Lin Qin is somewhat worried as XĂĽ Beijin fell silent for a while now.
“I’m fine…” Xü Beijin comes back to himself, and reflects on his pessimism for a bit. Then, he tells Lin Qin the truth, “I’m just wondering… if the information I have might be wrong. Maybe NE has misled us all.”
“Misled?”
“From what I can remember, this door handle acts as nothing more than the data port for new players logging in, which is why I’ve never thought about other players logging in.
Of course, I might have just assumed no such data port exist, because none of us could get out.”
Lin Qin suggests earnestly, “maybe it’s because someone came in by accident, so the door handle was shoved into the spotlight?”
Shoved into the spotlight…
Xü Beijin got amused by Lin Qin, and he says, “oh little apple… what a miracle you are.”
“Miracle?” Lin Qin tilts his head, confused.
“You always show me the good side of things,” Xü Beijin says, “I’ve always been… pretty pessimistic in personality.”
Lin Qin immediately says, “I can become your optimism.”
XĂĽ Beijin listens, shocked.
Lin Qin says, “trust me. We can succeed.”
“Alright…” Xü Beijin says, looking at Lin Qin, from where he stands, and chuckles, repeating the young man’s name with a more gravelly tone, “Lin Qin…”
“What is it?”
“I love you,” says Xü Beijin.
Lin Qin freezes in place.
Then, he erupts in joy, shouting, “I heard it! No, no wait, I didn’t, what did you say? Can you repeat it, Beijin… Just once? I’ll definitely hear it clearly this time.”
Xü Beijin, amused and speechless, asks, “do you want me to record it so you can hear?”
Lin Qin answers, “oh nice! Do it, record it!”
Xü Beijin “…”
He won’t record it even if his life is on the line! Dream on, Lin Qin!
So Lin Qin has to, sadly, keep his delusions to himself.
He’s also quietly mumbling inside, why can’t he just… you know, record? Xü Beijin said it himself. He just wants to listen to it again and again… but never mind. He knows better than to piss his Beijin off, and sadly abandons his plan.
Xü Beijin, still amused and sounding a little agitated, has to change the topic like nothing’s out of the ordinary, and he says, “I’ll be coming back down now.”
Lin Qin grumbles, “oh,” and then thinks about it, then realises he has a question, “how do you get down? Will it be dangerous when you come down?”
He’s always most concerned about Xü Beijin’s safety.
“Don’t worry, there won’t be any danger.”
Lin Qin furrows his brows, still sounding unconvinced, “how are you going to descend? Floor by floor?”
Xü Beijin says, “kind of. I have to come back down with this control panel through every floor, so it might take some time.”
Lin Qin wonders aloud, “with the control panel?”
“I can only pass freely around in the Tower when I have NE’s temporary authority,” explains Xü Beijin, “not just with my identity. And also, this control panel itself, contains a data port.”
Lin Qin gets it now.
It isn’t surprising to him that the control panel is a data port, because NE’s own existence has straddled between both reality and the game itself, so the control panel, a manifestation of its authorities, is naturally a data port between them.
A data port for management instructions of this game.
So instead, Lin Qin is curious about the remaining data ports. They already have three, don’t they?
“There’s just one left,” Xü Beijin says, “a data port handling log out, that is between the Tower and the grey fog.”
Logging in, logging out, updating, and managing. These are the four data ports XĂĽ Beijin needed Lin Qin to find together with him.
Of course, Xü Beijin is calling them that, but that doesn’t mean they’re the sole functions served by each respective data port. For example, the data port for updates, which is the Update Log in Xü Beijin’s bookstore, also serves as a point of surveillance and, if need be, management for the Fy’ecas.
NE, the Server, is in charge of updating and debugging the game, but he also has to report to the Fy’ecas; the management data port he has, represents only his control over the game.
That aside, without NE’s authority, Xü Beijin could not have isolated all of these data ports, especially the data port for logging in, whose location is only documented on the control panel.
As for the data port for logging out…
Lin Qin asks, “it is in the buffer zone between the grey fog and the Tower? Then why can’t we do it like we did the door handle? You can tell me where it is, and I’ll get it… Must you come down?”
Xü Beijin answers, “we can only find it if I come back down, because it depends on the control panel, and also the door handle in your hands.”
Lin Qin understands – not the principles behind it, but he won’t ask about that. Nor about what these data ports are good or, and why they have to look for them.
He has full, complete trust in XĂĽ Beijin.
Meanwhile, he is also still worried about Xü Beijin’s body, “are you alright coming back down from the top floor of the Tower? Do you feel tired?”
Xü Beijin “…”
It’s just walking downstairs. What, does Lin Qin think he’s made of glass? And he’d shatter on impact?”
Speechless, he says, “I’m fine.”
Lin Qin is still insistent, though, saying, “you’re also carrying that control panel thing with you… can you really do it?”
Xü Beijin “…”
Lin Qin, do you think he’s utterly devoid of muscle strength? Also, men can never say they can't do it!
Xü Beijin is holding his forehead already, saying, “the control panel is weightless… It’s true.”
Lin Qin is still dissatisfied, but he’s placated for now.
XĂĽ Beijin thinks Lin Qin is a bit too paranoid about him, but, he does have justification.
It is, of course, still XĂĽ Beijin whose body was visibly beset by problems in these few days.
So there is nothing he can do but continue chatting with Lin Qin for a bit to reassure him some more. Then, he gives his temporary partings, and stands up, walking outside. The control panel automatically shrinks to a small block that floats by his shoulders.
On the top floor of the Tower, XĂĽ Beijin had set aside a small area as a room for himself, opening a window there as well.
As he leaves, the room turns back into what it originally was.
NE is still sleeping. The brightness in the room increases and decreases rhythmically, like how a living person breathes.
Xü Beijin stands there, watching for a moment, before coldly smiling and quietly says to himself, “I wish that, after I leave, I will never have to come back ever again… and you are also no longer here.”
XĂĽ Beijin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment.