Chapter 31

Finally, Nie Ning even closed his eyes, clearly savoring the realm she described.

There was no doubt that Nie Ning was the most beautiful woman in the stone room. When she, dressed in a clean blue-flowered dress, closed her eyes in such a tense atmosphere and slightly raised her head, it was as if a little girl was praying. Everyone fell silent, captivated by her and the realm she described.

She was a woman who had experienced pain, but also a woman who retained the innocence of a little girl. It was a contradiction, but this was the real her.

At this moment, no one would doubt the authenticity of her words, for the red light was there. If she had lied or spoken of something she had not personally experienced or deeply felt, she would have died long ago.

Facing this scene, Lu Nan, who was on the left side of the stone table, was the first to lower his head. He was very clear about his own character and knew what impression others had of him because of his words. He did not want to become the target of everyone’s ridicule by showing a lecherous look towards Nie Ning.

Bu Ye muttered to himself, underestimating this woman.

In most cases, beautiful women are often labeled as “flower vases,” the more chesty the more brainless, the more they focus on their appearance, the shallower their inner qualities. However, it must be admitted that there are a few women in this world who are both beautiful and intelligent, and Nie Ning should be one of them.

If Bu Ye knew that before crossing over, Nie Ning on Earth liked to wear light makeup and tie her hair in a ponytail, dressing herself in a very neat and efficient manner, and acting just as efficiently, his impression of her would probably be even higher.

But that didn’t matter anymore, because that was Bu Ye before he had cancer.

After being tormented by cancer for more than half a year, his character had already changed.

He didn’t want to deliberately belittle anyone, but there was a fact: behind every goddess, there is a man who feels like vomiting after being with her.

Estimating that the time was almost up, he shifted his gaze from Nie Ning and was ready to stand up at any moment.

Before that, he turned his head and calmly surveyed his fellow participants.

Writers often look down on each other, a common trait. Perhaps after revealing their identities, these people in the room more or less looked down on each other.

Bu Ye felt that he had not been part of the literary circle before, but rather the online writing circle. In that circle, such a situation naturally existed.

It seemed that everyone who entered that circle wanted to compare themselves with their peers, to compete and prove that they were better than the others.

Bu Ye had once been like that, but after six years of writing, his performance had always been lukewarm. Just as he saw the signs of a breakthrough, he was diagnosed with cancer.

As a writer with six years of experience, he had long had a clear understanding of his own level.

He was not top-tier, but he was certainly not bad. He belonged to the tier just below the top-tier writers. This was a fact, and even with his high character, he had to admit it.

But it was still the same issue: that was Bu Ye before he had cancer.

The cancer tormented him for more than half a year, making his life worse than death, but it also injected a spark of inspiration into his life during the darkest and most dying moments.

That spark of inspiration was like a lightning bolt in the night, freeing his mind and spirit from all the stale and rigid constraints, allowing him to soar higher and farther, even burrowing into the dark, hard, and cold earth like a pangolin, reaching places that many others had never reached.

In short, it was about thinking in pain.

It might not necessarily improve his professional level, but it made him no longer confined to his old self, transcending a certain boundary for the first time.

At this moment, the red light finally spoke: "Time's up, next person."

Nie Ning sat down and glanced at Bu Ye.

Bu Ye felt Nie Ning’s gaze but did not turn to respond. Instead, he stood up, paused for two seconds, and then smiled when everyone’s attention turned to him.

A handsome man’s smile is always beautiful, but no one felt Bu Ye’s kindness, for his smile was a cold one.

Then, Bu Ye said, "I never thought I would meet my peers for the first time in such a way..."

Bu Ye was extremely calm, so calm that everyone was surprised, as if he did not care about life or death at all.

Then, in his calm narration, everyone saw the following scene.

A white hospital room, white fluorescent lights, white bed sheets, a young man with a serious illness lying alone on the bed, staring at the ceiling as if he were dead.

But his chest was still rising and falling slightly, and he was still breathing faintly, so he was not dead.

