—It’s not reality that torments you; it’s your own illusions.
“Old Chi! Open the door! Old Chi!”
Accompanied by a series of insistent knocks, Fifth Column calmly observed the wooden door before him.
This was an ancient-looking alleyway, lined with traditional courtyards, a sight not uncommon in Yuanpu. The city, situated north of Tianshui Lake, had once been a crucial hub for shipping on Tianshui Lake and the Xianjiang River in ancient times. However, with the advent of railways and highways, land transport gradually eclipsed much of the waterborne trade, leaving this once-bustling port considerably quieter. This very decline, ironically, allowed its historic architecture to survive the relentless tide of modernization.
He tilted his head, noting the sun’s position in the sky. Morning had arrived.
Soon, groups of elderly people would emerge for their morning exercises, office workers would stop at breakfast stalls, the roads would grow busier with vehicles, and students would embark on their journey to school.
Sunrise in the east, everything as usual.
This was his sole objective at present; all his efforts were directed towards this singular goal.
Seeing Fifth Column glance up at the sky, the big man, who had been knocking, felt his face burn with embarrassment. He assumed Fifth Column was growing impatient and immediately hammered on the wooden door a few more times.
“Old Chi! Old Chi! Hurry and open up! Didn’t I already tell you on the phone? Open the door!”
“The door isn’t locked, merely latched. Is vaulting over it truly so difficult for you?”
As a languid voice drifted from within the courtyard, the big man froze, then turned to offer Fifth Column an apologetic smile. With a swift movement, he vaulted into the courtyard. The metallic clang of a lock being undone and a latch released followed shortly after.
The main gate swung open, and the big man quickly stood aside, gesturing for entry.
“Director Fifth, please come in.”
Everything within the courtyard was remarkably archaic, showing few traces of modernity, save for the man sprawled in a rocking chair in the center. He appeared to be in his early twenties, dressed in a loose white hoodie, baggy black shorts, and a loose white shirt adorned with cartoon characters underneath. His feet were clad in equally loose slippers. In short, there was no hint of tension about him; everything, including his expression, was relaxed.
He lay there, gently swaying in the rocking chair, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan, seemingly utterly content.
“Old Chi! Why are you still lying down? Director Fifth is here, and you’re not even getting up to greet him? Didn’t I tell you about this beforehand?”
Seeing this, the big man quickly strode forward and pressed down on the rocking chair, stopping its movement.
“What are you wearing? It’s so indecent! Didn’t we agree you’d wear formal attire?”
“You’re truly an incompetent director of the Military Communications Bureau, aren’t you? You don’t even know what this is?”
The young man kept his eyes closed, fanning himself languidly, much like a child clinging to their bed.
“This is Pipa Mei from *War on the Endless Timeline*. She’s a two-dimensional character; you wouldn’t understand.”
“Two-dimensional? Isn’t that a monster?”
“Sigh, there’s no talking sense into you. Step aside!”
The big man glanced at Fifth Column, who nodded slightly.
The big man then nodded in response, respectfully closing the main gate as he departed.
“Sigh, his mind has probably only seen money-grabbing 3D animations like *The Story of Yan Ling*. Truly, there’s no understanding him!”
The young man slightly opened his eyes, casting a malevolent glance at Fifth Column.
“I’ve retired. What do you want with me? Go bother him if you have something!”
Noticing a stone stool beside the stone table in the courtyard, Fifth Column walked over and sat down.
“Hey, hey, hey! Did I tell you to sit? Don’t you consider yourself an outsider?”
The young man rose, pointing his palm-leaf fan at Fifth Column, his face etched with indignation.
But Fifth Column merely remained seated, meeting the young man’s gaze with calm eyes.
“Tch! What’s a traitor got to be so smug about? You backstabbing dog!”
Fifth Column remained silent, saying nothing. He knew that if he didn’t allow the other party to vent his fury, anything he said next would be met with refusal. He could, of course, use his authority to force compliance, but willing cooperation was always superior to reluctant compliance.
