone who had cheerfully tagged along for a free ticket. As soon as they entered the venue, she spotted their assigned seats.
The venue was spacious, the stage brightly lit, and the seats neat and clean.
The audience members passing by them seemed to have come with a kind of pilgrim’s reverence. They stared unblinkingly at the candle-laden stage, even though it was still empty.
—Fifteen minutes before the show, the entire venue was packed.
The opera Dai Mi was to perform was called the Yun Dynasty Epic. It was a work depicting a dynasty from two thousand years ago in this small world. Composed a thousand years ago, it had been passed down through ages of war, prosperity, and peace.
Perhaps because of the stirring, heroic power contained within this long epic, its operatic adaptation had become a spiritual banner for many during the dark age of struggle against the Scarlet Beasts, making it the most beloved performance.
Dai Mi slowly ascended the short steps at the side of the stage. Yue Du’s group was seated close enough to see her face clearly. She was obviously a beautiful woman, with a quiet, elegant, and dignified air. When she greeted the audience, her voice was clearer than spring water, free of any spiritual enhancement.
Wen Yilan slammed a fist on the armrest and squealed in a low voice, “I can die without regrets!”
Many others screamed and cheered as well, and the venue was instantly ignited with enthusiasm. Dai Mi smiled and nodded in response.
Yue Du’s attention, however, was not on Dai Mi. She looked to the side of the stage, her eyes widening slightly.
As Dai Mi’s heavenly voice rang out, the candles on stage flared brightly, bathing her in a spotlight. The edges of the stage fell into shadow, concealing the figure that had caught Yue Du’s eye.
Ji You, who had never let Yue Du out of her sight, asked softly, “Sister, what’s wrong?”
Yue Du withdrew her gaze and said, “I thought I saw someone familiar just now. I was probably mistaken.”
She had indeed seen a familiar figure, but whether it was a person remained to be seen.
In the shadows at the side of the stage, the figure standing with a few staff members was clearly Xiao Yi, whom she had just seen in the group chat space a few days ago.
After the opera, Wen Yilan, still buzzing with excitement, got in line for the star’s autograph. Seeing the long queue, Yue Du let her know they were leaving and headed home with Ji You.
Ji You, perhaps having noticed something, tilted her head up and blinked several times on the way, but didn’t say a word.
Yue Du said with amusement, “If you want to ask, just ask. There’s nothing I can’t tell you.”
Ji You immediately asked, “Sister, when you were staring at the side of the stage earlier, were you looking at that short person with the sleepwalking expression?”
Yue Du: “…” Why hurt each other like this?
Xiao Yi’s expression was indeed often hazy and dazed, as if she hadn’t woken up properly, and she certainly wasn’t tall. However, Ji You, who was still growing, wasn’t tall either—and was possibly even shorter than Xiao Yi.
At first, Yue Du thought the person by the stage was Xiao Yi, but after observing her for a while, she no longer thought so.
Although their appearance and temperament were identical, there was a subtle difference in the feeling they gave off. Besides, Xiao Yi had no reason to be here. If she had the ability to appear in her host’s world, why would she need to go to the trouble of gathering intelligence in the group chat?
She shook her head and briefly explained the matter to Ji You. Ji You had no concept of things outside this world, so she only half-understood.
However, Jealousy, residing inside Ji You’s body, understood.
“There’s definitely something wrong,” Jealousy declared decisively. “I knew there was a reason that shorty by the stage annoyed me just by looking at her.”
Ji You: “That makes so much sense.”
She immediately relayed the original words to Yue Du, looking like a child eager for praise for finding a clue. Then, with pure innocence, she continued speaking to Jealousy, “But I’m curious, how many people do you look at and not find annoying?”
Jealousy: “…”
The answer was everyone except Yue Du—after all, she even found herself annoying. But that person by the stage was exceptionally annoying.
Yue Du was completely unaware of the conversation happening in her host’s mental space. After hearing her little host’s report, she had a rough idea.
An existence that could make Ji You feel such obvious aversion without even making contact—needless to say, it had to be from the Main God’s faction, on the same side as Xiao Yi.
As for the rest, she couldn’t be sure for now.
Within three days, the file on this strange person who looked identical to Xiao Yi was delivered by Jiang Yao.
Her name was Han Li, a very common name. The file listed her as female, currently working under Dai Mi, responsible for some trivial tasks.
She rarely spoke, always wearing that sleepwalking-like expression. She hadn’t formed any close relationships and was used to being alone, but had no trouble communicating with others. Her colleagues all described her as “stiff and methodical, like a robot.”
Yue Du noticed that Han Li had been working with Dai Mi for five years. At that time, she herself had not yet arrived in this small world, and Ji You was living quietly on the outskirts of the Northern Stronghold, with no interaction with Han Li.
Although this could just be a smokescreen, Yue Du still believed that Han Li’s appearance in this small world probably had little to do with her host. But she didn’t believe it was a pure coincidence either.
In the group chat space, facing the rarely all-present group members, Yue Du subtly initiated a casual chat about their respective friends and family.
Turasu talked about her host, Jian Mingtian reminisced about his parents and brothers from his time as a human, and Yue Du brought up Yue Hao. For a moment, the space was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.
