“Escape…”

Luo Yu almost choked on air.

“Song Lingyuan, you—president of the International Human Progress Association—should be facing the enemy head-on, not running away! You should go back to the association and lead your people to encircle them, shouldn’t you?”

Song Lingyuan kept his gaze on the road ahead, his voice cool.

“Those people just now were from the military of District A. If the association’s people went against them head-to-head, it would just be pointless sacrifices.”

Luo Yu was stunned by the complexity of the situation, pausing in confusion.

Song Lingyuan explained in a steady tone.

“Our association has basic security guards and a protection team, but we don’t control large-scale military power. On the other hand, Duan Yixun, as president of the District A Council, can mobilize the entire military resources of District A.”

“If I’m not mistaken, he has been setting this trap for a while. I haven’t quite figured out his exact purpose, but he has definitely prepared extensively.”

“Right now, I need to find a safe place and carefully sort this out.”

“I’m afraid it will be inconvenient for you, Streamer Luo, to flee with me.”

“Haha, President Song, you’re too polite! Look at what you’re saying; I’m not inconvenienced at all.”

Even as Luo Yu screamed for help in his mind, he forced a smile.

“You saved my life, I should be grateful. As long as you keep me safe, I don’t mind how we escape…”

But Luo Yu quickly realized why Song Lingyuan said it would be an “inconvenience.”

Once they had completely shaken off any pursuers, their gray car took a sudden turn toward the edge of District A.

With the moon obscured by clouds, a dark, overgrown mountain loomed in the faint glow of their headlights, taking on a foreboding shape.

As the car neared, Luo Yu saw a sign on the roadside that read Deer Mountain Scenic Area.

Even at eleven at night, there were still quite a few people hiking, and a small crowd lingered around the scenic area entrance.

Song Lingyuan parked the car at the edge of the parking lot. “Stay close to me.”

Luo Yu, dazed, followed Song Lingyuan out of the car. He watched as Song Lingyuan approached the ticket window, handing over his ID card.

The ticket clerk’s warm greeting faltered for a moment, and a trace of tension flickered in her eyes as she looked at Song Lingyuan.

After a brief hesitation, she quickly opened a drawer and handed him a silver key.

Song Lingyuan took the key, turned, and grasped Luo Yu’s wrist, guiding him toward a staff-only path on the right. He swiped his ID card to open the door.

Dragged along, Luo Yu soon found himself on a narrow mountain trail.

He panted, “Cl-climbing a mountain to escape?”

Song Lingyuan glanced back at him, a slight hint of amusement in his eyes. “Having trouble?”

Luo Yu swallowed. “Hah, I’m young; you’re the one who might struggle.”

The thirty-something president, who was now considered old and weak: …

“Then let’s race.”

With a cold retort, Song Lingyuan released his grip and picked up the pace.

Luo Yu jogged to keep up, afraid to be left behind in this eerie place. The uneven stone path was even harder to navigate in the dark, and he bumped into Song Lingyuan’s shoulder more than once.

After a difficult ten minutes, Song Lingyuan suddenly stopped.

Unable to halt in time, Luo Yu bumped into his shoulder again, clutching his forehead and letting out a muffled “Ouch.”

Song Lingyuan turned around and, with a sigh, raised his hand and gently rubbed Luo Yu’s forehead.

Song Lingyuan’s fingertips were as hot as fire, and Luo Yu instinctively pulled back two steps from the heat, only to have his wrist grasped by Song Lingyuan, who led him towards a tall patch of grass to their left.

“President Song, are you sure you’re helping me escape for my life and not trying to take it?” Luo Yu couldn’t help but remark as the wild grass scratched painfully at his arms.

Song Lingyuan didn’t respond. He suddenly extended his arms, wrapping Luo Yu within his embrace to shield him from the sharp tips of the grass around them.

Before Luo Yu could react, Song Lingyuan’s body pushed him forward, forcing him to keep moving.

The further they went, the denser the grass became. But right in the middle of this thick foliage, after maneuvering around a few sturdy trees, a camouflaged tin shack emerged from the shadows.

The shack was incredibly well-hidden. Luo Yu had no doubt that whether it was day or night, from the mountain’s base or its summit, spotting it from afar would be nearly impossible.

Song Lingyuan placed a firm hand on Luo Yu’s shoulder, signaling him to stop. Then he stepped forward and used a silver key in his hand to unlock the door.

Dust had gathered at the door, and as it swung open, a strong, musty smell hit them like a wave.

Luo Yu sneezed several times, completely unwilling to go inside!

Song Lingyuan turned on the light, illuminating the sparse interior.

Inside, there were a few simple chairs, a square table, and a refrigerator.

“Let’s stay here tonight. We’ll leave once I make the necessary arrangements,” Song Lingyuan said. Now that they had reached this place, he finally seemed to relax, even his voice tinged with fatigue.

He walked to the center of the room, took out a wet wipe, and was about to clean the table.

Luo Yu couldn’t hold back any longer and shouted, “Wait!”

Song Lingyuan turned back with an annoyed expression.

