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Chapter Text

The air in the cavernous theater hummed with disquiet as cultivators and demons alike stirred from unconsciousness. Golden sconces lined the walls, casting flickering light over plush velvet seats arranged in perfect tiers—a display of opulence utterly foreign to the cultivation world.

At the front loomed a massive screen, black as void, its surface occasionally rippling like disturbed water.

"Where—?!" Liu Qingge bolted upright, Cheng Luan already singing in its sheath. His sharp gaze swept the room, taking in the mingled presence of rival sects and—demons.

"An ambush?" he snarled.

"No." Yue Qingyuan’s voice was calm, but his knuckles whitened around Xuan Su’s hilt. "We were brought here. By something… beyond us."

Murmurs spread like wildfire. Huan Hua Palace disciples clutched their swords, glancing nervously at the relaxed, smirking demons across the aisle. A few feet away, a young demoness giggled behind her fan, whispering to her companion:

"Look at their faces! Like startled rabbits!"

Shen Qingqiu’s fan snapped open, hiding his grimace. Fucking System. I swear, if this is another one of your—

[Welcome, Host! ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧]

Shut up! What is this?!

[Memory Leak Protocol Activated! Due to an unknown entity’s interference, select memories from Users 001 and 002’s past lives will be displayed for educational purposes!]

Educational my ass! Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitched. You just want to watch me suffer!

[(≧∇≦)ﾉ Host knows me so well!]

A choked cough drew his attention. Shang Qinghua sat rigid beside him, face pale. "C-Cucumber-bro…" he whispered. "They’re gonna see everything."

"Not if I set this place on fire first," Shen Qingqiu muttered.

Behind them, a voice like honeyed poison purred:

"Shizun."

Every hair on Shen Qingqiu’s neck stood up. Slowly, he turned.

Luo Binghe.

Here.

In the flesh.

The boy—no, the man now—lounged in his seat with deceptive laziness, crimson eyes gleaming like a wolf spotting prey. His smile was all teeth. "This disciple is… curious. Why are we here?"

"How should this master know?" Shen Qingqiu deflected, heartbeat erratic. He’s supposed to be in the Abyss!

[Correction: The viewing is for all relevant parties, including the protagonist! ヽ(•̀ω•́ )ゝ✧]

I hate you.

Before Luo Binghe could press further, the screen flickered to life with a cheerful chime.

"Enjoy the show!" the System trilled—audible to everyone.

The screen flickered to life, casting an eerie glow across the assembled cultivators. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the image resolved into a scene beyond their wildest imaginings—a room of sleek surfaces and strange devices, bathed in the golden light of a setting sun filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows.

"What manner of illusion is this?" Liu Qingge demanded, hand twitching toward Cheng Luan.

"No illusion," Mu Qingfang murmured, eyes wide. "Look at the craftsmanship—these objects have no spiritual  energy, yet their precision..."

Shen Qingqiu's fan stilled. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the bamboo ribs as memories flooded back—the hum of air conditioning, the weight of a smartphone in his pocket, the scent of instant noodles at 3 AM. That apartment...

A soft sigh escaped him before he could stop it. "Haa, life was simpler when my biggest worries were term papers and novel updates."

Beside him, Shang Qinghua choked on a laugh. "Bro, you miss pulling all-nighters for exams?"

"Quiet," Shen Qingqiu hissed, but the damage was done. Yue Qingyuan turned with that painfully gentle expression.

"Shen-shidi... you recognize this place?"

Before he could fabricate an answer, the screen zoomed in on the aftermath of what was clearly a legendary bender. Beer bottles glittered like fallen stars amidst crumpled chip bags and discarded clothing. The camera lingered on a pair of designer jeans slung carelessly over a chair, the price tag still dangling—enough silver to feed a peasant family for months.

Then it panned upward, revealing the room's most shocking feature.

A young man lay sprawled face-down on a leather couch, his bare torso a canvas of intricate tattoos—a coiled dragon along his spine, mysterious symbols tracing his ribs. The cultivators gasped as the camera traced the ink's path downward, where low-slung pajama bottoms revealed the dimples above—

"SHAMELESS!" Qi Qingqi shrieked, fanning herself furiously.

Ning Yingying peeked between her fingers. "...He's very well-built though..."

