Novel Turned Yuri – Chapter 77

Rain

The initial sensation that surged up was the feeling of sweaty palms, making one feel uncomfortable.

Gradually, awareness began to return, starting from the fingertips to regaining control over the entire body, like a person just rescued from drowning. The chest suddenly remembered the need for breathing and began to rise and fall strongly, sending life fuel to the body.

But there was still a sense of something truly lost, something essential in the world, like the drifting clouds in the sky disappearing little by little.

Qiao Yu finally opened her eyes.

The surroundings were a chaotic dark gray, as if mist were slowly flowing, with no end in sight no matter which direction she looked. It seemed like the entire world had nothing left but murky black mist and Qiao Yu herself, with nothing else.

The five senses should have been clear, but even aside from the strange scene before her, Qiao Yu felt nothing – no smell, no sound – only sharp headaches assaulting her.

Although it was cliché, Qiao Yu still tried to pinch herself hard, feeling the real pain and understanding the situation.

Ah, she had been exiled.

The process was blurry. Qiao Yu only remembered fainting in the classroom, a long journey in the darkness, and an unpleasant dream. When she regained consciousness, she was already here.

“What a strange place.”

She muttered to herself, walking aimlessly in this space, the sound of her voice falling on the ground with no response, quickly losing its warmth.

It seemed the system couldn’t come with her – that was only natural. As a working entity, it still had to help its unreliable host clean up the mess in the original world and might even get punished by superiors. But anything was better than ending up in this place with no future.

Perhaps many people have imagined being the only person left in the whole world, but Qiao Yu, who was actually experiencing it, knew that it could gradually lead to an inescapable panic. She had to mutter to dispel the suffocating silence, her voice echoing lonely in the mist.

“So, this is exile, quite an eye-opener.”

“If I can go back, I should describe it well to the system and let it brag to its colleagues.”

If she can go back.

Qiao Yu’s heart skipped a beat, lips slightly pursed.

She had asked the system to inquire about two things before, both very important for the implementation of her plan.

The first was whether her satisfaction level value would continue to change if she was exiled or would it stop there.

This was not easy to find out, as not every system was recruited by hosts to write books. But her system diligently came back with the result: it would continue to change.

This brought a glimmer of hope to Qiao Yu – even if she was temporarily exiled, there was still a possibility of turning the situation around.

While there had been no precedents of anyone returning from exile, has anyone ever completely changed the direction of a book before?

The biggest issue was that the original author’s work couldn’t be altered, including the title, channel, and the first twenty chapters. Qiao Yu could understand that it would be unreasonable to completely change someone else’s work without their consent.

The chapters she modified afterwards were almost like writing a new book, and now Qiao Yu could only pray that maybe 0.5% of readers who liked yuri would see the later chapters.

“I wonder if time here flows according to the readers’ side or my side…”

Clueless about this mysterious space, Qiao Yu muttered helplessly. If time flowed according to the readers’ world, then the time she needed to wait for her satisfaction level to change would be longer. But it wasn’t all bad – at least when she went back, not much time might have passed in Lin Qing’s world.

Having walked in one direction for a long time, Qiao Yu looked around and saw the scenery remained unchanged, giving her the illusion that she had been standing still the whole time.

Feeling a bit restless, she tried to comfort herself.

“Let’s just wait. Even if I can’t go back—”

Her words abruptly stopped, shaking her head to rid herself of unease, forcing a smile to her lips.

“…It’s nothing.”

The second thing she asked the system about was how this world would deal with her after being exiled.

This was easier to find out. The systems, like retired elders who couldn’t leave along with their hosts no matter the outcome, would often reminisce to the younger systems during their leisure time, recalling the past hosts’ spirited actions and their combined struggles. Their parting was always filled with heartfelt reluctance.

Among these systems, those hosts who failed to complete their tasks and were ultimately exiled were particularly reticent, as if they had lost their best companion and suffered trauma. Only with the most sincere attitude could one hear them speak a few words about their less-than-magnificent endings.

‘They basically said they would erase the host’s traces like when a host leaves normally, but more abruptly – probably without the gradual process.’

The system spoke with a subdued tone, seeming to have some kind of resistance to the topic, but still faithfully providing new information to the host.

‘But, but, I heard a senior say that if we systems work hard, we can help someone retain memories of their host!’

‘If, I mean if! If that day ever comes, I can help Lin Qing remember the host—’

‘No need.’

Qiao Yu’s rejection was swift, with no hint of hesitation in her eyes, her voice calm.

‘That’s for the best.’

She was making a decision for Lin Qing without permission, and she was very aware of that.

But faced with this choice, neither side could truly be labeled as the right choice, both options could be seen as stemming from her own selfishness.

In that case.

“…For her to be left alone remembering someone who doesn’t exist in this world, that would be too cruel.”

Qiao Yu closed her eyes and started walking into the endless black mist, the mist dispersing with each step she took, swiftly enveloping her like a living entity, winding and sticking to her thickly.

Now, only it could accompany her.

“Should we go get some ice cream together before heading back?”

“Um… not today, I have quite a lot of homework to do.”

“Lin Qing has been saying that a lot lately. Even Lu Yao, who takes forever to finish a single problem, hasn’t mentioned homework at all!”

“It’s because he’s so bad at solving too many problems that he doesn’t feel like there’s a lot of homework.”

“… Mi Yi, you’re too much.”

The three of them teased each other playfully, with Lin Qing giving a slightly apologetic smile as she packed her books back into her bag.

“Sorry about that. You guys go have fun.”

“Okay, okay.”

