Shen Yi recognized it at a glance.
The painting before him mostly depicted scenes of apocalyptic disaster.
Strange plants, fungal-infected individuals, the streets of Huaijing City, and more...
Gazing at the canvas, Shen Yi felt as though he had been pulled back into that apocalypse.
"Did you... paint all of this?"
"Yes."
Shen Yi continued flipping through the pages, his expression gradually changing.
Several of the subsequent paintings were unfamiliar to him, depicting scenes he had never witnessed before.
The small villa they once lived in had also been painted by Cheng Jun, but in the painting, the villa had undergone drastic changes. Its walls were cracked, and vines crawled all over it.
The next image completely altered Shen Yi's demeanor.
"The True Core Fungus Lord?"
The painting depicted that alien plant, its peculiar form and intricate root system. Shen Yi had only glimpsed it from afar, but it was unforgettable.
"Wait, how do you know what it looks like?"
Shen Yi was certain that Cheng Jun had never seen it. At the time, he was the only one who had gone there; she hadn’t secretly followed him.
To paint it in such detail, one would have had to observe it up close.
"Could it be...?"
Facing Shen Yi's question, Cheng Jun nodded lightly and said,
"What’s so strange about it? I’ve seen it."
Shen Yi was momentarily stunned, his thoughts in disarray. After a long silence, he finally asked the question that had been lingering in his mind,
"After I died... did something happen?"
At the time, the bullets had been too dense, and the barrage had come so quickly that he hadn’t had time to think. Instinctively, he had shielded Cheng Jun with his body.
The excruciating pain had made it impossible for him to focus. He had thought that if they both died, the dream world would end, which was why he had said, "The nightmare should be over."
But now, it seemed that not only had she not died, but the dream was far from over.
Recalling those desolate days, Cheng Jun’s eyes grew distant, clearly still deeply affected by the experience.
"After you died... I didn’t plan to live on, but then I heard..."
"I swallowed the fungal spore, and later..."
Cheng Jun brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, deliberately using a light tone to describe what had happened afterward.
Shen Yi listened, his fists gradually clenching, his heart shaken.
The actions of the rescue team made him realize something; Cheng Jun's choice left him silent, and the subsequent upheaval left him even more shocked.
Though her tone was calm, as if she were telling an ordinary story, Shen Yi could still sense the complex emotions hidden beneath.
"Then what? You went through all that... alone?"
Unconsciously, Shen Yi’s voice had grown hoarse, as if something was lodged in his throat.
Cheng Jun seemed indifferent, casually saying,
"Of course not. I still had you."
"Me?"
She flipped to the second-to-last page and gestured with her lips,
"See? Isn’t it cute?"
The painting depicted Shen Yi transformed into an infected being, his expression vacant, his eyes cloudy, his body stiff, and his movements vividly portrayed.
Then she sighed regretfully,
"Unfortunately, it had no consciousness. It only had your appearance, so it was just a way to comfort myself."
Shen Yi examined the familiar yet unfamiliar face in the painting, faintly recognizing it as his own.
But this appearance could hardly be called cute.
His hand brushed over the rough surface of the paper, and a wave of immense regret washed over him, his emotions churning violently.
It was hard to imagine the depth of despair that would drive Cheng Jun to swallow the fungal spore.
And how had she managed to survive alone in that empty city?
Shen Yi could almost picture it in his mind: her wandering like a ghost through the desolate streets day after day.
Neither hungry nor tired, neither aging nor dying, only a heart gradually shattering into a thousand pieces.
"How long did you stay there afterward?"
Shen Yi felt uneasy, even afraid to look at her face.
Cheng Jun’s gaze shifted, looking out the window at the bustling street,
"Two hundred and sixty-five days and three hours."
"That was the first time I felt sleepy, so I fell asleep, and then I woke up at home."
Shen Yi had died on the hundredth day, and every minute and second after that had been torture for her.
Worse still, her fungal infection meant she couldn’t even rest for a moment, trapped in her own body like a soul in torment, forced to endure.
"A year, exactly a year..."
Shen Yi murmured to himself. The system’s arrangement was precise to the second—it was exactly a year, not a moment less.
Cheng Jun’s exacting answer only deepened Shen Yi’s regret and pity.
For her, it had been an endless prison, with no one to tell her that it was just a dream with a time limit.
It was hard to imagine what belief had kept her going.
Whether it was luck or the system’s choice, her situation was entirely Shen Yi’s doing.
She wasn’t particularly strong-willed, but she had clung to a single belief, forcing herself to persevere.
Shen Yi thought to himself that even if he had been in her place, knowing the outcome in advance, it would have been a miracle if he hadn’t gone mad.
'If I had known, it would have been better if we had both been shot by the rescue team.'
Shen Yi felt a deep sense of guilt. His actions had allowed Cheng Jun to survive, but they had also caused her even greater suffering.
"I’m sorry..."
For some reason, Shen Yi apologized.
Cheng Jun seemed to have already let it go, more at ease than Shen Yi, and she smiled softly,
"Why are you apologizing to me? Without you, I wouldn’t have survived. I should be thanking you."
Shen Yi met her clear eyes, and it stung him deeply. He kept muttering,
"It’s my fault, it’s my fault..."
He turned to the last page, which was a self-portrait.
The figure in the painting bore a striking resemblance to Cheng Jun, but the aura was entirely different.
Mysterious, solemn, cold and aloof, with a flawless face and dark eyes devoid of any whites.
An exaggerated, almost monstrous figure, with vines and aerial roots following her every movement, exuding a sense of noble beauty.
It was as if she were a fusion of monster and deity.
The painting was incredibly lifelike, leaving Shen Yi stunned.
"Do you like it?"
Cheng Jun suddenly asked him.
After this experience, the most noticeable change was Cheng Jun's painting skills, which had improved dramatically. Her works were no longer empty collections of colors but now had a soul.
She had breathed life into her paintings, making them vivid and alive.
"It’s beautiful."
Though the image was strange and exaggerated, it was undeniably beautiful.
Not just Shen Yi, but anyone who saw it would have to agree.
Cheng Jun smiled contentedly, her gaze shifting between the painting and Shen Yi,
"This beauty, I only want to share it with you."
……
They parted ways.
Declining her offer to drive him home, Shen Yi watched as Cheng Jun’s car gradually disappeared into the distance before finally looking away.
Shen Yi didn’t call for a ride right away. Instead, he wandered aimlessly along the street.
As he walked, the faces of Fu Nanzhi and Cheng Jun alternated in his mind.
One smiling brightly, radiant and lively, the other elegant and graceful, with a quiet beauty.
On one side was the promise of growing old together, on the other, the bond forged through life and death.
His heart was in turmoil.