Ming Fan made a strangled noise.

The man stirred with a groan, rolling onto his back—and the room collectively held its breath.

Shen Yuan was beautiful—sharper jawline, fuller lips, with the lean muscles of someone who actually worked out.His sleep-mussed hair fell artlessly across his forehead, and when he blinked open bleary eyes, they were a startling shade of amber in the morning light.

"What the hell..." His voice was deeper too, rough with sleep and last night's whiskey.

Shang Qinghua whistled low. "Damn, Cucumber-bro. Thats like an upgraded version of this face."

"We look the same." Shen Qingqiu muttered suddenly flustered.

"Nah, this face's like the budget version. That  one's the deluxe collector's edition."

A wine cup shattered as Luo Binghe's grip tightened. His smile was serene, but his eyes burned. "Shizun... this disciple wonders why such a man would appear to us."

Shen Qingqiu's fan snapped open. "How should this master know?"

[Ding! (◠‿◠) Host's denial is so cute! Truth Value +10!]

I will dismantle you.

On screen, Shen Yuan staggered upright, wincing as sunlight stabbed his pupils. "Fuck... my head..." He squinted at the devastation—a toppled lamp, someone's shoe in the fruit bowl, and—

"Why is there a traffic cone in my kitchen?!"

The cultivators gawked.

"What's a 'traffic cone'?" a disciple whispered.

"Focus on the important part!" Liu Qingge snapped. "This wastrel lives in a palace of jade and gold, yet keeps his home like a pigsty!"

Shen Qingqiu bristled. "That 'wastrel' was a top-ranked finance student at—" He caught himself.

Dead silence.

Luo Binghe's smile widened. "At...?"

[Ooooh! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Truth Value +50!]

Shang Qinghua, the traitor, chimed in: "Fudan University! Our Cucumber-bro here was old money—private drivers, tailored suits, the whole young master package."

"Shang. Qinghua." Shen Qingqiu's voice promised murder.

The screen saved them by cutting to a flashback—Shen Yuan astride a roaring motorcycle, leather jacket flaring as he took a sharp turn through neon-lit streets. The camera lingered on his thighs gripping the machine, the wind tearing at his shirt to reveal glimpses of ink and taut muscle.

Female cultivators fanned themselves furiously. Male cultivators scowled. Luo Binghe's shadows writhed.

"Shizun," he purred, "you never mentioned knowing how to ride such... exciting vehicles."

Shen Qingqiu's ears burned. "That's not—I don't—"

[Memory Playback Activated! Next: "That One Vegas Incident" (✧ω✧)]

Shang Qinghua paled. "Oh fuck no—"

Shen Qingqiu lunged for his throat.

Chapter Text

"MEMORY LEAK PROTOCOL: VEGAS EDITION"

The screen flickered again, this time to a scene bathed in the garish glow of neon lights. The words "Welcome to LAS VEGAS" arched in glowing letters over a boulevard packed with roaring crowds, flashing cameras, and the kind of chaos only possible when alcohol, money, and poor life choices collided.  

And there, at the center of it all—  

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BITCHES!"

—stood Shen Yuan, clad in a suit that cost more than some sects' annual budgets, except it was unbuttoned to his navel, his tie loose around his neck like a noose of bad decisions. He held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a half-eaten slice of pizza in the other, grinning like a man who had long since abandoned the concept of shame.  

Behind him, a shorter man with a familiar face (Shang Qinghua’s past-life self, clearly) was attempting to climb a lamppost while screaming something about "historical accuracy in xianxia worldbuilding!"

The cultivators stared.  

Liu Qingge’s eye twitched. "This… is a memory?"

Yue Qingyuan, ever the diplomat, coughed lightly. "Perhaps… a dream?"

Shen Qingqiu’s fan snapped shut with a *crack*. "A nightmare."

Luo Binghe, meanwhile, had not blinked in approximately thirty seconds. His gaze was locked onto the screen, his expression caught between fascination, hunger, and something dangerously possessive. "Shizun… you’ve lived such an… eventful life."

Shen Qingqiu refused to acknowledge that.  

On screen, Past-Shen Yuan took a swig of champagne, then pointed dramatically at the camera. "AIRPLANE BRO! WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!"

