In the darkness, I was floating, or maybe sinking.
It was like falling into a bottomless pit. You could say I was descending, or not moving at all. Either way, it was a rootless, endless drifting feeling.
Logically, I should've been like a computer forcibly shut down—nothing to think about, nothing at all. But in reality, it felt like I was deep in a dream. The scenes flashed by, jumping from one to another, impossible to track. Yet as the dreamer, Jack Young instinctively understood what the dream was telling him.
The dream was telling the story of his life, from childhood to now.
Jack Young was always the rational, calm kid—way more mature than his peers. While other kids were still running wild and playing in the mud, he could already chat with adults about deeper topics without getting cocky or anxious. That steadiness, that maturity beyond his years, earned him respect from everyone—teachers and classmates alike.
He wasn't perfect, not immune to mistakes, but they were rare. And he always corrected himself quickly.
He was so rational, he'd never even fallen in love.
How many people make a guy's heart flutter in a lifetime? Maybe a lot. But to him, when he analyzed those feelings, they just seemed kind of silly.
Back in middle school, when puppy love first started, some girls passed him notes. But he told himself, "Don’t be stupid. I’m still young, still immature, I don’t even know what love is—why make a mistake now? Wait till I’m older, wiser, and know what’s what. Maybe then I’ll be ready for love."
In high school, when he got even more charming, girls confessed their feelings to him. But he told himself, "Don’t be stupid. I’ve got college entrance exams coming up, and who knows where I’ll end up? Why make a mistake now? Wait till I’m older, more mature, and get into a great university. Maybe then I’ll be ready for love."
In college, when his star burned even brighter, girls made their interest clear. But he told himself, "Don’t be stupid. College isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning. Graduation means breaking up, and if you know it’ll end, why make that mistake? Wait till I’m older, more settled, with a great career. Maybe then I’ll be ready for love."
What does it mean to be rational? It means: never fight a battle you’re not prepared for. Before you do anything, you gather all the conditions you need. No epic gear, no boss fights. With everything, you first evaluate your chances of success, weigh the pros and cons, and let that assessment tell you your next move.
He never saw anything wrong with this approach. It’s how he’d always lived, and it always paid off. He believed he could keep living this way forever.
He believed that as long as he stayed rational, there was no problem he couldn’t solve—even marriage and love.
Got a problem? Just solve it. Figure out the best move, then do it.
He was so rational, he didn’t even believe in so-called love. What is love, anyway? Just mutual admiration plus the urge to reproduce. No matter what came up, he believed his well-rounded personality and worldview could handle it. That’s what being mature is all about.
But then, one day, he suddenly realized—all those theories? Total crap!
One day, he deeply felt that the human brain really is made of two hemispheres. The left side runs logic, the right side runs feelings. Sometimes, even when his left brain made a decision, his right brain flat-out refused to go along.
One day, he really felt that just getting older doesn’t mean you magically understand everything. Like a seasoned politician who’s a total noob at video games—Jack Young felt like, in a certain game, he was a complete rookie. Fresh out of the newbie village, and already facing the end-of-the-world boss.
Love at first sight—do you believe it’s real?
Do you believe in fate?
No?
Jack Young didn’t believe in it either—never did. Just like he didn’t believe in ghosts, or that the right conditions wouldn’t lead to the right results.
But then, on that ‘one day,’ he finally believed. After wading through a sea of people, without his glasses, he instantly remembered a silhouette. And out of everyone, by pure chance, he was assigned to sit next to her. In that crowd, something magical happened—they met, and his heart skipped a beat.
[I don’t want to think about this anymore.]
The thought rose in his mind, and then Jack Young suddenly heard someone shouting.
"Your Highness! Your Highness!"
Was that Apo’s voice?
"Your Highness, what should we do? Our people have uncovered something—we need your decision! Your Highness?"
Jack Young suddenly snapped out of the darkness and returned to the real world. The first thing he saw was Apo standing in front of him, looking a little anxious. Then he realized he was standing, still dressed in a tailcoat. No handcuffs, no guards, nothing. Everyone around was wearing formal attire too, coming and going.
"What’s going on?" Jack Young asked, confused. "Where am I? Why haven’t I been arrested or sent to the hospital? The racetrack incident was huge—so how am I still in some fancy place?"
"Maestro Yang, your performance is about to start!" The orchestra director hurried over, smiling politely like he was greeting a celebrity. "Everyone’s ready—the next piece is yours!"
