After returning to Guichen Studio, Su Muchen immediately called Su Qianqian over and asked her to accompany him to Xiao’s residence to retrieve some things.
Although he and Xiao could already be considered comrades who had gone through life and death together, it was, after all, Xiao’s private space. And since some of the items on the list were small everyday things, it would be much more efficient to have Qianqian, who was familiar with Xiao’s habits, lead the way.
The two walked out of Guichen Studio side by side.
Xiao’s residence was very close, only about a five-minute walk away.
This quiet alley hidden within the old district was the road Xiao had taken countless times, day after day and night after night, between Guichen Studio and his home.
Walking along the narrow path paved with bluestone slabs, Su Muchen could almost picture the tall man who was always dressed in a black shirt, walking this stretch of road alone.
Those days seemed to have happened only recently, yet Su Muchen felt that those ordinary routines had somehow become so distant that they were almost unfamiliar.
They arrived at the old apartment at the end of the alley.
The building’s exterior walls were mottled with age, and the stairwell was dimly lit, with an unmistakable sense of having weathered many years.
Su Muchen took out the access card and swiped it to open the door to the top floor.
The moment the door opened, the scene before them was completely different from the rundown exterior outside, as though they had stepped into another world.
The spacious apartment, roughly eighty ping in size, had warm solid-wood flooring polished smooth by the passage of time.
Just inside the entrance was a short hallway. Several black-and-white photographs hung on the walls on either side, most depicting the uneven rooftops of the old district and distant skylines, giving off a cold, orderly atmosphere.
Su Muchen had been here once before, but that time, he had not been in any state of mind to look around carefully.
At the end of the hallway was Xiao’s study.
The roughly twenty-ping room’s most striking feature was an enormous floor-to-ceiling window facing the bustling skyline of Yunjing City.
In the distance, the lights along the roads flowed quietly through the night like a river of light.
A dark wooden desk stood beside the window. Three monitors were arranged on it, with a laptop, several old books, and an empty coffee cup beside them.
The whole room carried an almost sterile sense of loneliness.
Su Muchen’s gaze shifted to the other side, where a surveillance wall made up of twelve screens was embedded into the wall.
Even though Xiao was not there, the screens continued operating dutifully, displaying real-time footage from every angle of Guichen Studio and its surroundings without any blind spots: the back entrance, the front hall, the counter, and the entrance to Changning Alley.
Looking at the computer chair positioned directly toward both the surveillance wall and the skyline, Su Muchen could almost imagine Xiao sitting there through countless late nights, leaning against the back of the chair, the faint blue glow of the screens reflected in his eyes, slowly turning a pen between his fingers as he watched the data and footage.
It was a completely secure refuge from the outside world, but also a watchtower that kept him utterly isolated from it.
“Muchen, give me the list. I’ll go get the everyday things.”
Su Qianqian walked toward the bathroom and bedroom with practiced familiarity.
Su Muchen nodded and handed her the list, while he went around the various rooms to collect the other items.
He first opened the wardrobe in the bedroom.
Inside, clothes hung in neat rows, all black, gray, and white, without any unnecessary colors or patterns.
When he pulled open the drawers below, every piece of clothing and accessory had been strictly sorted into categories, meticulous to the point of seeming precisely calculated.
He took out some of the clothes and socks Xiao had asked for and placed them into the cardboard box they had brought.
Next, he passed the entire wall of bookshelves in the living room.
In this era of widespread e-books and AI, Xiao still kept a large collection of physical books.
Yet as Su Muchen scanned the shelves, the more he looked, the more something felt wrong.
There were no novels.
No comics.
No entertainment models or games of any kind.
The shelves were packed with books on history, emergency medicine, wilderness survival, structural engineering, multilingual studies, criminal psychology, cryptography, military tactics, and capital and commerce.
There was not a single “light read” meant simply for relaxation.
He stood there quietly for a while, feeling a dull ache in his chest.
