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Chapter 59
From now on, I have to keep an eye on him no matter where he is.
Dusk quickly fell, but the beach was crowded with supervision vehicles, bustling with voices and hurried footsteps.
Cameron’s people surrounded the entire scene. It took Amatullah a while to lead them in. She ordered the inspectors to bring the wreckage of the Fenrir up onto the shore, and they also lifted several bodies covered in white cloth and took them away. Various salvage boats made the sea surface as bright as daylight.
Not far away on the beach, Shen Zhuo, draped in a white coat, sat by the open back door of an ambulance, his eyes closed slightly and his face pale.
Although Rong Qi’s serum was diluted 600 times and theoretically shouldn’t have any side effects, mixing it with Yang Xiaodao’s strong A-class serum would still have an impact on the body. Moreover, the intense combat exerted too much strain on the bodies of ordinary humans. After a temporary examination, the doctor recommended that he be hospitalized for observation for two days to avoid any unforeseen events.
“Understood,” Bai Sheng stood beside Shen Zhuo and shook hands with the local medical evolutionist, expressing gratitude. “I’ll send him over later.”
The medical evolutionist nodded and was about to offer some more advice when a stretcher passed by them, the person on it covered in blood.
It was Nielsen.
The Director-General, who claimed to be the Wolf of Odin, had never looked so disheveled. After receiving emergency treatment, he was going to be airlifted to an evolutionist hospital for detention and treatment. The blood loss cast a haze over his entire face, making it difficult to tell whether he was alive or dead at first glance.
Bai Sheng coldly watched the stretcher pass by. Unexpectedly, at that moment, Nielsen’s scattered gaze fell on Shen Zhuo, and he suddenly widened his eyes as if struck by something.
Bai Sheng reached out to shield Shen Zhuo behind him, but Nielsen, almost with the fervor of someone on the brink of death, managed to spit out a few words intermittently:
“Is it… true…”
“Reproductive isolation…”
Reproductive isolation?
What was that?
The moment these words landed, Bai Sheng instinctively felt Shen Zhuo tense slightly.
But Nielsen’s voice was too difficult to discern, coupled with the dim light making it impossible to distinguish his lip movements. Bai Sheng couldn’t help but wonder if he had misheard, and he was even unable to confirm if Nielsen had said those specific words.
“—Nielsen can’t possibly be nominated for the next Director-General anymore,” a polite and smooth voice came from behind at this moment.
Bai Sheng turned around and saw Cameron standing by the ambulance, watching as Nielsen’s stretcher was taken away.
The high-ranking official of the Security Council had changed into a suit, appearing calm and composed, showing no signs of the bedraggled figure that had just come down from the helicopter. He glanced casually at Bai Sheng, then turned to Shen Zhuo.
“No matter who the new Director-General is, they won’t allow you to spend hundreds of millions of dollars a year on HRG anymore. Your little laboratory in Shenhai will only struggle more and more, becoming increasingly difficult until it’s forced to shut down again.”
“The storm is about to come, Dr. Shen,” Cameron said to Shen Zhuo with a diplomat’s hypocritical smile, gesturing with open arms. “Instead of waiting to die in Shenhai, why not let me generously open my arms to you and your researchers who are at a dead end, welcoming you to join the Security Council with HRG in a safe and stable environment to continue scientific exploration? How about it?”
But Shen Zhuo only chuckled lightly.
“HRG is not a weapon of war, Cameron,” he leaned against the back door of the ambulance, hoarsely saying, “You just want to create special forces to wage war against evolutionists. Don’t insult the words ‘safety’ and ‘stability.'”
What Cameron wanted to do the most now was actually knock Shen Zhuo out and take him away in one go, but now that the Siamese twins were connected again, he had no choice but to look at Bai Sheng again and give a perfect fake smile, showing all eight teeth.
“So, you’d rather be trapped in the shaky laboratory on the underground floor of Shenhai Hospital than give up the beautiful dream of coexistence between evolutionists and humans?”
Shen Zhuo didn’t answer; he just tiredly turned his head and leaned his head against the car door.
“…,” Cameron nodded, straightening his suit. “Well, then, I won’t waste my precious time bothering you two.”
He turned and walked toward the distant beach, but after a few steps, he suddenly stopped, turned his head, and looked Shen Zhuo up and down.
