Saving Unpermitted

Chapter 62: The Final Promise – Part 1

As the sky grew completely dark, the ground was covered with black erosion. A sense of gloom enveloped the world, and Zhu Yanchen remained motionless, his body paralyzed from the cold.

It felt as though only his consciousness was floating in a sea of darkness.

The carousel of his adult life played day after day, and he could only think of the past—the past sixteen years ago—the only colorful period in his life.

For as long as Zhu Yanchen could remember, his mother had been bedridden most of the time. Her face was often pale, and a worrying sickness lingered in her expression, which kept her from speaking and conversing. Their occasional moments of interaction were also fleeting. She wouldn’t praise him; most of the time, she simply gazed out of the window, lost in her own thoughts.

His father seldom visited his mother. With an age difference of over twenty years, their encounters felt like forced acts, greetings as stiff as those between strangers. Even as a young as he was, he could sense the absence of any affection between his parents, and he soon understood the meaning of a “political marriage”.

He had an elder brother, an academically accomplished individual, so he lived like a shadow, insignificant and irrelevant. Zhu Yanchen attempted to find companionship among peers, but considering safety concerns, he couldn’t mingle with commoners. In the eyes of others, he was just an ordinary young master with mediocre talent and negligible importance. He could enjoy momentary liveliness, but forging lasting friendships was impossible—Zhu Sheng was always stern and never granted any special treatment to his family.

Until the age of twelve, Zhu Yanchen almost believed he was invisible. The routine was monotonous: ordinary meals every day, spending some time with his reticent mother, studying regular subjects, and finally retiring to his bedroom. A fixed and mundane cycle.

Zhu Yanchen could see his own future. The Zhu family would take care of him, and he would eventually become a useless and aimless wastrel.

This wasn’t just his speculation. He had overheard servants gossiping, listened to whispers from strangers, and heard murmurs from peers—

Occasionally, Zhu Yanchen was taken to social gatherings. Children were the worst at concealing their feelings, and although others pretended to play along, their boredom and disdain were unmistakable. Their gaze would slide down his nose and pierce into his chest at an angle.

He didn’t understand the “elite” courses at the military school, nor did he possess any remarkable talents. He couldn’t even take care of himself properly. His body was weak from a lack of exercise, and his limited interactions rendered him taciturn. The label of “boring” covered his entire being.

The privileged children who graduated from the military school were always most interested in combat. Zhu Yanchen had no interest in engaging in conversations tainted with bloodshed, nor did he comprehend the pleasure of manipulating synthetic humans. Consequently, beside the “boring” label, another one was added: “cowardly”.

Until he met Shu Jun.

Perhaps Shu Jun would never know just how much brightness his affirmation had brought—Shu Jun didn’t care about who his father was, and at such a young age, he flirted with death, fought monsters, and never flattered anyone.

[You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met in the world!]

Just by himself?

But that person spoke with absolute certainty, his voice filled with a clean laughter.

A few months later, Xia Jing’s illness worsened. As her foster mother, Lu Lu couldn’t bear to see her suffer. She dug into her private funds and obtained a hibernation pod, using an old method from two hundred years ago—to send someone to the “other side”, only temporarily disconnecting during treatment to escape the pain.

It was unknown how the old lady discovered this method.

Lu Lu was once a popular national singer. After marrying into the Xia family, she stopped performing, but her influence remained, and Zhu Sheng tacitly approved of her actions. Xia Jing didn’t refuse; she only made one request—to have her son, Zhu Yanchen, visit her regularly.

Zhu Yanchen obediently complied. Little did he know that his life would take a different turn from that point on.

He encountered Shu Jun again.

Contrary to his expectations, his mother didn’t object to their interaction. In this world, she too would gaze at the blue sky outside the window, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

From that moment on, he grasped onto the light.

Shu Jun’s feelings for him were pure and fervent, and Zhu Yanchen could feel it. This synthetic human was just as lonely as he was, but compared to himself, Shu Jun burned with even more intensity.

That person remembered every wish he had made, every small disappointment and joy. Whenever his stolen glances were discovered, the response he received was always a smile.

Zhu Yanchen wished he could continue living in that apartment forever.

After getting to know Shu Jun, he intentionally sought out knowledge about synthetic humans. Zhu Sheng’s heart was with his eldest son, and he rarely concerned himself with the life of his second son, which conveniently provided Zhu Yanchen with opportunities. He used his saved allowance to bribe his private tutor and obtained several textbooks used in military schools.

These were meant for seven- or eight-year-old newcomers, which Zhu Yanchen had never seen before, likely intercepted by his mother. He sneaked into his bed and read them one page at a time with a flashlight, growing more and more amazed as he went along.

