The scenery outside the window changed from forests to hills, and then from hills to increasingly expansive mountain views.
Su Muchen watched the scenery rushing past the window and suddenly had the absurd illusion that he was sitting inside a luxurious private compartment, on his way to attend some meeting he knew absolutely nothing about.
After leaving the city, the car followed the highway before turning onto an utterly inconspicuous side road. There was not even a sign at the entrance, only an old streetlamp that had apparently been lit for years.
Tall plane trees on both sides of the road intertwined above the car, filtering the daylight into scattered patches of light. Judging by their appearance, the trees were at least fifty years old.
The car stopped in front of a gray-brick wall. The wall was about three meters high, and embedded in the corner was an extremely small bronze ring. A cloud-and-water pattern was carved into the ring—the exact same pattern as the one on the door in the rear room of Guichen Studio.
A very thin red light above the center console inside the car quickly swept across the faces of the two people.
It was like a gaze compressed until it was almost invisible, sliding from their brow bones down to their jaws before disappearing.
It happened so quickly that Su Muchen barely noticed it. He only felt as though something had flashed before his eyes.
Xiao did not even roll down the window before the gate silently slid open on its own.
“License plate and facial recognition.”
As if he had seen through his question, Xiao casually explained.
Su Muchen froze for a moment and instinctively touched his face. “…When did it scan us?”
“Just now.” Xiao’s tone was as calm as if he were talking about the most ordinary thing in the world. “The cameras inside the car automatically compare the passengers’ facial features against the registered records in the database. As long as there is an unregistered person in the car, the gate won’t open.”
Su Muchen leaned back against the seat, and the absurd feeling in his heart deepened another layer.
He realized that this manor was not merely “rich.” Every layer of security was telling visitors: What you have entered is not a house, but a territory that has been meticulously calculated and designed.
This was no longer merely about privacy. It was a system that seemed to say, Even if you have the ability to get in, you may not necessarily have the ability to get out.
The family meeting he had come to attend today was probably much more formal than he had anticipated.
He lowered his head and examined his clothes again. This was already the most formal suit he could afford.
He had originally bought it because he needed it for certain occasions after starting work at the hospital.
But compared with this place, there was a good chance even the employees here wore clothes more expensive than his.
As if he had noticed what Su Muchen was thinking, Xiao smiled.
“Relax. Just treat it like an ordinary family gathering. Those people are a little sharp-tongued. Let them nag if they want to. Don’t pay attention to them.”
Su Muchen thought to himself: Whose relatives are this rich?
…Apparently, his.
After entering, they drove for nearly another two kilometers. Along the way, they passed a forest of bald cypress trees, a stretch of farmland, and even a small reservoir whose surface glittered with rippling light.
Su Muchen watched the scenery continuously flash past the window, feeling as though he had somehow wandered onto the set of a movie.
“Could all of this be your Su family’s property?”
Only then did Su Muchen belatedly realize that he had never before experienced the saying “Poverty limits the imagination” so personally.
“They’re just things accumulated over many years,” Xiao said calmly.
After taking the final bend, the core of Jiyuan finally unfolded before their eyes.
A crescent-shaped lake.
The surface of the water shimmered with fragments of silver beneath the afternoon sunlight, and a stone pavilion stood in the middle of the lake.
The main buildings were scattered along the lakeshore. Their gray-brick and fair-faced concrete facades appeared and disappeared between the shadows of the trees.
Su Muchen had originally expected to see a traditional old residence with classical gardens, but the scene before him was closer to a quiet architectural complex that combined the framework of a traditional Chinese garden with modern architectural language.
Xiao slowed the car and drove slowly along the road beside the lake.
Su Muchen was just about to ask, “What is this place?” when his gaze passed through the car window and landed on the long flight of stone steps in front of the main building.
Two rows of people stood on either side of the steps.
There were both old and young, dressed in all kinds of clothes, but every one of them stood with the same—indescribable—air of formality.
Xiao parked the car at the bottom of the steps and turned off the engine.
He did not immediately get out. He simply looked at the two rows of figures ahead and asked quietly, “Ready?”
Su Muchen had not yet answered when the car door automatically flipped upward.
Xiao got out first, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door for him.
Sunlight fell upon the two rows of people.
An elderly man wearing a dark-colored traditional Chinese tunic was the first to speak. His voice was so loud and full of vigor that it hardly seemed to belong to someone his age.
