Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1449 - 98: "Was It My Eyes That Deceived Me?
[To Sique Olivius:]
[By the time you receive this letter, I should be spending the last moments of my life.]
[Very lucky, in my youth, I dreamt of your Black Water Dream, so even though I do not know where you are, I can still send you a letter through dreams.] 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞
[Perhaps you do not remember me, a minor character... I once expressed some opinions on your "Goddess of Life Lotasha," thereafter I... I endured some things not worth mentioning.]
[You are the person I admired and loved all my life. Even though I once sold all the merchandise related to you, and swore not to watch any news about you, I could not deceive my heart. The older one gets, the more honest one becomes. I ultimately discovered that my interests, my phrasing and wording, every word I write, every character.shadow. is influenced by you.]
[From the first fairy tale I read in my youth, to the romance literature I read in my adolescent years, to the philosophical books and non-fiction works in my middle age, even the newspapers I read in my old age... all were your writings.]
[Even if just a fleeting encounter, your words have shaped my entire life.]
[I am very fortunate to have read your literature during the formative years of my worldview, making me a complete and independently minded person. You taught me to examine myself, to think philosophically, to confront strengths and weaknesses, to embrace courage, to establish responsibility, to uphold justice, to respect sacrifice, to pursue freedom, not to see wealth and power as Honor, not to see idealism as shame, and not to see the heart of saving the World as a jest.]
[You are the omnipresent light in my spiritual world, my other half Perfection, my spiritual sustenance, and the only guest in my soul’s library.]
[I love you.]
[I love you, Sique Olivius, if you would allow me to call you that.]
[I do not have your Inspiration, I do not have your talent. But my whole life, I have been striving to write a work that people will remember.]
[The World is too vast.]
[Too many, too many people are like feathers, unnoticed, unremembered.]
[My work, polished repeatedly over decades, may still not compare to your casual strokes at fourteen, but I should not feel regret.]
[At least, I was fortunate enough to have delivered this letter to you, fulfilling my youthful wish. Now it is meaningless to ask about the flaws in "Goddess of Life Lotasha." Perhaps... perhaps it was my youthful stubbornness that was wrong, or maybe my eyes were mistaken — "Sique" was right, and "Lin Hejin" was wrong.]
[This world is ill; everyone worships the World Tree as the corner doctrine, yet forgets the primacy of humans. So many unfulfilled desires, is it because human wants are too deep, or is it because order and Method obeys Fate more than will?]
[Even lying in bed now, writing this letter, why do I still feel a sense of loss, a sense of regret?]
[My completed work is attached after this letter. To not take much of your time, I have pared it down to a very short length. If you are not interested, you may discard it.]
[Considering my physical condition and age, this is the last work of my life, still just a passing visitor in your youth.]
[Thinking about it, my lover has already passed away due to illness, my son awaits my inheritance, and my granddaughter is still young. Since that incident in my youth, friends and relatives have distanced themselves from me. In this final time, I can only write to you alone and send my last Blessing to you.]
[Brilliant Protagonist, Sique Olivius.]
[May you be safe, healthy, happy, and joyful.]
[May Inspiration and talent always favor you. May you raise your proud wings and forever sing freely in the literary world.]
[—Lin Hejin, Last Written Words.]
...
The Magpie lowered its head.
Under the white, black, and light blue feathers, it used its wings to turn the page, finishing the letter.
Black Water was silent, and the fish swam singing.
Here, there was no sign of a languid purple-haired youth.
Unfortunately, Lin Hejin’s final letter still did not reach Sique Olivius personally. Staying in the dream was Sique Olivius’s pet — a magpie. And Sique Olivius was already asleep.
The magpie turned to the end of the letter, where white specks of light gathered, and a thin book appeared. It was the manuscript Lin Hejin had poured his life into.
On the manuscript, just a short line of the title, the handwriting slanted as if the writer no longer had the strength:
...
— "To Sique Olivius"
...
"...Does the old man still have breath?"
"...You money-grubbing relatives, as soon as the old man is close to death, you show up. Get out, scram!"
