A Novelist’s Guide for Side Characters to Survive

Chapter 25 : “I Can’t See a Wide-Open Path to Defeat at All.”

Chu Zu’s physical condition, even after emerging from the hibernation pod, was still far from good.

He woke earlier than planned.

Something happened—when Sidney heard a noise and went to the dark room, Chu Zu had already flipped open the pod’s lid, collapsing on the floor, gasping for breath.

After months without opening his eyes, the faint light in the dark room stung them uncomfortably.

Sidney struggled to lift the man into the prepared wheelchair.

Chu Zu, drenched in cold sweat, asked: “Time…”

Sidney knew what Chu Zu meant, covered his eyes, and said: “Right, it’s today.”

A mismatched question and answer passed between this father and son, yet they both understood each other perfectly.

After adjusting for a while, Chu Zu told Sidney to avoid everyone and pushed him to the cemetery to take a look.

“Only Tang Qi’s at the cemetery,” Sidney said, complying but cautioning, “It’s raining hard, Dad.”

Chu Zu’s tone didn’t change, his voice hoarse from just waking: “Then bring an extra umbrella.”

The extra umbrella Sidney brought ended up in Chu Zu’s hands.

He held it for a long time.

Sidney watched the man’s trembling arm stiffen from numbness.

When his gaze fell on the corpse on the ground, the warm concern in his eyes vanished instantly.

The rain didn’t stop.

Sidney finally sent a message to Lazar.

“The election ended months ago, and still no one remembers who’s in Parliament. Why not replace them?”

Lazar replied quickly: “What’s up?”

“Luciano Esposito is dead. He’s at the cemetery. I’m at the cemetery too.”

Lazar didn’t reply again, and the sky cleared soon after.

As the clouds parted, Sidney helped Chu Zu close the umbrella and slowly pushed the wheelchair out.

For safety, the wheelchair had no mechanical assistance.

Sidney had sworn to take care of his dad.

Months of training didn’t give him Chu Zu’s former physical gifts, but he could push the heavy wheelchair over the uneven, rain-soaked ground.

The wheelchair left two tracks, disappearing on smooth asphalt.

The trip still took a toll on Chu Zu’s body.

Medical terms, once foreign to the man, were laid out before him, densely packed.

Cyborg immune rejection could be suppressed with drugs and various methods, but the side effects were clear: dizziness, headaches, drowsiness, stomach discomfort, nausea, palpitations, vertigo, and vomiting.

And pain.

For Chu Zu, pain should’ve been the hardest to endure.

Even the doctor Lazar dug up from the Inspection Control Department—the one who operated on Chu Zu—said the pain Chu Zu now endured was like an ordinary person undergoing neural migration surgery without anesthesia.

But Chu Zu showed little reaction.

His pain tolerance surpassed anyone’s expectations.

What most people couldn’t achieve in twenty-nine years, he mastered in months.

Sidney never again heard the weak gasps he once did.

Convalescence wasn’t dull.

Conspiracies and power struggles were uninvited spices.

Chu Zu woke early each day, and Sidney picked up the habit too.

Even though Dai Xi’an’s home had become a tangled abyss of sludge, with countless people bringing digital files daily, Sidney steadfastly pushed the man to breakfast and then to the window for sunlight.

Lazar: “When do we announce Luciano’s death?”

Dai Xi’an: “Soon, before Tang Qi does.”

Sidney asked Chu Zu: “Want some milk?”

Chu Zu shook his head: “You’re growing. Drink two glasses.”

“…I’ve grown a lot, Dad,” Sidney frowned.

“Three glasses.”

“Oh!”

Lazar: “We need a political show to put Mr. Chu Zu on stage…”

Dai Xi’an: “He’s still recovering! Look at him—anyone could stuff him and Sidney into an incinerator!”

Sidney said to Chu Zu: “It hasn’t rained in days, and the community’s been ‘cleaned.’ Wanna go for a walk later?”

Chu Zu shook his head again: “If you’ve got energy to spare, I’ll watch you run. Five laps.”

“I already did my morning run.”

“Ten laps.”

“What for, Dad!”

Dai Xi’an and Lazar reached a stalemate.

Someone nearby, reading the room, hurriedly offered an idea.

“Mr. Chu Zu doesn’t need to do anything! How about arranging a cyborg identical to Luciano, and during a live broadcast explaining Mr. Chu Zu’s rescue, it gets sniped? We cut the stream, air the news, and issue a warrant for Tang Qi.”

Before Dai Xi’an or Lazar could respond, Chu Zu, who hadn’t joined their discussions, suddenly spoke.