“Welcome back, Young Master Jin Ye and Young Master Muchen.”
The others followed by slightly bowing.
Su Muchen stood there, momentarily unsure whom he should look at first.
He had only ever seen a scene like this in AI-generated movies and television dramas.
Xiao merely swept his gaze over the people and did not respond, as though he had long since become accustomed to such a scene.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly before stepping onto the stone stairs.
Su Muchen followed beside him, passing between the two rows of people. He could feel those gazes falling upon him, as though they were scrutinizing something.
In the past, he had simply assumed that Xiao calling him “Young Master” was just deliberate teasing.
Only now did he truly understand that it had never been a joke.
Today, Xiao had not come here as “Xiao,” but as Su Jinye.
Here, no one would call him by the name Xiao.
Su Jinye led him through the front courtyard and into a spacious hall.
The hall doors were made of dark solid wood, without excessive decoration. Only along the edges of the doorframe was the outline of a cloud-and-water pattern traced out.
The interior was much larger than Su Muchen had imagined. The ceiling rose approximately two stories high, with several dark wooden beams running across it. The surfaces had been polished smooth and warm by the passage of time.
The walls on both sides had been smoothed with light-gray plaster. There were no unnecessary decorations, only several old calligraphy pieces and paintings of varying sizes hanging at different positions.
Most of the paintings were ink-wash landscapes. The brushwork was extremely light, with distant mountains resembling smoke and the nearby water perfectly still. Several dark-red seals were stamped in the corners.
One piece contained no painting at all. It simply had four characters written upon it, the strokes vigorous and powerful. Although the ink had been faded slightly by time, the words could still be clearly recognized:
歸門若淵
Su Muchen’s gaze lingered on those four characters for an instant longer than necessary.
Guimen Ruoyuan—the Guimen, like an abyss.
He did not know whether the person who had written it meant “the gate is unfathomable like a deep abyss,” or “returning to the gate is like falling into an abyss.”
His gaze moved away from the wall and toward the center.
A long table stood in the middle of the hall, made from a single piece of dark wood. The tabletop was broad enough to accommodate more than thirty people.
At the center of the table was a bronze tea tray, upon which sat several Yixing clay teacups. The cups had a warm, lustrous appearance, as though they had only recently been rinsed with hot water, and were giving off the faintest fragrance of tea.
More than a dozen people were already seated inside the hall. Most were over fifty years old, while a few younger faces sat in the corners, all of them wearing solemn expressions.
At the far end of the long table, two seats were empty, as though they had been specifically reserved for them.
Su Jinye did not sit there. Instead, he brought Su Muchen to a seat near the side and sat down, crossing his legs with an air of someone completely uninvolved in the matter.
“Mu’an,” he quietly instructed, speaking as though he were introducing members of his own family, though there was a hint of disdain in his tone. “The old man in the seat of honor is Su Huaishan. He has the highest seniority. You should call him Third Grand-Uncle. The one on his left with the really sour face is Su Wan, your grandaunt. Her tongue is the sharpest, so be careful when you see her. The one on his right who’s a little younger but slightly balding and wearing gold-rimmed glasses is Su Chengye, your uncle. He handles the family’s investments. He doesn’t usually talk much, but whenever he opens his mouth, it’s always an analysis of profits and interests.”
“What else?” Su Muchen mentally memorized these distant relatives he was meeting for the first time.
“There are more than a dozen others, and you won’t remember them,” Su Jinye shrugged. “Anyway, you’ll know who has the sharpest tongue soon enough.”
Su Muchen thought secretly: Could having sharp tongues be a family tradition?
He looked around.
Even though he had done his best to dress formally, he was still clearly the most shabby-looking person here.
He took a deep breath. Before he had even managed to digest all these unfamiliar titles, the meeting began.
Su Huaishan sat at the head of the hall, holding a Yixing clay teacup in his hand. Only after seeing them take their seats did he slowly speak.
“Everyone is here. Let’s begin.”
“Muchen,” his tone carried the characteristic, completely unrestrained concern of an elder, “you’re already twenty-four and still don’t have a partner. If your grandfather knew about this underground, wouldn’t you anger him back to life?”
Su Muchen was momentarily choked by this sudden opening.
Su Wan immediately followed up with another blow.
“Just look at you. You’re as thin as a bamboo pole. Don’t tell me you live on instant noodles every day? You don’t even have a girlfriend. You’re going to disgrace the entire Su family.”