His gaze was strange, as if he were thoughtful yet impulsive. Suddenly he asked, “What did you just call me?”
“‘Cameron’,” Shen Zhuo said lightly.
“Don’t you want to know my real name?”
Shen Zhuo lifted his eyelids, calmly staring into his gray-green pupils, and said, “When we first met in Shenhai, you said your name was Elton Cameron.”
The beach not far away was bustling with noisy voices, and the lights of cars big and small were on. Cameron’s backlit expression was inscrutable, and he hummed for a while before laughing inexplicably and turning back.
“Good night, Supervisor Shen,” he said coldly and politely, walking briskly toward the salvage boat in the distance.
The waves lapped against the beach in waves, casting a dark blue hue over the sky, with a distant morning star hanging over the sea.
Cameron’s figure disappeared into the crowd, and the medical evolutionist had already left. Suddenly, only Bai Sheng and Shen Zhuo remained in this small space, with the salty breeze whistling past, carrying their respective breaths and racing toward the vast distance.
Bai Sheng turned to look at Shen Zhuo, and their eyes met.
But with just a light touch, Shen Zhuo averted his gaze without saying a word, his pale cheek visible under the dark blue light.
“…”
Bai Sheng half-knelt down, a sense of inexplicable emptiness and restlessness enveloping his mind. After a while, he found a topic:
“When are you going back to Shenhai?”
Shen Zhuo said, “Probably in two days.”
“Still hurting?”
“I can’t feel it anymore.”
It’s hard to describe this strange atmosphere, as if suddenly there were many minefields between the two. The more cautiously they were avoiding it, the more glaring and obvious it became.
The air was so thin that it was suffocating. Bai Sheng’s nails dug deeply into his palms. He suddenly remembered something and raised his hand to touch his temple, pointing to his forehead and complaining like a child:
“Look, I’m hurt.”
Under the reflection of distant headlights, a small scratch could indeed be seen on his forehead, perhaps from when he was enraged and punched Nielsen through forty meters of ice.
Shen Zhuo stared motionlessly at that incredibly familiar and handsome face, a hint of light seeming to flicker in the depths of his eyes. After a while, he reached out, wrapped his arm around Bai Sheng’s shoulder, and leaned down to press a cool and soft kiss on the wound on his forehead.
“…Sorry,” he said hoarsely, his voice trembling slightly in the wind, “This should be the last time.”
As the wind and tide roared past, Bai Sheng stood stiffly there, his whole body seemingly frozen, before finally speaking up:
“…Why, just because I pressed you for answers?”
Shen Zhuo didn’t answer.
“Because I wanted to define our relationship?” Bai Sheng’s voice rose, “Because I explicitly said I like you?!”
Shen Zhuo asked, “Why do you like me?”
Bai Sheng stared at him and demanded in a stern voice, “Then what about you? Why do you like me?!”
As if something had been completely torn apart, caught off guard, and turned into blankness, even the air froze.
One sitting, one kneeling, just inches apart—a distance where even their gaze couldn’t be avoided.
“…Five years ago, the HRG laboratory found through a series of tests that the brains of evolutionists secrete a series of neurotransmitters, causing them to automatically develop a sense of community and even form the notion of ‘we are not the same as humans.’ The secretion of these neurotransmitters in the brains of higher-level evolutionists can be thousands of times higher than in lower-level evolutionists, making them more susceptible to being driven by these chemicals.”
“Therefore, the higher the level of the evolutionist, the harder it is for them to empathize with humans or even fall in love with them.” Shen Zhuo stared at Bai Sheng’s bloodshot eyes and slowly said, “Your liking for me is a violation of your nature; it’s dopamine overcoming instinct.”
“So, I have to fall in love with someone of the same kind to obey my instincts, is that it?” Bai Sheng’s voice was trembling, “Am I just an animal in your eyes?!”
Shen Zhuo said hoarsely, “No, you’re just too special.”
Bai Sheng’s chest rose and fell rapidly, the bulging veins on the back of his hand pressing against the sand.
“Your nature is to uphold coexistence and equality, but on this path of extreme idealism, you can’t find another S-level, and you can’t find another human until you meet me. You’ve entrusted in me a hope that no one else can stand by your side, as if you’ve seen the possibility of achieving peace, so you develop this illusion similar to love.” Shen Zhuo chuckled hastily and suddenly asked, “What if there will be no peace in the future? What will you do?”
