Extra Story 1: Shadow
Li Feng stood at the mouth of a tunnel on the edge of the forest. Below him lay the remnants of the completely withered black jungle. The visible changes in Yun City had all started with the appearance of the nest here.
Now everything had vanished. The above-ground portion of the black jungle had been cleared, leaving behind a mottled blackness that looked as if scorched by a wildfire.
Few healthy green trees remained, and they all looked somewhat frail. The Urban Construction Bureau wanted to remove them altogether—it would save time and reduce operational difficulty.
But Li Feng insisted on preserving every green tree that could still survive. He had them fenced off.
Because Yun City was a mining site, there were hardly any plants inside or outside the city. Li Feng had always wanted a bit of fresh greenery. The cleared forest land would be used to build residential areas, and with these preserved trees, there would be no need to plant new ones.
“We could actually assign more people to live in the inner city,” Chen Dang said. “These newly built residential points are consuming a lot of resources.”
“We can’t move anyone else into the inner city,” Li Feng replied. “I’ve already cleared out more than half the private storage. If we bring in more outsiders, things will get messy. No matter how weak this group is, they’ve been the cornerstone of Yun City for years. We can move them, but not like that.”
“Mm.” Chen Dang gave a quiet response.
“You never insist on your own opinions, do you?” Li Feng said.
“Mostly because you insist so strongly,” Chen Dang said, then paused and added, “and you make more sense.”
“Even bioroids can suck up,” Li Feng said.
Chen Dang chuckled. “Want to hear another compliment?”
“Go on,” said Li Feng.
“You may not be the smartest human out there…” Chen Dang said.
Li Feng glanced at him. “Just figured that out?”
“But you really do understand humans. And you understand bioroids that come very close to being human,” Chen Dang continued.
“I just understand myself,” Li Feng said. “Human nature is all the same—it’s just a matter of whether people admit it.”
Chen Dang looked out over the mountains and forest. “Have you always been in Yun City?”
“Yeah,” Li Feng pointed north. “I grew up over there, in the inner city’s collective childcare center.”
“There was a place like that?” Chen Dang looked surprised.
“We were the last batch,” Li Feng said. “They shut it down after we grew up. Couldn’t even gather ten kids anymore.”
“You don’t have parents?” Chen Dang asked.
“Nope, I’m a bioroid,” Li Feng replied.
Chen Dang laughed. “Never met them?”
“Nope,” Li Feng answered bluntly, then paused and added, “Maybe I have. I think I might have. But I hope I haven’t.”
“What do you mean?” Chen Dang asked.
Li Feng didn’t answer.
When he was about ten years old—maybe a little older, or younger—the city defense bureau’s reserve patrol was out. The team was made up of kids around the same age. Back then, his dream was to join the city defense and become a full patrol officer.
The reserve patrol followed the same route as the official team, staying about two or three hundred meters behind. They patrolled along the northern forest edge, then westward, all the way to the tunnel entrance of the outer city.
When a few suspected infectees appeared, he was still immersed in his fantasy of future patrol work.
The people who emerged from the forest didn’t look infected at first glance, but their expressions and posture clearly showed signs.
No one in the reserve had ever encountered an actual infectee. Everyone panicked.
It was his first time seeing those unfocused, dazed eyes—eyes filled with a chilling aura of death.
While the other kids fled in panic, two of the figures—seemingly with purpose—walked toward him.
Their skin hadn’t changed color yet, but low, raspy moans came from their throats.
He drew his gun and aimed at the two approaching figures.
In his mind were clear rules about infectee contact—how close was dangerous, what kinds of contact posed risks, living body, fungus, death…
He pulled the trigger.
Two shots. One man and one woman, both suspected infectees, fell to the ground in succession, each shot hitting between the eyebrows. Black blood flowed over their faces—a result of months of firearms training.
But just before the woman fell, in the middle of her moaning, she uttered a clear word:
“Feng.”
Li Feng frowned. What he was never able to confirm was that word.
Did he really hear it? And if he did, was that really the word?
He’d never asked about his parents. He only vaguely knew they were assigned personnel from outside Yun City. He had no memories of ever meeting them, and never saw them again throughout his life.
“Director Li.” Chen Dang’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Li Feng looked at him.