Su Muchen instinctively wanted to argue.
His life had indeed been difficult, but where the hell had all of you been for these past twenty-some years—
But before he could say it, the projection screen slowly descended, and the lights in the meeting hall dimmed.
Su Muchen stared at the projection screen that had lit up on the wall opposite the long table.
A beautifully designed presentation appeared on the screen.
The title was written in huge characters:
“Marriage Candidate List for the Su Clan’s Direct Lineage.”
His expression instantly froze.
Su Chengye stood up and walked over to the projection screen. He pressed the remote control once, and a slide appeared.
It contained a photograph of Su Muchen.
“Su Muchen, twenty-four years old, current owner of Guichen Studio, the Gate Key of this generation, the last remaining member of the Su Clan’s direct lineage. Graduated from medical school. Currently unmarried, no romantic partner. Romantic history: blank.”
Su Muchen froze for a moment.
The screen was filled with his detailed personal information. It was only missing his shoe size.
Where was his personal privacy?
And did they really need to read out his romantic history?
He turned his head toward Su Jinye.
Su Jinye leaned back against his chair, his expression calm, as though he were watching something that had nothing to do with him.
“After careful screening,” Su Chengye said, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone so professional that he sounded as though he were giving an investment presentation, “we have selected twelve candidates with excellent qualifications.”
“Candidate number one, Lin Ruowei, twenty-seven years old, only daughter of the Lin Group. Graduate of an overseas prestigious university. The conglomerate’s assets are approximately fifty billion yuan. Fluent in four languages. She owns a boutique hotel brand and currently manages the family’s foundation.”
The image on the projection screen changed to a young woman with a poised smile, standing in front of an imposing office building.
“Candidate number two, Chen Zhixia, twenty-six years old, eldest daughter of Chen Pharmaceuticals. Born into a family of doctors. Currently responsible for expanding the family’s overseas business.”
Su Muchen: “…”
“Candidate number three, Wen Tang, a well-known entertainment industry celebrity, with a fresh public image and a clean family background…”
Su Muchen watched as one unfamiliar face after another appeared on the screen.
His mind was completely blank, and the sense of absurdity inside him grew stronger and stronger.
He could even hear the throbbing in his temples.
“We will help you pay off your debts, prepare a complete bride price, and a wedding house has already been selected near Jiyuan,” Su Huaishan added. His tone was so certain that it was as though everything had already been settled. “You don’t need to worry about anything. You only need to be responsible for getting married and having children.”
Only now did Su Muchen finally understand what it meant to “you’ll naturally understand once you get there.”
He sat there, listening to these elders he had never met before arranging his life in such an utterly matter-of-fact tone.
They had not informed him beforehand, nor had they asked for his opinion.
They simply did not regard him as a person.
They intended to use him as a stud horse.
The thing that had been suppressed in his chest for so long finally surged violently upward.
Su Muchen finally spoke.
“Wait.”
The hall fell silent.
Everyone turned toward him.
“What is this presentation?”
Su Huaishan put down his teacup. His tone was calm but carried authority.
“These are all marriage candidates who have undergone strict screening.”
He paused, as though he felt there was no need to elaborate on such an obvious matter.
“There is only one person left in the direct lineage. Continuing the bloodline is currently the most important matter for the family.”
Su Muchen’s fingers slowly tightened.
“Do you know,” he said, his voice very soft, yet carrying the calmness that came only after being suppressed to the absolute limit, “when I was little, Su Jiancheng didn’t want me and dumped me on my grandfather. After my grandfather passed away, I held on by myself until I was admitted to medical school. I worked part-time and took out loans just to barely graduate. Later, Su Jiancheng accumulated a mountain of debt, fled overseas to avoid his creditors, and died when the plane carrying him crashed. What he left me was a foreclosure notice and a dilapidated shop that was practically falling apart.”
The meeting room fell silent.
“During that time…” He swept his gaze across all those unfamiliar faces, his voice icy. “Where were you?”
No one answered.
Su Muchen smiled.
There was not the slightest trace of warmth in that smile.
“Now you suddenly appear and say you’re going to arrange my life for me, choose a partner for me, and even tell me, ‘You don’t need to worry about anything.’ What do you take me for? A problem that needs to be dealt with? Or a stud horse that needs to be bred?”
