This Game Is Too Real-Chapter 765: The Unexpected is the Norm of Life

Hauser: "Drowning in beautiful dreams, perishing in madness... that’s probably the most accurate depiction of the survivors from City of Dawn. A fish-selling company has been hyped up to 25 billion silver coins, which is more than the entire Alliance combined; this is much more costly than the destruction of Giant Stone City’s S Coins!"

"It’s apparent they haven’t learned a thing from the painful lesson of Giant Stone City; instead, they treat trash as treasures, holding it dearly, while the real treasures are discarded like worn-out shoes."

"The former greatness of Giant Stone City wasn’t due to its chips, but rather those hardworking laborers! Yet the Alliance gives money to those fellows... cough, I mean, if people don’t have to work for an income, which idiot would work? They are corrupting these diligent people into lazy bums and drunkards with the wrong methods!"

"I’ll leave my words here, the Alliance will collapse one day, and those who have silver coins in their pocket will regret it. It’s only a matter of time!"

Host (applause): "So, Mr. Hauser, what do you think is the right approach then?"

Hauser: "Mr. Sigma is doing quite well. Although the Firestone Group monopolizes the most profitable industries in Bugra, that gentleman wouldn’t be foolish enough to distribute dividends to shareholders... I mean, it’s a good thing, of course, the Firestone Group lets the benefits flow silently into the pockets of everyone in Bugra, giving back to the entire community, not fattening the wallets of a handful of shareholders. The loss-making financial reports are the best proof; they’re constantly losing money but are always diligently in business! Unlike the managers who buy people’s hearts, Mr. Sigma is the unsung philanthropist, the real good guy!"

Host (drinking water sounds): "I also think Mr. Sigma is doing the right thing, but that gentleman is not for you to comment on... Alright, that’s all for our interview today, please welcome the next interviewee..."

The radio at the bar began to play soft music, and the host started interviewing another victim of the Giant Stone City bankruptcy.

The recent events in City of Dawn had stung the residents of Bugra; they needed some spiritual massage to lower the blood pressure of these heartbroken children.

After all, the Alliance and Bugra are too close, heaven and hell existing in the same province, with frequent trade caravans passing by, inevitably bringing idle gossip.

This applies to both sides.

For instance, right now, the radios in Giant Stone City could pick up this broadcast.

And Giant Stone City’s residents were all too familiar with that distinctly duck-like voice.

"Sometimes I don’t understand... has this guy ever actually listened to himself talk?" The middle-aged man eating breakfast at the table made a helpless expression.

Seeing what Mr. Hauser’s condition was like was his idea, but now he regretted changing the channel.

Listening to that guy bark was less preferable than listening to the front-line combat reports, which, though dull, were at least not as boring.

The waiter carrying a plate shrugged his shoulders and placed a palm-sized grilled rib steak on the table.

"Don’t know, but it seems like we’ve collapsed again, since it’s morning now."

"Ha ha ha ha."

The waiter’s joke made everyone laugh. The dining workers burst into belly laughter, with several of them nearly choking.

This was the Walnut Tavern near the Giant Stone City Industrial Zone, its old sign bearing the marks of the years.

The workers from the canning factory used to come here to pick up cigarette butts to smoke and drink watered-down inferior liquor, but now they prefer to order a 3 silver coin rib steak before work, to keep their energy at its best from eight in the morning until noon.

After all, the drunks who get wasted in the early morning are just a minority; most people still need to maintain decency, especially once they have savings and families.

And it was only after they had everything they realized – all this nonsense about qualities, elegance, decency, and the like were never the exclusive right of nobles, just a series of lies woven by those who reap without sowing, to oppress them mentally.

They could see it for themselves more clearly than anyone, that once their lives had improved, they had far more sense of decency and manners than those old aristocrats.

At least they wouldn’t use money to humiliate their compatriots, nor would they demand privileges that sat above others’ dignity.

Although the mainstream media of Bugra Free State habitually referred to the events in Giant Stone City as "The Great Bankruptcy of Giant Stone City," the residents themselves preferred to call it "The Great Transformation of Giant Stone City."

For instance, Mr. Haus, who had been invited to complain on the radio, was one of the "victims" of that transformation.

Looking at the group of workers who were mocking Haus, only one person exhibited a slightly sympathetic glance.