“…What are you saying?”
“If one day you have to choose between your kind and humans, what will you do?”
Bai Sheng felt like he was falling into a chaotic nightmare, “What are you talking about, Shen Zhuo, you—”
But Shen Zhuo’s voice was calm to the point of cruelty, “If I tell you that humans and evolutionists are destined not to coexist and that your idealism will one day shatter, what will you do, Bai Sheng?”
Like a heavy hammer striking his mind, Bai Sheng’s pupils dilated to the limit, staring blankly at Shen Zhuo.
In that moment, the paper Shen Ruizhen wrote more than thirty years ago, the doubts surrounding the downfall of a generation of HRG, Nielsen’s incoherent murmurs just now… all rushed into his mind.
In an incomparable state of shock and confusion, all the doubts connected into a line, forming a terrifying logical chain that had never been considered before.
Bai Sheng opened his mouth, and despite his disbelief, he heard his own voice strained and heavy:
“…Did Nielsen really say those two words, reproductive isolation?”
Shen Zhuo silently stared at him, not answering.
“Does it refer to reproductive isolation between humans and evolutionists?”
The oxygen in his lungs was rapidly depleted, and Bai Sheng saw his own panicked reflection in Shen Zhuo’s pupils.
“Even nuclear deterrence cannot guarantee eternal peace. One day in the future, evolutionists and humans will completely split into two populations and then enter a population bottleneck and naturally become extinct, right?!”
From Shen Zhuo’s icy silence, he already had the answer.
—Actually, he should have thought of it long ago.
Shen Zhuo was an extremely rational person who wouldn’t dream of maintaining peace for generations after his death just because he possessed nuclear deterrence. True peace is racial integration. Someone as resolute as Shen Zhuo should have, when faced with sudden evolution, done everything possible to spread the meteorite, allowing as many of the seven billion people as possible to evolve, and then vigorously promoted intermarriage and childbearing, even establishing sperm banks for evolutionists, to achieve global evolution within a few hundred years.
He didn’t do it; there can only be one reason.
That’s because this method simply doesn’t work.
The HRG laboratory must have discovered conclusive evidence of reproductive isolation very early on, so Shen Zhuo vigorously lobbied the global governments to completely destroy the meteorite. He knew from the beginning that it was necessary to strictly control the population of evolutionists!
“I don’t know how Nielsen found out about reproductive isolation, but I guess it’s related to Rong Qi. It probably won’t be long before he can’t hide it from you.” Shen Zhuo’s voice was very calm, with only the slightest hint of hoarseness in his tone at the end. “I’m sorry, Bai Sheng. At least it might be better if I tell you.”
“…”
“Your kind will disappear from this planet one day, maybe in two or three hundred years, maybe even longer. You think I’m a perfect deity sworn to uphold coexistence, but in reality, all I can do is try to minimize conflict and bloodshed in this process and let you peacefully move toward extinction.”
Shen Zhuo closed his eyes, and it was a moment before he opened them again, his eyes filled with red threads.
“HRG maintains a precarious facade of beauty, just like me and you. But beneath the beauty lies a ticking time bomb, destined to be torn apart in the future, so it’s better to let the end come while you still have feelings for me.”
“The storm is coming. Perhaps you will be willing to make a few more concessions for Shenhai out of old affection.” Shen Zhuo smiled, a self-deprecating arc, but his pale lips trembled slightly, calmly saying, “I’m sorry.”
Bai Sheng’s head was buzzing, watching Shen Zhuo reach out his hand, as if wanting to lean in to give him one last lingering kiss.
But then he forcibly held back, immediately stood up, and walked away.
“…Shen Zhuo,” Bai Sheng trembled all over, suddenly standing up and stumbling after him, “Shen Zhuo!”
There were only the two of them here, but not far away on the beach, there were many people, and several supervisors were simultaneously searching for voices.
Bai Sheng grabbed Shen Zhuo’s arm from behind, completely losing control of his strength in his excitement; even his senses and brain were in chaos: “No, no, I don’t agree. I don’t believe it, I—”
In a rush, a sense of discord flickered through his mind, as if there were still inconsistencies or something that didn’t make sense in Shen Zhuo’s words.
