The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] Chapter 53

Fireworks bloomed brilliantly, their fading process slow, with colors gradually blending and dispersing, as if the hand of a god was creating a new universe above Star Lake.

An endless night sky, countless fireworks.

Lin Jing no longer felt restless but instead found himself deeply confused.

So he had figured it out. And then what? What was he supposed to do now?

Back in high school, Lu Xingyu had shared with him the “108 techniques of chasing girls.” At the time, Lin Jing hadn’t paid it any mind. “I probably won’t need this. After all, I’m always the one being pursued.”

Now, karma had struck.

He was the one doing the chasing! And he had no idea how to do it!

What kind of suffering was this?

Many couples watching the fireworks had been swept up in the moment, pressing against the glass for passionate kisses.

Some seized the opportunity—shouting their confessions over the sound of the exploding fireworks.

Fearless, burning like fire.

Even back during the lie detector test, it was obvious—Empire University students were numerous and unashamedly affectionate.

Lin Jing: “…” No surprise there.

He never thought he would have his “awakening” in such an atmosphere.

It was as if fate itself was pushing him forward—telling him to confess under the fireworks, amid the bustling crowd, in this charged, ambiguous mood.

But how could he possibly say it?! Give him some time to collect himself!

Lin Jing ruffled his hair in frustration.

He took a deep, deep breath.

Once his emotions settled, the surrounding noise faded away, leaving only the violent pounding of his heart.

Lin Jing stole a glance at Xu Wanzhi.

They were standing in a secluded corner of the science museum, beneath a hanging, milky-white glass ornament. The fireworks reflected off its surface, casting a warm glow.

In that orange-tinted light, Xu Wanzhi’s dark eyes appeared even colder—deep and unfathomable, like an ancient well reflecting shadowy trees.

Lin Jing suddenly recalled their ascent earlier. Along the way, a girl had tried striking up a conversation with Xu Wanzhi. She was breathtakingly beautiful, the type of campus belle found in any prestigious academy. She wasn’t overly delicate or dramatic, her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes sparkled as she smiled and called him “Senior,” asking if they could watch the fireworks together.

And how had Xu Wanzhi responded? Oh, right—he didn’t even acknowledge her. He simply strode past her, long legs moving forward, bringing Lin Jing upstairs with him.

The girl had stood there, disappointed, while someone next to her whispered words of comfort. “Don’t be upset. Just seeing him is already lucky enough. Don’t you think he doesn’t look like the kind of person who would even like humans?”

Lin Jing instantly lost all confidence.

After the fireworks, Lin Jing refused to return to District 1 with Xu Wanzhi.

—No way. He couldn’t live with Xu Wanzhi!

He was certain he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings. Xu Wanzhi would see through him in an instant.

“Why?”

Xu Wanzhi looked down at him.

Lin Jing used Lu Xingyu as a shield. “I’m catching up with a friend. We haven’t seen each other in so long.”

Xu Wanzhi curved his lips into a lazy smile. “And we don’t need to catch up?”

Lin Jing felt his scalp tingle at his serious tone. “Uh, I’ve known Lu Xingyu for longer.”

Xu Wanzhi’s smile faded. He looked at Lin Jing. “Do you really think that?”

Lin Jing: “?”

Lin Jing: “Isn’t it true?”

Sure, I like you, but that doesn’t mean I’d abandon my friends and twist the facts.

Xu Wanzhi’s expression was unreadable, but he let out a small, knowing smile.

Most of the people had cleared out of the science museum. Only two girls remained near the cosmic map, heads close together, chatting.

“I’ve gone through this map so many times and still can’t find the Rose Nebula exactly. Who is this person? Just a slight movement and they got such a perfect angle.”

“They’re just lucky. Move your hand, you’re blocking it—I’m trying to trace its outline.”

Earlier, when a crowd had gathered around the map, Lin Jing had already been particularly interested in that spot. Now that fewer people remained, he instinctively turned back upon hearing them talk. The two girls were short and didn’t obstruct his view.

On the screen, the nebula indeed resembled a blooming rose. Clouds of dust and gas radiated with soft light due to the surrounding radiation. The darker regions only enhanced the illusion of delicate petals—intricately sculpted, vivid, and romantic.

So this… is the Rose Nebula?

***

The moment Lin Jing stepped into Lu Xingyu’s apartment, he could hear the howls of frustration from outside the door.

“I was so close! Arghhh! I was just one step away from winning! This is killing me!”

His roommate, fed up, shoved a pillow over his face and walked off, still clutching his gaming console.

Just as Lin Jing entered, the roommate sighed in relief, as if seeing his savior. “Jingzi, you’re here? Thank god. This lunatic has lost it after watching the fireworks with his ‘goddess.’ Can you handle him? I’ve got a match to play—my team needs me.”

Lin Jing: “…”

He never quite understood Lu Xingyu’s delayed reactions.

He could lose a game and feel nothing for two hours—still excitedly enjoying the fireworks—only to sit down later, go silent for three seconds, and then explode into regretful wails.

