When Qiu Shi and Xing Bi returned to the warehouse hut, Deng Yeye was pushing her grandfather, ready to leave.
Grandpa sat in the wheelchair as if in deep meditation, his gaze fixed somewhere behind each person, focused on something unseen.
“Still like that?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Mm.” Deng Yeye nodded.
Xing Bi gently placed his fingertips on Grandpa’s wrist.
“He probably won’t wake up again,” the old man in the corner said. “Might just sit there blankly until his body completely shuts down.”
“Where are you planning to take him?” Qiu Shi asked Deng Yeye.
“He’s been hiding in an abandoned vegetable cellar in a village outside town,” Deng Yeye replied. “He asked me to destroy the central system after he dies, and then blow up the cellar.”
“He… did he choose the cellar himself?” Qiu Shi asked. “I can talk to someone and arrange a more comfortable place.”
“No need,” Deng Yeye said. “Everyone’s busy right now. I picked the cellar. He told me long ago—just toss him out. Once the system is destroyed, he’ll cease to exist. That body won’t be him anymore. Everything will have nothing to do with him.”
“I get it.” Qiu Shi nodded.
Deng Yeye took out her personal pet device and tapped it against the one on Qiu Shi’s leg. “Contact me if anything comes up. You’ll leave Yun City territory eventually—you’ll need me. I won’t be far.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Qiu Shi looked at her. “My kin are using you to monitor me?”
“Mm.” Deng Yeye smiled. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
As she pushed Grandpa away, Qiu Shi leaned against the wall and sighed.
“Is Grandpa really going to stay like that until he dies?” he asked the old man.
“He died a long time ago,” the old man said. “From the moment his love turned into a single person, he was already gone. The years after that were just him waiting to disappear completely.”
Qiu Shi didn’t respond.
“Aren’t you two leaving yet?” At some point, the old man had slid off his chair onto a floor mat and was now lying there as if about to sleep.
“You’ve got no advice left? No new ideas?” Qiu Shi asked him.
“I think your brain’s a bit fried,” the old man said. “You can’t process new information anymore. Go to sleep, corpse collector.”
“Let’s go.” Xing Bi placed a hand on Qiu Shi’s shoulder and guided him back a step.
Qiu Shi turned and left the hut with him, closing the door behind them.
Xima Town was calm again. Searchlights occasionally swept across, and distant, steady footsteps of patrolling soldiers could be heard—uneven, but steady. Once in a while, a few indistinct words came through the walkie-talkies.
Qiu Shi looked up. The weather wasn’t bad—no snow, no wind—but the clouds were thick, hiding the moon.
“Back to the dorm?” Xing Bi asked.
“I can’t sleep,” Qiu Shi said. “The old man’s not wrong. My mind’s a mess. I’ve probably used my brain more in these few days than in my whole life combined. And when you think about it, not that much has happened. Why does it feel so…”
“A brand-new brain feels like that when it starts running,” Xing Bi said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Qiu Shi turned to look at him.
“Sleep?” Xing Bi asked. “We’re heading back to Yun City tomorrow.”
“Then I definitely can’t sleep,” Qiu Shi glanced up at the second floor. “If I fall asleep now, I probably won’t wake up tomorrow. I’ll be out cold all day…”
“Then sleep all day,” Xing Bi said. “You’ve got nerve damage that needs rest. Ever since the lab reopened, you’ve barely slept. You even… did physical labor.”
Qiu Shi didn’t respond. He paused a moment, then laughed softly, voice lowered: “Are all you bioroids like this? No sense of shame?”
“When it comes to this stuff, maybe we really are different from humans,” Xing Bi said.
They wandered the empty streets for a while. It was still cold, and eventually Qiu Shi decided to head back to the second-floor dorm of the supermarket to rest. He was definitely tired—so tired he could barely hold on.
The first floor was still occupied by Squad Two. After returning, they’d gone straight to the old man’s place. None of them knew he and Xing Bi were back yet.
They crept up the stairs quietly. As soon as they reached the second floor, someone stepped out from the bioroids’ dorm.
“It’s me and Xing Bi,” Qiu Shi said quietly.
“Mm.” Someone responded and returned to the dorm.