But that hint of doubt was instantly overwhelmed by even more chaotic and fiery, uncontrollable emotions.
“No, no, you can’t leave yet.” Bai Sheng was enveloped in fear of losing what was about to be lost. He couldn’t even hear what he was saying, he just instinctively tried to stop it: “You come back, we’ll think of a solution, there’s always a solution, isn’t there? What do you mean it’s over, why does it have to be over, why can’t we think of a solution? Shen Zhuo, listen to me; don’t leave yet, Shen Zhuo!!”
With a bang, Shen Zhuo was pressed down on the beach by him, shouting, “Let go!”
“What’s wrong?” “What’s going on?” “NoNoNoNoNo——”
A group of people, shocked and alarmed, rushed over and tried to pull but couldn’t move him. From a distance, Cameron drew his gun without hesitation and walked quickly, shouting sternly, “What are you doing? Let go! Or I’ll shoot!”
“WHAT THE FUUUUCK!” Amatullah rushed over, forcibly dragged Bai Sheng out of the crowd, and pulled up the disheveled Shen Zhuo with one hand: “What’s going on? Stop it!”
Even if a person who usually kept their composure lost control, it wouldn’t last long. Bai Sheng woke up as if from a dream and immediately realized his loss of control: “I’m sorry, I—”
His heart pounded uncontrollably, as if all the blood in his body was rushing to his head. Reproductive isolation, peaceful extinction, incompatibility, the end… too much explosive information turned his consciousness upside down.
I should hate this. The thought arose in his bewilderment.
At the very least, he should feel anger at being deceived.
Those shocking truths—the utilization spoken plainly, the merciless breakup, and the stormy future—all rushed at him in the sound of the waves under the night sky, engulfing all his vision and perception and turning the on-site chaos into a white blur.
—But amidst the surging waves and noisy voices, amidst all the chaotic details around him, the only thing he could see was Shen Zhuo’s slightly trembling, cold fingertips.
“Escort Supervisor Shen to the General Administration Hospital,” Amatullah sternly ordered the inspectors. “Deploy guards on duty, 24-hour shifts.”
“Yes!”
Shen Zhuo turned and walked toward the nearby helicopter, saying nothing. His back was straight, and the tension from his nape to his waist was visible at night.
He disappeared step by step from Bai Sheng’s sight.
***
The death of the Bishop of the Round Table and Nielsen’s sudden detention threw the entire International Supervision General Administration into disarray.
According to the global convention established when the Evolutionist Supervision Offices were founded, the United Nations temporarily took over the International Supervision General Administration and required the ten inspectors, except for Shen Zhuo, who was temporarily hospitalized for observation, to return to their respective jurisdictions the next day to quickly stabilize the situation.
In fact, staying any longer was meaningless. Whether by legal process or the actual situation, Nielsen was completely under the control of the Security Council. Even the second-ranked Amatullah in the bureau couldn’t insert her informants under Cameron, that old fox. There was no choice but to watch and wait.
At eleven o’clock that night, Amatullah sent a text message to Bai Sheng:
[Are you there? Come down for a drink.]
Since the unexplained conflict between Bai Sheng and Shen Zhuo in the evening, Bai Sheng had been behaving abnormally, locking himself in his room for several hours.
No one knew what this free S-class individual was thinking at the moment.
Amatullah had fought her way to her current position over many years, with ambition as her primary instinct. Her keen political sense told her that the more tumultuous the situation, the more she needed to win people over. There are no permanent enemies, only permanent interests, and now was the perfect opportunity to take the first step.
She had even prepared a long speech to persuade this person she had to win over, but unexpectedly, shortly after she sent the text message, Bai Sheng actually appeared in the hotel bar downstairs.
“Hey, everyone’s here.” There was no sign of anything unusual on Bai Sheng’s face, no trace of the despondence he had shown when facing Shen Zhuo earlier in the evening, just a bit of laziness, seemingly absent-minded: “Aren’t you all leaving tomorrow?”
There were only two or three customers in the bar. Amatullah was sitting by the bar, while Margot, Celine, and Chu Yan were chatting softly in English in a booth.