For seven- or eight-year-old children, parents never lied, and the words in books were truth. But in this textbook, synthetic humans were explicitly labeled as “animal-like weapons”—

…”Synthetic humans” are artificially cultivated synthetic beasts with high intelligence and special abilities. Their lifespan is short, and they are incapable of reproducing. However, due to the current limitations in technology, their appearance is similar to that of humans. They are carefully guarded and maintained in border outposts and usually don’t come into contact with civilians, causing little disturbance. Civilians have limited knowledge about them, and due to their unique nature, it is best to keep them isolated from civilians… 

…Synthetic humans have designated activity towns, which are “special sites” constructed by the United Government. The “residents” there have all received proper training…

This was a textbook intended for high-ranking reserves. Zhu Yanchen clenched the paper tightly, almost forgetting to breathe. The words were neatly arranged, and between the lines, the “logic” was apparent.

This was rational.

Humans had to defend their loved ones and reclaim their world. Their compatriots no longer needed to be sacrificed; they just needed to guard the truth from the civilians. On the other hand, synthetic humans weren’t mistreated. They were cared for by specialists and provided with mental relaxation, and their living conditions surpassed those of most residents in populated areas.

This was reasonable; humans had been doing it this way for two hundred years.

Zhu Yanchen bit down on the corner of his bedding, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Back then, his mother didn’t want his father to take him to military school, so she hired a private tutor and used regular textbooks. Now, Zhu Yanchen finally understood her intentions.

If he had entered military school, he would likely have taken those beliefs as truths. With his tactical abilities, his father would quickly pay attention to him—his best outcome would probably be becoming his elder brother’s deputy.

And then he would undoubtedly have to make good use of his tactical abilities, commanding synthetic humans to charge into battle. To prevent any mishaps, the education regarding his “racial difference” would only become stronger and more thorough.

Zhu Yanchen climbed down from his bed and stumbled into the bathroom, retching for a long time.

For some reason, his mother left him with a path. She wanted him to remain blank and to see for himself.

…But it was too heavy, and Zhu Yanchen felt lost. Like most ordinary people, the existence of synthetic humans was just a distant and vague concept, but Shu Jun brought that concept right in front of him, and he couldn’t close his eyes to it.

Soon after, the Reunion Festival arrived.

For the first time, Zhu Yanchen saw the clear sky filled with countless stars and fireworks blooming in the night. And for the first time in front of Shu Jun, he burst into tears.

The next day, he went to see his mother.

His mother was a beauty and used to play the piano well. Now she lay half-reclined in an illusory world, her skin clinging to her bones, gazing blankly at the birds flying outside the window.

“You can’t tell that child the truth.” Xia Jing didn’t look at her son.

“Why?”

“I’ve done something foolish like that before,” she said lightly. “Once your father discovers it, he will dispose of your friend.”

“But I don’t want to hide it from him.” Zhu Yanchen’s voice was slightly hoarse from crying most of the night.

His mother smiled. “It seems you have your own judgment about that system?”

“…Mom, I’m sorry. I read relevant books without permission.”

“And what do you think?” Xia Jing didn’t respond to the apology.

“I don’t know.” Zhu Yanchen sounded confused. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Unfortunately, nobody knows.” Xia Jing turned her head, her emaciated face somewhat alarming. “I wasn’t expecting you to do anything, Yanchen. I just wanted you to see.”

A black bird flew across the blue sky, and she fell silent for a long time.

“To you, I’m not a good mother, I know.” She spoke randomly, without any context. “I’m sorry.”

Then she lay back down and closed her eyes. “I need to rest now. Number 6 will come in to take care of me. Go and see him.”

The second hand shakily reached the top of the hour, and NPC “Number 6”, dressed as a servant, walked into the room. She skillfully drew the curtains and adjusted the room temperature. Finally, she turned her head and smiled at Zhu Yanchen. “I’ll see you off later. You can wait outside for now.”

Zhu Yanchen couldn’t find the answers he sought from his mother, and he stood frozen in place.

The weight of an unsolvable reality pressed down on him, causing a pain in his chest. He was too young, and there wasn’t much he could do… But he couldn’t do nothing. Whether it was for the bigger picture or the world, at that moment, he couldn’t comprehend such complex matters. He only wanted to do one thing—find a way to tell Shu Jun the truth without anyone discovering it.

On that day, Zhu Yanchen left the hibernation pod and, for the first time, contacted his father’s assistant. He requested to add a course specifically focused on synthetic humans to his curriculum, intending to “catch up”.

This time, his mother didn’t give him a hard time.

