After AFK for five years, I returned to be number one in the entire server.

There was silence on the deck for a few seconds.

The laughter of several students drifted from afar, mingled with the clinking of bottles, but was quickly dispersed by the sea breeze.

"When did this happen?"

"In just a few days."

"Does your aunt know?"

"have no idea."

Su Nian nodded.

Her expression remained normal, like that of an ordinary relative concerned about your marriage: "How did you two meet?"

"During military training."

"How is he?"

"not bad."

What does "not bad" mean?

"It's not bad."

Su Nian's lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile, but more like a polite curve: "You're easy to please."

She turned around, looked up at the ship's lights, chatted with Lin Ye for a while, and finally said, "I'm going back now. The forum starts at 7:30 tomorrow. If you don't want to stay in your room or on the deck, there's a restaurant and a movie theater on the sixth floor. Feel free to explore."

Su Nian walked along the corridor toward the eighth floor. Every few steps along the bulkheads on both sides, there was a wall lamp with a warm glow that illuminated the white door panels.

Her room was 8046. The lights in the room turned on automatically, and outside the porthole was the black sea; she couldn't see anything.

She walked to the bedside, sat down, took off her trench coat, folded it neatly, and draped it over the back of the chair.

The sea outside the porthole was calm, and the slight rocking of the ship felt like a slow breath.

She remembered that dream, the day Lin Yao was going to kill them. They were pinned to the ground by a magnetic field, unable to resist, and Lin Yao stood up in front of her...

the next day.

The forum's schedule was packed.

In the morning, Zhou Yanqing gave a keynote speech entitled "Digital Personality and the Boundaries of Rights," which lasted from nine o'clock until nearly twelve o'clock.

Su Nian sat in the second row, a notebook open in front of her, the pen moving quickly across the paper.

During the break, a girl approached her. She was Song Zhiyu, a second-year graduate student in the law school, and someone Su Nian knew quite well at school. She was wearing a blue suit jacket, had short hair, wore thin-rimmed glasses, and was carrying a cup of Americano.

"Could I borrow your notebook to take a picture later? I spaced out for a while."

Su Nian pushed the notebook over: "Go ahead and take the pictures."

After finishing filming, Song Zhiyu noticed that Su Nian's eyes often seemed unfocused: "You don't seem to be in a good mood today, what's wrong?"

Su Nian paused for a moment, then quickly continued writing: "Nothing much."

Song Zhiyu did not ask any further questions.

The afternoon sub-forums lasted until after six o'clock. To thank Su Nian for her help in the morning, Song Zhiyu took her to a restaurant.

This is a small Western restaurant with a dozen or so tables. The lighting is dim, and each table has a small candle-shaped LED lamp.

Song Zhiyu had already sat down, with a glass of white wine in front of her, and Su Nian sat down opposite her.

"Let's order, it's on me." Song Zhiyu pushed the menu over.

Su Nian flipped through a couple of pages and casually ordered a plate of pasta.

Song Zhiyu ordered another glass of wine and poured one for Su Nian as well: "Have a drink."

"I'm not a big drinker."

"Just one glass. This white wine has a very low alcohol content, almost like fruit juice."

Su Nian glanced at the glass of wine; it was a pale golden liquid, its color very clear under the light.

She picked it up and took a sip; it was sweet, and indeed, it didn't taste like alcohol.

"You've been spacing out all day. When Zhou Yanqing was talking about digital personality, you kept looking at the pen in your hand." Song Zhiyu swirled the wine glass in her hand.

Su Nian neither denied nor explained.

Song Zhiyu smiled and said, "If you don't want to talk about it, then don't. But in your current state, having a drink might help you relax."

After exchanging only a few words, Su Nian felt that Song Zhiyu's face across from her was starting to blur, and she couldn't concentrate, as if someone had put a veil over her eyes.

Song Zhiyu raised her head and saw that Su Nian's face was flushed from her ears to her neck, her eyes were watery and her gaze was unfocused.

She paused for a moment, picked up the bottle and glanced at it. Fifteen degrees was correct, not too high. She hadn't expected that Su Nian really couldn't drink at all.

Before losing consciousness, Su Nian asked the Queen Mother of the West to send a message to Lin Ye, along with her location.

Even if she doesn't actively request it, if she loses consciousness in an involuntary and unsafe environment, the Queen Mother of the West in her phone will automatically call the police or contact the nearest rescue.

Lin walked in and immediately saw Su Nian, who was lying face down on the table, her face buried in her arms, her hair falling down and covering most of her face.

Song Zhiyu stood to the side, looking guilty: "I'm sorry, I didn't know she had such a low alcohol tolerance. I saw she was in a bad mood, and this wine was only 15 degrees, so she only drank one glass..."

Lin didn't say anything, but helped Su Nian up from the chair.

Su Nian's body was so limp it felt like she had no bones; she collapsed into his arms as soon as she stood up.

Lin hesitated for only a moment before picking her up in his arms.

Su Nian rested her head on his shoulder, her breath carrying a faint scent of alcohol, sweet and warm, brushing against his neck.

To get from the sixth floor to the eighth floor, you need to go through a corridor and two staircases.

Su Nian shifted in his arms, mumbled something indistinctly, and buried her face even deeper into his chest.

Her hand had somehow found its way to the front of his shirt, gripping it tightly.

Upon entering her room, the lights automatically turned on, casting a warm yellow glow with a very soft brightness.

Lin put her on the bed.

Su Nian's body sank into the white sheets, her hair spread out on the pillow.

Lin also got up and went to the bathroom, wrung out a cold towel, folded it into a rectangle, and gently placed it on her forehead.

Su Nian was startled by the coolness; her eyelashes trembled, but she didn't open her eyes.

After a while, she turned over, the towel on her forehead hanging from the pillow.

He lay on his side, his face turned toward Lin Ye, his breathing even, his eyelashes casting a small shadow on his eyelids.

Lin picked up the towel, folded it again, and placed it back on her forehead.

Shen Nian is usually very quiet, but she becomes very active when she gets drunk. The towel on her forehead will fall off every now and then, and Lin Ye will fold it up again and put it back on her head each time.

Su Nian woke up around 3 a.m.

My head hurts terribly, like someone is repeatedly hitting my temples with a blunt object.

She tried to open her eyes, but the ceiling light had been turned off at some point, leaving only a faint light coming in from the porthole.

She found herself covered with a blanket, with a damp towel draped over her forehead.

The room was empty; there was no one else there except her.

She remembered some fragments, and Lin carried her through the corridor, put her on the bed, and wiped her face.

These memories are fragmented, like photographs soaked in water—the outlines are blurred, but the colors remain.

She closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep again.

It's six o'clock in the morning.

Su Nian was awakened by the sound of running water. She looked towards the bathroom, where the door was half-open.

Lin was standing with his back to her in front of the sink, scrubbing a towel. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and his movements were slow.