Chapter 240 – Extra – Deputy Commander’s Love Chronicles

My name is Polly, a level 70 Zombie, affiliated with the Ghost Server Legion, holding the esteemed position of Deputy Commander.

The last part was forced upon me by my Commander, who insisted it would highlight my importance within the legion, especially in the eyes of the Legion Commander.

After some thought, I decided adding it was fine. My Commander is the type of person who, before you can even stamp your mark on him, will pounce on you first to stamp his—his dictionary has no entry for “restraint”—except in bed ^_^

Though he explicitly demanded I include my rank, my Commander actually has no idea what I’m writing. I told him it was a diary, but he eyed me skeptically and soon abandoned me to go study the latest flashy cash-shop items with our comrades.

I don’t like Mad Lad, but that doesn’t stop us from fighting side by side as allies—though that’s a story for later.

Today’s diary entry is mainly about looking back on the past.

There’s no special reason for choosing today to reflect. It’s just that this diary, filled with both melodramatic entanglements and peaceful moments, has only three blank pages left. The peaceful moments can carry over to the next volume, but I’d like to neatly wrap up the messy conflicts within these final three pages and seal them away.

When I first met My Blood for Xuanyuan, his Huaxia Dominion had only a dozen or so members. Yes, his. From start to finish, I never felt any sense of belonging to Huaxia Dominion. This wasn’t Xuanyuan’s fault, nor the fault of the other members—it was entirely my own issue. Xuanyuan said I was too cold by nature, that it wasn’t conducive to uniting comrades, but aside from complaining, he had no real solutions. Besides, compared to legion harmony, he had grander ambitions to pursue—dominating Mirage Server.

My reputation wasn’t great—killing, stealing mobs, ambushing, doing as I pleased, a downright troublemaker.

Xuanyuan’s reputation, on the other hand, was stellar—leading teams, pioneering new dungeons, guild wars, rallying the troops with a single call, a paragon of righteousness.

My principle has always been “don’t provoke me, and I won’t provoke you,” so most of my “misdeeds” were actually clearing the path for Xuanyuan. But these things couldn’t be spoken of openly, so I took the blame alone. Later, as my reputation solidified, more and more idiots came looking for trouble, and I happily obliged, fulfilling their desire to get wrecked. Might as well live up to the infamy.

Privately, Xuanyuan thanked me many times.

Publicly, the man kept me at a distance wide enough to fit an entire legion.

Did I like Xuanyuan?

It’s hard to say. “Vague fondness” might be more accurate. Because I never sat alone at night, reflecting deeply, nor did I ever express these feelings to him—no hints, no signals—so it arose in confusion and faded just as vaguely.

I’d imagined several possible endings for Xuanyuan and me, all of them inevitably tragic. Can’t blame me for being pessimistic—back then, I was constantly being grief-killed, and I retaliated just as ruthlessly. Tensions were high, and there was no sign of reconciliation in sight.

Then one day, Xuanyuan told me he was taking Huaxia Dominion to another server.

The reason for the transfer had nothing to do with me—he simply felt Mirage Server had limited prospects. Instead of stubbornly clinging to it, he wanted to carve out new opportunities elsewhere.

When I received that whisper, I was farming Golden Hoops on Mount Emei. A level 37 Zombie, struggling against the monkeys, failed to kite one properly, and it caught up to me. One hit, and my Zombie was down.

The death screen doesn’t allow chatting, so Xuanyuan’s message stayed frozen on my screen for a long time.

Once upon a time, Xuanyuan was the entire reason I played Huaxia Online. No one’s a natural masochist—no one would endure being grief-killed over and over without deleting their account and quitting.

But in that moment of death, I realized that what felt like the main storyline of my gaming life was, for Xuanyuan, just an optional side quest—one so unappealing in rewards that he couldn’t even be bothered to complete it.

So, we parted ways.

One wanted to write Huaxia’s history in bold strokes, the other just wanted to pass the time aimlessly. Forced together, we only ended up hurting each other.

This mutual farewell, this “take care of yourself” ending, bore no resemblance to the tragedies I’d imagined. It was light as a feather—gone with the slightest breath, no gust of wind needed.

Looking back now, though, maybe it was inevitable.

I’ve never been one for grand ambitions, in life or in gaming.

Professor Meng always says I’m the biggest failure among all his students. I’ve always wanted to tell him, “Your priorities are out of order—you should be my father first, then my teacher.”

But Professor Meng isn’t someone you can reason with, and Professor Meng’s son isn’t someone who likes to talk much. So, the former gave up in disappointment, and the latter grew up wild…

Ahem, getting off track.

The point of this diary was to draw a clear conclusion to the events that had left their mark on my life but would never return. But now, it seems I overestimated them.

The conclusion is drawn, and only half of the three pages are used.

Might as well keep going. But before that, I need to switch to a better pen—otherwise, my writing speed won’t keep up with the surging waves of memory ~\(^o^)/~

When I met Milk is Mom, Mirage Server was already a ghost town. I still logged into Huaxia every day out of habit, but if he’d shown up just two days later, we might never have crossed paths.

But he wasn’t late.

Cheerful and exuberant, he fell from the sky. After I one-shot him twice, the third time, he decisively spoke up and latched onto my leg.

No one had ever clung to my leg before. Those who needed my help—whether acquaintances or comrades—always prefaced their requests with reasons like “It’s not that I’m begging you, it’s that you should do this,” as if it wasn’t a favor but an obligation. As for those who respected or feared my strength but didn’t need my help, they’d take a detour the moment they saw me from afar.

I knew I wasn’t a likable guy.

People who knew me knew I wasn’t a likable guy.

So, from myself to everyone else, it was assumed that this unlikable guy didn’t crave validation.

But that day, the healer hanging off my leg rambled on and on, and two of his lines struck me so deeply that I couldn’t bring myself to shake him off—

He said, Letting you go was their loss.

He said, If the mountain doesn’t move, the water will—it won’t stay a ghost server forever.

It was a very ordinary day, so ordinary that I’ve forgotten the exact date, the weather, or any other major news from that time.

All that remains of that day are those two sentences.

The first gave me comfort.

The second gave me hope.

Do I like Milk is Mom?

Absolutely.

I love his unrestrained swagger, his shameless bullshitting, his brazen gloating when he gets his way—and every single one of his traits, whether infuriating or endearing.

I’ve never felt so strongly that I liked someone before—my heart would skip beats irregularly at his every move.

Alright, enough—this is getting embarrassing, even for a private diary ╮(╯_╰)╭

So, when did I start liking him?

I think it was the day the Ghost Server Legion was founded.

That healer Commander, who looked like he’d never do anything serious in his life, gave me the “Sparkling Heavenly Lake Tear” he’d painstakingly farmed materials to craft. Milk is Mom chose a one-sided gifting option—no refusal allowed, no conditions attached.

I’m giving this to you. Just take it.

Then he said, This necklace is my pledge of allegiance. From now on, we’re comrades.

Me, Meng Chudong, the most cold-blooded killer Zombie on Mirage Server, was conquered by an accessory.

Looking back now, maybe that was the moment my gaming life—no, my life—took a sharp turn onto a bizarre, dazzling, crooked path.

On this path, I found true brothers, true comrades, true rivals… and Fang Zheng.

Actually, the night I received the necklace, I’d already figured it out—

I didn’t want to be Milk is Mom’s comrade.

I wanted Milk is Mom to be mine.