Shang Qinghua, both on-screen and in the theater, choked. "WHAT?!" 

"TO EACH OTHER?" Past-Shang Qinghua yelled from the lamppost.  

"NO, YOU IDIOT—TO THE STRIPPER WITH THE PHOENIX TATTOO!" Shen Yuan bellowed back, gesturing to a woman in sequins and thigh-high boots currently setting fire to a stack of monopoly money.  

The theater was dead silent.  

Then, from the back, a demoness whispered, "I respect him."

Shen Qingqiu buried his face in his hands. "I’m going to kill myself."

[Ding! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Host’s shame is delicious! Embarrassment Value +100!]  

"Shut up," Shen Qingqiu hissed.  

The screen cut again—this time to a dimly lit chapel, where a very drunk Shen Yuan was swaying in front of an Elvis impersonator, holding hands with—  

"IS THAT A DEMON?!" someone shrieked.  

Indeed, the "stripper with the phoenix tattoo" had, upon closer inspection, faintly glowing red eyes and claws. She grinned, revealing fangs.  

"Oops," Past-Shen Yuan said. "I think we broke reality."

Then the screen went black.  

A single line of text appeared:  

**[Memory Corrupted. Resuming Playback in 3… 2… 1…]**  

The next scene was worse.  

Far, far worse.  

Shen Yuan, now shirtless (why was he always shirtless?), stood in the middle of a casino, slamming his hands down on a high-stakes table. **"ALL IN."**  

The dealer sighed. "Sir, you’re betting a private island ?"

"AND?"

Luo Binghe leaned forward, his voice dangerously sweet. "Shizun… gambled?" 

Shen Qingqiu’s soul left his body. "That wasn’t me. That was him."

"But it is you," Luo Binghe murmured, eyes dark. "Just… a you I’ve never met."  

[Ding! (｀∀´)Ψ Protagonist’s Obsession Meter +500!] 

Shang Qinghua, sensing imminent disaster, tried to intervene. "Uh, maybe we should skip this part—" 

Too late.  

The screen showed Shen Yuan flipping his cards—a royal flush. The crowd erupted. The demon-stripper (now his wife, apparently) kissed him on the cheek. And then—  

"SIR, YOU CAN’T BRING A LIVE TIGER INTO THE HOTEL—" 

The cultivators of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect collectively lost their minds.  

Liu Qingge stood up. "I’ve seen enough. This is clearly an elaborate demonic illusion."  

Yue Qingyuan, still trying to process, murmured, "Shen-shidi… owned a tiger?"

Shen Qingqiu was this close to setting himself on fire.  

Then, the final blow—the screen zoomed in on Shen Yuan’s wrist, where a delicate silver chain glinted. A wedding band hung from it.  

Luo Binghe’s shadows exploded.  

"Shizun," he said, smiling like a man moments away from burning the world down, "who exactly did you marry?"  

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Memory Leak Protocol Paused. Host’s Survival Instincts Triggered. Good luck! (ﾉ≧ڡ≦)ﾉﾐ ┻━┻] 

Shen Qingqiu stood up.  

"I’m leaving."  

Chaos erupted.  

The screen flickered back to life, this time displaying security footage of a luxury hotel hallway. A very disheveled Shen Yuan—still shirtless, still wearing his wedding band necklace—was attempting to coax a full-grown Bengal tiger into an elevator. The beast yawned, displaying teeth longer than daggers, and lazily swatted at a potted plant, reducing it to splinters.

"C’mon, Mr. Whiskers," Shen Yuan slurred, patting the tiger’s flank. "We gotta—hic—go to the afterparty."

In the theater, Liu Qingge’s grip on Cheng Luan turned lethal. "This is a disgrace to cultivators everywhere."

"Agreed," Qi Qingqi hissed, though her eyes lingered a beat too long on Shen Yuan’s flexing biceps as he wrestled the tiger.

Luo Binghe’s voice was deceptively light. "Shizun has such… unique taste in pets."

Shen Qingqiu’s fan trembled. "That wasn’t mine! It belonged to the—the circus!"

[Ding! (´∀｀)♡ Host’s lies are adorable! Deception Value +20!]

[Ding! (´∀｀)♡ Host’s lies are adorable! Deception Value +20!]

"Circus?" Ning Yingying gasped. "Shizun, you joined a circus?"

