Take the little bird away.

In the early morning hours, an icy rain began to fall along the coast.

By the wind-swept harbor, a tall, slender Gothic spire was struck by lightning. The top of the tower, hidden in the dark night, suddenly flashed into view under the piercing white light. If one happened to pass by and possessed good eyesight, they could look through the freezing sleet to see the cold, pristine floor-to-ceiling windows at the top, and the silhouette of a man standing before them.

Hard hailstones drummed against the reinforced glass. The dark red nightscape was reflected in a pair of deep sea-green eyes.

“Master, I have located him via the restriction ring,” the AI stated flatly.

“Where?”

“127.763 degrees East, 43.098 degrees North.”

“The Sculpture Square,” Yu Chen whispered the words, pressing his palm against the glass.

Through the five-centimeter-thick transparent curtain wall, from the advantageous point of the tower, the 194-meter-high sculpture was faintly visible.

Of course, Yu Chen couldn’t see it now.

Following only his memory, a corner of the dark, old landscape unfolded in his mind like a map. He could clearly imagine that bird, with his feathers soaked wet, hiding under the sculpture.

He hadn’t run too far, but he was stubborn enough to refuse to return.

As for the reason, Yu Chen had figured it out earlier.

It was a misunderstanding, yet beneath that misunderstanding lay a selfish motive he couldn’t deny.

It was because of that sudden dream that he had felt pity for the bird that fell onto his balcony in the snow, a feeling he wouldn’t normally possess.

Yu Chen had no intention of defending himself.

He asked himself: Did the idea of keeping a bird stem from that dream? The answer was yes.

But fate had allowed Bai Ling to go from a chance encounter to someone irreplaceable, and for that, he was deeply grateful.

Regarding the importance of the two, Yu Chen had dissected himself many times with a sharp question:

If that chess player hadn’t passed away, and if the veteran and the little bird appeared before him at the same time, what would he choose?

Treat the veteran well.

Take the little bird away.

It was that simple.

Perhaps this answer was too cruel for the veteran in his dream. But a deep-seated instinct whispered in his ear: holding onto the person beside him is his destiny.

“Master, do you need me to send someone to find the mechanical bird?” the AI asked.

“No.” Yu Chen blind-typed a line and hit send. “Wait for his reply. I will go find him myself.”

The AI was shocked. “You’re going out? You mean… leaving the palace?”

“You should know that during the course of the mental tonic, you must maintain a stable physical state. For you, that means soaking in water once every six hours to keep your true form moist. Are you sure you can return within six hours?”

Yu Chen said nonchalantly, “It’s raining outside. I can soak in the rain.”

The AI glitched for a moment. “I have some reservations about your capriciousness. Furthermore, I believe the mechanical bird would also protest.”

Yu Chen subtly turned his gaze and asked unhurriedly, “You’re quite noisy, aren’t you?”

“After all,” the AI said humbly, “I am the system you built with your own hands according to your preferences.”

It emphasized the word “preferences” with a red glow from its lens, as if it could see through everything.

Yu Chen ignored it. He sat down wearily, leaning back into his chair and propping his chin with his wrist as he idly toyed with the terminal in his palm.

He was waiting for Bai Ling’s message.

Yu Chen told the little bird he would explain everything, and he used a few tactics to force a reply.

He said: You lost the last chess match, so you still owe me one.

On the surface, it seemed as though the sky was wide open and the other party was free to fly, but in reality, he was relentless, closing in step by step. An old man like him was just that wicked.

Speaking of the bad things he had done…

Yu Chen inopportunely remembered the old bird in his dream.

---

Regarding that dream, it took a long time for Yu Chen to piece together the details.

To an extent, its impact on him was profound and unforgettable.

The dream lacked logic, looking like edited clips from a movie. But the editor’s skill was mediocre, only keeping the key scenes, and the transitions were clunky.

Aside from the scattered flashbacks, the most complete segment began when the veteran took his hand.

On that day, Yu Chen had come to meet his online friend. He waited from dawn until dusk before the person finally appeared.

The man carried the damp scent of someone who was sick for a long time and deprived of sunlight. He was hesitant as he walked, making a thump, thump sound like rotting wood hitting ice.

It took Yu Chen a moment to realize those were the sounds of a cheap prosthetic leg, mostly made of wood, making it exceptionally heavy to walk on.

These birds were usually disabled by the war, known by the vivid nickname “Stump Birds.”

At first, Yu Chen thought the Stump Bird was there to beg.

Many of these poor birds were reduced to such a life. He forgot if he had change on him and felt through his wallet.

The Stump Bird stopped a short distance away, his breathing labored. He then limped over and tried to sell Yu Chen something.

Yu Chen remembered buying it.

At an incredibly low price.

The Stump Bird then suggested: “I have more at home. Would you like to come see?”

Yu Chen refused, gently explaining that he was waiting for someone.

A strange sound rumbled in the Stump Bird’s throat: “Waiting for an omega?”

Yu Chen asked him why he thought so.

The Stump Bird said, “A man like you must be waiting for a beautiful person. It’s like when a gentleman leaves a florist; he always has a rose in his hand.”

Yu Chen had indeed brought a pot of flowers.

The Stump Bird told him, “The person you’re waiting for probably isn’t coming. I just saw a pretty omega hiding at the street corner, staring at you for a long time before finally leaving.”

Yu Chen pondered for a moment, then asked, “Do you like flowers?”

The Stump Bird shook his head. His tattered jacket creaked along with the swaying parts of his prosthetic limb, as if he might fall apart on the spot, his screws bouncing into the sewer.