"Performance?" Jack Young felt a bit dazed. So it was already the next day. Oh right, he’d promised the director he’d perform. But he had so many questions. Even though Bobby Brooks hadn’t been at the scene yesterday, Jack was sure Bobby knew everything. "Bobby, what’s going on? What actually happened?"
"You don’t remember?" Bobby Brooks looked at Jack Young carefully, like he was looking at someone who didn’t know they had a terminal illness.
"Remember what? Oh, didn’t Xiao Jingzhe knock me out?"
"No—well, not exactly. He did hit you on the back of the head, but at that moment, you seemed totally fine. Then suddenly... To quote Mr. Xiao, you turned into 'Triple Zero Teacher.' You just got super quiet, walked back to your aunt’s place, and did nothing but sit there. Then, Miss Meng suddenly came down with a fever."
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"She got sick?!" Jack Young blurted out, shocked. "What kind of illness? How is she now?"
"Don’t worry, it’s just a regular cold—fatigue and sleepiness, that’s all." Bobby Brooks knew Jack Young was acting weird, so he skipped the formalities and explained everything in detail: "You took care of her all night, and she’s already better this morning. Today, your aunt was supposed to play the opening piece, but she canceled to stay home and take care of her. She said if possible, she’d come watch Your Highness’s performance. She might even be out in the audience right now."
"Oh, okay." Jack Young felt a little relieved.
The director was rushing him, so Jack Young moved forward in a daze, feeling like his hands and feet weren’t even his own. At the backstage entrance, the director stopped Bobby Brooks, and Bobby called after Jack’s retreating figure, "Your Highness! Miss Meng asked me to pass on a message: Don’t be afraid—everything will pass, and she’ll always be by your side! Your Highness, forgive me for saying this, but Miss Meng really..."
Swish—turning the corner, Jack Young stood at the stage entrance. His meticulous hair and tux made him look tall and perfect, but Bobby’s words were drowned out by endless applause. Jack looked at the stage—every musician was in place, eyes on him, instruments ready. He glanced at the audience—Meng and his aunt hadn’t arrived yet, but the thousands-seat venue was packed, everyone clapping.
He also saw Parfis-Zadeh, who went by the alias Marso—a key target for him, but also the kind of dazzling soprano every performer dreams of working with. Right now, she was looking at him with a strange, burning gaze.
For a performer, this was like a dream come true.
But Jack Young’s feet wouldn’t move. It was like he’d grown roots, stuck at the doorway.
Because he saw, in the golden seats of the audience, someone sitting there—Qi Xi! Why, why was she here? And why did she—and that damned jerk beside her—both look so shocked? What had happened during his day of "Triple Zero" standby?!
But maybe it didn’t matter anymore, because he just didn’t care. The endless applause was inviting him, but all he wanted to do was turn and walk away.
Just seeing her face was enough to make him dizzy. Don’t push me anymore—I don’t want to see her...
But just before he could move his feet, Jack Young suddenly clenched his fists. A voice roared inside: Don’t run! Don’t run! This is a war—you win or you die. There’s no escape!
So, after a deep look, Jack Young strode past the orchestra, brushed past Marso’s shoulder, and headed for the piano. With a flick of his tailcoat, he sat calmly at the keys, hands poised on the cold keyboard, yelling inside: If you can’t even face someone, how can you talk about Dao Heart, martial inspiration, or willpower?
The Queen of the Night aria, huh? Easy—I could play it with my knees. Come on, stay rational. Play this piece perfectly in front of her, and then conquer my inner demons!
So, his hands lifted—everyone held their breath. His hands fell—everyone waited. They were expecting a special, unique Queen of the Night aria. But to everyone’s shock, including Jack Young himself, what came out wasn’t what he was supposed to play. People whispered, the orchestra was confused, Parfis’s eyes flashed, and she quietly left her soloist spot. She knew—this stage didn’t need her voice anymore.
Music is the sound of the heart. Jack Young suddenly felt his fingers wouldn’t obey his rational mind—they danced and leapt, playing a different melody. It was so familiar, like it came from deep inside him, crossing time from that very first day to now.
Maybe even the person listening in the audience had forgotten. Two years ago, on the first day they shared a desk, during lunch break, she handed him one earbud from her MP3 player: "Wanna listen?"
"Sure." So he put on the earbud and heard that song. (Want more exciting updates from Extraordinary Twins? Open WeChat now, tap the "+" in the top right, add a friend, search "Qidianzhongwenwang" and follow the official account—never miss an update!)