Su Wan frowned and spoke, her tone still as uncompromising as ever.
“How can you speak so harshly, child? We’re doing this for your own good!”
“For my own good?” Su Muchen interrupted her. “Then where was this ‘for my own good’ when I needed help more than ten years ago?”
The entire hall fell silent for a moment.
Yet no one showed the slightest intention of backing down.
Instead, Su Huaishan coughed lightly, his tone remaining firm.
“What’s past is past. What’s important now is your marriage. The Su family’s direct lineage cannot end with you.”
“Then let it end!”
The words practically burst out of Su Muchen’s mouth. After saying them, even he froze for a moment.
Su Huaishan opened his mouth to speak, but Su Muchen did not give him the chance.
Since the words were already out, he might as well go all the way. Throwing caution to the wind, he said loudly:
“Let me tell you all something. I like men. I am not getting married, and there is absolutely no way I’m going to have children with some rich heiress or celebrity!”
He had originally thought those words would explode like a bomb, throwing the entire room into an uproar.
Unexpectedly, the meeting room was merely silent for a moment. No one showed a shocked expression, and no one smashed a teacup.
Then he saw several elders exchange a look that clearly said, “Not this again.” Someone even sighed softly, wearing an expression that seemed to say, “Still too late.” It was as though they had already anticipated this outcome.
Su Muchen stared at the strange calmness around him, his head filled with question marks.
Only then did Su Jinye leisurely speak, his tone carrying a hint of amusement as though he were watching a show.
“Mu’an,” he said, “do you know why the Su family’s direct lineage has ended up with only you?”
Su Muchen looked at him, an ominous feeling rising in his heart.
“Because over the past several hundred years…” The corners of Su Jinye’s lips curled slightly. “I don’t know how many generations of Gate Keys have run off with men.”
Su Muchen: “…”
Because it was simply too absurd, Su Muchen could only manage:
“…Huh?”
Su Chengye pushed up his glasses, and his tone unexpectedly carried a hint of helpless nostalgia.
“The Gate Key two generations ago ran off with a regent and never returned. The generation before that ran off with a king. There isn’t even a marriage record for him in the family genealogy. And even further back, there was—”
Su Muchen listened in stunned disbelief. He had never expected that his angry outburst would uncover such an outrageous truth.
Su Huaishan lifted his teacup and slowly took a sip before setting it down.
“The matter of the Su family’s direct lineage ‘dying out’ can be considered a family tradition. Your grandfather almost ran off with someone back then, too. If I hadn’t kept him here, you wouldn’t be standing here today.”
Su Huaishan wore an exhausted expression that seemed to say “I knew this would happen.” He waved his hand.
“So that’s why we have to be even more proactive and cautious. Before you run off, we should settle your marriage first.”
“Enough!”
If they were helping him pay off his debts simply to continue the bloodline of the Su family’s direct lineage, then he would rather not accept their help.
He did not want his life arranged for him, nor did he want to marry someone he did not love.
“What gives you the right to decide for me? You can’t control what I want to do. If the lineage ends, then let it end. Why do you insist on guarding a door all day long?!”
At this point, Su Muchen no longer cared about sparing the elders’ feelings.
After all, they had never had anything to do with him before, and things could remain that way in the future.
Su Wan was enraged by his attitude and slammed her hand onto the table as she stood.
“What kind of attitude is that? Is that how you speak to your elders?!”
“Elders?”
Su Muchen raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile appearing on his lips.
“We’re nothing more than people who happen to share the same surname, Su. If you want to be respected, please set an example first.”
“You—”
Su Wan was furious and was about to lash out when several sounds of applause interrupted her.
Everyone turned in unison toward the source of the applause—
Su Jinye.
“A fine ‘we’re doing this for your own good.’ A fine ‘respect your elders.’”
Su Jinye stood up.
The usual laziness and teasing had disappeared from his face. In their place was a coldness Su Muchen had never seen before.
“His marriage is none of your business.”
His voice was not loud, yet the entire room of elders instantly fell silent.
“He is of the direct lineage. He is the Gate Key. The only reason you fawn over him is because the blood flowing through his veins can open the door. Other than that, you don’t know the slightest thing about him as a person.”
Su Huaishan’s expression darkened.
“Su Jinye, this is a matter concerning the entire family. You—”
“A matter concerning the entire family?”
Su Jinye gave a soft laugh, but there was not the slightest warmth in it.