"...Tch. Who doesn’t know the old man accomplished nothing his whole life! Do you have to make us say it so harshly? Who’s eyeing that bit of money from your family anyway! We’re leaving!"
The dripping air conditioner, cracked walls, yellowed pages, the stench of coal smoke.
Only a few budding gardenias outside the window provided a glimpse of beauty.
Lin Hejin lay in bed while the noise outside was deafening.
"—Quiet!" Lin Hejin exerted all his strength to shout, coughing continuously, almost to the point of coughing up his insides.
The outside finally quieted, and people’s footsteps receded, not wanting to attract the grudge of a dying man.
Lin Hejin stared at the ceiling, the sunlight fell on his forehead, yet the illness made him feel all the colder. He had heard that people sense their impending end, and he knew his time had come.
... His manuscript, should have reached Sique Olivius, right?
Were there some sentences that could have been written better, some plots that could have been revised... Lin Hejin still pondered, but could no longer hold a pen.
Having Sique Olivius see such immature stories... so sorry... even if he exhausted a lifetime, he never wrote a satisfactory book.
Maybe the life of an ordinary person is full of regrets, from a heart full of ambition to accepting one’s ordinariness... truly a reluctantly accepted process.
His breathing turned heavier, like the sound of a broken bellows, each breath laden with blood. Lin Hejin’s consciousness grew more blurred, yet he pondered... if... if he hadn’t been that impulsive in his youth, hadn’t rushed before Sique to question the flaws in "Goddess of Life Lotasha," would everything have turned out differently... would he have become a more successful person, at least not being alone here, waiting for Death.
Had he not had any contact or entanglement with Sique... would his life have been luckier?
The answer was only silence.
The sunlight was like a farewell hand, gently sweeping across his forehead, nose, lips, pale hair... until he suddenly regained some clarity, hearing footsteps from outside.
Creek, creak—
Was it his son? That unfilial child, coming to see if he was dead yet?
Was it his granddaughter? Lin Hejin thought of the little, cotton candy-like girl, very different from her father, with bright eyes and a sincere heart, but she should still be in a closed school.
Could it be a friend? But he had no friends, perhaps some before, but as he became more destitute, even the best of friends were worn away by time...
Friend.
Friends...?
No, no, he still had one friend... but perhaps that hardly counted as a friend...
Creak—
The door was pushed open.
In that moment, Lin Hejin thought he was experiencing the fleeting moments before death.
Perhaps somewhere, a deity sighed with a smile, letting a breeze of gardenia fragrance drift through the window, brushing past Lin Hejin’s clouded eyes, his aged hands, over the pages of drafts on the desk, blowing past... the entrant with a head full of disheveled purple hair.
Golden pupils, which Lin Hejin had gazed upon countless times through screens, newspapers, books... And now, those golden eyes brightly reflected his weary, aged figure.
In a black beret, a flowing red robe, handsome as a purple rose, the young man remained youthful, his gaze steady, lips curved upward, like an angel descended to escort the dying from the mortal world.
Protagonist favored by the gods... He remained as handsome, as youthful, as radiant as sunlight.
For a fleeting moment, Lin Hejin thought his heart might have stopped.
"Lin Hejin."
The word slid out of the young man’s mouth, purple-haired, who called him flawlessly, and walked to his bedside, holding that finished manuscript, softly smiling:
"My heart is on the right side."
"In my homeland, there’s a legend. It says people with hearts on the right side were angels standing by the patients’ bedsides, responsible for guiding them away in their past life."
"So, here I am."
The old man on the bed shakily raised his hand, wanting to touch, yet fearing an illusion. He opened his mouth, haltingly said: "Sique Olivius...?"
At death’s door, he could say no more.
The one he had chased all his life, the one who shaped his worldview and life, he met at last. Sique remained young as ever, while he had grown so old.
This was the second time in his life Lin Hejin saw Sique.
In a wave of blurriness, the room seemed to transform into that opulent banquet hall, a young man hurriedly ran up to the handsome purple-haired youth, cradling "Goddess of Life Lotasha," blushing, stammering a question.