These bioroids had come over when they attacked the symbiote camp. For now, they were all stationed in Xima Town. In a few days, they’d be sent to various points along the defense line at Shidi and Zhuyuan.
Qiu Shi didn’t even know most of their names.
But now that all the bioroids were finally being activated, they were no longer a rare few. Eventually, they’d be just like regular soldiers. Among those who’d fought together in Xima Town, Qiu Shi couldn’t recall many names beyond Squad Two and the corpse collectors. Only faces.
In his memory, behind every door, how many faces had passed through his twenty-odd years of life?
Back in the room, knowing the floor was filled with bioroids with acute hearing, Qiu Shi even held back from casually tossing his clothes to the ground.
Xing Bi, on the other hand, shrugged off his coat and flung it to the floor with a loud whoosh, then turned on the heating lamp.
“You…” Qiu Shi looked at him.
“That’s a normal amount of noise,” Xing Bi said. “What are you being so guilty about?”
“I’m just asking, can they hear us talking?” Qiu Shi said.
“They can hear bits and pieces, not everything,” Xing Bi replied.
“Exactly,” Qiu Shi said, opening the wardrobe. It seemed someone had prepped it with fresh clothes for their return. “So shouldn’t we be careful?”
“Do you have any shameful noises to worry about?” Xing Bi leaned against the wardrobe door, standing right behind him.
Even through the clothes, Qiu Shi could feel his body heat. He reached back and touched Xing Bi’s waist—warm, smooth skin.
“You…” Qiu Shi tugged at the hem of his shirt and took it off.
There was even a pack of cigarettes in the wardrobe. He took it out and looked at it. Xima Town’s hospitality—thoughtful, sure, but also lacking. The pack had been opened. But when he saw the small fingernail mark on the edge of the box, he burst out laughing: “Fu-ck.”
“What?” Xing Bi wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Qiu Shi’s shoulder.
“Zhao Lü left this,” Qiu Shi showed him the mark. “He always makes a little dent here after opening a pack.”
“Why does he press it?” Xing Bi asked.
“Supplies are hard to come by in the outer cities. When you get something nice, you need to mark it somehow,” Qiu Shi chuckled. “Like signing your name…”
“Why not just sign your name?” Xing Bi asked.
“Come on,” Qiu Shi said. “If you asked me to write my own name now, I’d have to think about it. Making a dent’s way easier.”
As soon as Qiu Shi finished speaking, Xing Bi pinched his earlobe.
“You bastard!” Qiu Shi cursed. That pinch wasn’t light. His earlobe was already getting hot. He reached up and felt it swelling.
“Marking you,” Xing Bi said.
“Your brain really is fresh off the line,” Qiu Shi said helplessly. “That fingernail dent was Zhao Lü’s habit!”
Xing Bi didn’t reply—just smiled, then bit down on Qiu Shi’s shoulder.
Hard. As if trying to leave a mark that would never fade.
“Ah…” Qiu Shi gritted his teeth and whispered, “Hurts—hurts, damn it…”
Xing Bi finally let go and traced the bite with his fingertip: “Nice and round. My teeth are in good shape.”
“Are you short-circuiting?” Qiu Shi turned his head to look at him. “Did Curator Wu secretly pry open your brain and pour wine inside without me knowing?”
Xing Bi laughed: “Does it hurt?”
“Of course!” Qiu Shi said, “I’m a human, and what you bit is called flesh! Flesh hurts when bitten!”
Xing Bi said nothing, then gently kissed his shoulder, and his tongue touched the teeth marks.
Qiu Shi fell silent and just turned his head to look at him.
Because of the pain, the skin where the bite was became very sensitive. When the tongue traced circles around the teeth marks, the gentle touch could be clearly felt.
Qiu Shi felt that his nerves probably weren’t badly damaged—very sensitive, even able to pick up the slightest warmth and moisture.
“Does it still hurt?” Xing Bi asked, turning his head to look at him.
“It can only not hurt anymore,” Qiu Shi said.
Xing Bi smiled.
“Am I—” Qiu Shi hesitated, “are you—”
“Hm?” Xing Bi responded.
Qiu Shi turned around and hugged him, gently stroking his waist: “Why don’t you answer first?”