Chu Yan and Yang Xiaodao had gotten off the plane that evening. Yang Xiaodao, being tough and not needing rest, had already been sent by Bai Sheng to do something else. Chu Yan stayed at the hotel to freshen up and eat something and coincidentally ran into Amatullah and the others, who had not yet left the island.
“We’re going back to our jurisdictions tomorrow, so we’re meeting one last time tonight.” Amatullah raised her glass to Bai Sheng in greeting, not mentioning the argument between Shen Zhuo and Bai Sheng on the beach nor asking about the reason for their dispute. She simply said, “I just heard from someone that Supervisor Shen has been admitted to the hospital for observation. He seems to have summoned additional personnel from Shenhai for close protection, so there’s no safety issue.”
“Ah.” Bai Sheng said briefly, “I know.”
Amatullah scrutinized him for a moment, unsure if he was indifferent or really knew.
From the booth came the soft chatter of Chu Yan with Margot and Celine. The two female supervisors had always been in Amatullah’s faction. Margot, a particularly gentle French woman, said softly, “Your ability is empathizing with animals? That’s amazing. My fatal strike is temporarily borrowing the abilities of birds and beasts, which is relatively ordinary in combat…”
Bai Sheng sat at the bar, ordering only a glass of ice water. His expression was unclear through the glass, only his deep, dark eyes could be seen.
“Shall I get you a drink?” Amatullah asked.
Bai Sheng shook his head and said, “No need.”
“Why?”
“I need to stay sober.” Bai Sheng glanced at his watch and said, “I have something to do later.”
“…” Amatullah nodded thoughtfully, pondering for a moment before finally asking, “Now that Nielsen, who disliked you the most in this world, has fallen, what are your plans for the future?”
Bai Sheng suddenly laughed, though the smile was very brief: “What does it have to do with me? What plans could I have?”
Amatullah countered, “Maybe it could have something to do with you. Don’t you want to become a supervisor?”
This question was subtle because she didn’t specify what kind of supervisor, whether for a regular district or one of the top ten permanent positions, Shenhai or another jurisdiction; it left room for some ambiguity and maneuvering.
But Bai Sheng just quietly watched the ice floating in the glass in front of him, the bar’s lights reflecting off his sharply defined profile. After a long while, he said lightly:
“I’m not interested in your current supervision system.”
Amatullah looked away, took a sip of her drink, and laughed, “You’re only interested in our chief supervisor.”
Bai Sheng’s knife-sculpted mouth curved slightly, neither confirming nor denying it.
“Handsome, I still don’t understand.” Amatullah rested her chin on her hand, looking at him sideways with a smile, “Asia has the most evolutionists in the world, yet you, an S-class, neither go off to carve out your own territory and build your own power nor cooperate with the supervision office to advance to higher levels. Instead, you spend your days spending money to work for free at the Shenhai City Supervision Office. Is Shenhai’s charm that great?”
“…”
Bai Sheng’s face was cold and quiet. For a moment, Amatullah thought he didn’t want to answer. After a while, she heard him slowly say, “Because I’m used to it.”
“Used to what?”
“The identity and ties of being human.”
Amatullah was puzzled, but Bai Sheng lazily shook his head, seemingly helpless about his own mindset. He suddenly turned and sat sideways on the high chair, looking at Margot and the others in the booth behind him, raising his glass.
“If—I’m saying if,” he said casually in a conversational tone, “one day the world situation suddenly changes drastically, and evolutionists and humans are destined to be unable to coexist.”
Everyone involuntarily quieted down, looking at him.
“Choosing humans means that evolutionists will decrease in reproduction over the next few hundred years until they slowly disappear. The overall process is passive but leans towards peace, with fewer conflicts and clashes.”
“Choosing evolutionists means war could break out at any time, large-scale conflicts and bloodshed would be inevitable, and the number of evolutionists would increase dramatically, accompanied by mass deaths of humans. The future of Earth would most likely belong entirely to evolutionists, but there’s also a small chance that humans could defeat and annihilate us with nuclear weapons.”
Bai Sheng paused slightly, his gaze sweeping over each face around him. No one could discern the deep, indistinguishable light in the depths of his pupils.
“Which side would you choose, humans or your own kind?”
The bar’s piano music drifted melodiously, and the people in the booth looked at each other.