“The Gate Key is Su Muchen. The Gatekeeper is me. The door chose us. What does that have to do with any of you?”
“So what if we lose the Gate Key?”
Su Jinye swept his gaze across everyone, his voice growing colder with every word.
“So what if we stop guarding it? You have never asked whether we wanted this. Has any of you ever asked whether I’m tired? Why should we be bound to this door for our entire lives?”
Su Huaishan suddenly stood.
“You’re crazy! Without a Gatekeeper, if the door becomes unstable—”
“Then let it become unstable.”
Su Jinye interrupted him, his tone resolute.
“I, Su Jinye, will be the last Gatekeeper.”
After saying this, he turned to look at Su Muchen, who was still standing there in a daze.
“Let’s go.”
He did not wait for anyone to respond and had already begun walking toward the exit.
Su Muchen froze for a moment, then glanced at the stunned elders who were completely unable to speak.
Finally, he came back to his senses, stood up, and followed.
The two of them walked out of the meeting hall.
Behind them came one call after another, but not a single person followed.
◆◇◆◇◆
By the time the car drove out of Jiyuan, the sky had already begun to darken.
The orange-red afterglow slowly faded along the distant mountain ridges, dyeing the surface of Jihu Lake a thin copper color.
The outlines of the buildings grew farther and farther away in the rearview mirror, gradually shrinking into gray-white geometric shapes before finally being swallowed by the shadows of the trees and hills.
Su Muchen leaned against his seat, listening to the faint sound of the tires rolling over fallen leaves. He felt as though he had just awakened from an absurd dream.
“So, how was it? Was flipping the table fun?”
Xiao’s voice came from the driver’s seat, his tone relaxed as though they had merely finished an ordinary family dinner.
There was not much exhilaration in his expression after the confrontation. All his emotions had once again disappeared beneath the sunglasses he had just put on, leaving behind only that thin shell no one could see through.
Su Muchen leaned back against the seat and remained silent for several seconds before speaking.
“Honestly, I really wanted to flip the table back there. Too bad the table was too heavy. I couldn’t move it.”
The corner of Xiao’s mouth twitched, but he did not quite smile.
Su Muchen turned to look at him.
“You knew they were planning to force me into marriage, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?”
There was no reproach in his voice.
In fact, he had never thought about blaming Xiao.
That man clearly hated going back there so much, yet he had still accompanied him. He had even stood in front of that group of people and closed the door for him.
If Xiao had not been there today, he probably really would have been shoved into a wedding he wanted absolutely nothing to do with by those complete strangers.
He simply wished he had at least been mentally prepared.
Xiao shrugged without answering directly.
He held the steering wheel with one hand, while the other rested casually against the edge of the window, as though he were thinking about something—or perhaps thinking about nothing at all.
“Let’s go for a drive,” he said.
Su Muchen froze.
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the steering wheel was suddenly turned.
The tires let out a short screech against the road, and the car instantly swung onto another side road.
Su Muchen’s entire body was thrown toward the door by the centrifugal force, his shoulder crashing hard against the edge of the window.
“Shit!”
He sucked in a breath.
If the seat belt had not been holding him firmly against the seat, he probably would have been thrown out already.
Xiao did not slow down on the bends. The car moved like a wild beast racing along the mountain road, precise and fluid.
“Isn’t going for a drive something you should do with someone you like?” Su Muchen complained helplessly. “Why are you taking me?”
The car fell silent for a moment.
“Because I can’t take them.”
Xiao’s tone was completely flat, as though he were merely stating an insignificant fact.
Yet hidden within those words was a very faint sense of helplessness, so subtle that it was almost impossible to hear.
Su Muchen suddenly fell silent.
He did not turn his head toward Xiao, but those words echoed in his heart.
For some reason, he thought of Xia Lanshi.
That person was in another world and could not come here. Xiao, meanwhile, was not allowed to remain in Da Sheng for long periods of time.
If Xiao had truly fallen for Xia Lanshi, then perhaps those feelings could only remain buried in his heart forever.
“What you said today…” Su Muchen pulled his thoughts back. “Was it true?”
“Which part?”
“The last Gatekeeper.”
Xiao’s fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel twice, but he did not answer immediately.
The car climbed steadily along the mountain road.
The light from the streetlamps passed over the roof one by one, alternately casting light and shadow across their faces.