It had been like this since childhood. If he fell flat on his face in public, he could get up unfazed. But half an hour later, he’d be cringing in embarrassment.

Lu Xingyu, now a mess with his hair disheveled, hugged a dinosaur plushie.

He stared at Lin Jing as he walked in.

Lin Jing said nothing, simply sitting beside him in silence.

Lu Xingyu squinted. “Huh? What’s up with you?”

Then he suddenly remembered something important. “You liar! That senior never even showed up!”

Lin Jing mumbled, “He did.”

Lu Xingyu protested, “Bullsh*t. I was looking for him the entire time after my match. Not even a shadow! And you weren’t there either.”

Lin Jing deadpanned, “You were playing so terribly that I got mad and left.”

Lu Xingyu: “…”

Lin Jing wasn’t here to banter. He poured himself a glass of water, steadied his emotions, cleared his throat, and then asked, “Do you remember that ‘108 techniques of chasing someone’ you told me about when we were kids?”

Lu Xingyu: “What are you up to?”

Lin Jing put down his cup. “Come on, let’s have a good chat tonight.”

“…”

When they were kids, Lu Xingyu and Lin Jing had shared a bed many times. But tonight, he felt an inexplicable sense of dread.

He stammered as he recited from memory, “For aloof girls, you need to take the initiative but not too much. Keep a balance—close enough to stand out but not so much that you annoy her…”

Lin Jing was taking notes.

Taking. Notes.

Was he blind, or had Lin Jing lost his mind?

Lu Xingyu couldn’t keep reciting this nonsense anymore—he sat up straight and stared blankly at Lin Jing. “Jingzi, what is wrong with you?”

Being called that snapped Lin Jing out of his daze. His gaze fell on the messy scribbles he’d written. What the h*ll was this?!

“…”

His mental state collapsed. He tossed the notepad aside and flopped onto the bed.

Staring at the ceiling, his eyes were misty with confusion. As the fog cleared, frustration took its place.

Lin Jing sighed. “Son, you won the bet.”

Lu Xingyu instinctively smirked. “Won what? I never lose—”

…What was the bet again?

Oh.

Lin Jing liked Xu Wanzhi.

“…”

Lu Xingyu’s pupils shook. His voice was so loud the whole building probably heard: “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

***

At the base, a sea of hyacinths swayed under the moonlight.

Dean Chang had a hunch that his student was in a particularly good mood.

He probed, “Did you restore all of Aurora’s data?”

Xu Wanzhi: “No.”

Dean Chang was surprised. “Then… did Bernard die?”

Xu Wanzhi lowered his eyes. “No.”

Dean Chang frowned. “Then why the h*ll are you so happy today???”

He liked to think he kept up with the times. After all, Survivor was a mental-power-based game mainly targeted at young people, and he occasionally browsed the forums.

But there hadn’t been any major developments.

The lunatics in the Empire were still watching like hawks. Osmond remained indifferent as always—that ancient family that had carved “Born for Honor” into their bones. Every single one of them was selfish to the core.

Dean Chang figured the old matriarch must be feeling her death approaching and was desperately trying to atone.

Xu Wanzhi smiled faintly. “I heard some good news.”

Dean Chang: “Hmm?”

He had watched this kid grow up. It was hard to imagine that anything in this world could count as good news to him.

Xu Wanzhi seemed thoughtful. He smiled. “News that I can’t respond to just yet.”

Dean Chang: “…”

He was too old for this. Young people made no sense.

The top floor of the base was bathed in a soft blue glow.

The entire Survivor system was powered by “TI90 radiation.”

This radiation permeated every game world—it was in the air, the plants, the dust. Though its power had been diluted a billion times, it still had a minor effect on enhancing mental power.

So, from the moment players entered the game, they were in training. The process of clearing each level merely helped their mental bodies adapt, think critically, and integrate more seamlessly into the “world.”

Dean Chang said, “I’ve sent people to track down Diana. If she knew about the tracking matches, she’s a liability. But…” He frowned. “She’s disappeared. We haven’t found her.”

Xu Wanzhi responded with a soft “Mm,” completely uninterested.

Dean Chang sighed. “Joe seems to have some kind of hereditary mental illness. I’m worried Diana does too. Be careful.”

Xu Wanzhi’s gaze was cold. “Got it.”

Dean Chang let out a tired sigh. Then again, warnings were unnecessary.

To the outside world, Laixiya probably seemed even crazier than Joe.

Diana was a pitiful child, but then again—wasn’t Xu Wanzhi as well?

He had never imagined that the Empire’s high-ranking officials would hold a vote to decide the life or death of a seven-year-old boy.

Dean Chang said, “The military is taking a tough stance this time. Your uncle may be a scumbag, but your third uncle still has a conscience. It wouldn’t be bad for you to go to that research facility. They have Aurora’s original prototype and your mother’s notes.”

Xu Wanzhi chuckled. “Of course I’ll go.” Then, after a pause, he added, “Look after that kid for me.”

Dean Chang almost choked.