“You’re more like Luciano than a cyborg.”

The rest didn’t need saying.

The listener understood.

You’re more like Luciano than a cyborg.

Why don’t you wear a hologram and take the sniper shots?

The speaker’s face went pale, lips trembling, hands and feet at a loss.

During Chu Zu’s fake death, Esposito’s internals had debated multiple times.

To convince Chu Zu to enter the hibernation pod, they, with Dai Xi’an, wove a not-quite-lie.

No one expected Tang Qi would actually act, and their already complex situation grew harder to manage, forcing them to do their best amid the storm.

They were responsible for Luciano’s death, but the main blame lay with Tang Qi.

The issue was, if Chu Zu truly cared for nothing—not Sidney, not Dai Xi’an—and insisted on being a lone wolf seeking revenge?

Back when Luciano was alive, Lazar was distracted every time he saw him, constantly imagining Chu Zu’s reaction.

Most thought the man would become an even more terrifying creature.

As long as he could endure the pain, ignoring his body’s deterioration, a half-cyborg Chu Zu would be the world’s most unsolvable assassin.

But he couldn’t kill Tang Qi.

Tang Qi held the cyborg backdoor code—dealing with him would be a long process.

Things didn’t turn out as bad as they feared.

Luciano died, Chu Zu woke.

The man, upon hearing the news, reacted calmly, not like the vengeful figure they expected, dragging a half-dead body to hunt the killer.

He asked Lazar softly: “Who did it?”

Dai Xi’an cut in: “Tang Qi.”

Chu Zu lifted his chin, signaling he understood.

Things were even less predictable than they thought.

Chu Zu became…

Interactions once countered with logic and gain lost all equality the moment he spoke.

He didn’t relish dominance, seeing only submission.

He didn’t need to be aggressive, yet loathed the redundancy and drain of aggression, crushing interactions entirely.

The man basking in sunlight showed none of his former ferocity.

Like an animal with claws and fangs removed, he wasn’t even a beast, just quietly, passively drooping his eyes in the light.

Yet no one would call his state relaxed, nor connect him to the ordinary father chatting comfortably with Sidney seconds ago.

The once-winding, echoing streams of interaction became, for him, a stagnant pool.

The water’s pressure, deep or shallow, crept to the surface, dismantling those forced to face him.

Yes, Chu Zu now evoked not unsolvable violence but a deep pressure describable only in dry language and symbols.

And Chu Zu was fully qualified.

Sidney could replace a Parliament controlling street crowds with artificial rain via one message.

Chu Zu’s authority would only surpass his, a miracle forged by all.

Realizing this, even Lazar had to choose his words carefully.

The only ones unfazed were Dai Xi’an and Sidney.

“Get out,” Dai Xi’an said, rubbing her temples to dismiss the guests.

After sending them off, Dai Xi’an sat by the windowsill.

“You’re blocking the sunlight,” Sidney said, displeased.

“Go run your laps, ten. I’ll count for Chu Zu.”

Sidney bared his teeth.

“I’ll talk to Dai Xi’an,” Chu Zu said, nudging the boy out.

He had little strength, but Sidney exaggerated, yelping in pain and stumbling.

“Stop acting,” Dai Xi’an tsked.

“Your dad knows what you’re like. Get lost.”

Sidney got lost.

The twelve-year-old was growing fast, lanky limbs stretching as he did warm-ups on the artificial grass, sneakily glancing at the window.

Dai Xi’an’s silhouette completely blocked Chu Zu.

Sidney muttered a bit, then started jogging.

“I can’t tell if you’re lying or venting,” Dai Xi’an said bluntly.

“If you think you still need to maintain loyalty to Luciano, I’ll avoid discussing these things with them around you next time.”

Chu Zu raised his arm.

To avoid neural strain, he rarely used his modified half-body.

His metal palm, slightly clumsy, rested on Dai Xi’an’s hand, fingers slowly tightening.

“You okay?”

Dai Xi’an’s frown deepened, reaching to check his forehead.

“I’ll find a place for an office. Anyone who wants answers can ask me directly. Don’t get involved. Stay home and play with your silly son.”

“Don’t block my view,” Chu Zu said, finally controlling his strength to pull Dai Xi’an aside, seeing Sidney speed up from a jog to a wild, happy puppy sprint.

Dai Xi’an: “…”

Unable to stand his attitude, the woman stood abruptly and walked out.

“Dai Xi’an, I don’t know what you’re all nervous about.”

She didn’t expect Chu Zu to call her back.

Turning, she saw his gaze still on Sidney running, his red pupils clear in the sunlight.