“I don’t like flowers, sir. I can’t even recognize what kind you brought. I don’t like them.”

The Stump Bird repeatedly emphasized this.

Yu Chen left the flowerpot on the station bench, saying, “Perhaps that person will come back for them.”

The Stump Bird fell silent for a while before asking, “What if they don’t?”

Yu Chen smiled. “Then they’ll be a gift for someone who likes them. Anyone at all.”

At this point in the dream, the scene shifted to a narrow alleyway.

The Stump Bird used a clumsy excuse to lure Yu Chen to his home. Yu Chen didn’t expose him. The bird walked ahead, leading the way and letting out a wheezing laugh with his broken, raspy voice:

“I’m missing a leg, so I’ll give you a seventy percent discount on the overnight fee.”

Yu Chen wanted to remind him that, based on human body proportions, it should be a twenty-five percent discount, not seventy.

But the Stump Bird insisted on asking for those 20 credits.

Though Yu Chen found it strange, out of pity and reluctance to refuse, he still gave him the money.

He heard the Stump Bird running away, panting heavily, and returning shortly after. He had clearly gone to buy something.

The Stump Bird’s mood had inexplicably improved.

He even took the initiative to hold Yu Chen’s hand, leading the blind man through a maze of winding, worm-like alleys, intentionally taking many turns to prevent Yu Chen from remembering the route to his home.

Yu Chen couldn’t refuse, couldn’t stop. He could only follow the dream toward an unknown but predestined ending.

The Stump Bird’s hand was dry and rough, like charred bark or soil that had been overturned; it was uneven and jarring to hold.

Yu Chen squeezed it slightly, and the flesh of the palm sank and only slowly bounced back a long time later.

The Stump Bird was likely ill and had been for a long time.

His palms were puffy, his finger joints were bent and protruding, and the flesh of his palm was strangely crowded to one side—as if someone had cut open a ragdoll, pulled out the cotton, and sewn it back in haphazardly. It was that kind of strange, bulging fullness.

Many war veterans had hands like this.

If one gripped a mecha steering wheel for too long, the indentation of that wheel would permanently seep into the flesh and blood.

They walked into a damp room.

Yu Chen took two normal steps from the door before his shin struck a bedpost.

The Stump Bird muttered “sorry, sorry,” leading him to sit on the edge of the bed before softly saying, “The sheets are clean. I changed them before I went out.”

Yu Chen touched the sheets. This planet was surrounded by sea, and when the summer winds blew, the artificial continent became very damp. If a room didn’t face the sun, the sheets felt perpetually clammy.

Such an environment for a veteran with a severe leg injury was nothing short of hell.

Broken bones would ache like needles during the deep, heavy dampness of the night.

Each night would feel worse than the last.

The Stump Bird opened a small refrigerator and placed something inside.

Yu Chen presumed it was the food he had just bought.

Afterward, the Stump Bird returned to the bedside, his head lowered, and unbuckled Yu Chen’s belt.

Yu Chen could smell the scent of soap in his hair. Clean and fresh, but mixed with a cheap synthetic fragrance.

The Stump Bird’s hands were shaking; making a clattering sound as he unbuckled his belt. His movements were unskilled, but his mind seemed stable as he spoke first:

“Doing business with a gentleman like you… it’s not a loss, not a loss at all.”

Later, he cracked a few jokes, unintentionally letting a self-deprecating tone slip:

“Perhaps the person you’re waiting for doesn’t like you that much, leaving you hanging there without even coming to see you.”

As he said this, the Stump Bird had just knelt down and filled his mouth.

Yu Chen said calmly, “I know he has his difficulties.”

The Stump Bird choked. He coughed violently, as if his lungs might burst from his throat the next second.

Yu Chen felt scattered droplets, carrying body heat, dripping onto him.

Even with the deliberate stalling, it ended quickly.

The Stump Bird propped himself up against the bed frame, his soles scraping messily against the floor. It took two or three tries for him to stand up. He bowed his back deeply once more, buckling Yu Chen’s belt for him.

Before leaving, Yu Chen wanted to leave all his money behind.

The Stump Bird said he didn’t need it, forcefully pushing the money back. He stood at the door in silence for a long time before suddenly speaking in a strange, raspy, unpleasant tone:

“Could… could you… rub my hair?”

He stuttered, clearly unpracticed.

Birds and puppies are similar as they both love having their heads rubbed, but usually, only touch-starved fledglings would make such a request.

At that time, Yu Chen was cold by nature, accustomed to looking down on others. He would arrogantly speculate about people, labeling them like a machine and lacking empathy in his judgments.

In his eyes, the Stump Bird was just a cunning veteran testing his attitude, playing a game of hard-to-get.

Yu Chen was happy to play along.

Thus, he proceeded to do something that he would regret for the rest of his life.

---

Author’s Note:

The Old Merman wasn’t actually born a gentle daddy (otherwise he wouldn’t have been single for so many years).

Yu Chen is essentially “half-reborn“; he only has small fragments of memory and can dream of a little bit.

However, regarding the past life, both of them made mistakes (the mistake was not being as honest as they are in this life). Now let’s see how the Old Merman makes it up. Go, go, go!

PS: Grabbing a bite, then I’ll add another update. Don’t wait up, go to sleep! It’ll be here when you wake up.

PPS: The bird wasn’t actually “selling” himself; he used that as an excuse to lure the Old Merman over. The Old Merman had already recognized him as the online friend but didn’t expose him.