After a while, Amatullah frowned and said, “…What kind of extreme ethical dilemma is this? It’s completely illogical, there can’t be such an extreme—”
“It’s just a chat,” Bai Sheng said nonchalantly, “I’m just a bit curious.”
The supervisors looked at each other, and it was a full few minutes before Chu Yan’s faint voice sounded: “…Would it affect the animals on this planet?”
Bai Sheng couldn’t help but smile, thought for a moment, and said, “Probably. Once a war breaks out, many creatures on Earth would be affected.”
Chu Yan fell silent, and Celine, holding a champagne glass, laughed and said, “What an extreme question. It should be difficult for you S-classes to make such a choice. Fortunately, I, as an A-class, don’t have any alpha instincts… Hmm, I don’t like war, but if it really came to war, I definitely couldn’t stand by and watch my own kind being slaughtered. What about you?”
She sat on the sofa, swinging her feet, and pointed her toes in Amatullah’s direction.
“… Hmm,” Amatullah thoughtfully stroked her chin and slowly said, “We’re no longer the same species as humans. In a situation of life and death, one would generally choose their own kind, right?”
Bai Sheng raised an eyebrow and asked, “Have all your family and friends evolved?”
Amatullah slyly countered, “Does a war breaking out mean all humans have to die?”
She didn’t say it explicitly, but Bai Sheng knew what she meant. Amatullah, as a high-ranking chief supervisor, had the ability to protect her family in any situation. Even if her family hadn’t evolved, they would certainly survive in the chaos, so it wasn’t really a problem.
“Humans.” Fellow S-class Margot, leaning on the sofa, smiled and said, “I choose humans.”
Bai Sheng asked, “Why?”
“My daughter can’t evolve. We tried meteorites on her at birth.” Margot paused, then looked down with a faint smile, “No one wants their child to grow up in a war, right?”
Amatullah seemed moved; her expression was confused and lost. After a while, she nodded and sighed, saying nothing more.
“What about you, daughter?” Bai Sheng turned to Chu Yan.
Chu Yan leaned against the armrest of the booth, with one shoulder being hugged by Margot. Her white canine tooth bit at the corner of her mouth. After hesitating for a while, she said, “…The calico cat I feed in my neighborhood is about to give birth. If a war breaks out, I probably won’t get to see the kittens being born, right?”
Perhaps because she was speaking in front of so many high-ranking peers and chief sup, Chu Yan couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as she spoke of these trivial matters: “And also my relatives and old classmates, friends from the rescue group, the welfare center where I volunteered… If we can’t coexist with humans, does that mean a part of my life will disappear too?”
No one made a sound; only the faint sounds of breathing could be heard.
“Maybe it’s because I’m only B-class, but sometimes I think… I was born and grew up as a human until now.”
Chu Yan was somewhat confused and said softly, “Can those human ties really be let go just like that? I… I don’t know either.”
The light beside her dimmed, the bar was silent, and the Carpenters’ “Yesterday Once More” flowed through the air. In Bai Sheng’s eyes, the transparent ice floating in the glass was reflected.
Amidst the distant sound of the waves, Shen Zhuo’s voice seemed to echo in his ears: “…Five years ago, the HRG laboratory found through a series of tests that the brains of evolutionists secrete a series of neurotransmitters, causing them to automatically develop a sense of community and even form the notion of ‘we are not the same as humans.’ The higher the evolutionary level, the more likely they are to be driven by this chemical substance…”
That helpless, desolate tone, enveloped in the overwhelming roar of the rising tide, grew louder and more distinct, increasingly impossible to ignore, until it became a moment of enlightenment amidst a chaotic soul.
Chemical substances.
Bai Sheng suddenly closed his eyes, half his face illuminated by the light, the other half shrouded in indistinct shadows.
“…Did I say something wrong?” Chu Yan’s voice broke through the silence, sounding a bit anxious.
Bai Sheng opened his eyes, and took a deep, long breath, as if to completely clear away all the chaotic thoughts and confusion.
Then he turned around with a smile, reached out from his high chair, and vigorously ruffled Chu Yan’s hair.
“No, you’re right. Look at my daughter; her brain is in good shape.” He said, “Untainted thoughts are the best.”
The young girl couldn’t dodge in time, and her hair was messed up. Amid the loud protests from Margot and Celine, Bai Sheng withdrew his hand, glanced at his watch, and with one long stride, got off the high chair: “It’s midnight, I’ve got things to do.”