At the time when Joey and Lovett led the people to take over the broadcast station, he was among them. When they let Haus go, he clearly saw the expression on the guy’s face.

"I actually don’t hate him," he said. "The guy’s a poor sod, and even more so now. We were all hamsters in a cage, and it wasn’t easy to break free and run outside of the wheel. He just scrambled into a new cage in a panic before the dawn came: I have to admit, we did scare him quite badly that time."

That studio was just another kind of assembly line, and the exalted host clearly didn’t have much respect for Mr. Haus, let alone Mr. Sigma who he showered in praise.

The few sitting at the table exchanged glances.

"I can’t agree with you, at least not from my perspective. That guy doesn’t deserve sympathy. He never said a good word about us, only claiming he was forced at the very end. And now it looks like he was lying even then; that guy has never reflected on his actions."

"Exactly, if he truly felt he was in the wrong, he wouldn’t have run away from here. There’s a saying, isn’t there? A liar isn’t afraid of his lie being exposed, he’s afraid that someone will remember he lied. And everyone here remembers."

This statement gained quite a bit of agreement, but not from everyone.

"...But for that very reason, I think his escape is understandable. We’ve set the laws, but too many people hate him. Even if we don’t persecute him systematically, we can’t stop a friend from losing control and throwing a bottle at him, or even shooting him in the back of the head."

The noisy debate continued until the clock struck the hour, and the workers, leaving their messy table settings behind, made their way to their jobs.

In the past, they had to be on time at the canning factory when the bell rang, but the Workers’ Association demanded, arguing "workers don’t have watches, and only know the time when they hear the bell" and "one can only work energetically if well-fed," that the factory should either provide a free work meal or give workers a 20-minute commute time.

Despite the absurd sounding reasons, faced with choosing the lesser of two evils, the Industrialist Association ultimately went with the latter option. In exchange for not affecting production plans and prohibiting drinking before work, they gave workers twenty minutes of "paid commuting" time.

For the factories, just getting these drunks to drink a little less could increase productivity quite a bit.

And for those workers, even if just to maintain the dignity they had fought hard to acquire, they would take their jobs a little more seriously.

However, what no one expected was that the haggling between the Workers’ Association and the Industrialist Association would benefit most were the breakfast vendors pushing carts and even some bars that didn’t open in the mornings now operating 18-hours or even 24-hours a day.

Longer business hours meant needing more employees, or else expensive overtime pay would ensue, so even the already populous Giant Stone City experienced a labor shortage.

Fortunately, the continued influx of survivors pouring into Giant Stone City filled the gap, especially immigrants from Central and Poluo Provinces, most of who would start by washing dishes.

That wasn’t to say all went the same route.

For example, Niyan was an exception.

While most people were washing dishes for their identity cards, he came up with the idea to pay for work, hiring citizens of the Alliance to be his bosses.

It was more than that.

When the foolish Wolf Clan guards were still figuring out ways to cheer up the duke, he had already come up with a brilliant idea—to start his own newspaper that catered specifically to Duke Garava’s tastes.

This was actually very easy, so much so that he didn’t even need to waste any brain cells thinking about it, because Hauser had already thought it all out for him. He just had to hold his nose and transcribe that guy’s nonsense from the studio onto paper, then sprinkle some extras on top and serve it up to Duke Garava’s table.

The name of this newspaper was the Dawn Garden Street Report, "Dawn" naturally referring to the City of Dawn, while Garden Street Metro Station was a historic location in Spring City.

No one would know that this was just a minor newspaper, as it wouldn’t be distributed publicly.

It was, in fact, an exploitation of a loophole in the Alliance’s laws, much like when he first obtained his identity.

Only publicly distributed newspapers had to go through the qualifications of the industry committee, while his newspaper’s readership consisted only of Duke Garava and a group of employees from the Embassy of the West Winds Empire, printed under the guise of office supplies, not even needing to add an "Entertainment News" label.

In fact, the Dawn Garden Post wasn’t even registered under the name of a newspaper agency; the business category was listed simply as office and infant supplies.

It was merely called a newspaper by name.

Of course, due to the merciless oppression by the City of Dawn authorities against those who dared to speak the truth, the survival of the Dawn Garden Post was in peril, requiring the sponsorship of kind-hearted individuals to continue spreading the truth.

Niyan instructed the editor responsible for typesetting to not only play up the sob story but also to leave a bank account number for donations at the end of the paper.

