Divine Oracle [Transmigration] (ORACLE)
He didn’t want to share his deepest secrets with Chu Mingxiao, so he simply nodded lightly and said hoarsely, “Thank you. I need some time.”
Chu Mingxiao gave an “Mm” in response, still asking nothing, and said, “Doctors get sick too. Don’t feel pressured—take leave when you need to. Chu Mingyi will approve it.”
Song Si smiled at him, wiped the dampness from his lashes, his brows still carrying traces of lingering emotion as he stood up again and pushed Chu Mingxiao’s wheelchair.
A long silence settled between them. Chu Mingxiao didn’t speak, giving him time to process things alone.
The garden was well-maintained, with flowing water, rockeries, and flowers arranged in perfect harmony between stillness and motion. A smooth cement path, lined with blooming azaleas, wound through it, designed for easy wheelchair access. Bathed in the bright sunlight, Song Si felt like a drop of ink dissolving—the dark, heavy shell around him gradually evaporating, revealing something golden and weightless inside.
Was this Chu Mingxiao’s ability?
If one could manifest and influence a person’s inner world, the implications would be terrifying.
Such a powerful Ability user, and a former director of the Special Investigation Bureau at that—what kind of Word Spirit curse could have confined him to a wheelchair for six years?
Song Si wasn’t in a hurry to press for answers. He pushed Chu Mingxiao around the garden once before returning to the living room. Chu Mingxiao beckoned him over, and Song Si, thinking he wanted to whisper something, leaned in slightly. Instead, Chu Mingxiao just ruffled his hair and said, “Go back to your room and rest properly. I need to do my rehabilitation exercises now.”
Song Si reached up and touched his own hair—this “forgiving green” mess. It wasn’t soft or smooth at all. Years of dyeing had left it dry and coarse, prickly to the touch, with terrible texture. Why did the Chu brothers both seem so fond of touching it?
He asked, “Do you need me to push you there?”
Chu Mingxiao wheeled himself forward with a smile. “No need.”
Song Si watched him leave, his vision suddenly blurring as a dull throb pulsed at his temples. He returned to the bedroom and turned the TV back on. The news about the airport kidnapping case was still playing—the reporter was on-site, vividly describing the shattered glass panels Tian Li had blown up and recounting the terrifying events of the previous night.
Before long, Song Si fell asleep.
Chu Mingxiao’s treatment had stirred something deep within him, and now he dreamed—vivid, chaotic dreams. One moment, he was in a dilapidated playground, old flat-roofed buildings, a moss-covered sink; the next, he was in a university classroom with a truant Chu Mingyi, lost in the smoky haze of a bar’s darkest corner, or facing Chu Mingxiao’s indifference after failing an exam…
It was a jumbled mess, like a movie chopped into incoherent fragments with no logical connection between scenes, some even contradictory. They flooded his mind all at once, only to vanish just as abruptly when the reel ended.
When Song Si woke up, he felt refreshed, the dream world already forgotten.
He stretched lazily, silently praising the effectiveness of Chu Mingxiao’s treatment, then got up to shower. Passing by the mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself by chance.
The reflection in the mirror wore a lazy smile, his hair comfortably tousled like a bird's nest, eyes still heavy with sleep, every muscle visibly relaxed in a state of pleasure—so much so that it seemed... abnormal.
Song Si paused, staring at his own reflection as the smile gradually faded.
He realized his memory structure had changed. The parts belonging to the novel had weakened, many textual details beginning to blur. Meanwhile, the memories of the original Song Si had grown clearer, many scenes now vivid in his mind.
Chu Mingxiao's treatment had altered his memory structure in just one session!
A chill ran down Song Si's spine. He left the bathroom again, rummaged through the bookshelf for an empty notebook, then sat down at the desk, pen in hand—only to hesitate.
He strained to recall.
"#Volume One: The Vanishing Father# Chapter One. Fu Xi receives an emergency recall from the Special Investigation Bureau while on vacation, needing his help to interrogate a peculiar suspect..."
Song Si began to transcribe the novel's plot word by word from memory.
Though everything had already diverged drastically from the novel's ending, its existence couldn't be denied. There were two possibilities: either his transmigration had altered the storyline, or the original author hadn't finished writing it.
While his memories remained, he had to record the novel's content in written form...