When he entered the kitchen, Su Muchen thought that Xiao had been gone for so long that any fresh food in the refrigerator would surely have spoiled. He casually opened the refrigerator door, intending to clean it out.
Yet the enormous refrigerator was completely empty.
The refrigerator compartment contained only several neatly arranged rows of bottled water and a few cans of flavorless nutritional drinks.
The freezer, meanwhile, was packed with frozen dumplings and frozen chicken breasts.
There were no snacks, nor any ingredients or seasonings that represented “enjoying life.”
The existence of these things seemed to serve only one purpose: maintaining the body’s most basic biological functions.
He remembered how, at Guichen Studio, Xiao would occasionally ask him to cook something or order takeout.
Xiao was actually quite picky about food.
Yet there was not the slightest sign of that here.
“He’s always been like this. Everything has to be neat and clean.”
Su Qianqian walked over carrying several hand towels and bath towels. Seeing Su Muchen staring at the empty refrigerator, she spoke as though it were perfectly normal.
But Su Muchen suddenly fell into a long silence.
This wasn’t cleanliness.
It was a state of having nothing to hold on to.
Everything in this space seemed to be declaring that the person who lived here could leave at any moment without the slightest attachment.
It was so clean and orderly that it seemed utterly devoid of longing.
Su Muchen looked around the spacious apartment.
There was not a single photograph of everyday life.
No selfies, no travel pictures, no photos with friends, no graduation photos, and certainly no family keepsakes.
Aside from the cold data and books, there was nothing that could prove Xiao had ever formed emotional bonds with anyone in this world.
When he walked out onto the large outdoor terrace beyond the living room, Su Muchen was surprised to discover that although its owner had been gone for some time, the plants covering the terrace were still lush and full of life. Not a single one had withered.
This was the place in the entire apartment that looked the most relaxing, and the one that possessed the most warmth.
Su Qianqian followed his gaze. Her eyes dimmed slightly as she said softly, “Ningning and I take turns coming here every week to clean. We water the plants while we’re here…”
She paused. Her eyes reddened slightly, but her voice was unusually firm.
“We’ll keep this place in order. Always.”
Su Muchen’s heart suddenly ached.
He thought of what Xiao had said:
“Don’t wait for me.”
He did not know how he could explain to Qianqian and Ningning that those words…were true.
He turned and walked back into the study.
Following Xiao’s instructions, he pulled open the top drawer of the cabinet beside the computer desk and took out the locked metal box.
He did not look at it for long. He simply placed the metal box together with the everyday necessities Qianqian had gathered and carefully packed everything into the cardboard box.
This was the first time Su Muchen had truly stepped into Xiao’s life.
And only then did he realize, with almost unbearable cruelty, that there was no “life” here at all.
Xiao’s life checklist contained only:
Missions, preparation, contingency plans, survival, and guarding the Gate.
No hobbies.
No entertainment.
No attachments.
Not even anything he wanted to buy for himself.
No wonder that when Xiao formally decided to remain in Dasheng long-term, the list he gave them was so sparse.
What was written on it was not some precious collection, nor any keepsake carrying emotional significance.
It was merely bath towels, pillows…
Ordinary things that people used every day, yet things he now had to retrieve simply so that he could continue to “live” in another time and space.
The only thing he had specifically singled out was a small black metal box with a lock.
Su Muchen picked up the box, which was not particularly heavy.
He turned back and looked at the empty computer chair in the room, took a deep breath, then turned and left.
◇◆◇◆◇
The night deepened, and the dew grew heavy.
Su Muchen and Su Qianqian made another special trip to the supermarket, purchasing some everyday necessities that were not on the list but that they thought Xiao might need.
By the time they returned to Guichen Studio carrying bags and bags of things, the night was already very deep.
Su Muchen did not bother doing anything else and went straight back to his room at Guichen Studio to rest.
After washing away the day’s fatigue and the chill of autumn, he changed into loose pajamas and sat down at his desk.
On the desk lay a manuscript of the Original Record of Returning to the Gate, which Xiao Yuan had previously retranslated for him.