Chen Dang pointed to the small comms device hovering nearby—a call had come through.
“Director Li,” said Qu Shen’s voice, “the trial lesson for the teacher is ready. It’ll start in about twenty minutes. The Education Bureau folks are already here.”
“On my way,” Li Feng turned to leave. “Put me in a corner seat, away from their people.”
“Got it,” said Qu Shen.
“What’s going on?” Chen Dang asked.
“A semi-literate man doesn’t want to sit too close to them,” Li Feng said.
“Huh?” Chen Dang glanced at him.
“Just robbed their private warehouse,” Li Feng said. “Feeling a little guilty. Don’t know what to say. The order came from Mr. Long, but I was the one who did the dirty work.”
“Wow,” said Chen Dang.
“Don’t learn from those degenerates,” Li Feng said.
The school in the outer city had been built. Once the trial class went smoothly, it would officially open. They’d already enrolled quite a few students, even some from the inner city.
But not all students were kids—in fact, most weren’t. Many were young adults, and even some in their thirties or forties.
As long as you were willing to study, Yun City’s schools would take you.
When Li Feng entered the classroom, the one standing at the podium was Li Rui.
The kid didn’t seem nervous at all. A bunch of “cultured types” sat below, yet he stood up there relaxed.
“Have you all read the Four Great Classics?” Li Rui asked. “Any classical poetry?”
“No,” Li Feng replied from the corner, answering for everyone.
“That’s a pretty weak foundation,” Li Rui said.
“We’re all illiterate, Teacher Li,” Li Feng said. “I recommend starting with the alphabet.”
“I looked at the student roster,” Li Rui said. “There are a lot of adults. At first, learning characters is boring. We should start with stories—learn a few words from each story.”
Li Feng raised an eyebrow. “Not bad.”
“Then let’s begin with a simple one today,” Li Rui turned and started writing on the whiteboard. “Grass.”
“Don’t swear,” Li Feng said. “Keep it civil.”
Li Rui turned to glance at him. “Director Li, please don’t disrupt class discipline.”
“He’s not swearing,” Chen Dang whispered in Li Feng’s ear. “Grass. Plant.”
“Boundless grasses over the plain, wither and flourish every year, wildfires burn them down, yet in spring, they thrive once more…” Li Rui recited as he wrote. “Their fragrance creeps along the ancient path, verdant green meets the desolate city, once again sending the noble off—endless is this feeling of farewell.”
“This kid’s handwriting,” Li Feng whispered behind his hand to Chen Dang, “not bad, right?”
“Yeah, writing on a board is even harder,” said Chen Dang.
“Who taught him?” Li Feng asked. “Just his sister?”
Li Feng had met Li Xia twice. It was clear she was a literate refugee. But still—just a refugee. Teaching Li Rui to this level couldn’t have been easy.
Wei Yuan was also educated, but Qiu Shi had followed him for twenty years and still didn’t write properly.
“Jiang Cheng,” Chen Dang said. “A service-type bioroid.”
“Not on the roster,” Li Feng said.
“He didn’t come,” Chen Dang said. “Stayed in Benquan.”
“Oh.” Li Feng nodded.
“You remember every name on the roster?” Chen Dang asked.
“Of course not. I’m not that smart, even for a human,” Li Feng replied. “But if you say a name, I can pretty much tell you if it’s there or not.”
Chen Dang chuckled.
“Director Li, Brother Chen Dang,” Li Rui called their names, “you two, out.”
Everyone from the Education Bureau sitting in front turned their heads to look at them.
“Hm?” Li Feng looked at Li Rui.
“Disrupting the class.” Li Rui said.
“Teacher Li Rui,” someone from the Education Bureau spoke up, “you might want to be a bit more—”
“No problem,” Li Feng stood up, “Teacher Li is doing great. Let’s step outside and talk.”
“It’s not for talking—it’s for standing as punishment.” Li Rui lifted his chin and looked at them.
“I…” Li Feng seemed to recall a corpse collector who used to give him a hard time. He paused before nodding. “All right.”
Chen Dang looked at him.
“Let’s go,” Li Feng walked toward the hallway, “punishment it is.”
Chen Dang followed him out, and the two stood side by side in the corridor, looking down at the playground below.