Cong Ye waved his hand dismissively, but as he was gathering his things, he remembered something and hastily called out to Lin Qing who was about to leave.

“Hey, my mom said you guys are invited to have dinner at our place this weekend. She’s probably already told Aunt Lin, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Lin Qing nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she walked out of the classroom. Before she left, she overheard a classmate teasing Cong Ye jokingly from behind.

“Your relationship with Lin Qing is still so good, huh~”

Feeling suddenly agitated, she quickened her pace and walked out of the classroom without looking back.

Cong Ye, without hesitation, kicked the leg of the person teasing him, raising his arms fiercely as the person yelped in pain.

“I’ve said it a thousand times! Lin Qing and I don’t have that kind of relationship! Don’t—say—it—again!”

“My bad, my bad… I’m sorry…”

The boy rubbed his leg pitifully, still somewhat stubbornly inquiring.

“Well, if you don’t have feelings, can’t someone who does have feelings give it a try?”

Seeing Cong Ye’s expression growing more hostile, his voice gradually lowered as he nervously pointed to the seat near the window.

“You see, Lin Qing’s adjacent seat has always been empty. Just say a word to the teacher…”

“No way. Don’t even think about it. Give it up.”

Cong Ye sternly walked over, blocking the boy’s view between him and Lin Qing’s seat, and quickly ushered him away.

“… I feel like there will be new rumors about you guys again tomorrow.”

“So annoying.”

Hearing Mi Yi’s sigh, Cong Ye ruffled his hair in frustration, returned to his seat, crammed his things into his bag roughly, and acted quite brusquely.

“If it’s empty, let it be empty. What’s the harm in that.”

“Those people have other places to sit, yet they’re always fixated on others—” He suddenly paused, seeming puzzled by his own words, and abruptly changed course awkwardly, “…on seats beside others.”

“…”

Mi Yi remained silent, her gaze shifting to the empty seat, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

When did Lin Qing’s adjacent seat start to be empty? Was it like that from the beginning when she transferred here?

Her thoughts, which should have been clear, now felt like being muddled in a large glass of milk, becoming murky. No matter how she tried to think, a clear answer eluded her.

“…Forget it, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Mi Yi gave up on thinking and walked outside with her two friends.

Surrounded by the unchanging grey-black mist, there was initially an illusion that her eyes had gone bad upon arriving here. Now, they could calmly accept this sight, even finding some amusement in the distortion of the mist.

“No, this is still a bit difficult.”

Qiao Yu snapped out of her long daydream, took a deep breath, and stood up.

She couldn’t determine how long it had been since she arrived here.

Here seemed to have no concept of time, and her body felt like it transcended human limitations, completely devoid of sensations like hunger or fatigue. If she chose to, she could probably keep walking without needing to rest, but Qiao Yu didn’t opt for that. She tried to maintain a routine of walking and resting to catch her breath.

During this time, she gradually began to feel that this was an area without boundaries. Perhaps moving forward or stopping made little difference, but she persevered through her exhaustion – primarily mental fatigue.

The only thing that brought her joy during this journey was that she started hearing voices.

【What an outrageous book.】

Ah, here we go.

Qiao Yu stopped in her tracks, quietly raised her head, and listened to the voices gradually coming from all directions.

【Why was it written like this? It’s too far-fetched.】

【Is the author crazy?】

【It started off fine, but then it got changed to this weird style. Something’s wrong.】

Ah uh, sorry about that.

The tone of these readers seemed to be relatively mild this time.

Qiao Yu nodded frequently, listening carefully. Even though the other party couldn’t hear her, she still responded apologetically sentence by sentence, until the wave of abusive comments gradually faded away.

She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

These words probably came from readers of that book.

Initially, she found it uncomfortable hearing them, but now Qiao Yu could welcome their sudden appearance. After all, in a world where time refused to visit, any change or spoken word felt extremely precious – proof that she had spent more time here.

Perhaps this is the intention of the god playing these words for the exiled host – to make her listen carefully to the harm she caused to those people, placing her on a stage with no escape, endlessly confronting her wrongdoing.

“Let’s keep going…”

Qiao Yu lifted her stiff legs and continued walking forward.

She had to keep going. Regardless of whether there was an end to the road, or if anyone was waiting for her, she had to keep moving forward.

Just like migratory birds always fly towards the warm south.

Qiao Yu also had a place she wanted to go no matter what.

The scorching midday heat was irrational, but in the evening, it started to rain.

The cicadas at the end of July sang fervently, like a final cry of life, as their time was running out. It was unknown how many cicadas would die after this rain.

Lin Qing sat at the table, laughing at her sudden feeling of wounded spring and autumn.

She felt a bit strange lately.

Perhaps it was the fault of summer, leaving Lin Qing excessively fatigued. She began to lose interest in the things around her, as if she had draped a thin veil over herself, isolating all emotions and preventing them from reaching her heart.

She responded to everyone with a proper smile that couldn’t be faulted. She had always been this way, neither distant nor overly close, maintaining an appropriate distance in social interactions, which was sufficient. After all, there are no unconditional favours in the world; people always have their own needs.

But there was always a strange feeling lingering in her heart.

As if she had once cast her gaze on someone, and now her eyes couldn’t contain anyone else.

Outside the window, the rain fell steadily, creating the illusion of shattering on the glass.

This rain was urgent, not only washing away the cicadas but also causing flowers and leaves to fall, lying exhausted on the roads, stripped of their former beauty.

And the icy, empty void in Lin Qing’s heart, ungraspable and unresolvable, was the last remnant of fragrance.

She slightly opened the window, deeply inhaling the moist air.

It felt like someone was there with her, waiting for the rain to stop.

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