Leaning against the doorframe, Luo Yu said, “President Song, close your eyes.” He sighed. “Let me show you what a proper place to stay should look like!”

Song Lingyuan stared at him for a long time, as if trying to decipher what he was planning from his expression.

Seeing Luo Yu silent, Song Lingyuan finally sat down on a freshly wiped wooden chair and closed his eyes, though his tone was still unkind:

“Whatever you’re planning, you have one minute.”

Luo Yu rubbed the back of his neck. “One minute should be enough, but are you sure you want to stay seated?”

Song Lingyuan impatiently opened his eyes. “Will sitting here interfere with you?”

“Alright, alright, it won’t interfere, it won’t interfere. Just close your eyes.” Luo Yu spoke in a tone that sounded like he was coaxing a three-year-old, prompting Song Lingyuan to close his eyes again.

Only then did Luo Yu step further into the room, silently saying in his mind:

“Administrator, switch to my ‘Snowy Day Setup’!”

[“Remaining time for the ‘Sleep Well in a Snowy Day’ setup: 3 hours. Switching now…”]

Luo Yu gazed intently at the room in front of him.

In an instant, a breeze seemed to sweep through the room, transforming everything it touched!

The tin walls morphed into solid wooden logs, dark brown and sturdy, while the dusty floor was covered with a white fur rug. The soft crackling of a fire sounded, and with a pop—

The wooden chair beneath Song Lingyuan vanished into thin air.

He landed directly on the newly appeared plush carpet, his expression momentarily stunned.

Luo Yu: …

Can’t blame him, right? He did warn him not to sit!

Finally, a large, cozy bed appeared by the window, its dark gray blanket now replaced with a fresh, wrinkle-free one.

Luo Yu waited a moment until the snowy ambiance of the entire room was complete.

Stretching lazily, he walked over to the bed, kicked off his shoes, and lay down.

“Now this,” he said with a smile, “is what a proper place to stay should look like…”

Song Lingyuan remained on the rug, cautiously surveying the transformed room around him. To be safe, he didn’t stand up but instead twisted his body on the spot and looked at Luo Yu.

“Where are we?”

Luo Yu, wrapped in the blanket, rolled over on the bed. “I didn’t tie you up. Go outside and check if you want to know where we are.”

Song Lingyuan glanced over and saw the back of Luo Yu’s fair neck resting on the silver pillow, like snowflakes falling one by one into a dark forest.

He pursed his lips, his fingers unconsciously brushing against the fibers of the rug.

It wasn’t an illusion—this was a real carpet, made up of countless fine, soft strands.

Dusting off his dark gray suit, Song Lingyuan straightened up, walked to the wooden door, and turned the solid handle.

Outside, the scenery remained unchanged—it was still Deer Mountain!

Yet, from outside, it still appeared to be a camouflaged tin shack!

The only thing that had changed was the room’s interior.

Song Lingyuan returned with a grim expression, locked the door, and walked to the unfamiliar oversized bed, asking seriously, “What did you do?”

“Now you’re curious?” Luo Yu, lying on his stomach with his chin propped on his hand, looked at the ever-composed president with interest.

“Why didn’t you ask when I made the driver fall asleep?”

“You made…”

So, the driver had fallen asleep.

Time had been tight, and Song Lingyuan hadn’t bothered to ask at the time, focused solely on escaping. But in retrospect, it was filled with mysteries.

“Can’t figure it out? I’ll tell you the truth.” Luo Yu laughed, sitting cross-legged on the bed, causing the mattress to sink under his weight.

He leaned in close to Song Lingyuan’s ear, his breath brushing his ear.

Song Lingyuan stiffened instantly, springing back, “What are you doing?”

“Just telling you how I did it!” Luo Yu said innocently, widening his eyes. “Why are you backing away?”

Song Lingyuan took a deep breath and slowly sat back down. “Speak properly, and don’t get so close.”

“Oh.” Luo Yu smiled, eyebrows arched, then leaned close to Song Lingyuan’s ear again. “Actually, I am…”

“A deity from the heavens!”

“The god of sleep!”

Song Lingyuan: …

His ears felt like they were about to explode.

“Please, can you stop looking at me like I’m crazy?”

Luo Yu leaned back a little to observe Song Lingyuan’s expression, then immediately clenched his fists.

“I’ve already used my divine powers twice, and you still don’t believe me? If you’re so capable, go ahead and use your human logic to explain it!”

Song Lingyuan opened his mouth but then closed it, looking reluctant to believe but unable to deny it entirely.

Seeing his reaction, Luo Yu chuckled. “Why so quiet? Don’t you want to ask why a god like me came here?”

Song Lingyuan fixed his gaze on him. “Why are you here?”

Luo Yu blinked, looking guilty.

“Well, I didn’t mean to come here! I just accidentally fell down from the heavens while I was sleeping.”

“As the god of sleep, I need to sleep every day. But somehow, I fell into this strange place where people won’t even let me rest!”