Sure enough, his newspaper received one "anonymous donation" after another.

Sometimes the signatures of these donations were "The Supreme Giant from White Elephant City," sometimes "A Benevolent and Tender-hearted Elephant Tribe Poet," and even a "Boatman on the Everflow River Fighting for Equality," but Niyan knew better than anyone that all these pseudonyms were actually just one person.

After all, only one person from the entire West Winds Embassy would read the Dawn Garden Post from start to finish.

Moreover, whenever it was time to make a bank deposit, it was him who went on behalf of Duke Garava.

If not for needing the bank’s receipt, he might have even skipped the step of sending money.

Occasionally, Duke Garava was so delighted by the newspaper that he would ask Niyan to turn the news of the imminent collapse of the Alliance into a telegram and send it to the esteemed Witch Camel in the Poluo Line’s Tiandu to share the pure joy.

However, neither Duke Garava nor His Majesty realized that the entire newspaper operation was actually run by his own loyal servant.

"You’re playing with fire, my boss... the City of Dawn is not Stone City, and the people here will not tolerate anyone making a joke of their respected Manager, not even the absurd Goblin Observation Report would mock a living god." Watching the increasingly outrageous content on the newspaper, the editor responsible for typesetting shook his head and looked at the man standing by the Venetian blinds and said.

He was a newcomer, unscarred by past events, not even in possession of an ID card yet, and his feelings towards the Manager were not as fanatical as other people’s, but just a general respect.

After witnessing Sigma’s hypocrisy, he had come to realize how valuable a boss who truly cared for his subordinates was.

But the people of the City of Dawn didn’t see it that way; their feelings for the Manager were like those of the residents of the Falling Leaves Province for the "Spirit of the Sand Sea."

Niyan didn’t turn around, only peered through the slits of the Venetian blinds toward the direction of Embassy Street, speaking in a very soft voice.

"No one understands the Alliance better than I do, no one understands the Manager better than I do... I’m his true fan, and as long as we don’t break the rules, there’s nothing to worry about."

The editor said with a bitter smile,

"You’ve certainly never heard of the Sindison case."

Before he arrived at the Alliance, he had indeed heard about it; after all, the television stations in Bugra Free State had never missed an opportunity to use that case as a means to mock the state of freedom in the Alliance.

Nyan continued speaking at a leisurely pace.

"Of course, I’ve heard about it. I’ve even watched the court’s sentencing and thoroughly dissected the case file. It’s you who probably only know the name Sindison and presume that you’ve seen through the entire Alliance. In fact, you’re just like those fellows from your homeland, the Bugra Free State; you’ve drunk so much contaminated water you’ve lost your sense of taste, and you can’t survive without clinging to simple definitions and labels."

The editor was clearly unconvinced but, considering the other was the boss, he restrained his temper and retorted,

"Isn’t that the fact? He had the Guards Corps arrest that guy."

Nyan turned to look at him, smiling as he spoke.

"Then guess what would have happened to that guy named Sindison if he hadn’t done that? This is the Wasteland, the law can punish those who make mistakes, but it can’t bring the dead back to life. I bet, let alone getting on a train home, if the Guards Corps hadn’t arrived in time, he wouldn’t even have been able to walk out of that hotel alive."

The editor laughed dismissively, "According to you, was he actually protecting that guy?"

Nyan said, still smiling,

"Protect that guy? Haha, it seems only I truly understand that gentleman... He wasn’t protecting Sindison or those who were causing a ruckus in his name, but rather the order of the Alliance."

In fact, it was precisely because of the Sindison case that the citizens of the Alliance had shown unprecedented enthusiasm. They voluntarily participated in the affairs of the representative assembly, improving a series of laws, such as the regulations governing the newspaper industry, and so forth.

Unlike the emperor of West Winds or Sigma of the Free State, he had channeled people’s fervor and loyalty toward the right place.

And this was the very reason why Nyan admired him the most.

Looking at the speechless editor, Nyan continued,

"Just do as I say. That gentleman isn’t petty. I’ve told you before, our job is to deceive, and I need Duke Garava’s money too. I need him to continue making foolish mistakes. Besides that, I have a lot of other things to do, and not just to improve my own life... I also have to do some good deeds."

In fact, after spending some time in the City of Dawn, his mindset had begun to change, especially after reading "Awakener Bol."