Seeing Fifth Column’s continued silence, the young man’s expression instantly changed. He stood up and began to curse at Fifth Column, pointing an accusing finger.
Fifth Column simply sat there, unmoving, watching him. Though the insults were harsh, this was the nature of his work—he couldn’t fear being cursed at, nor could he prevent it.
Chi Sanzaii had once been his superior, the Director of the Taiyin Star Military Communications Bureau, and had held him in high regard, treating him as his right-hand man. This lasted until Yan Ling publicly revealed everything about Fifth Column.
Fifth Column still remembered Chi Sanzaii’s expression at the time. He had stood up from the front of the conference room, eyes wide, his mouth twitching uncontrollably, his body trembling violently. Yet, his gaze had held a sudden clarity, and many doubts in his heart had instantly unraveled.
The corner of the table had been crushed in his grip, and the tabletop had been pierced by a furious slam of his palm.
“—Damn you to hell! You f***ing traitor! You son of a b****! You bastard! You utter mongrel! It was *you* all along! *You*! I’ll f***ing kill you! You rotten scoundrel! You beast! Old Li treated you so well, and you just f***ing pinned the blame of being an internal spy on him? You dog! You scumbag! And your teacher! He was your f***ing teacher! How could you just kill him? Fifth Column! F*** your column! Why didn’t I see through you, you snake, sooner? How could the Military Communications Bureau produce such scum like you!”
Chi Sanzaii was usually a very refined man. In all the years they had known each other, that was the first time Fifth Column had heard him use such vulgar language to curse someone.
He had cursed non-stop for nearly ten minutes. Everyone in the assembly hall had simply watched him; no one stopped him, nor did anyone criticize him—not even Yan Ling.
Fifth Column had been mentally prepared before the meeting began. The group from Qiming Star (referring to the Qiming Star Advisory Group of the Southern Dipper Star’s Five Academies) had sought him out beforehand, informing him that his identity would be revealed today and that he would be nominated to become the Director of the Strategic Intelligence Bureau.
He was prepared for everything, so he could accept it all calmly now. This was the price he had to pay to become what the world called a ‘legend.’
He could not, and need not, defend himself.
While he was achieving what some would call ‘great success,’ it was also destined that he would be ‘disgraced’ in the eyes of others.
Despite his furious curses, Chi Sanzaii had never laid a hand on him, nor had he stormed out in anger. After a new table was brought in for him, he had continued to sit there and conduct the meeting—a duty that the Director of the Military Communications Bureau had to fulfill, without evasion or escape.
The scene today was no different from that day. Whether he was a hero who navigated all the academies in the eyes of some, or a traitor who betrayed every academy in the eyes of others, it mattered not.
He had no desire to defend himself, nor would he. He would simply wait in this small courtyard until Chi Sanzaii had finished his tirade.
As Chi Sanzaii, out of breath, finally sat down, Fifth Column knew he had cursed enough—at least for now.
Chi Sanzaii would not kill him. As a former Director of the Military Communications Bureau with a broader perspective, Chi Sanzaii would not do anything that would destroy his own reputation. He simply needed time to quell the resentment in his heart, and thirty years had clearly not been enough.
“Tired of cursing! Have some water!”
Chi Sanzaii sat in the rocking chair, picked up the teapot, and poured a cup of water. He eyed Fifth Column askance, and eventually, with a reluctant grunt, poured a cup for him as well.
“Come and get it yourself!”
Fifth Column rose, took the teacup, and returned to his seat. Given his standing in the Southern Dipper Star, even in other academies, he would be treated with the courtesies due to a Vice Dean. Yet, in this small courtyard, a retired former agent not only yelled at him but even made him fetch his own water.
If word of this spread, people would surely dismiss it as baseless, malicious rumor. However, Fifth Column genuinely didn’t care about such things.