Amatullah asked in surprise, “Where are you going?”
“The hospital.”
“You were just held at gunpoint, and you’re still going? There are so many guards around Shen Zhuo!”
“Well.” Bai Sheng said casually, “I’ve learned my lesson; from now on, I have to keep an eye on him no matter where he is.”
He waved nonchalantly and then walked toward the bar door with his hands in his pockets. Amatullah watched his tall, nonchalant figure recede and shouted with her hand cupped around her mouth, “That’s called stalking!…”
Bai Sheng chuckled briefly and disappeared into the night without looking back.
***
00:15 AM.
Evolutionist Special Hospital.
Outside the window of a room on the top floor of the hospital, Yang Xiaodao leaned against the outer wall of the building, blending silently into the shadows of the night as he gazed up at the dazzling Milky Way.
Beside him was a brightly lit hospital window, through which faint conversations could be heard. Shen Zhuo was inside, speaking softly to Shui Ronghua and others who had rushed from Shenhai: “… Take the strictest precautionary measures. If the information leaks out, extreme evolutionist groups worldwide will attack the meteorite storage bases of various countries, and the situation will spiral out of control…”
Shui Ronghua noted everything he said, “Got it. You should rest early too. Anything else?”
“…”
Shen Zhuo didn’t respond immediately.
In the distance, the night insects chirped intermittently. Inside the quiet hospital room, it seemed they could hear faint breathing.
Yang Xiaodao couldn’t help but glance toward the window. It was then he heard Shen Zhuo’s calm, hoarse voice:
“… Your Bai-ge has a scratch on his forehead. Tomorrow, let Witch Italdo take a look at it to make sure there is no scarring.”
“I won’t go see him.”
Yang Xiaodao was puzzled, thinking to himself, Bai Sheng’s forehead is scratched? I didn’t notice.
As he was thinking this and about to turn back, he was almost startled.
Just two meters away, separated by the brightly lit hospital window, a side silhouette appeared at the other end of the cement window ledge. A long leg dangled casually in the air, an elbow rested on a bent knee, and the back of his head leaned against the brick wall of the hospital building as he squinted at the boundless night sky.
It was Bai Sheng.
“Understood,” Shui Ronghua replied inside the room.
Footsteps rustled as several subordinates left the room. Before leaving, Shui Ronghua turned off the overhead light, leaving only the small lamp by Shen Zhuo’s bedside lit. She was about to exit the door but paused.
“Shen Zhuo,” she said, turning back at the doorframe, her voice gentle and warm: “You know, even if Bai Sheng knows about future reproductive isolation, he would still choose to maintain the current peace. He wouldn’t become a radical war advocate because of it. Right?”
Bai Sheng’s deep profile was shrouded in the night. After a moment, Shen Zhuo’s indifferent voice came from the room: “I know.”
“Then there’s no need to push him away…”
“What should I do?” Shen Zhuo countered, “Stand by and watch as he gets closer and closer to the HRG plan?”
Shui Ronghua suddenly fell silent, struggling for a moment before saying hesitantly, “Actually… even if you told him that truth as well, I think he still wouldn’t…”
What truth?
Yang Xiaodao, bewildered, caught the keyword and looked at Bai Sheng in confusion, only to see Bai Sheng glancing at the night sky and making a hand gesture.
It meant “you should go.”
Yang Xiaodao: “?”
Bai Sheng waved his hand and mouthed, “Go rest.”
“…”
In fact, when Yang Xiaodao had been sent here, Bai Sheng had already told him to change shifts at half past midnight. The young man blinked, not understanding but obediently acknowledging, before diving into the boundless night like a swift falcon, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Now, only Bai Sheng’s silhouette remained on the cement windowsill. He slightly turned his head, looking at the amber glow of the window beside him.
So close, it seemed he could touch it if he reached out.
“…Don’t bring this up again.” After what felt like an eternity, Shen Zhuo’s cold response came from inside the room.
“Seeking companionship in life is inherently a selfish desire.”
Shui Ronghua’s sigh drifted away on the night wind as she left the room and gently closed the door.
The vast night sky was silent, and the distant sea was marked by a lone lighthouse. Time seemed to stretch interminably.