"NO—"

On screen, the tiger abruptly turned, pinning Shen Yuan to the carpet with one massive paw on his chest. The cultivators lurched forward—only for the beast to lick a stripe up Shen Yuan’s face, tail wagging.

"Ugh, gross," Past-Shen Yuan groaned, shoving at the tiger’s muzzle. "We just got married, save the affection for—oh god, is that security?"

The footage cut to Shen Yuan sprinting down the Vegas strip, tiger in tow, dodging screaming tourists and very confused police officers.

Shang Qinghua wheezed. "Bro, you stole a tiger?!"

"I liberated him!" Shen Qingqiu snapped before freezing. Shit.

Dead silence. Then—

"So you admit it was you," Luo Binghe murmured, shadows writhing like serpents.

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitched. "I admit nothing."

The screen dissolved into a slideshow of wedding photos.

There was Shen Yuan, clad in a white tuxedo jacket with no shirt underneath, his tattoos on full display, grinning like a man who’d won at life. The demoness—now identified as Lady Lianhua, Mistress of the Western Blood Lotus Clan—leaned against him, her crimson nails digging into his waist.

"…She’s a real demon," Mu Qingfang observed faintly. "Not an illusion."

"And very married," a Huan Hua elder added, eyeing the way Lady Lianhua’s fangs grazed Shen Yuan’s throat in the next photo.

Luo Binghe’s cup shattered.

Shen Qingqiu’s soul ascended to the heavens. Why. Why me.

Then—the kiss photo.

Lady Lianhua had Shen Yuan dipped backward over the chapel railing, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping his—

"CLOSE YOUR EYES, YINGYING!" Ming Fan bellowed, lunging to shield her.

Liu Qingge looked physically ill. Yue Qingyuan’s smile was frozen.

And Luo Binghe?

He laughed. A low, velvet sound that made the temperature drop. "Shizun… how interesting."

[Ding! ╰(▔∀▔)╯ Protagonist Blackening Value +15%!]

Shen Qingqiu was this close to jumping into the screen to strangle his past self.

As the theater descended into chaos—Luo Binghe’s murderous aura, Liu Qingge’s sword unsheathing, Shang Qinghua sobbing into Mobei-jun’s sleeve—the System cheerfully announced:

[Next Memory: The Aftermath]

Chapter Text

[NEXT MEMORY: THE MORNING AFTER]

The screen flickered again—this time to a penthouse suite bathed in the golden light of dawn (or perhaps the fiery glow of regret).

Shen Yuan, still shirtless, lay sprawled across a bed the size of a small battlefield, tangled in silk sheets and surrounded by no fewer than three empty champagne bottles. His hair was a disaster, his face smudged with lipstick in at least four different shades, and his wrist still bore that damned silver chain with the wedding band.

But the real horror?

Lian was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, curled against Shen Yuan’s side, one arm thrown possessively over his waist, was—

A STRANGER.

A man with sharp features, tousled dark hair, and a very smug smirk, currently nuzzling into Shen Yuan’s shoulder.

"WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!" Liu Qingge roared.

Shen Yuan, on screen, stirred—then bolted upright, staring down at the man in horror.

"OH MY GOD," he shrieked, scrambling backward so fast he tumbled off the bed. "WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE—"

The man just yawned, stretching like a satisfied cat. "Morning, husband."

"HUSBAND?!" the entire theater screamed.

Shen Qingqiu’s soul officially left the universe.

[Ding! (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ HOST’S MENTAL STABILITY CRITICAL!]

On screen, Past-Shen Yuan was hyperventilating, clutching the sheets to his chest like a scandalized maiden. "WHERE’S LIAN?! WHY ARE YOU HERE?! WHY AM I NAKED—"

The man raised an eyebrow. "You don’t remember?"

"NO?! I REMEMBER GETTING MARRIED, I REMEMBER THE TIGER, I REMEMBER—" Shen Yuan’s voice cracked. "—OH GOD, DID WE DIVORCE HER FOR YOU?!"

The screen cut to a new scene—a second wedding chapel, where a very drunk Shen Yuan stood at the altar, this time in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, swaying dangerously as he slurred:

"TO LOVE! TO CHAOS! TO AIRPLANE BRO’S SHITTY NOVELS!"