“Qiu Shi left,” Li Feng lit a cigarette and bit down on it, “and now here comes Li Rui. This kid has got to be his real little brother.”
Chen Dang chuckled. “Qiu Shi sent another postcard early this morning. He’s reached the outskirts of the second city. Might need to stay there a couple of days to search. The progress is pretty much what we estimated—should be back in a little over two months.”
“Let him enroll in school.” Li Feng said.
“He probably won’t agree,” said Chen Dang. “Xing Bi can teach him too.”
“Forget it,” said Li Feng. “How long has Xing Bi been mixed up with him? What has he taught him? He’s already been led astray himself. You bio-forms aren’t much help either.”
“Well, we always use humans as reference models,” said Chen Dang.
“Who’s your reference?” asked Li Feng.
“Right now?” Chen Dang thought for a moment. “No one.”
Li Feng looked at him silently, cigarette between his lips.
“It was supposed to be you,” Chen Dang leaned on the corridor railing, watching the people below clean up the playground, “but you’re too complicated.”
“Me, complicated?” Li Feng smiled.
“Yeah. You look simple—just want to survive,” said Chen Dang. “Just want the world to keep moving the way it should.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Li Feng said.
“It is—but it’s not easy,” Chen Dang said. “You use the most complicated aspects of human nature to do the simplest things.”
Li Feng stayed silent.
“Qiu Shi is a very pure human—sincere, passionate, direct, determined,” said Chen Dang. “You admire him, because he’s the other side of you.”
“You know what a lot of people say about me?” Li Feng glanced at him.
“No, but I can guess,” Chen Dang smiled. “Cold-blooded. Ruthless. Manipulative… I could list a bunch.”
“Too many sins to count,” said Li Feng.
“You know idioms?” Chen Dang looked a bit surprised.
“What, you think I’m illiterate?” Li Feng said.
“…Yes.” Chen Dang answered honestly.
“There are still a few books in Yun City. Not many,” Li Feng said. “I used to read a bit now and then.”
“Don’t use those kinds of phrases to describe yourself,” said Chen Dang.
“I was summarizing your description.” Li Feng said.
“When someone stands in the light, there’s always someone in the dark behind them,” Chen Dang said. “Qiu Shi is the hero standing in the light—even if he doesn’t want to be. And you’re the shadow behind him. One day, if someone opens the history of Yun City, you might not even appear in the villain section.”
“I don’t care about that stuff.” Li Feng said.
“Mm,” Chen Dang nodded. “That’s what makes you compelling.”
Li Feng didn’t reply, just gave him a glance.
“Here, this is for you.” Chen Dang took out a small object from his pocket and handed it over. “A scavenger brought it in for gear. Found it in one of the camps at Zone 249.”
Li Feng took a look. It was metal, fairly heavy in the hand, a small golden dog about half a palm in size.
“A trinket. Doesn’t have any real use,” said Chen Dang. “I think you need something like this—useless, meaningless, just good-looking and fun.”
Li Feng stared at the little dog in his palm for a while, then said, “Chen Dang.”
“Yeah?” Chen Dang responded.
“Don’t leave your weakness so exposed,” said Li Feng. “People will use it against you.”
“Class dismissed!” came Li Rui’s voice from inside.
Li Feng glanced at the time—fifteen minutes.
“Just fifteen minutes for a class?” He had planned to give Teacher Li some face by standing there for at least half an hour. Didn’t expect class to be that short.
“Time set by Qu Shen,” said Chen Dang. “These people—refugees, drifters—most have never been disciplined. Can’t sit long. Hard for their minds to absorb too much info all at once. One story, one poem, a few characters per session—that’s more appropriate.”
“Fair enough,” Li Feng said, turning to look at Li Rui as he exited the classroom. “Teacher Li, how did it feel?”
“Sorry, Director Li, Brother Chen Dang,” Li Rui jogged over. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you—it was just a demo class, right? The guy from the bureau told me to treat it like the real thing.”
“He wasn’t wrong,” Li Feng said. “You did well.”
“What if the drifters don’t listen?” Chen Dang asked. “Not everyone’s as obedient as me and Director Li.”
“I’ve got my own methods,” Li Rui squinted slightly. “I know how to handle them.”
Li Feng laughed. “That’s a vicious look in your eyes.”