Lin Jing—whose kid was he supposed to be?! Did Xu Wanzhi get it backward?

Xu Wanzhi’s expression darkened. “The first time he matched with me, it was due to mental instability, right?”

Dean Chang hesitated. “Yeah. I initially placed you in an average two-thousand-score match.”

Xu Wanzhi said softly, “The tracking match issue still isn’t resolved. I don’t feel at ease.”

Dean Chang: “…”

Xu Wanzhi continued, “When he enters the next world, send me the data.”

Dean Chang narrowed his eyes. “What are you planning?”

Xu Wanzhi smiled. “Nothing. Just watching the show.”

Dean Chang: “…”

You need world data just to watch? Who do you think you’re fooling, you little brat?

Still, he didn’t object.

The elevator descended.

The research base had two restricted zones.

One was the top floor.

The other was Basement Level 2.

It had long been abandoned. Only eerie corridors and a sealed metal door at the end remained. No one knew what it had been used for.

Every time they passed it, the atmosphere grew heavy.

The elevator stopped on the first floor.

Moonlight spilled over the hyacinth fields.

Just as Xu Wanzhi was about to leave for another planet, Dean Chang suddenly asked, “Do you know why that probe was named Aurora?”

Xu Wanzhi glanced at him.

Dean Chang’s voice was hoarse with age. “Laixiya named it. As the lead researcher, she had the right to choose.”

“Did she?” Xu Wanzhi smiled, clearly uninterested.

Dean Chang sighed. He decided not to say anything more.

The starship broke through the aurora barrier.

Xu Wanzhi’s slender hand gripped the control stick, soaring upward, leaving behind the starry river and the sea of flowers.

“Aurora.”

He murmured the word, his deep, magnetic voice carrying a hint of mocking amusement.

—So… do you want to hear a fairy tale?

***

After staring blankly at each other, Lin Jing and Lu Xingyu let out a long sigh. “You used to be so cool as a kid, who knew you’d end up in the same boat as me.”

Lin Jing ruffled his hair in frustration.

Lu Xingyu patted his shoulder and said, “I think I’m this close to getting together with my goddess. Just one last step to break the ice. You should keep going.”

Lin Jing: “Get lost.”

Lu Xingyu clutched his stomach, rolling on the bed in laughter. “Hahaha! I can’t believe this is happening to you!”

Then he sat up and said seriously, “A bet is a bet. When are you starting your next game? Hurry up and stream it—I’ll be your moderator.”

Lin Jing: “…” Discussing love with Lu Xingyu was a mistake.

In the end, he decided to rent an apartment near Imperial University.

The next day, when he went to District 1 to pick up some things, Dean Chang informed him that Xu Wanzhi had already left—for another planet.

Lin Jing froze on the spot, as if struck by lightning.

His mind replayed everything from the night before—the clumsy excuses in the library, the obvious distraction at the tech building, and the foolish, roundabout confession under the fireworks.

If Lu Xingyu had noticed his feelings, then what about Xu Wanzhi?

Despite their short time together, Xu Wanzhi was so intelligent—had he realized it too?

And if he had… was his silence, his departure, a rejection?

D*mn it…

When Lin Jing moved, Dean Chang dug up a small hyacinth from the flower field and handed it to him in a pot.

“These were planted by your mother back then. Do you remember?”

Lin Jing held the delicate little hyacinth and forced a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

So this was it, huh? A love that ended before it even began.

But Lin Jing only let himself be sad for a few seconds.

He had already lowered himself to ask Lu Xingyu for advice on chasing someone—he wasn’t about to give up so easily.

He’d wait a little longer, until he was more certain.

《Survivor》 was a national sensation, and many industries profited from it. Streaming was one of them.

A random click into any streaming platform would show a homepage filled with 《Survivor》.

The stream titles were all eye-catching:

“Rank 1367 Pro Climbing the Leaderboards”
“Soft and Sweet Loli Flirting in the Game~”
“Come Learn Some Skills!!”
“Elite Survivor Gameplay—Watch and Learn”
“Winning & Flirting, All in One—Follow Me for the Ultimate Experience”

Professional streamers would usually go live whenever they played, though some worlds couldn’t be streamed due to restrictions. It was all luck.

Lin Jing hoped, more than anything, that his world this time would be unstreamable. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged into Lu Xingyu’s nonsense.

His stream title was very straightforward:

—“Don’t Bother Me, Let a Handsome Guy Play in Peace”

Lu Xingyu saw the title and nearly spat out his drink. He stared at Lin Jing opening his game terminal and urged, “Go, go, go! Don’t be scared, I’m here.”

Lin Jing: “It’s because you’re here that I’m scared.”

Still, he logged in.

Lu Xingyu returned to his own room, grabbed his laptop, and settled in as the stream moderator. The game had a brief loading screen, darkening the screen entirely. Since 《Survivor》 was so popular, the stream attracted its first viewer almost immediately.

[QiaoqiaoBlue]: Why did the streamer name the stream like this?

[XingxingXiaYu (Mod)]: He just got dumped, show some sympathy.

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