Not long afterward, the car stopped at an open observation platform.
When Su Muchen got out, the night wind rushed toward him, blowing the hem of his clothes.
He walked to the railing and let his gaze stretch into the distance.
The countless lights of Hailing City spread out beneath his feet, like a sea of stars formed from countless points of light.
Farther away, the lights continued toward the harbor, where the lighthouse blinked steadily in the darkness.
At the end of the skyline, the final trace of twilight still remained, like a thin orange-red crack that was slowly being sealed shut by the night.
Su Muchen had initially been immersed in the scenery, but then he remembered that he had come here with his own cousin, and an indescribably complicated feeling arose in his heart.
Xiao got out of the car as well and leaned against the railing beside him, taking off his sunglasses and casually hanging them from his collar.
He did not look at Su Muchen. He simply gazed silently at the sea of lights, as though he were looking at somewhere very far away.
The night wind stirred his long, loose hair, but it could not dispel the heaviness in his heart.
Whenever he had been in a bad mood in the past, he had always liked driving at full speed, as though he could shake everything off that way.
In the end, he would always come here, far away from everything that bound him.
Su Muchen stood beside him without urging him to speak, simply keeping him company.
He suddenly felt that this man, who was always grinning and acting as though nothing mattered, looked somewhat lonely at this moment.
The silence continued for a while, slowly spreading like the darkness of night.
“Mu’an.”
Xiao finally spoke, his voice calm and low.
“Do you know that the Su family selects a group of children every year?”
Su Muchen turned to look at him.
“Between ten and twelve years old. We select children from the collateral branches whose physical constitution, aptitude, and mentality are suitable, then send them to the Gatekeeper Special Training Center.”
“I was one of them.”
His voice remained calm, yet there was a deliberately restrained force in it, as though he were suppressing something.
“We were forced to leave our parents and live there, where we underwent training. Combat, intelligence, knowledge of the Ancient Gate, modern technology, psychological resilience—every subject had its own set of standards. Failure meant punishment.”
“Many of the children couldn’t endure it. They cried and wanted to go home, but no one would let them leave. They would be locked up until they stopped crying.”
And all of this was for one purpose—
To be chosen by the Gate, become a Gatekeeper, and guard the Gate for the rest of their lives until death.
Su Muchen listened without saying a word, his fingertips slowly tightening around the edge of the railing.
He thought of those ten-year-old children being locked inside windowless rooms, where even crying had become something they were not allowed to do.
He did not know what to say. He simply stood there quietly, letting Xiao know that he was still listening.
“The true Gatekeeper has always been only one person,” Xiao continued, his voice becoming heavier. “After the previous Gatekeeper dies, the Gate will choose a successor from among the candidates. The one chosen has no choice. Those who aren’t chosen can stay and join the Gatekeeper team, or they can choose to go back and live their own lives.”
He paused.
“I… was the one who got chosen.”
Su Muchen saw his gaze lower slightly, like a light that was gradually growing dim, pressed into the depths of his eyes by the darkness of night.
“I envy those who weren’t chosen, because at least they still had the chance to choose their own path.”
As for him, he had never had a choice.
The wind passed through the valley, carrying the chill of the night.
Su Muchen suddenly felt that the man before him was heavier and lonelier than he had imagined.
They had both been bound by the Gate, albeit in different ways.
If not for the Gate, he would have already become a doctor according to his ideals. Even if he had stayed at some small hospital, he would have been content.
But he had once been given a choice.
Xiao had not.
“If you hadn’t been chosen by the Gate back then, what would you have wanted to do?” Su Muchen asked.
Xiao was silent for a moment, as though imagining a life that had never happened.
“A lot of things.”
A faint warmth surfaced in his voice.
“I wanted to travel. Go to the desert, go to the ice fields. Not look at them on a screen, but walk through them with my own feet and see them with my own eyes. I also thought about becoming a race car driver, entering competitions and winning championships. Marrying someone I love. Living… like an ordinary person.”
Su Muchen looked at the lines of his profile. In the darkness, they appeared softer than usual, like those of someone imagining scenery far away.
He remembered the speeding drive along the winding mountain road just now, remembered the pure focus in Xiao’s expression as he held the steering wheel.
Suddenly, he felt that those words had not merely been idle talk.
“I think if you really went racing, you would win the championship.”
Xiao turned to look at him.