He couldn’t forget that phrase—

"The tangible Stephen can be destroyed, but the intangible Stephen cannot be annihilated. We are their ghosts, and they are ours as well."

That sentence was like a revelation, awakening him who was lost and muddled in the maze without a way out. What Poluo Province really needed was not the grand personage he had admired.

Angering Duke Garava to death was meaningless. Poluo Province had more than one White Elephant City and more than one duke. What’s more, this duke had a bunch of wives and a whole slew of sons; he could pass on his title generation after generation.

To eradicate an entire nest of cockroaches, one mustn’t just focus on one cockroach.

If he really did anger him to death, not only would the West Winds Empire remain unchanged, but it would even have a resurgence from losing an inept talent who was nothing without his lineage.

That was possible because not many could attract hatred like Duke Garava. He couldn’t make the Alliance’s foreign minister slam the table in anger, but that guy could even make Centurion Bennott, an ally, show a disgusted expression, without any acting.

In the end, Duke Garava died, and he lost the only tool he could use.

So instead of getting mad at the Goblin Observation Report, it’s better to coddle him like a baby with a pacifier, letting him indulge in the sweetness of milk and honey.

Duke Garava would never know where his money actually went.

He was going to take that money to sponsor the Survivor’s Daily in Potato Harbor, helping those who escaped from Lowell Camp to start more editions of the Survivor’s Daily in Jin Galun Port, West Sail Port, and all places where a spark could ignite.

It wasn’t just about giving money, he would also contribute articles to the Survivor’s Daily in Potato Harbor himself, just like Mr. Spielberg, who wrote "Awakener Bol."

For this, he had specifically visited Giant Stone City, met with the experiencer of that revolution, and even had a long talk with the white-haired librarian of Giant Stone City, Mr. Melvin, and read the chronicle draft written by the old man for Giant Stone City.

He and that old man believed that it was Hal’s Survivor’s Daily that lit the flame of enlightenment, and Spielberg’s "Awakener Bol" united the poor people of Giant Stone City who had suffered.

The start of the revolution had actually begun earlier than anyone realized, and by the time Elder Sid tried to nip it in the bud, it was already too late. As for chips, S Coins, over-heating economics, and all those crises, they were just the fuse that ignited the powder keg, hastening the process and sparing a few lives.

Without that enlightenment of a new culture, no matter how many people died that night, it would have been in vain, and Giant Stone City would always be Giant Stone City.

And after his chat with that old man, he had found a way to change the West Winds Empire.

While Duke Garava proudly and generously financed the Dawn Garden Report as "the supreme giant of White Elephant City," he had already written what he hated most under the pseudonyms "Mr. Mouse" and "Big Horn Rat" for the newspapers of Potato Harbor – "Emperor’s New Carriage" and "A Thousand ’Needles’."

Compared to Spielberg, he had some advantages; his writing talent and insight were far richer than a canning factory worker’s, and most crucially, he did not have to start learning from scratch.

Thank heavens, whether out of noble pride or out of laziness to write love letters for noble ladies and misses themselves, Duke Garava had tutors for all the servants, even an oaf like Babru could write, let alone him.

Watching the editor diligently working at the desk, Niyan stood by the louvered windows and took a sip from his teacup.

He felt no ripples in his heart while looking at the manuscript disparaging the Manager, but at that moment, his eyes lit up as he suddenly had a new inspiration, pondering with a slight smile.

"Actually, Mr. Hauser makes a good point, ’laziness’ would lead Giant Stone City to ruin, and scarcity is the magic potion for progress... Let me think, the next article will be called ’Red Soil’."

Apart from the thousand pillars of the City of Thousand Pillars, nothing could touch the deepest places of the survivors’ souls in Poluo Province more than "Red Soil"...

...

Since the main fighters in the "War of Heaven" were residents of the refuge and the cost of the war was mostly borne by the various parties of the Sticky Community, the residents of the Alliance who were far behind the frontlines didn’t feel much impact on their lives.

On the contrary, the orders brought by the war had the factories in Dawn City and Giant Stone City operate three shifts, just as during the war in Luo Xia Province.

However, the difference now was that the Alliance’s productivity and material wealth were incomparable to the past.

To attract workers to their factories, each factory pulled out all the stops, not only offering free housing and insurance but continuously raising salaries.

