Translator: AnubisTL
Time slipped away quietly in the mundane routine of campus life.
This day passed without any unexpected incidents like the "math duel," allowing Jieming to devote most of his energy to absorbing classroom knowledge and managing the snail-paced circulation of spiritual power within his body.
When he unlocked the front door, he was greeted by silence.
The entrance hall was empty of his parents' shoes, and the living room was vacant.
According to the itinerary they had mentioned in passing that morning, they should be at the supermarket for their weekly shopping trip.
Staring at the excessively tidy and empty home, a thought struck Jieming.
The opportunity has arrived.
Instead of heading straight to his bedroom as usual, he paused, his gaze sharpening as he swept across this space that was both "familiar" and utterly alien.
He took a deep breath and began a systematic search of the entire apartment.
His first target was the master bedroom—his "parents'" room.
He pushed open the door. The interior was so sparse it looked like a model home: the bed was made without a single wrinkle, the clothes in the wardrobe were hung with meticulous precision by color and season, and the dressing table held only the most basic skincare products. There were no personal photos, no scattered collectibles, and... not even a speck of dust.
This level of tidiness—devoid of the lived-in warmth and accumulation of time—felt like a space that had just been meticulously dusted and staged, rather than a place of long-term residence.
He carefully opened his "father's" desk drawer and his "mother's" nightstand. Inside, they were empty save for a few popular magazines of this world and some unopened stationery.
No old letters, no diaries, no small mementos of personal significance, and none of those cluttered little trinkets.
Next, he activated the light screen of the computer in their room.
He quickly scrolled through the access logs and history data—a complete blank, as clean as a new machine.
This meant they had hardly used these devices for any personal activities recently.
His gaze finally landed on the family photos hanging on the living room wall.
In the pictures, the "parents" and he all wore bright smiles, radiating happiness.
But Jieming keenly noticed that the background, the clothing, and even the three of them's standing poses were highly repetitive.
It looked more like they had been batch-generated from a few fixed templates.
Moreover, a closer look at the "parents'" smiles revealed that the curves of their lips and the "pride" in their eyes were nearly identical, lacking the subtle variations and uniqueness of genuine emotion.
"Too clean... sickeningly clean," Jieming thought, his brow furrowed as the suspicions in his heart grew heavier.
Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock and his parents' cheerful chatter drifted from outside.
Jieming's heart tightened. He immediately suppressed all outward emotion, his steps light and swift as he circled to the other side of the living room. He pretended he had just stepped out of the bathroom, his face wearing a trace of natural weariness.
"Dad, Mom, you're back."
"Hmm, baby, are you out of school?" His mother's smile was gentle as she carried the shopping bags toward the kitchen, her movements fluid and natural.
His father also nodded with a smile, placing another bag on the table.
At the dinner table, the atmosphere seemed warm and harmonious.
His parents asked him about his studies today with concern, once again expressing their profound relief and pride that he had "successfully defended his honor as number one and earned the title of school bully."
Their words and actions were a flawless performance, perfectly embodying the image of middle-class parents who cared deeply for their child and took immense pride in him.
As they ate, Jieming brought up a topic as if it had just occurred to him. "Oh, Dad, I just remembered. That astronaut model you gave me for my seventh birthday—the one I accidentally broke—where did it go? I don't think I've seen it since."
"Father" answered immediately, a nostalgic smile on his face, without the slightest pause. "That one? I carefully repaired it with special glue, though you can still see a few marks. I was afraid you'd break it again, so I put it away for you in your bedroom, in the third storage drawer from the bottom of your closet, tucked in the back."
Jieming nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, I see. Thanks, Dad."
Just then, he "accidentally" knocked over the water glass beside him, sending a splash of clear water across the table.
"Oh!"
His mother's reaction was startlingly fast. She was on her feet almost the instant the water spilled.
Without a hint of reproach or panic, her gentle smile remained fixed as she grabbed a cloth and began wiping the table with practiced ease. "It's okay, sweetheart," she said softly. "You didn't get burned, did you? Just be a little more careful."
Her movements were fluid, her tone indulgent—flawlessly perfect.
After dinner, Jieming returned to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.
He walked straight to the wardrobe, knelt down, and pulled open the third drawer from the bottom, reaching into the back.
His fingertips soon brushed against a hard object.
He pulled it out—the very same old astronaut model from his memories.
There was a clear mark on the model's arm where it had been carefully glued back together.
Jieming stared at the repair, stroking the cool surface of the model. A heavy sigh escaped him as a wave of complex emotions washed over him.
"So... it really is fake."
The search during the day had already filled him with doubt: the reused photo templates, the parents' bedroom—too tidy, devoid of any personal traces—and the blank computer access logs.
The dinner "test" just now had only deepened his suspicions.
He remembered clearly that his father from his past life was a careless man. He could never have remembered exactly where a broken toy had been hidden after being repaired years ago.
And his mother from his past life, though she loved him, would never have reacted with such flawless tolerance and a smile when he accidentally knocked something over. Her first reaction would have been to scold him or let out a startled gasp.
To be honest, these flaws were simply too elementary.
But that was precisely the problem: would this false world truly make such amateur mistakes?
This was a simulated world created by a plane capable of imprisoning nearly two million wizards. Could it really contain such glaringly obvious flaws?
Or rather, it was bizarre for an enemy of this caliber to exhibit such crude errors in the first place.
Previously, Jieming thought he had found a pattern through various clues, allowing him to gauge the general situation of this plane.
But now, he was plunged into even deeper bewilderment.
If an enemy of this level truly wanted to construct a perfect prison, how could they possibly leave behind such obvious flaws?
Could these "flaws" themselves... be deliberately shown to him?
What was the purpose?
If the entity behind all this had truly discovered his mistake, it could have simply erased him.
After all, Jieming remembered clearly that although few casualties had occurred in this plane, three unlucky souls had still lost their lives.
Since they had already killed three, the opponent certainly wouldn't mind killing one more.
And if that wasn't the reason, then what was going on?
Could there be other circumstances hidden in this world that he didn't know about?
"The day after tomorrow... when I go out for a walk, I'll examine the surroundings more carefully," Jieming thought as he placed the astronaut model back in its original spot.
The information he currently held was contradictory and chaotic, and his investigation at home had reached a stalemate. Perhaps by turning his gaze to the broader external environment, he could find a new breakthrough.
He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, and stopped dwelling on those maddening contradictions, once again sinking his entire spirit into his dantian.
(End of the Chapter)
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