At 1 a.m., Song Si closed the half-written plot and temporarily locking the notebook in a drawer. Starving, he decided to sneak into the kitchen for a late-night snack.
As he opened the door, a shadowy figure silently appeared in the hallway.
Song Si nearly jumped out of his skin, almost shouting, but the figure quickly gestured for silence, whispering, "It's me! Careful not to wake my brother."
Blinking, Song Si turned on the hallway light, revealing Chu Mingyi with heavy dark circles under his eyes, a stubbled chin, and a coat slung over his arm, standing exhausted outside the room next to his.
Before Song Si could speak, Chu Mingyi let out a surprised "Yo," staring at his head. "That vibrant green all over your head—is there some hidden meaning?"
Song Si: "It's business! As in 'thriving' business."
Chu Mingyi fell silent for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, unable to stop despite trying to muffle it to avoid waking Chu Mingxiao.
Song Si nearly rolled his eyes, pulling Chu Mingyi to the end of the hallway. "Finished the interrogation?" he asked quietly.
"Finished," Chu Mingyi replied, reaching to touch his hair. "Did you dye it yourself? I'd love to see my brother's reaction, hahaha..."
Song Si swatted his hand away sternly. "Boss, look but don't touch. No groping."
Chu Mingyi chuckled, still amused. Song Si, annoyed, pulled up his hood. "What were the results? Who performed the mindscape interrogation?"
"No interrogation needed—he confessed outright," Chu Mingyi said. "Spilled every detail. The transcript alone is over ten thousand words. He's already been handed over to Second Division for processing. I can finally get some sleep..."
It sounded too smooth. Song Si frowned.
As if reading his mind, Chu Mingyi added, "We had professionals verify—no lies, all truth. You can ask Lin Zheng for the records."
Song Si nodded. "Alright."
Chu Mingyi yawned, rubbing his temples. "By the way, what are you doing up so late? Not sleeping?"
Song Si countered, "Have you eaten?"
Chu Mingyi said, "No, I just want to sleep right now. I've barely closed my eyes all week because of this damn case."
Song Si replied, "I was just about to make some food. Go take a shower first, and have a bite before bed."
Chu Mingyi raised an eyebrow, looking at Song Si as if he'd seen a ghost.
Song Si asked, "Eating or not?"
"Eating!" Chu Mingyi answered decisively, then muttered as he walked toward his room, "How strange. Is the sun rising from the west tomorrow? Dr. Song is actually cooking?"
Song Si finally couldn't hold back and rolled his eyes at his superior.
Late-night cooking with limited culinary skills—he opened the fridge to see what was available and ended up simply boiling some greens and instant noodles, chopping some scallions, and frying three eggs—two for Chu Mingyi and one for himself.
Chu Mingyi showered at combat speed, emerging five minutes later wrapped in a bathrobe. While drying his hair, he curiously peeked into the kitchen. When Song Si brought out the noodles, he clicked his tongue in amazement, then dashed back upstairs to fetch his phone specifically. He took three consecutive photos of the egg noodles and proudly posted them in the Third Division group chat: "The sun must be rising from the west—your Dr. Song personally cooked noodles!!!!"
The four exclamation marks still couldn't fully convey his astonishment, so he added another line: "With two fried eggs!!!!"
Song Si: "...Are you eating or not?"
"Eating, eating, eating," Chu Mingyi quickly picked up his chopsticks, full of ceremony. He first sniffed carefully, then took a spoonful of broth as if checking for poison, before finally digging in heartily.
Song Si ate slowly. By the time he finished his egg, Chu Mingyi across from him had already devoured his meal like a whirlwind and was now sipping the broth.
"Good! So good," he gave a thumbs-up. "Way better than that guy Yu Yiming's noodles. I was starving..."
Song Si chewed on his bland noodles, starting to doubt his own taste buds. What was so good about it??
Chu Mingyi even drank every last drop of the broth, efficiently washed the dishes in the kitchen, and returned with a satisfied expression. He then placed his hand on Song Si's green-haired head, rubbing it sleepily a few times, and said, "See you tomorrow. Goodnight."
Song Si replied, "Goodnight."
Chu Mingyi sleepwalked his way upstairs.
Left alone at the dining table, the four-story villa finally seemed to gain a bit of liveliness.
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