“Ah,” Li Rui scratched his head awkwardly, “Director Li, any postcards for me?”
“There are,” Li Feng sighed, glancing at Chen Dang. “Sent this morning. Fresh postcard.”
Chen Dang tossed a little pet drone into the air, projecting a photo onto the wall.
No people in the picture—just Qiu Shi and Xing Bi’s car parked at an angle at the foot of a bridge. On the other side of the bridge stood a scattered skyline, buildings of various heights, and a rising sun in the gap between them.
One sentence was written at the bottom:
“I stand in the present, my heart toward the horizon.”
“This must’ve been taken by Brother Xing Bi. He probably came up with the line too,” said Li Rui. “Brother Shi doesn’t have that kind of poetic flair.”
“Be more tactful. You’re not a bio-form,” said Li Feng.
What Li Rui said wasn’t wrong, though. In the first video sent back on day one, Qiu Shi had opened with “Hi everyone, I’m Big-Head Li,” which left a strong impression on Li Feng, instantly dragging him back to those rough early days.
After leaving the school, Li Feng told the driver to head straight for the lab. Zheng Ting’s fungus eradication experiment had been running for days. He basically visited every day to check the status.
Zheng Ting was very important to people like Xing Bi—especially after what happened with the clone at the research institute. To them, Zheng Ting wasn’t just their former team leader, not just a comrade. He was a symbol of something.
As the car reached the exhibition hall entrance, the pet drone alerted them to a call from Mr. Long.
“Mr. Long.” Li Feng switched the call to his headset.
“Director Li, please come to my office when you have a moment,” Mr. Long’s voice sounded tired. “I have something I’d like to discuss.”
“I’ll head over now.” Li Feng gestured to the driver.
The driver turned the car around.
“No rush,” Mr. Long’s tone was gentle, with a subtle trace of humility. “Come when you’re free.”
“I’m free now.” Li Feng ended the call.
“Am I going too?” Chen Dang asked. “Should I go to the lab first?”
“Come with me,” Li Feng said. “I need someone nearby to give me ideas.”
“You mean to offer suggestions you’ll 100% shoot down,” Chen Dang corrected.
Li Feng laughed. “To have someone beside me to prove that I’m right.”
Mr. Long sat behind his desk, hands clasped and resting on the surface, looking at him.
Two Level-2 Sub-Sentinels stood at his sides—his 24-hour bodyguards, arranged by Li Feng.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Long?” Li Feng sat down across from him.
“My health’s been deteriorating,” said Mr. Long. “My energy’s fading. Guess I’m getting old.”
Li Feng watched him in silence.
“I asked you here because I need to talk about finding someone to…” Mr. Long didn’t finish.
Li Feng interrupted: “Mr. Long, Curator Wu will arrange for a full physical exam and provide the best possible treatment plan.”
“I’m trying to say…” Mr. Long looked at him, “I’m at retirement age now.”
“None of the former company leaders ever retired at the official age,” Li Feng said. “You won’t either. Yun City needs you. This chaotic world that’s just beginning to improve needs you.”
“Li Feng,” Mr. Long leaned forward, glaring, “don’t force me to lose my temper.”
“You can lose your temper whenever you want,” Li Feng said.
“I want to step down. Yun City doesn’t need me. This world doesn’t need me. The only one who needs me is you,” said Mr. Long. “A puppet. A scapegoat puppet for you.”
“And the one enjoying everyone’s respect right now is also you,” said Chen Dang.
“I don’t want it!” Mr. Long glared at Li Feng. “I want to quit! I’ve had enough!”
“All decisions are copied to your office,” said Li Feng. “If you have any objections, you can raise them at any time. If I do anything wrong, you can point it out whenever you want.”
“So what?” Mr. Long leaned back in his chair. “So what?”
“As long as people aren’t disappointed in you,” said Li Feng, “you are the leader of Yun City. The one they trust.”
Mr. Long stayed silent.
“But don’t worry—decisions won’t always be right. They won’t always win hearts,” said Li Feng. “One day, people will be disappointed in you. When that day comes, you can get sick, step down, even die, if you want.”
Mr. Long laughed. “Li Feng, you’re something else.”
“Thank you for your guidance, Mr. Long.” Li Feng stood up, bowed, and walked out of the office.
