Chapter 077: Production

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Thanks to more than a month of continuously assembling antimatter cannons, Zhong Yun’s hands had grown exceptionally nimble. He quickly opened each bottle and poured the liquid inside into the box.

After the last bottle was emptied, Zhong Yun took out a rod made from a special compound and stirred the seeds and liquid together a few times, ensuring the now viscous fluid mixed evenly with the seeds.

He resealed the box and pressed a button, then waited patiently.

This box not only generated low temperatures but also served as a miniature centrifuge, crafted from leftover parts. Last time, he had Yang Siqing buy a pile of machines rather than buying parts directly—not only for secrecy, but also to squeeze a bit extra out of the arrangement.

Because Zero was so extravagant, money flowed through his fingers like water, leaving him perpetually short on cash. He couldn’t afford those high-end parts at all.

So he’d devised this method: dismantle all the machines, and surely she wouldn’t have the heart to take back all those scattered bits.

Timing it carefully, when the centrifuge finished, Zhong Yun pressed another button. A small tube extended from the box, and a stream of silvery liquid flowed out.

He reached out to catch it, and at some point, his hands had become wrapped in a faint purple glow. The silvery liquid rolled onto the purple cloud, hovering suspended above his palm.

When the silver liquid inside the box was depleted, it amounted to just a fist-sized lump.

He didn’t pause for a moment; he had only thirty short seconds. Rising swiftly from his chair, he grabbed a small portion of the silver liquid with his other purple-shrouded hand.

On the floor lay a hooded white robe, a pair of white trousers, shoes, gloves, socks, and a single bed-sized white sheet.

Spreading his fingers, the small ball of silver liquid in his palm suddenly expanded, transforming into a nearly transparent silver membrane. Sensing it had reached its limit, he flicked his other hand, causing the robe to float up.

The thin film of silver liquid enveloped the robe, merging into every fiber of the fabric upon contact.

When the silver liquid had fully penetrated the robe, Zhong Yun waved his hand, and the now paler robe flew automatically to the metal rack nearby.

After finishing, a faint flush of exertion appeared on Zhong Yun’s face—the actions he’d just performed had taxed him greatly.

Still, he didn’t stop. With twenty-five seconds remaining, he grabbed another small portion of the silver liquid…

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After dealing with the trousers, shoes, gloves, and socks, Zhong Yun’s face had grown pale, and he felt drained—an aftereffect of overusing his essence, a sensation he’d grown accustomed to. His hands didn’t slow.

But then he discovered a major problem: the sheet was too large, and the remaining silver liquid wasn’t enough to cover it completely.

Time was running out. Sweeping his gaze around the room, he spotted an exaggeratedly shaped knife hanging on the wall. Without thinking, he summoned it. A layer of silver membrane coated the blade.

He placed the knife on the metal rack. With everything done, Zhong Yun could hold out no longer; he collapsed onto the floor, his eyelids heavy as lead—always the symptom after exhausting his essence.

Watching the items on the rack blur before his eyes, Zhong Yun smiled and drifted contentedly into sleep.

Elsewhere, someone was restless and sleepless.

In a meticulously decorated room, a girl in cartoon pajamas lay with her head at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a pink phone.

It was well past midnight, but the girl felt no trace of sleepiness. She rolled over to her side and flipped her small phone to its back. On its smooth surface was a landscape portrait.

The photo’s backdrop was a shimmering lake. A boy in pale violet clothes stood beneath a tree on the shore, a faint smile on his lips. The wind tousled his hair, and nearby, a few red leaves were carried aloft.

Staring at the photo, the girl’s gaze became dreamy. Whatever she was thinking, a blush spread over her fair cheeks. Covering her hot face, she shyly thought, “Rainruo, how can you imagine such embarrassing things…”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Startled, she bounced up like a frightened rabbit, quickly turned off the light, slipped under the covers, and barely had time to close her eyes before the door swung open.

“Xiaoruo.”

It was Xiaofen’s voice. Xiaoruo pretended to be asleep, making no sound.

“Sigh.”

The lights came on again. Xiaofen sat at the bedside and asked, “Still no word from Zhong Yun?”

Unable to keep up the pretense, Xiaoruo sat up, hugging her blanket, looking embarrassed as though caught doing something wrong.

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Xiaofen looked at her helplessly. “Thinking about him again?”

Xiaoruo hugged one of Xiaofen’s arms, resting her head on her shoulder. “Mm.”

“That scoundrel,” Xiaofen muttered.

Xiaoruo couldn’t help but defend him. “Don’t curse him, Xiaofen. He hasn’t done anything really bad.”

“You’re still speaking up for him?” Xiaofen was exasperated. “He disappeared for more than a month without a single call. If he cared about you, would he do that?”

“Maybe he’s got something really important, something he can’t get away from,” Xiaoruo said softly, as if convincing Xiaofen—or perhaps herself.

Xiaofen was nearly defeated. “You’re so stubborn. I still can’t believe I let him kiss you—what possessed me at the time?”

“That’s fate,” Xiaoruo murmured, a sweet smile blooming on her lips as she recalled something.

“Just like my mother says, fate between people is mysterious. Some people treat you with endless kindness and devotion, and you’re grateful, but you won’t love them. Others just do one thing or say one word, and your heart wavers. Even if they’re indifferent or treat you badly, you can only think of them, miss them.”

Xiaofen stared, dumbfounded. “I think you’re lost in obsession.” Then she gently advised, “Xiaoruo, you’re still young. There’s so much you don’t understand. You don’t even know what love is—don’t be so foolish. He’s not worth it.”

“Maybe,” Xiaoruo replied, gripping the phone Zhong Yun had given her as if she could draw strength from it. She didn’t say more; her gentle nature kept her from arguing with her closest friend.

After more than ten years together, Xiaofen understood her well enough, feeling a deep sense of helplessness.

Four hours later, Zhong Yun woke up feeling refreshed, stretched comfortably, then turned to look at the metal rack by the wall.

The rack was empty. All the clothes and shoes that had been there had “vanished.”