The man’s handwriting was vigorous and upright, carrying the same steady presence as the man himself.
Su Muchen’s fingertip gently brushed over those characters, and his originally restless thoughts gradually settled without him even realizing it.
He casually flipped through the manuscript.
Most of the contents were things Xiao had already told him before, or matters they already knew—the operating mechanism of the Gate, the connection between imperial blood and the Su clan.
However, when he absentmindedly turned to one particular page and his eyes landed on Volume Seven, his hand suddenly froze.
Xiao Yuan’s translation clearly read:
Volume Seven: Record of Returning-Dust Travelers
A Returning-Dust Traveler asks not where they came from, nor where they will return.
All who enter the record are bound to the Gate by cause.
The Record of Returning-Dust Travelers was not written by humans.
The Gate records their cause, not their consequence.
Before the cause is complete, the words may change;
once the cause is fixed, they shall not change for ten thousand generations.
If a name appears in the record, its cause has already entered the Gate.
It is not the Gate that summons them, but the Gate that records them.
Su Muchen’s gaze locked onto the four words “Record of Returning-Dust Travelers,” and his heart suddenly skipped a beat.
He abruptly remembered the mysterious black book locked inside the iron chest in the old storeroom.
The first time he had opened that Record of Returning-Dust Travelers, only a few sparse words had appeared beneath Xiao Yuan’s name.
There had even been glaring blank fields marked “To be completed” and “Cause with the Gate undetermined.”
At the time, out of awe and fear of an unknown fate, he had hurriedly closed the black book and never dared look at it again.
But now, Volume Seven clearly stated that the book was not a dead object.
It was a “living record” that changed in real time along with the shifting of cause and effect.
By now, the two of them had been together for so long, and their bond had already taken deep root.
Then…the words in that book—had they changed?
Once the thought appeared, he could no longer suppress it.
Su Muchen abruptly stood up, grabbed a coat, threw it over himself, and quickly left the room, heading straight for the rear courtyard.
He opened the familiar hidden door and followed the stone steps down into the old storeroom filled with the scent of old paper and medicinal herbs.
In one corner of the storeroom, wooden boxes were stacked into a small mountain.
They were all the gold Xiao Yuan had brought over, which Su Muchen had not yet had time to deal with.
The dim sensor light flickered twice, illuminating the iron chest engraved with the old Su clan emblem in the innermost corner.
He skillfully cut his fingertip and pressed a drop of blood against the old talismanic pattern.
A mechanical click sounded, and the iron chest opened.
Su Muchen took a deep breath and removed the thin black book.
Under the faint light, the black cover radiated an ancient, profound presence.
Without hesitation, he flipped rapidly through the pages from memory until he reached the one recording Xiao Yuan.
His gaze immediately sharpened.
Sure enough, the words had completely changed.
The glaring “To be completed” and “Undetermined” fields had now transformed into clear ink:
【Name】Xiao Yuan
【Blood】Imperial Blood
【Origin】Chenjing
【Key】Su Muchen
【Cause】Undetermined
【Balance】Incomplete
【Assessment】Pending
Su Muchen stared at those final words—
【Key: Su Muchen】.
Even though he had already had a premonition, the moment he saw it with his own eyes, his breathing still caught slightly.
His fate and Xiao Yuan’s had been indisputably bound together in this black book that cared not about origins, only cause and effect.
But he had no time to savor the weight of that destiny.
Since Xiao Yuan’s information had been completed, perhaps this book also contained another terrifying possibility he desperately needed to confirm.
His fingers tightened around the page as he began flipping forward rapidly.
One page later, his gaze suddenly froze.
The ink on that page looked extremely fresh, as though it had only appeared recently.
Written there was the name of a modern man.
【Name】Sheng Chengxiu
【Blood】Imperial Blood
【Origin】Yunjing
【Key】Han Dongji
【Cause】Undetermined
【Balance】Incomplete
【Assessment】Pending
“It really is…”
Su Muchen sucked in a sharp breath in shock, even his fingertips beginning to prickle with an uncontrollable chill.