Especially for those workers with skills and experience, factories were practically ready to take care of their next generation’s education, with benefits becoming more and more lavishly absurd.

As for those factories that couldn’t attract workers no matter what, they had to think of ways to "improve productivity" or "introduce foreign labor."

Some old production lines with a high degree of manual participation were being slowly phased out in favor of lines with higher levels of electrification and automation.

Due to the controllable fusion reactor in West State City, the Alliance had cheap energy costs, and automation was further aided by the experts from Camp 101 and the students they trained.

Additionally, with Poluo Province acting as a "pond" capable of accommodating outdated production lines, there was a place for discarded sewing machines, pot camels, and a series of other devices to go.

The residents of the Alliance, especially those in the City of Dawn, had already eliminated the Wasteland in their vicinity to a certain extent through their own hard work and wisdom.

Chu Guang’s expectations for them were not high, he only hoped they would continue to maintain their way, live well, and influence the Waste Land Wanderers in other areas of the Wasteland within their reach...

The front lines of Haiye Province.

Today, the front lines remained the usual meat grinder, with the only difference being that the newbies who had grown accustomed to death were getting more and more skilled at grinding away.

The changes that happened to them were evident.

Players who originally could only kill a dozen or twenty mutated organisms with one life, even if their levels didn’t change much, could easily reach the triple digits now in terms of kill count.

Attributes were only one aspect that affected combat power and not the sole determinant.

This was probably the most realistic aspect of the Game.

Chu Guang, who was aboard the Steel Heart, received two reports from afar.

One of the reports came from Camp 101, and the author was Little Fish.

The report mainly described the IPO situation of Baiyue Corporation and the opinions of the Camp 101 expert team, including current market issues and the loopholes that needed to be fixed.

Chu Guang was very satisfied with this report.

Not just because even someone with half-baked knowledge like himself could understand the report, but also because he saw Little Fish’s growth between the lines of the report.

Thanks to the scholars at Camp 101, the girl did not waste her talent for numbers and even found a career she was passionate about.

Indeed, sending her to study further with Pai at Camp 101 had been a wise decision.

After all, if she had stayed by his side, at best she might have learned quadratic functions and bulk economics.

As for anything more complicated, he would have had to seek advice from professionals himself.

Looking at the neat handwriting on the tablet, Chu Guang sighed gently with a touch of sentiment.

"Time flies so fast, Little Fish has grown up before my eyes."

Xiao Qi, sitting on the pen holder, nodded slightly and said while supporting her cheeks with her hands.

"Indeed... It feels like it was just yesterday that you taught her math and reading."

Chu Guang cleared his throat softly.

"...it’s not that bad."

Although he occasionally did feel as if he were in a different world, the guy’s insensitivity to time was a bit exaggerated.

With a light flick of his index finger, Chu Guang set aside that report for the moment and started reading the second one.

This report came from the social science data organizing department of the exploration team, authored by Ms. Han Mingyue, who was conducting research on the local cultural customs at Jin Jialun Port.

He wasn’t very familiar with the name, just remembered that she seemed to be a ’little popsicle’ discovered by the Thorns Corps in Pioneer City, who had once belonged to Bunker No. 288.

The condition of the Great Desert was different from other regions; it had once endured the massive collapse of not only the entire space elevator but also the orbital station, making it the most complex area on the Wasteland, including its shelters.

For instance, the Administrator’s Log for Shelter No. 288 was lost, along with a series of incidents such as premature opening of the shelter doors. In addition, the various events concerning Ms. Han showcased similarities to Heya, and the report on her background totaled five pages.

In short, it seemed that some things had happened in places beyond his knowledge, and influenced by the Thorns Corps commander Lama, Ms. Han took an interest in the activities surrounding a major migration of survivors that had occurred in Poluo Province.

Her work was not just an investigation of past events but also included observing the changes currently taking place in Jin Galun Port.

Since quite a few treasures had been found in the governor’s mansion at Jin Galun Port, the exploration team had always been supportive of her project, and Chu Guang had always paid attention to the reports she submitted.

Poluo Province didn’t have shelters, yet it was populated with a large number of survivors.

In a sense, her research essentially filled in the missing Administrator’s Logs for them.

[...Under the influence of Baiyue Corporation, authorities at Jin Jialun Port utilized the foreign exchange reserves of the West Winds Emperor to build a large number of schools and night schools for adults in the settlement area, promoting an educational reform similar to that in the City of Dawn, which to some extent increased the local literacy rate.