"—So, the flaw in ’Goddess of Life Lotasha,’ exactly..."
The scene overlapped, the old, white-haired man on the bed parted chapped lips:
"—So, the flaw in ’Goddess of Life Lotasha,’ exactly..."
This question had troubled him his entire life.
Sique Olivius lowered his head, then after a moment his lips curved, revealing a slightly regretful smile:
"...That was written by my child, Su Wenjun."
"He was too rebellious, and published it under my name, thus so many flaws. People saw my pen name and lauded it madly, turning a blind eye to obvious blemishes, and praised it blindly. Only you... only you came up to ask me face-to-face."
"In this world of billions, everyone’s caught in a muddle of seeking fame, profit, and riding tides of opinion. Lin Hejin... only you opened your clear eyes, opened your questioning lips."
"I’m sorry, because of a joke between the World Master and I, I caused you... a lifetime of torment."
His heart went blank, as if nothing was left.
The old man widened his eyes, unable to utter a single word. In the end, he looked around at his bare walls, his frail body, his frostbitten and scarred hands, all that was left was a bitter smile.
For Sique Olivius, it was a trivial joke.
For the World Master, it was a negligible act of rebellion.
For Lin Hejin... it was a life filled with bitterness.
Lin Hejin often dreamt of that banquet. His hair was messy, he wore an ill-fitting suit like a jester crashing the party. He heard laughter, mocking his lack of etiquette, mocking his indigence, mocking him as a rural person, mocking his audacity to question Sique Olivius... Since then, the laughter never left his ears.
Yet at the moment those golden eyes met his, the ridicule in his ears suddenly vanished.
Silence fell around him at last.
"Now that I’m old, I often tire easily, a few steps leave me breathless, unable to go far," Lin Hejin softly said:
"I sit at home every day, watching the distant rooftops and gardenias, observing them until dusk."
"Today’s smart devices become increasingly high level... Cough cough, I can’t figure them out, my son ignores me, I just talk to myself:"
"’Lin Hejin, do you regret it? They are something else, and you are who you are. Why worry your egg over somebody else’s stone!’"
"Sometimes, I take out old photos, but they’ve molded. I dig out my youthful clothes, only to find they’ve turned to rags. I try to find traces of the past, try to write thrilling sentences, yet find myself far less than my younger self..."
"I must accept the fact I’m old... I can no longer write sentences that make one’s hair stand on end, nor create plot twists that make people clap the table in awe. All I have left is a frail body, three daily doses of pills, and the blood pressure monitor by the bed..."
"I uncovered my youthful manuscripts, even began to envy my former self... How I crafted such spectacular stories back then, when now my mind is a bleak shadow."
"Until yesterday, I saw... a white moonrise over distant rooftops."
"That scene... held nothing different from the ten thousand days of my past life, yet as I gazed at that silver-white frosty moonlight, burning deep in the blue horizon where sea meets sky... I suddenly felt awestruck."
"Humans are insignificant, most will yield to time... on the scale of the universe, our eternity is but a fleeting moment. Such a beautiful moonlight will descend unchanged, whether viewed by the brilliant Olivius, or the frustrated Hejin."
"Flowing will is the same way; if one can grasp what traverses through time... has humanity then not grasped eternity?"
"I held onto it... that moment I realized, those were the truths you once revealed through words."
"Justice, purity, kindness, responsibility, freedom, courage, sacrifice, idealism."
"I built upon all this, and wrote my final draft. You have already received it."
"The story’s protagonist... is a just, pure, kind, idealistic child, just like the eternal emotions your words imparted to me."
"Such writing might be buried within months or years, but having written it, my life thus continues."
"And I, who grasped that will spanning the ages, have already attained ’eternal life’. I will die, but I’ve resonated with the era’s currents. I am as insignificant as specks of sand, yet as eternal as moonlight. Henceforth, if anyone shares the same sentiments with me, then he is ’me’. The sand is me, and the moonlight also me."
The old man revealed a regretful smile with his toothless mouth to the young man by his bed:
"Sique Olivius... teacher."
"Thinking like this... do I not then feel regret free..."