Turasu, flicking her leopard tail, nudged Xiao Yi with her elbow. “Don’t be so quiet, you say something too.”
Xiao Yi slowly raised her head, glanced at her, and said expressionlessly, “I have none. Nothing to say.”
Turasu: “Ah…”
Yue Du seized the opportunity to show a look of pity and compassion. Turasu followed suit, and Jian Mingtian copied them.
Xiao Yi, being stared at sympathetically by three pairs of eyes at the same time: “…”
She seemed to want to say, “Please stop looking at me so creepily,” but in the end, she just stiffly threw out a sentence: “I have a sister.”
The other Systems: “Ooh.”
This sentence seemed to open Xiao Yi’s floodgates. She spat out words one by one: “Willful, stubborn, perverse, immature, and utterly lacking ambition.”
The other Systems: “Wow.”
Yue Du: “She’s very rebellious?”
Xiao Yi looked over faintly and nodded.
Turasu laughed. “Hah, you sound so disappointed in her. Is she much younger than you? Looks like we’ve got another one who has to be both a sister and a mom! Hahahahaha!”
Xiao Yi: “…No.” After a pause, she added, “We’re about the same age.”
“Couldn’t be twins, could it?” Yue Du guessed, as if mentioning it casually.
This time, Xiao Yi was silent for a long time. She moved her gaze away from Yue Du, as if thinking of something unpleasant, and said coolly, “I suppose so.”
Yue Du suddenly had a strange, fleeting feeling she couldn’t quite place.
She concealed it well and continued to banter with Turasu about child-rearing philosophies. One moment it was, “It’s best not to put too much pressure on them,” the next, “Well, with twins of the same age, if the older sister is too strict, it’ll just make the other one rebel. You have to use reason and appeal to emotion.” They could have written a whole manual on raising a sister.
Xiao Yi’s gaze seemed to become even more vacant.
This unlucky pseudo-system once again fled in disarray without a word, disconnecting on the spot.
Yue Du, her objective achieved, first high-fived Turasu, then nodded to Jian Mingtian, and also leisurely went offline.
Was Han Li Xiao Yi’s twin sister?
Yue Du’s intuition said no. Han Li’s file showed that she performed every job by the book, wouldn’t even defend herself when reprimanded, not to mention she was an orphan with no blood relatives. This was the complete opposite of the willful, immature sister Xiao Yi described.
If that was the case, then the relationship between Han Li and Xiao Yi, or rather, with the Main God’s faction, was worth pondering…
Yue Du didn’t let the matter trouble her for too long. The movements of Han Li and her employer, Miss Dai Mi, became, just like the Ji family, a required item in Jiang Yao’s regular reports.
When Yue Du received them, she would casually pick them up for a look, and if there was nothing unusual, she’d toss them in a corner to gather dust.
These intelligence reports were delivered for six years.
Year after year, they piled up, more and more. But they didn’t gather too much dust, as Yue Du had a habit of cleaning regularly.
Studying, hunting, eating, sleeping, and playing. Six years wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. It passed by smoothly and methodically.
Ji You had her seventeenth birthday six months ago. For a growing child, the changes brought by six years could be described as earth-shattering.
Ji You had shot up in height. When looking into Yue Du’s eyes, her action changed from tilting her head up to slightly lowering her gaze.
Her features had blossomed, and that soul-stirring, dangerous beauty unique to the host—a beauty that seemed to rise from the abyss—had finally reemerged. Yet, it was overlaid with a bright clarity, a quality granted by the youth of her current body.
The hand that once tightly gripped Yue Du’s pinky finger had now grown a great deal and could in turn clasp her palm.
As usual, time had left no mark on Yue Du. Now when the two went out together, no one would think they were an older sister with her younger sister anymore. They looked more like a pair of exceptionally close friends—after all, there were too few similarities in their appearances.
Six years had been long enough for Yue Du to grasp the pattern of her host’s personality switches, and long enough for the various Ji Yous to realize their sister knew what they were hiding. Yet, none of them made a move to reveal the truth, continuing their Oscar-worthy performances.
Yue Du: “…”
The act continued. They both knew, but the act went on.
One thing had changed, however. Gluttony and Jealousy no longer concealed their strange animosity toward each other. They would sometimes attack one another, a common refrain being, “The me from last month was so bad at…”
…Keep in mind, there was only one host in this small world, but for some reason, two fragments had been stuffed inside. Every two months, the two consciousnesses would automatically switch control of the body.
Sometimes the handover happened early. For instance, six years ago when Gluttony ate herself unconscious, it wasn’t yet time for a switch, but Jealousy had proactively and automatically taken over.
This was different from having dual personalities. People with multiple personality disorder usually believe that the other personalities inside them are real “people,” completely distinct from their core self.
But for Ji You, no matter how Gluttony and Jealousy fought openly and secretly, or how they cooperated in their act, in their perception, the other was still themselves. They were one and the same.
…Yue Du felt as if she were watching a stream-of-consciousness battle between a left hand and a right.
Oh, and these left and right hands could also cooperate strategically.
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