Hearing this, Song Lingyuan seemed to regain his composure. After all, over the years, he’d encountered plenty of people who used all sorts of excuses to claim they needed sleep.

With a cold laugh, he said, “Even if you are a deity, since you’re here, you’ll need to adapt to the local customs and follow our rules.”

“…Your laws are for humans; they don’t apply to me. Anyway, I’m going to sleep now.”

Luo Yu muttered, lying straight down on the bed, then noticed Song Lingyuan was still watching him. “Do you want to sleep too?”

Before Song Lingyuan could answer, Luo Yu reluctantly shifted his body to the left side of the bed.

“We’ll use the line between the two pillows as a boundary. I sleep on my side, you sleep on yours. No crossing the line! We won’t bother each other.”

“Ridiculous!” Song Lingyuan lowered his voice, his eyelids twitching slightly.

At thirty years old, he had grown up entirely during the era of anti-sleep policies and had never experienced the time when humans actually needed sleep.

But even though he hadn’t experienced it himself, he’d heard stories—decades ago, only adult couples in relationships would share a bed!

And here this young live streamer was, shamelessly inviting him to share a bed without even blushing!

But just as he thought that, Luo Yu, who had just lain down, suddenly sat up.

He took out his phone, its screen dark, and plugged it into the bedside charger.

“No stream today. I wonder if my fans will miss me…” Luo Yu mumbled to himself, placing his phone down carefully. “I’ll have my supporters worried.”

Hearing this, Song Lingyuan couldn’t help but ask, “Supporters?”

Luo Yu, assuming Song Lingyuan didn’t understand how live streaming worked, patiently explained:

“They’re the fans who donate to my live streams! You casually shut down my stream, not knowing how many hearts you broke!”

Feigning nonchalance, Song Lingyuan asked, “Are you close with them?”

Luo Yu gave him a strange look, unsure why he was asking. “Not all of them, no… Right now, I only have one person on my private account.”

“Is that so?”

For the first time, a flicker of discomfort appeared on Song Lingyuan’s normally stoic face. “Why only one?”

“Because I like him,” Luo Yu replied with a wink. “My Brother S and I just have a connection!”

Song Lingyuan felt his heart skip a beat and was about to say something else when his phone suddenly rang, interrupting them.

It was his assistant, Li Rui.

Song Lingyuan’s thoughts were quickly pulled back to the present as more pressing matters awaited his attention.

Li Rui’s urgent voice came over the phone:

“President, all pharmaceuticals worldwide have been urgently recalled to local hospitals for component testing. So far, no anomalies have been detected.

“We’re telling the public it’s an upgrade, but time is tight. If residents don’t receive their medication before starting work at five in the morning, daily routines will be disrupted. But completing all tests before five is nearly impossible!”

Since Song Lingyuan had turned on the speakerphone, Luo Yu heard everything clearly. Seeing Song Lingyuan’s silence, Luo Yu hesitated before asking:

“President Song, aside from the Hypnos League faction, which organizations worldwide still support the ‘anti-sleep-drug fatality theory’?”

Song Lingyuan, lost in thought, replied absentmindedly:

“There are many resistance organizations globally, but those promoting the fatality theory are few, mainly concentrated in City A…”

He suddenly stopped and glanced at Luo Yu.

Luo Yu lay on his side, meeting his gaze.

Both understood each other’s thoughts.

Luo Yu nodded.

“I’ve been wondering why the Hypnos League hasn’t expanded to other cities. After all, if the anti-sleep drug truly causes fatalities, other cities would surely reach out to the Hypnos League if they had cases…”

“But it just hit me—what if the problem only exists in City A’s supply?”

In that instant, Song Lingyuan’s deep blue eyes narrowed.

City A.

Yes, everything centered around City A.

He might finally understand what Duan Yixun was up to!

That madman…

“Continue testing in other areas. If no issues are found by five, restart the distribution process to ensure residents have their medication on time.”

Li Rui sounded confused. “And City A?”

Song Lingyuan’s voice grew cold. “Increase personnel at the City A Sleep Hospital and ensure every batch of medication in City A is thoroughly tested.”

Li Rui broke out in a cold sweat. For the president to give such an order, it must mean that the problem could indeed lie in City A. And they were in City A every day, taking the anti-sleep medication daily…

“Yes, sir!”

After hanging up, Song Lingyuan looked down at Luo Yu.

“You helped me solve a very important issue. If you ever need my help in the future, just let me know.”

“Oh?” Luo Yu yawned, a faint smile on his lips. “Then from now on, don’t bother me when I’m sleeping. And don’t make any noise while I’m asleep!”

With that, Luo Yu somehow pulled out a mint-green candy and popped it into his mouth.

Song Lingyuan frowned slightly. “What are you eating?”

“Super tasty mint candy,” Luo Yu replied, turning his back to Song Lingyuan and closing his eyes. “Keeps my breath fresh.”

In almost an instant, he fell into a deep sleep.

“…Luo, Lou Yu?”

No response.

Song Lingyuan began to wonder if Luo Yu really was a deity in disguise.

Could an ordinary human fall asleep that quickly?