However, the system was so complex that everything he had learned previously barely scratched the surface, and he couldn’t understand most of it. Nevertheless, he restrained his instinct to withdraw and forced himself to keep listening.

If he couldn’t understand, he would memorize; if he couldn’t comprehend, he would learn. Zhu Yanchen no longer passively accepted all arrangements and no longer questioned whether he had any talent. He started putting pressure on himself—almost all his time outside the hibernation pod was devoted to studying.

It was the only solution he could think of.

By doing so, he would be able to face Shu Jun calmly after entering the “other side”.

Countless nights, he couldn’t sleep, and he could only hold Shu Jun tightly in his arms, his mind filled with those difficult and incomprehensible knowledge. Whenever he embraced him, Shu Jun remained obedient, and his sleeping face carried a smile.

“Good night.” Before succumbing to sleep, he would always secretly kiss the top of Shu Jun’s head.

Zhu Yanchen once thought that if they continued living like this for a few more years, there might be a turning point. But their separation came unexpectedly soon.

Not long after the Reunion Festival, his half-brother, born of a different mother, was ruthlessly assassinated. At the time of the incident, his elder brother’s wife, their newborn child, and the whole family were in the car. Zhu Sheng changed his plans at the last minute and narrowly escaped the attack.

His elder brother was ten years older than him and rarely stayed at home. During the few times they met, he never spoke a word to Zhu Yanchen, and the difference between the two brothers was no different from that of strangers. Zhu Yanchen didn’t feel much emotional impact from his death.

He only felt the horror—this was the world he was about to step into.

But he had no other choice.

That night, Zhu Yanchen held Shu Jun tightly, almost waking him up.

The impact of this tragedy went beyond that. After losing his eldest son and grandson on the same day, Zhu Sheng once again turned his attention to this “incompetent” son. Zhu Yanchen’s efforts during this period didn’t go unnoticed by Zhu Sheng.

“Not bad,” Zhu Sheng said, his tone somewhat rigid. Compared to their last encounter, his hair had turned half-white. “It’s good to have the drive to study. Your mother is seriously ill, and your presence won’t make a difference. Come with me.”

Zhu Yanchen didn’t lower his head. For the first time, he met his father’s gaze, shaking his head firmly. Zhu Sheng dismissed it as a child clinging to his mother and didn’t force him.

After that, Zhu Yanchen had a particularly bad premonition—that his time spent with Shu Jun might not be much longer.

But he never expected that everything would come to a halt so tragically.

…That was the darkest period of his life.

Zhu Yanchen’s long-term efforts paid off, and in just six months, he managed to learn the entire college curriculum of the military academy.

“During the initial production phase of synthetic humans, specific brain chips are implanted. They are sensitive to certain facts and can trigger trauma stress responses, causing synthetic humans to autonomously avoid specific facts. Once they become aware of the existence of the ‘player system’, they will spontaneously forget. We refer to this phenomenon as ‘brain shock’…”

“Teacher, is this method foolproof?”

“Not necessarily. There have been individuals in history who were insensitive to brain shocks. Even ordinary individuals, when subjected to intense emotional shocks, may retain some impressions. To achieve a foolproof outcome, the supporting facilities must be complete. Brain shocks serve as the final defense line, and the best practice is to prevent synthetic humans from accessing sensitive information…”

Zhu Yanchen kept a straight face, exerting all his effort to remain expressionless. “Intense emotional shocks?”

“The human brain has its limits when it comes to shocks. When two powerful shocks come successively, it cannot properly handle them all. As for brain shocks…”

“Does the effectiveness of brain shocks depend on age?” Zhu Yanchen continued his questioning.

“It seems you’re quite interested in this topic.” The teacher wasn’t annoyed and just pushed up his glasses. “Younger individuals have a greater acceptance capacity compared to adults. Their understanding of reality is not as profound, so they might ‘not be able to react to what happened’. The effectiveness of brain shocks takes longer to manifest and has fewer side effects.”

“So… do brain shocks only occur in the real world or…?”

“What kind of questions are these?” The instructing teacher laughed. “‘The other side consists only of synthetic humans, and they certainly won’t know the truth out of thin air. To better simulate the five senses, the hibernation pod has a certain influence on their thoughts. As long as a person is in ‘the other side’, brain shocks won’t occur.”

“I understand.” Zhu Yanchen bit the end of his pen. “Thank you.”

He had to seize the opportunity while they could still meet in “the other side” and tell Shu Jun about this matter.

But every time Shu Jun greeted him with a smile, Zhu Yanchen couldn’t bring himself to speak. What would be Shu Jun’s reaction after he revealed the truth? Would he despair? Would he hate him? Would he never smile like that again?