The increase in literacy, along with the influence of Alliance citizens who went there to teach, led to the emergence of novel musical, painting, and literary works in Jin Jialun Port.

The local residents were not only actively striving for a better life but also actively exploring theories beyond ’Thousand Tribes and Thousand Gods’, attempting to critique and deconstruct some of the outdated and feudal traditions and concepts. The idea that ’Gods do not exist’ had become popular among some progressive individuals, which I found most surprising.

Logically, the local conservative forces should have been more entrenched than those in the Lion Kingdom and the Camel Hump Kingdom, yet the reality was the complete opposite of what I had seen. In this ’New Cultural Movement,’ ’aligning with the East’ quickly became a consensus among the social classes, just as they had previously looked to the West for guidance. The conservative forces, which should have resisted the progressive ones, did not play any role and surprisingly complied. Once they judged resistance was futile, they surrendered immediately.

I believe this is not due to any defeatist or pro-foreign mentality, nor is it an actual surrender, but it seemed more like a kind of ’forbearance’ woven into the surviving locals’ cultural DNA.

Their tolerance was something I had not seen in other settlements; not even the farm owners in Brocade River Province dared treat their serfs this way, but for them, it was business as usual.

Not only that, but their ’tolerance,’ much like their ’stubbornness,’ that seldom openly showed, was deeply rooted. These survivors were unlikely to easily change their ways but did not reject bowing down and seeming to change.

Like the old nobles who learned to dress and dine like the Alliance, they immediately distanced themselves from the monarchs and governors they once served, cooperated closely with your troops, and tried to appear even more progressive and diligent than the pro-Alliance group.

You might view this as a good thing; your subordinates might think it’s irrelevant, but I must voice my differing opinion. That hidden energy is more like pus disguised as blood hiding in the veins, waiting for an opportunity. Once they find it, they will transform instantly and seal the drafty window they were, which let the wind in, making it even harder for new ideas to permeate.

Of course... there are two sides to every issue. Despite a series of concerns, the progressive measures pushed by your forces locally are commendable, and the achievements they’ve made are evident to all.

Currently, my research is ongoing, and there may still be oversights; I hope it’s just me worrying too much.

]

Chu Guang read through the report to the end, stroked his chin, intended to reply with ’Sociology+3’, but remembering it was an NPC’s report, he simply responded with ’read’.

His perspective on issues was different from Fang Chang’s, and of course, also different from the scholars of the Alliance.

The problems she mentioned certainly existed, he could see them, but as she herself pointed out in the report, the local survivors were voluntarily seeking progress under the influence of the Residents of Shelter No. 404, and the progress they were exploring could potentially address the underlying risks embedded in their civilization.

It wasn’t a matter of sitting idle, it was a difficulty the local survivors had to overcome themselves.

Even if Ms. Han had pointed out the problems, it wasn’t easy for him to do much about it.

His players had already done much, and any further steps would be overstepping.

He believed Fang Chang also sensed something.

Xiao Qi, sitting on the pen holder, looked at him and playfully teased.

"Master, you used to be skeptical about those players’ approaches, but they seem to be doing quite well, aren’t they?"

Chu Guang gave a helpless expression, extended his index finger, and shut off the incoming reports from behind.

"You’ve followed me for so long, you should know my judgments aren’t always correct."

It was only natural for life to be unpredictable, only gods were omniscient.

If he were truly that godly, what would he need all those experts and scholars for?

He could have finished all the work by himself.

And it was still too early to draw conclusions.

However, to his surprise, it was just an offhand comment, yet for some reason it froze Xiao Qi in place, and even the wiggling of its little legs stopped.

A glimmer of hope appeared in those pupils, yet it seemed like an illusion.

Seeing Xiao Qi frozen, Chu Guang slightly furrowed his brows and tapped its head with his finger.

"What’s wrong? Are you stuck?"

"No..." Xiao Qi, as if snapping back to reality, looked at him and then smiled brightly, "Nothing... Worthy of being the Master, making Xiao Qi’s intelligence plugin throb, nearly burning up."

Saying so, it began to rock its legs again, looking at him with sparkling eyes.

Chu Guang made a helpless expression again.

Burned up, indeed.

He felt like this guy was getting saucier by the day.