Since the book has already been contracted, its title can’t be changed. Its current title is Myriad Worlds, Sharing Ink with You.
When Shen Yan bound himself to a quick transmigration System, he was staring absentmindedly at a silver gingko tree edged in red in the art studio. The System’s mechanical voice was icy: “Mission objective: mend Ling Jin’s broken life and collect ‘Fulfillment Points.’”
He thought it was just a data game, but he stumbled at the very first world. The boy who frowned at plaster casts would secretly slip cotton candy into his pocket, warm plum wine until it was piping hot on the night of the first snowfall, and carve their names into a gingko tree, saying, “I’ll stay by your side, like I’m watching over all of spring.”
From a theater amid the flames of war in the Republican era to a starship in the ruins of the interstellar age; from a bamboo hut in the martial world to a shelter in the wasteland of the apocalypse. Shen Yan met Ling Jin again and again, watching him do the same thing in different times and places, in different guises:
Backstage at the theater, he drew Shen Yan’s brows and said, “Your eyes outshine even the flowing water sleeves.”
In the starship cockpit, he shielded Shen Yan from a meteorite and said, “However vast the universe, I’ll protect only you.”
Beneath the moon in a bamboo grove, he brewed wine and said, “The martial world is a long road. I’ll be your vanguard.”
By a campfire in the wasteland, he held Shen Yan tight and said, “The world is desolate, but you are the one source of life.”