Sheng Chengxiu.
The heir to the Sheng conglomerate, who had once wielded enormous influence in Yunjing City, kept a close eye on Guichen Studio, and had even resorted to extreme measures.
He actually possessed “Imperial Blood.”
Only now was that last sliver of hope—that Xiao might have been mistaken—completely shattered.
Xiao had not been wrong.
Sheng Chengxiu really had become the Gate Master.
Yet what made Su Muchen feel even more horrified was the line below:
【Key】Han Dongji.
Those three characters seemed to waver unsteadily in the light, like reflections trembling on the surface of water.
Volume Six: The Three Successions of the Original Record of Returning to the Gate had clearly stated:
“There are three Successions of the Gate: the Gate Master, the Key, and the Gatekeeper. In each generation, there is only one of each; they cannot coexist.”
This meant that in the same era, there could only be one Gate Master, one Gate Key, and one Gatekeeper.
If he was the Gate Key, Xiao Yuan was the Gate Master, and Xiao was the Gatekeeper—
then why was there another Gate Master and another Gate Key in this world?
The grave warning his grandfather had left behind all those years ago—
“The Sheng clan seeks the Gate.”
At this moment, its most chilling meaning finally came together.
The Sheng family had never been scheming for some rare treasure or longevity.
They were scheming for the Gate itself.
Because the bloodline of the Sheng clan also carried the “Imperial Blood” capable of controlling that Gate.
This was no longer merely a struggle for imperial power within the Dasheng court.
It was the laws of cause and effect between the two worlds themselves, beginning to spiral out of control.
◆◇◆◇◆
The following morning, the main courtyard study of the Northern Frontier Administrative Office.
The atmosphere inside the study was cold and grave.
Xiao Yuan sat upright in the seat of honor.
Xiao and Xia Lanshi sat on either side below him.
The three were systematically discussing the military and administrative affairs of the Northern Frontier when the respectful voice of a guard suddenly came from outside.
“Your Highness, Doctor Su has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
The door opened, and Su Muchen hurried into the study, clutching a sealed document envelope tightly in his hand.
“Mu’an?”
Xiao Yuan immediately noticed that something was wrong with his complexion. His gaze swept over the faint dark circles beneath Su Muchen’s eyes, and he immediately set down the documents in his hand and walked toward him, his brows slightly furrowed.
“What happened?”
Su Muchen had no time for pleasantries.
He walked straight to the broad desk.
Opening the document envelope, he took out the black book radiating an ancient aura and pushed it directly in front of the three men.
At the sight of the book, Xiao’s gaze tightened slightly.
His thin lips pressed together, and he remained silent.
“This is the Record of Returning-Dust Travelers.”
Su Muchen’s voice was slightly hoarse, carrying a hint of gravity.
“Last night, I carefully read Volume Seven of the Original Record of Returning to the Gate and discovered that this register updates in real time according to changes in cause and effect. So I went to the underground storeroom during the night.”
He reached out and directly flipped the book to Sheng Chengxiu’s page.
“Look at this.”
Xiao Yuan lowered his eyes.
Xia Lanshi also leaned closer.
The moment they saw the name and those lines of text on the page, it was as though all the air had been sucked out of the study.
A suffocating silence descended.
Xia Lanshi’s red eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice sank.
“Sheng Chengxiu…Imperial Blood. So this book confirms that he really is the new Gate Master. And not only that—his Gate Key is that missing man with the surname Han, Han Dongji.”
He raised his eyes and slowly said,
“Then the Gate Key may be right beside Sheng Chengxiu.”
Xia Lanshi remained silent for a long time.
So did Xiao Yuan.
The only sound in the study was the faint crackling of the charcoal fire.
Everyone knew.
The worst possibility they had imagined…
had ultimately come true.
All their previous deductions had been confirmed by this black book.
Yet this was not an answer that brought any joy.