Words, etiquette, sustenance… everything ultimately existed for a single purpose.
To achieve that purpose, everything could be discarded, everything could be annihilated. Dignity, ideals, faith, humanity, or life—without exception.
“Speak! What do you want with me? What else do you want from me?”
“I need someone.”
“Someone?”
The young man put down his teacup, leaned forward, and vigorously fanned himself a few times with the palm-leaf fan.
“Do you think I’ll do?”
“A bodyguard.”
Fifth Column did not respond to the provocation, instead continuing with his demands.
“Requiring close protection.”
“Close protection? That’s easy! How about this older two-dimensional enthusiast who can feed you, scrub your back, warm your bed, and sleep beside you? Do you want me?”
“For a month.”
Seeing that his provocations elicited no reaction, Chi Sanzaii gradually reined in his expression. He tapped the armrest of the rocking chair.
“You’re going out, then. Where to?”
“Worldly Affairs City.”
“Is Vega’s territory exchange worth your personal trip?”
“It’s not about worth; it’s about possibility.”
Chi Sanzaii pressed a hand to his forehead, leaning back in the rocking chair. After a moment of contemplation, he let out a sigh of relief.
“Given how tough things are for you in the Federation, I’ll agree. But it’s just one person, take it or leave it.”
“That’s sufficient. When will they be in position?”
“Probably a few more minutes. Provided your escorts don’t stop them.”
“They’ve already withdrawn.”
“You’re truly bold then! Aren’t you afraid of assassins?”
Chi Sanzaii’s eyes suddenly sharpened, and he sneered at Fifth Column.
“If I wanted to kill you right now, no one could save you.”
“If you wanted to save me, no one could kill me.”
Seeing Fifth Column’s utterly calm expression, Chi Sanzaii picked up his teacup with a disgruntled look and took a sip.
“She’s back.”
He glanced towards the main gate, which slowly pushed open. A tall girl entered, carrying two bags of fried dough sticks. She seemed not to notice Fifth Column in the courtyard, walking directly to the stone table to set down the fried dough sticks, then looking at Chi Sanzaii.
“Why was breakfast bought two minutes faster today?”
“Because I didn’t have to wait for a red light.”
Listening to the cold, indifferent words of the person before him, Chi Sanzaii tossed his pocket watch aside and pondered for a moment, finally waving a dismissive hand.
“Forget it! Do you see the person beside you? From today onwards, you must obey him in all things. Whatever he says, that’s what goes.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go speak with your master about it.”
Chi Sanzaii shook his head, seemingly quite reluctant.
“Sigh… If there’s nothing else, then be on your way!”
Although many dangers lay ahead, as long as they could turn misfortune into blessing, there would be a chance to meet again. Seeing the girl standing perfectly still, Chi Sanzaii’s face showed confusion.
“Is there something left undone?”
“No.”
“Then why aren’t you leaving?”
The girl glanced at Fifth Column, her eyes as placid as an ancient well, betraying not a ripple of emotion. Then she turned to Chi Sanzaii, tilting her head.
“You said I had to obey him, but he hasn’t told me to leave.”
Chi Sanzaii was instantly speechless. He covered his eyes and lay back in the rocking chair, embracing the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ philosophy.
“Then, I’ll take my leave.”
Fifth Column rose and departed, trusting the person Chi Sanzaii had sent.
“It’s not that I’m lecturing you,”
Chi Sanzaii’s voice echoed from behind him.
“It’s precisely because you don’t practice martial arts that you have to shamelessly come begging me. Get a grip!”
Fifth Column paused, turning his head to look back at Chi Sanzaii.
“It’s precisely because you were obsessed with practicing martial arts that the Military Communications Bureau was infiltrated by me.”
As his figure stepped out of the gate, only an indignant Chi Sanzaii remained, sitting there. He snatched up his teacup and hurled it towards the door.
“I’ll f***ing kill you!”