“The Lower District’s noisy, so’s the Upper. Luciano cared too much about that clamor. It’s not important.”

“The Lower District could break the iron curtain any time. If you don’t control the Upper District’s narrative, you’ll be attacked from both sides. Luciano worried about this, so he pulled public opinion in circles.”

“I don’t want narrative control,” Chu Zu said.

“I only need to define.”

Dai Xi’an’s eyelids twitched, as if realizing something.

Her expression shifted invisibly from confusion to shock.

“Like Data Liberation Day,” the man said calmly under her stunned gaze.

“Only rebels know how to handle rebels. Only Lower District people know how to restrain Lower District people.”

“Have you seen those down there who bankrupt themselves for a secondhand sun?”

“If I define them as Upper District people, give them a chance to climb up and the right to govern downward, what do you think they’ll do?”

The room fell deathly silent.

The man, multitasking, counted Sidney’s laps, waving when he was close enough.

Sidney, as if with eyes all over, bolted across the artificial grass toward him, wiping sweat carelessly and leaning against the window.

Sidney didn’t care what they were discussing: “Dad, I finished ten laps.”

“Nine and a half,” Chu Zu ruthlessly exposed the kid’s slacking.

“Go shower. We’re going out.”

“Great!” Sidney, overjoyed, climbed through the window, rushing to the bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the air.

Chu Zu folded his hands, resting them on his knees.

The room was littered with files, papers strewn everywhere.

The projector flickered on and off.

All the planning done over these months seemed meaningless.

Dai Xi’an slowly regained her voice.

“They… will build a new order for you, crude, shoddy, flimsy, but it’ll work in the Lower District.

“Without Lower District uprisings, Upper District support or opposition becomes irrelevant. You have Lazar, an excellent personnel expert, to tame everything—and you have the gene bank key, Sidney.”

“Don’t drag Sidney into this.”

Chu Zu said, “I have time and patience. Like I waited from twelve to twenty-nine, I have plenty of time to let the Upper District forget.”

“I told Tang Qi before, slaves don’t think they’re slaves. They think they’re prison masters. They don’t love their chains, but they feel they’d have nothing without them. The Upper District’s no different.”

“It won’t even take long. A week? A month? Half a year?”

Dai Xi’an said with difficulty: “No more than half a year.”

In fact, the Upper District’s class solidification was worse than the Lower’s.

With the refinement of societal divisions and technological leaps, industry barriers grew wider.

Fail at your assigned job, and you’re nothing.

Wake from a dream, and a chasm separates you from life.

Capital accelerated this solidification.

Upper District people were just cogs in a giant machine, worn dry and rusted.

Only the machine roared day and night, extracting every bit of value for its master.

Yet Upper District people saw no issue.

Centuries ago, capital foresaw everything.

Why keep the Lower District and open trains to it, instead of wiping out the so-called pollution sources?

Because they needed Upper District people to see: Look, there are far more unfortunate people.

You’re already happy.

If you’re so happy, what’s there to fight for?

Even if you’re dissatisfied, feeling violated, exploited… forget it.

We’ve provided so much entertainment, so many mental drugs.

Forget the unpleasantness.

“So I never wanted narrative control. That’s laughable.”

Chu Zu spoke too much, seeming tired, closing his eyes lightly, saying absently, “Restricted power isn’t the best thing. When I have it, it serves me. My heartbeat is its heartbeat, my breath its breath.”

When he slowly opened his eyes, it was like waking from a deep sleep or shedding the label of violence.

The room limited his vision, his body and wheelchair movement.

He could no longer roam freely as he had for twenty-nine years, but he could drown the world in his red pupils.

Chu Zu asked the question he’d posed to Sidney.

“The guy you bet everything on seems like a monster. Scared, Dai Xi’an?”

Dai Xi’an was very scared.

But not of Chu Zu—of herself.

Facing Chu Zu, she often felt chilled, unable to predict his actions or read his thoughts.

Fear came from facing the unknowable.

Only when he deigned to reveal himself did she realize what stood before her.

But now, Dai Xi’an felt no cold.

On the contrary, her blood boiled, her fingertips sweaty.

She realized she was part of a behemoth’s transformation.

Before it, humans were mere docile sheep.

Those red eyes would watch the sheep’s birth, growth, wails, deaths, struggles.

Blood watered the city, just another binding for neon’s glow.

Dai Xi’an didn’t recall how she became this way.

At first, she sought profit, then survival, then a desperate gamble.

Chu Zu was truly a monster, not just indulging his instincts, evolving uncontrollably, but also “corrupting” those around him.

