Chapter Eighteen: The Daily Life of Father and Daughter

Despite Su Xiaoyu’s utter reluctance, the rice had already been cooked; she ultimately became Du Fang’s assistant. In reality, only those of considerable rank among Dreamwalkers could have assistants—exclusively those of the Upper Dreamwalker level. Zhang Changlin was the captain of the Wildfire Squad, a silver-ranked raiding team in Jiangling City. His status and position were high, granting him the right to have an assistant. Yet, since the last assistant perished in battle, Zhang Changlin had never chosen another. For an intern Dreamwalker like Du Fang to have an assistant was as rare as a scorpion’s tail.

Zhang Changlin instructed Du Fang to join the squad tomorrow, granting him a day to adjust, and told him to seek him at the Dreamwalker Tower.

...

Su Xiaoyu’s face was bitter, her spirits rising and falling in a dizzying haze. She led Du Fang through the long corridor, their footsteps echoing. Yet, Su Xiaoyu felt as if a terrifying little girl, head tilted, was watching her from behind. Ever since Chen Xi secretly told her that the ghostly little girl existed in reality as well, her composure had utterly collapsed. She planned to resign in three days! For these three days... she would leave it to fate.

Du Fang, on the other hand, was in high spirits, holding hands with Luoluo, his mood light. At last, he had become a Dreamwalker. His long-held wish fulfilled, Du Fang was naturally delighted. Most importantly, Dreamwalkers could earn big money!

“From now on, I’ll just call you Xiaoyu,” Du Fang said with a smile to the young woman in business attire walking ahead.

Su Xiaoyu turned slightly, humble and ingratiating, nodding incessantly. You’re the boss—call me whatever you like! Even Dog Egg would do! Though anxious, Su Xiaoyu carried out her duties as usual. She led Du Fang throughout the Dreamwalker Tower, handling identity and profession registration, basic welfare, medical and social insurance, and more. She also collected the essential gear for Dreamwalkers: a black long coat reaching past the knees, a phone bearing the Dreamwalker Association’s insignia, and a small pistol glinting with metallic sheen.

“Brother Du! This is the standard attire issued by the Dreamwalker Association. When heading out on dream disaster missions, you’ll need to wear the coat—it provides some protection, shielding you from the mental radiation produced in dream disasters,” Su Xiaoyu explained.

Du Fang fiddled with the phone, wonder in his eyes. “This is a special phone from the Association. Unlike regular phones on the market, it has much stronger signal. It’s also equipped with dream spirit search and locator functions. When a dream disaster occurs nearby, you’ll get a notification. If you’re lost during a dream disaster, the phone will instantly report your status to the Association. It sometimes detects lower-level dream demons and gives feedback, but it’s often inaccurate—Dreamwalkers must make their own judgments. So, don’t overly rely on it.”

“As for the pistol, it’s a manmade forbidden device. It contains a faint amount of dream spirit energy and can be brought into dream realms. It has some lethality—but for you, it’s just a nice addition.” Su Xiaoyu introduced the gear with a bright smile.

Then, she took out her own Dreamwalker phone, hands trembling, and exchanged contacts with Du Fang. “Brother Du, remember to come to the Dreamwalker Tower tomorrow to report to Captain Zhang’s Wildfire Squad.” Su Xiaoyu reminded him. Du Fang readily agreed.

With one hand carrying his newly issued uniform coat and the other holding the cheerful, bouncing Luoluo, Du Fang left the tower and hailed a cab home. He felt a sense of unreality, as though he hadn’t come to the Dreamwalker Tower, but had merely been shopping at the mall.

...

The iron gates of the luxurious villa slowly opened, engine roaring. A red sedan drove in, parking in the garage. Lin Liuli, having changed out of her white coat, stepped out in heels, sunglasses perched on her nose, dressed in a trim suit—her whole demeanor sharp and capable. Once out of the car, she pressed the Bluetooth earpiece in her ear, connecting the call.

“Is it confirmed?” A low voice sounded through the earpiece.

Lin Liuli walked from the garage, hands on her slender waist, her red lips parting slightly. “He possesses infinite dream spirit. It’s confirmed—it’s him.”

“The target is ‘Fallen God’!” Lin Liuli said coldly.

Silence lingered in the earpiece, then a heavy laugh echoed. “Finally confirmed. So it’s him... The survivor of the Ninth Grade Eerie Dream Disaster—how could he not have something special! He truly is the Messenger of the Fallen God!”

“At any cost, bring him into the organization!”

“The organization will assign you a helper!”

“If necessary... you may sacrifice anything!” The voice was excited, even frenzied and unhinged.

Lin Liuli merely curled her red lips at these words, then coldly cut off the call without replying.

...

“Ding! Thirteenth floor.” The elevator’s melodious electronic voice chimed.

Du Fang, holding Luoluo’s hand, returned home laden with new gear.

He placed the bag with the black suit on the sofa, letting Luoluo play in the living room while he entered the kitchen to prepare a meal for her. Perhaps to celebrate, tonight’s dinner was especially sumptuous: fish head tofu soup, braised pork, oil-braised nine-section shrimp...

Du Fang’s cooking was not exquisite, but after living alone for so long, he had honed a decent mastery of home-style dishes. When alone, cooking was a simple outlet for emotion.

Luoluo crouched on her chair, her face delicate as a fairy-tale princess, brimming with happiness. Mouthful after mouthful—shrimp, braised pork—she ate with juices dribbling down her chin.

...

Affection (Luoluo): 78/100↑

...

After a plain yet satisfying dinner, Du Fang’s bond with Luoluo grew a little warmer. The deeper it got, the harder it became to increase their affection. There was still a considerable gap to the next goal of ninety points. Du Fang even looked forward to what might happen when his bond with Luoluo reached perfection!

After dinner, Luoluo sat on the sofa, playing with her pink pig plush, Kiki. Du Fang rubbed his hands in anticipation, excitedly donned the black coat, and posed before the full-length mirror. His tall figure paired with the stylish coat, face tilted up, sharp eyes—Du Fang felt his charm was about to spill out from the glass.

He gripped the short but hefty pistol, his expression cold and stern, like an emotionless assassin, raising the gun slowly toward his reflection.

“Bang.” Du Fang mouthed the sound.

“Silly Daddy~” On the sofa, Luoluo dangled her slender legs, watching her father’s narcissistic display and laughing gleefully.

Du Fang turned, face stern. “No laughing!”

Luoluo pressed her lips together, her cheeks flushing red, tugging and punching at the pig plush Kiki, unable to stifle her laughter the harder she tried.

Du Fang was amused as well. One hand on his hip, the other admiring the glinting pistol, he let out a low chuckle.

In the living room, father and daughter—one big, one small—their laughter grew ever more unrestrained and joyous.