Chapter 202: "Mom, I Don’t Want to Distinguish

“Old Yu, if… if we can really take it that far…”

Shi Zuozhou’s voice trembled as he spoke, his excitement irrepressible:

“Then I believe every single player would go crazy for it… This—this would be the Oasis from *Top Player*! It’d be Aincrad from *Sword Art Online*! It’d be the Azeroth Continent from *World of Warcraft*!”

He spun around and gripped Yu Xian’s shoulders tightly, so hard it hurt.

“Old Yu… If we do that, we’ll truly be building an entire world! With cities, wilderness, lives, jobs! Everyone could be whoever they want to be, do anything they can’t do in reality!”

Yu Xian had never seen him this worked up. Shi Zuozhou grew more and more agitated as he spoke, showering Yu Xian with spittle. Yu Xian wanted to wipe it off, but his arms were held fast by Shi Zuozhou’s grip.

“Old Yu, if we can really do that, then it won’t be a game anymore! Think about it! It’s raining outside right now, but in that world, we could be under clear skies, on sun-drenched prairies, in brilliant cities. The weather would be perfect, not a cloud in the sky. We could do whatever we want, go wherever we want!”

He opened his mouth, his voice already hoarse with excitement.

“This is… This is giving everyone a second life! Old Yu! Do you get it? Can you even comprehend it?!”

A second life.

Yu Xian watched Shi Zuozhou, his face flushed red with excitement, and listened to his vision of that “brave new world,” but his heart sank.

His mind went back to the discussion he’d had with Wen Xiao and the others that evening about “source memory confusion.”

They had been worried about a physiological memory disorder—that after suppressing MCH neurons, the “weight” of dream memories would unconsciously surpass that of reality, causing the brain to be unable to distinguish real from fake, leading to cognitive deviation.

That was a pathological, passive form of “confusion.”

But now, Shi Zuozhou’s words made him aware of another, more terrifying, more unsolvable, and far deeper crisis.

If the world of dreams was truly as Shi Zuozhou described—with brilliant sunlight, free air, and heroic dreams unattainable in reality; a perfect “Azeroth” or “Oasis”…

Then it would be a perfect, illusory utopia.

‘And reality?’

Reality was the endless, gloomy rain, the perilous campus, the flooded streets, the corners piled with moldy sludge, and the “Great Flood” that could arrive at any moment…

On one side, a paradise within reach; on the other, a hell that was collapsing.

If the memories from both sides were equally clear, and the sensations from both were equally real…

…then this “confusion” would likely no longer be a simple pathological symptom at the memory level.

It would be a… conscious, deliberate, and willing… “betrayal.”

A betrayal of reality.

‘What would you even call that?’

‘Choosing light over darkness?’

‘More importantly, who would still be willing to wake up?’

‘Who would be willing to return to this damp, helpless reality to face unknown fears and the pressure to survive?’

That kind of “confusion” would no longer be, “Mom, I really can’t tell the difference.” It would be…

“Mom, I really *don’t want* to tell the difference.”

‘And what would that be?’

‘Trading up?’

‘Luring everyone into that cage voluntarily, and then… emptying out the real world?’

“Old Yu? Old Yu?”

Shi Zuozhou patted Yu Xian, pulling him back from his suffocating train of thought.

“What are you thinking about? You’re so lost in thought. Are you blown away by my grand vision?”

“Old Shi,” Yu Xian cut him off, reaching up to slowly pry Shi Zuozhou’s hands off his shoulders.

“You just said it would have clear skies and sunny prairies, right?”

“Yeah! You don’t like that? We could have other styles if you don’t!” Shi Zuozhou said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Yu Xian pointed outside at the balcony, toward the deathly silent dormitory buildings shrouded in a deep curtain of rain.

“If you had to choose, would you rather stay in that world with sunny prairies and be a hero, or come back to this real world where it’s still raining, there’s muddy water everywhere, and you might have to worry about drowning in the future, just to be an ordinary college student?”

Shi Zuozhou froze.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something instinctively, but the words caught in his throat.

His gaze followed Yu Xian’s finger, looking out into the pitch-black, rainy night.

A cold wind, laced with fine rain, blew in and hit his face, chilling him to the bone.

The few dim, yellow streetlights below the dorms flickered like candles in the wind, looking as if they could be extinguished at any moment.

The smile on Shi Zuozhou’s face slowly vanished.

He was silent for a long time before finally letting out a couple of dry laughs, his voice dropping low.

“Old Yu, that question… it kind of hits where it hurts.”

He leaned against the railing, clutching his phone, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Yeah… If there really was a place like that, with no exams, no job hunting, no worrying about whether a great flood will hit tomorrow…”

He looked at Yu Xian, his gaze flickering, but in the end, he spoke up.

“To be honest, if I could stay there forever, and you and Brother Yi were there too… I might really hesitate to open my eyes.”

Looking at him, the last shred of hope in Yu Xian’s heart was shattered.

Even someone as optimistic as Shi Zuozhou would waver when faced with such a temptation.

‘What about everyone else?’

‘What about those whose lives were already difficult, those who lost everything in this storm, those who were mentally fragile?’

‘For them, would the Dream Net still be just a simple game?’

‘I’m afraid it would have already become… a dose of perfect, lethal, mental opium.’

‘Once you sink in, there’s no coming back.’

“That’s the problem,” Yu Xian said seriously, looking Shi Zuozhou in the eye.

“If that world is too wonderful, so wonderful that people don’t want to come back, then the so-called ‘source memory confusion’ will become a willful ‘abandonment of reality’—a form of mental opium. At that point, you won’t need any malicious commands or viruses… Just give them a ticket for the ship, and they’ll trample over each other to get on board, even if that ship… never reaches the shore.”

For once, Shi Zuozhou didn’t have a comeback. He just stared quietly out at the rainy night beyond the balcony.

After a long while, he suddenly let out a laugh—one tinged with self-mockery, yet also with a hint of relief.

“Old Yu, you just think too much.”

He leaned back against the railing and looked up at the pitch-black ceiling.

“Abandoning reality, mental opium… You say all that as if the real world is so great we should want to stick around.”

Shi Zuozhou stretched, his tone becoming lighthearted again.

“Besides, even if it’s fake, even if it’s mental opium, so what? If the real world is really about to end, if the great flood is really coming, then isn’t it good to have a place to hide for a while? Even if it’s just a dream, even if it’s just burying our heads in the sand?”

He looked at Yu Xian, an irrepressible sense of anticipation still in his eyes.

“And don’t be so hopeless, so pessimistic about it. What if… I’m just saying, what if that dream world could really make us happier?”

He chuckled.

“Honestly, every time I watch anime, play games, or read novels, I really do wish I could just jump in and become one of the characters. Teaming up for adventures, building a guild together… Isn’t that way better than our lives now?”

With that, Shi Zuozhou patted Yu Xian’s shoulder with brotherly reassurance.

“Alright, Old Yu, don’t look so down. Nothing’s set in stone yet; this is all just speculation. If we really manage to build this thing, whether people stay or go, whether they become heroes or cowards, isn’t that their own choice? Isn’t there a saying? ‘Respect others’ choices, and drop the savior complex.'”

Shi Zuozhou yawned, wiped the moisture from his hands, and looked completely exhausted.

“Let’s go back and sleep. It’s almost three. I can’t stay up any longer.”

Yu Xian nodded, watching as Shi Zuozhou pushed open the heavy balcony door and his familiar silhouette disappeared into the light.