Beside him, the dark-haired man (now in a ridiculously expensive suit) looked equal parts amused and resigned.

In the audience, Shang Qinghua’s past self was ugly-sobbing into his hands. "WHY AM I HERE?!"

The theater was in agony.

Shen Qingqiu had his fan pressed to his face so hard it might leave a permanent imprint. "This is a demonic curse. It has to be."

Luo Binghe’s voice was saccharine. "Shizun… how many people did you marry?"

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: MEMORY LEAK PROTOCOL OVERLOAD. HOST’S SANITY AT RISK. GOOD LUCK! ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ]

Shen Qingqiu stood up.

"I’m jumping into the abyss."

[MEMORY LEAK PROTOCOL: VEGAS EDITION – FINAL ESCALATION]

The screen flickered once more—this time to a Las Vegas jail cell, where a disheveled Shen Yuan sat on a metal bench, still wearing his leather jacket from the second wedding, now paired with bright orange prisoner pants. His hair was a disaster, his face smudged with what appeared to be lipstick and possibly barbecue sauce, and his expression was one of profound existential despair.

A police officer leaned against the bars, shaking his head. "Sir, I've been doing this job for twenty years, and I've never seen someone get married twice, adopt a tiger, and attempt to buy a casino in one night."

Shen Yuan groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I did WHAT now?"

The screen split—showing security footage of a very drunk Shen Yuan standing on a blackjack table at the Bellagio, waving a wad of cash in the air.

"HEY EVERYBODY!" he bellowed. "I'M BUYING THIS PLACE! WHO WANTS FREE MONEY?!"

The crowd erupted. The casino managers looked horrified.

In the theater, Liu Qingge made a noise like a dying animal. "This man has no dignity."

Yue Qingyuan, still clinging to politeness, murmured, "Perhaps… it was a business venture?"

Shen Qingqiu’s fan snapped in half.

[Ding! (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ Host’s Dignity Permanently Decreased!]

The footage fast-forwarded to Shen Yuan signing papers at a casino office, grinning like an idiot while a team of lawyers looked on in disbelief. The title on the document flashed briefly:

"PURCHASE AGREEMENT: THE GOLDEN LOTUS CASINO & RESORT"

Shang Qinghua, who had been watching his past self passed out in a fountain outside the casino, wheezed. "Bro… you bought a CASINO?"

Shen Qingqiu’s soul had officially left the mortal plane. "That wasn’t me. That was a doppelgänger. A demonic clone. A—"

Luo Binghe leaned forward, eyes gleaming with dark fascination. "Shizun… you were a gambling tycoon?"

"NO! I WAS—" Shen Qingqiu floundered. "—A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCE!"

[Ding! (¬‿¬) Host’s Lies Are Getting Worse! Deception Value +50!]

The screen cut again—this time to a Las Vegas courtroom, where a judge stared down at Shen Yuan with the tired expression of someone who had seen too much.

"Mr. Shen," the judge sighed, "you are being charged with public intoxication, tiger possession, attempted casino acquisition, and… bigamy."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"BIGAMY?!" the entire theater screamed.

Shen Yuan, on screen, blinked. "Oh. Right. The second marriage." He turned to the dark-haired stranger from earlier, who was sitting in the defendant’s chair next to him, smirking. "Uh… can we get an annulment?"

The man grinned. "Not a chance, husband."

"FUCK."

The footage dissolved into a final montage:

Shen Yuan being chased by reporters shouting questions about his "tiger empire."

His two spouses meeting each other for the first time—Lian looking murderous, the dark-haired man looking amused.

Shang Qinghua’s past self selling the movie rights to the whole debacle.

The screen finally went black.

A single line of text appeared:

[Memory Corruption: 99%. Further Playback Impossible.]

The theater was dead silent.

Then—

Luo Binghe stood up, his smile terrifyingly serene. "Shizun… I have so many questions."

Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath.

Then he screamed into his hands.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: MEMORY LEAK PROTOCOL COMPLETE. HOST’S REPUTATION DESTROYED. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! ヽ(´▽`)/]

Shang Qinghua, still processing, whispered: "Bro… we were legends."

Shen Qingqiu’s response was immediate.

"WE WERE MENACES."

[THE END.]