Bai Sheng leaned his entire back against the wall, listening to the faint rustling sounds from within, suggesting Shen Zhuo had laid down. He could even hear Shen Zhuo’s deep, exhausted breathing.
It felt as if the entire world had been reduced to that single breath, rising and falling with the tide, merging with the beating of Bai Sheng’s heart.
He wasn’t surprised at all.
He had long suspected Shen Zhuo was hiding part of the truth.
When he first learned about the secret of reproductive isolation from Shen Zhuo, Bai Sheng had already sensed something strange—because everyone privy to the HRG’s information seemed excessively fearful, almost unnaturally so.
Currently, there were only about 100,000 evolved individuals worldwide. Most lower-ranked evolutionists, like Chu Yan, actually had no desire to wage war against humanity. Even among the S and A classes, there were a few staunch anti-war individuals like Margot. Attitudes like Celine’s—ambivalent and adaptable—formed the majority.
Racial wars are the result of accumulated tensions reaching a tipping point. It was evident to anyone that even if the secret of reproductive isolation set to occur two or three centuries from now were immediately revealed, the greatest crisis would only be radical groups attempting to seize meteorite reserves. The likelihood of a global war breaking out was near zero.
Why, then, did Shen Zhuo hastily and abruptly reject him?
Why did he, so uncharacteristically, go to such lengths to push away someone who could clearly be an asset, an S-class?
Bai Sheng furrowed his brows, recalling the first time Cameron appeared. At that time, he and Shen Zhuo had just broken free from a daydream, waking up in the HRG lab on the B1 level of the Shanghai hospital, only to receive news that Nielsen was critically injured, his fate uncertain. It was then that Cameron burst in with his team, fully armed and confrontational, claiming the HRG experiments conducted in Shanghai were illegal and demanding Shen Zhuo be taken away immediately.
At that time, the entire lab’s researchers crowded behind Shen Zhuo, each pair of eyes flickering with concealed fear. Bai Sheng had initially thought the scientists were afraid of the armed confrontation.
Only today did he realize that it wasn’t the guns and bullets they feared.
These researchers had written their wills before entering the HRG. Three years ago, Shen Zhuo had nearly been tortured to death, forcing these individuals to hastily destroy experimental data and flee to Shanghai under the cover of night. They had faced many dangers and braved numerous storms, far too many to be frightened by Cameron’s display of force alone.
They were afraid of something else.
—In this vast genetic project spanning 30 years, suspended like a steel wire, there was a core, profound truth hidden within. A truth more critical than reproductive isolation, more important than their own lives.
Whether it was Shen Zhuo or the other researchers, they all resisted outsiders approaching this truth, always vigilant, which explained the many inconsistent and unusual details.
What was this secret?
The breathing inside the window behind him grew steady and long, as if finding temporary peace in the midst of a long, tumultuous journey.
Bai Sheng sat quietly on the outer windowsill, just a wall away, within reach. His heartbeat and breath gradually synchronized, resonating with Shen Zhuo’s, as if the uncontrollable string within his soul vibrated in harmony with the other’s.
Carrying a spark through the darkness, facing an empty, desolate future. He lay back with his hands behind his head, gazing at the night sky. A sudden thought occurred to him: In this way, I am accompanying him, am I not?
The light night breeze drifted toward the sea. Bai Sheng glanced at the dim window, raising his hand to brush his fingers through the air, as if tracing the familiar, unconscious face in sleep. After a long moment, he sighed softly and tenderly.
***
Meanwhile, over a dozen miles away on the sea.
Huge waves roared and crashed against the rocks, lifting icy sprays. Several high-ranking evolved subordinates stood respectfully behind, while Rong Qi’s figure hovered in mid-air, gazing at the hospital building in the distant night, raising an eyebrow and muttering to himself:
“Guarded so tightly…”
A subordinate frowned and asked for instructions, “Should we wait for that Bai Sheng to leave, Mr. Rong?”
“He won’t leave.” Rong Qi shook his head, somewhat wistful, and turned around, “Let’s go. At least we still have one target, not a complete loss.”
The subordinates followed closely behind, hearing Rong Qi’s lazy laughter fading into the sea breeze, “That Director-General should be much easier…”
Several figures soon disappeared over the sea, merging silently into the night, as if they had never been there.
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