Day after day, Zhu Yanchen studied almost masochistically in the real world. When he arrived in the other side and saw Shu Jun eagerly talking about the upcoming “simulation test”, the prepared words decayed in his heart.

Just one more day, then another day. That was what he told himself.

His father waited for him to be enrolled in the school, and his mother, lost in a coma due to illness, was his only remaining source of warmth.

“A’Yan, look at this!” Shu Jun showed him a peculiar-looking wristband. “If I wear this, I can simulate the abilities in <Erosion>.  A’Yan, let me tell you, my abilities are extraordinary! If not for the restrictions outside school…”

He put on the wristband and gestured energetically. “I can even fly!”

A pang of pain struck Zhu Yanchen’s heart. “Mm.”

“When we grow up, I promise I’ll take you flying. A’Yan, by the way, tomorrow…”

“I have something important to tell you tomorrow.” Taking a deep breath, Zhu Yanchen forced himself to speak as he looked at Shu Jun’s expectant face.

“Ah? Okay.”

Shu Jun scrutinized his expression once again.

“A’Yan… If there’s something that’s making you unhappy, you must tell me.”

“…Mm.”

The next day, in the guest room of the command center, Zhu Yanchen was mentally prepared. Just as he stepped into the hibernation pod with one foot, the nanny pulled him out in a nervous state.

“Don’t go. Your mother is in trouble,” she said anxiously.

Zhu Yanchen’s heart sank.

Things were different from what he had imagined—his mother was still alive, or rather, she was too “alive”. Recently, his mother had fallen into a coma, spending nearly 24 hours inside the hibernation pod. During this period, his mother should have been in “the other side”.

But now she had awakened, her face filled with confusion, screaming loudly in pain.

“It’s said that the hibernation pod opened on its own, and Miss Xia woke up by herself.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“She says she’s not Miss Xia, but someone named ‘Number 6’ who came to meet Young Master Zhu…”

“What a mess?!”

“Miss Xia’s condition… Her condition is abnormal. I can’t find anyone. Miss Xia… she logs into the game <Erosion> every day, and I just… I just wanted to find out how Yanchen would react.” Number 6, wearing Xia Jing’s body, choked with effort. “Why… Why does it hurt so much—”

Her cries were so loud that they could be heard clearly outside the door.

“Shh, the leader is here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Mr. Zhu, your wife… Your wife’s condition is extremely unusual. She has fallen into a deep coma, and it seems that the appearance from ‘the other side’ has undergone a change. The NPCs from ‘the other side’ follow emergency protocols and are trying to find Zhu Yanchen as the contact person. It temporarily bypassed the restrictions and used the hibernation pod from ‘the other side’. Now, it… um…”

“In simple terms, the artificial program has taken control of Xia Jing’s body.”

“Yes… that’s correct. We didn’t expect such a situation to occur. We deeply apologize.”

“Hm.” Zhu Sheng fell silent for a few seconds. He turned his head and saw Zhu Yanchen standing among the confused crowd. Then he took a few steps forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It seems you have some luck.” His father, who seldom smiled, made such a comment. “This is an unprecedented breakthrough, Yanchen. If a properly trained program can replace the ‘original consciousness’, we no longer need to resort to brain shocks and such.”

“This is the good fortune you brought. It seems the security of the player system will be further enhanced.”

For a moment, Zhu Yanchen didn’t know which matter to despair about.

Was it his mother’s worsening condition? Was it his father’s tone when talking about his mother?

Was it because he hesitated to leave “the other side” for too long that the player system was further advanced? Zhu Yanchen was no longer ignorant—he now knew that if research in this area succeeded, synthetic humans would not only die in lies, they might even be replaced by NPC programs much earlier due to their “incompatible personalities”.

He took a deep breath, broke free from his father’s grip, and turned to run.

He couldn’t do anything about his mother while his father was there. But when it came to “the other side”, there was something he could do—

He had to see Shu Jun.

With a bitter smile on his face, the Zhu Yanchen in reality grimaced at himself as he remembered the figure stumbling into the darkness.

Perhaps from that day onwards, everything became irreversible. He could feel the damp and cold erosion material crawling up his chest. He sighed, interrupted the memory, and released the gun from his hand.

They couldn’t overcome the blood-soaked mountains and seas of these two hundred years. If this was the ending, it was fine to end it like this.

But as he cleared his mind and waited for a long time, the expected pain didn’t come. His body became lighter, the pain in his chest disappeared, along with all his other pain. His feet tingled as if it was thawing by a warm hearth. Zhu Yanchen quickly realized that his wounds were healing—everything was…

Incredibly warm.

Those peculiar and clumsy hands wrapped around him, just like an embrace.