A trace of a smile surfaced in his eyes, only to fade away again almost immediately.
He did not respond to those words. He merely shifted his gaze back toward the night view, as though there were something in that sea of lights that he had been watching all along.
Very far away.
“What if the Su family’s direct bloodline really ends?” Su Muchen asked. “What will happen to the Gate?”
Xiao remained silent for a long time.
So long that Su Muchen thought he would not answer.
“…I don’t know.”
He finally spoke.
“No one knows.”
There was a bewilderment in his voice, one even he himself could not resolve.
“Maybe the Gate will choose a new Gate Key. Maybe it will close on its own. Maybe… it will remain open forever. Something like this has never happened before, so no one knows what will happen. Those old bastards want to prevent it because they don’t dare to take the gamble.”
He actually had no certainty either.
He did not know everything.
There were many things he himself was the one who most wanted to know.
“When I said I would be the last Gatekeeper today, I was really just angry at those old bastards.”
As Xiao spoke, his tone returned to some of its usual casualness, as though he had once again locked away all those heavy things inside some invisible box.
Then he turned his head toward Su Muchen, and his words suddenly took a sharp turn.
“Mu’an.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like Xiao Yuan?”
Su Muchen was caught completely off guard by the question. He nearly choked and let out a strange cry.
“What!?”
“You loudly announced at the meeting today that you like men, didn’t you?”
“That—That was just to piss them off! And why would it be Xiao Yuan?!”
Xiao did not answer immediately. He simply looked at him quietly, a knowing smile hanging from the corners of his lips.
Not long ago, he had received a surveillance report from Su Qianqian. The report stated that Xiao Yuan had met with Su Muchen late at night, after which the two had gone together to the second-floor lounge and remained inside for two hours.
He had initially thought that the two of them had done “something,” but judging by the situation now, apparently they had not.
Under Xiao’s gaze, Su Muchen inexplicably felt guilty and looked away.
“Other than him, who else could you possibly have?”
Xiao smiled.
Su Muchen rolled his eyes.
That remark was seriously hurtful.
He wanted to argue, but he had no way to refute it, so he could only sulkily shut his mouth.
He really did not have anyone.
In the past, he had been so busy just trying to survive that he was already exhausted. Where would he have found the time to look for someone?
“Xiao Yuan and I are not that kind of relationship.”
Su Muchen denied it firmly, though his voice was slightly weaker than he had expected.
He did not dislike Xiao Yuan.
In fact, he rather admired him.
Xiao Yuan was not only handsome. More importantly, he was extremely capable and was a leader who cared about all the people under heaven.
If he became emperor one day, he would certainly be a good ruler.
Back when the Gate had refused to open for nine days, and then finally opened, Xiao Yuan had silently embraced him without saying a word.
At that time…
He actually had not disliked that embrace.
It had felt very reassuring.
But recently, Xiao Yuan had always given him the feeling that he was deliberately keeping his distance.
As though he were telling him:
Don’t get too close.
He could not quite put into words what that feeling was.
But there really was a little bit of…
Heaviness in his chest.
“I don’t dislike him,” Su Muchen said quietly. “But that isn’t important. He has his own path to walk, and I have my own place.”
Xiao looked at him for several seconds but did not continue questioning him.
“…Is that so?”
Su Muchen did not hear the doubt and scrutiny hidden within those two words.
He gazed into the distance and, in a tone as though trying to convince himself, quietly added:
“He isn’t someone I should get involved with.”
The sound of the wind passed through the valley, scattering those whispered words into the darkness.
“You two had a fight?”
“No way!”
Su Muchen answered far too quickly, so quickly that it sounded as though he were hiding something.
Xiao withdrew his gaze and did not press him further.
“Xiao.”
Su Muchen called his name.
Xiao turned to look at him.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for today.”
Xiao curved his lips into a smile, his tone returning to its usual lazy manner.
“What are you thanking me for? We’re cousins.”
He paused before adding another sentence, his voice so soft that it was almost carried away by the wind.
“Besides, I’ve really had enough, too.”
The two of them stood there for a while longer, looking at the night view and enjoying this brief escape from the noise and bustle of the world.
Only afterward did they return to Guichen Studio.
By then, it was already very late.
When Su Muchen returned to Guichen Studio, he realized that he had forgotten something.
──He had forgotten to leave a note for Xiao Yuan telling him that he and Xiao had gone out because they had something to take care of.