Dai Xi’an could smell the stench of “ambition” in her own breath.

“Indeed… I’m scared.”

Dai Xi’an said, “You’re full of Tang Family tech. Tang Qi holds the code, your life and death. If he’s ruthless, I’m afraid you’d die silently.”

“No,” Chu Zu said.

“He’s the last one who wants to be Luciano. Using the code to kill me—what’s the difference from Luciano using ‘Mitoli’ to make me lose control?”

“But Tang Qi will kill every Lower District person you pick,” Dai Xi’an said.

“Killing becomes intimidation. Eventually, no one will dare be your ‘Lower District manager.’”

Chu Zu: “And when he moves against the Lower District, they’ll abandon him. Want to bet if he kills them off first or gets abandoned first?”

Dai Xi’an shook her head: “I’m glad I chose you back then. Being your enemy would hurt more than just killing me.”

As she spoke, Sidney ran out of the bathroom in a shirt, not drying his hair, shaking his head, leaving wet spots on the carpet.

Pushing Chu Zu’s wheelchair past Dai Xi’an, she asked: “Where are you going? Tang Qi’s still in the Upper District. If you’re going out, take others.”

Chu Zu said: “To Neander Florist.”

Dai Xi’an: “If you want flowers, have them delivered.”

Sidney, puzzled: “Are we buying flowers?”

Chu Zu leaned back in the wheelchair: “Didn’t you want to grow mangoes? What do you need?”

Sidney counted on his fingers: “Seeds, soil… stuff like that.”

“You also need a teacher,” Chu Zu said faintly.

Sidney thought it over, nodding: “Dad can teach me!”

Chu Zu: “I don’t know everything.”

Sidney pondered, pushing the wheelchair onward.

“But Dai Xi’an said you’ve known a lot since you were twelve.”

“She’s biased against me.”

“Yeah, I think so too. She’s biased against me too.”

“So don’t mess with her.”

“Got it, got it.”

“Be polite when you meet the teacher.”

“…Haven’t I always been polite, just like Dad?!”

The System, silently watching, remarked: “This kid’s hopeless.”

After a moment’s thought, it added: “Dai Xi’an’s hopeless too.”

Chu Zu: “Ugh, it’s my fault for being such a beast, downright vile. But no big deal. My plot ends before the policy fully lands. I won’t hurt anyone.”

System: “…”

This time, it couldn’t even halfheartedly say, “You’re not that bad.”

Truly a beast, out-capitalizing even pureblood capitalist Luciano.

Since the Host sprinted down the path of a ruthless careerist, the System’s worries grew.

It knew the Host didn’t care about danger.

As long as he wasn’t dead, he’d use anything that tore him apart.

The current “Chu Zu” was undeniably Neon Crown's ultimate boss.

None were crueler, smarter were less cold-blooded, and colder-blooded.

Well, there were none.

So now the System is worried.

“How do we lose now… Everywhere I look, it’s all dark moments of victory. I can’t see a wide-open path to defeat at all… I even think you and Tang Qi won’t meet. Dai Xi’an, Lazar, and Sidney could handle everything for you.”

“Don’t worry, Tang Qi’s got some tricks,” Chu Zu said.

The System pressed: “What unbeatable trump card does he have?”

Chu Zu focused: “He does.”

“What? What is it?”

Chu Zu: “He’s a talker.”

System: “?”

“To be precise, he’s a talker who, after killing Luciano and finding out I didn’t die, thinks Luciano and I made some deal, and his wishful thinking ruined my future, so I turned into Luciano Pro.”

System: “…”

“How’s that? All the elements are there. When I was still lost, he’d lecture at length, trying to pull me to the ‘right path.’ Now that I’m darker, he feels responsible. What do you think Tang Qi will do?”

The System said faintly: “He won’t rush to kill but, when things go south… he’ll come talk to you.”

Chu Zu nodded, satisfied: “While he’s blabbing, I’ll say the key plot lines, secure the task evaluation, and we can wrap up this job.”

“Oh, oh, oh, right, the key plot lines…”

Muttering, the System spotted a flaw.

“But you won’t be swayed by him, right? Or are you planning to provoke Tang Qi hard, make him resolve to kill you? Otherwise, with the current setup, I still can’t see how you’d lose…”

“There’s no ‘lose’ in a gambler’s dictionary.”

Chu Zu chuckled, “Earth Teacher had an interesting concept. He said Tang Qi and I are two sides of a coin. Until it lands, who knows which side’s up?”

He said: “What if we give readers an unexpected but not over-the-line ending?”