At this moment, his mind was far from the calm outside, but was engaged in a fierce and prolonged struggle.

The two sides of the struggle were his former normal self and his current self, who had been tormented to the point where his demonic nature had taken the upper hand.

He was a web writer, not a new profession in this era. However, he rarely initiated communication with his peers, did not join any author groups, and even his interactions with editors were limited to signing contracts and releasing new books... This was quite unusual. In this era, web writers usually had a few friends in the industry and maintained good relationships with editors.

But these only reflected his personality, and what he was thinking about at this moment was not these things.

He was thinking that he was going to die young, but there were still many things he had not done, many wishes unfulfilled, such as seeing a mirage, the aurora, and skydiving; he was thinking that he had always danced with a chain around his neck, trying to dance a beautiful waltz despite the heavy constraints, but he could not hold on...

When you want to support your parents, they are no longer there, and he was the opposite, his parents were there, but he was not...

It turned out that life was not as long as he had imagined.

Don’t always think, “I can do it later,” because there might be no later, and it would really be too late.

He could not help but think that if he had lived his life in a different way, he might have fulfilled more wishes, completed that beautiful waltz, even if his life was still short.

The answer was yes.

But to do so, there was a prerequisite: breaking free from the chains.

Those chains represented many things: tradition, morality, rules, conscience, and so on...

He had always been an idealist, respecting those chains, believing that doing things with chains was more worthy of respect, but in the end, he became a pragmatist, seeing only the various benefits that could be quickly obtained by breaking free from the chains.

A person only has one life, and life is short. With chains, many things cannot be done, so why not break free?

He did not care about others’ choices; he only made choices for himself.

He had an enemy, or rather, his family had an enemy. In this era, the term “enemy” was rarely used, but it just so happened that his family had one.

The enemy had power and influence, while his family was just ordinary people. Many people knew who was right and who was wrong, but because of the vast difference in power and status, justice and fairness were absent, and they could not get a fair judgment...

He had thought that when he became successful and wealthy, he would sue or even use money to force a resolution.

But the reality was that his grandfather died with grievances, his father had no ability to rely on, and he was about to die...

By law, his enemy did not deserve the death penalty. But by law, his enemy should have been in prison long ago, yet he was still at large, while the last generation of his family was about to die...

If, as fortune-tellers often say, they waited for a noble person to help them get justice, but even if there was such a noble person, how many of his family would still be alive? At least he would not see it! Or wait for a fair and honest leader to come to town and follow the legal process, but he, who could die at any moment, would not see it either.

The most important question was: why wait?

And why should they endure humiliation and resentment while their enemy continued to enjoy power, influence, and manipulate the “sacred law” to some unseen corner?

He thought of a classic dialogue from the movie "Personal Tailor."

"If you had 2 million, would you donate it to a charitable cause?"

"Yes."

"What if you had 20 million?"

"Yes."

"What if you had a car?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I really have a car!"

This dialogue suggests that modern people are hypocritical, saying all sorts of things, but when it comes to the real deal, they are definitely unwilling to give up.

In the hospital, he had nothing left, not even a car, and he had nothing to lose.

"I can’t wait any longer," he said to himself in the hospital room.

The next day, he had his younger brother buy him many fireworks.

In the following quiet nights, in the white hospital room, he no longer thought but silently peeled the fireworks, carefully collecting the gunpowder.

During the day, when his spirits were better, he would go out of the hospital alone and spend half a day at a locksmith’s stall in town.

A few days later, in a dark alley, he was panting heavily, walking quickly in the darkness as if someone was chasing him. Due to his poor health, he sometimes had to use his hand to support the wall to avoid falling.

Then suddenly, a loud explosion sounded from a courtyard dozens of meters behind him!

The sound of shattered glass hitting the walls and the barking of dogs broke the quiet night.

And he, mounting a bicycle at the alley’s entrance, rode into the long night, his laughter, a mix of joy and coughing, growing more distant...

If you can’t wait any longer, then don’t wait.