“That kind of answer can’t be rushed,” Xing Bi said, “I really don’t know what you want to say.”
“Am I—” Qiu Shi chuckled at his own hesitance, “damn, did I hurt you?”
“No,” Xing Bi said.
“Are you blocking pain?” Qiu Shi’s fingers pressed under his chin to lift it up.
“No way,” Xing Bi said, “this kind of thing, even getting stabbed wouldn’t be blocked.”
“This already feels like getting stabbed,” Qiu Shi laughed, “and I didn’t even really bite you hard!”
“Your volume,” Xing Bi said, “they can really hear it.”
“Damn.” Qiu Shi was stunned.
Xing Bi smiled and pulled him back, lying down on the bed.
Qiu Shi was pulled down, fell on top of him, and without caring about anything else, kissed him fiercely twice.
Xing Bi rolled over to pin him down, his hand reaching down.
Qiu Shi’s breath stopped for two seconds: “Now?”
“Hmm?” Xing Bi buried his face in Qiu Shi’s neck and responded.
“I mean you now—” Qiu Shi didn’t finish, but Xing Bi raised his hand to cover his mouth.
“I realize you can’t speak quietly,” Xing Bi laughed at him.
“Is my voice loud?” Qiu Shi asked in his palm.
“Yeah.” Xing Bi nodded with a smile.
“You ancestor,” Qiu Shi said through his fingers, “what now, you wanna make me quite then?”
Xing Bi didn’t loosen his hand covering his mouth, and the hand going down didn’t stop.
Qiu Shi’s breath slipped through his fingers, brushing past his ear, hot and rapid.
The moon peeked through the clouds, casting scattered silver speckles of light on the treetops below. The silver light flickered as the clouds gathered and dispersed.
“Still can’t sleep?” Xing Bi whispered in Qiu Shi’s ear.
“Very sleepy.” Qiu Shi looked out the window at the night scene. Since it was a supermarket, the windows were floor-to-ceiling, and lying on the bed with his head turned, he could see the whole view.
“Massage? Human?” Xing Bi asked.
“A professional bioroid massage?” Qiu Shi turned to look at him.
“Mm.” Xing Bi nodded.
“Okay.” Qiu Shi said.
“Lie down.” Xing Bi sat up.
Qiu Shi lay down, and Xing Bi’s warm hands swept over his back, sending a wave of soothing warmth. He closed his eyes.
Xing Bi’s fingers scratched lightly on his head, not hard but precise, each scratch first causing tension then extreme relaxation in his head.
“Comfortable.” Qiu Shi said.
“If comfortable, then sleep.” Xing Bi said.
“Mm,” Qiu Shi closed his eyes, then after a while asked, “I’ve been thinking, with grandpa’s current state, can he still think? His body is failing, no bioroid reactions, but the little cube inside is alive, right?”
“Mm,” Xing Bi replied, “that’s why he needs Deng Yeye to destroy his system.”
“Actually, if he didn’t have a lover, he wouldn’t have to endure so many years of loneliness,” Qiu Shi put his hand gently on Xing Bi’s leg, stroking it softly, “right?”
“Did you sleep with me yesterday just to break up with me today?” Xing Bi asked.
“Damn, keep your voice down,” Qiu Shi suddenly opened his eyes and turned to glare at him, “why don’t you go shout in the hallway?”
Xing Bi lowered his voice: “You slept with me yesterday…”
“I didn’t say that!” Qiu Shi interrupted, then laughed, “I find sometimes you’re like a kid, tossing aside the ‘ancestor’ style at any time.”
“Having a lover or not isn’t his choice,” Xing Bi said, “by the time you realize it, it’s been a long time.”
“Are you like that too?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Mm.” Xing Bi’s fingers traced down his spine.
“That day at the electric chair,” Qiu Shi turned his head, “did you confess to me?”
“Yes.” Xing Bi said.
“I want to hear it,” Qiu Shi said, “when we get back to Yun City, play it back for me.”
“Wait a moment.” Xing Bi said and got off the bed.
“What’s up?” Qiu Shi asked.
Xing Bi picked up his coat from the floor, felt around inside, and took out a small silver metal stick, plugged in the earphones, and handed it to Qiu Shi: “Listen.”
“You stored it here?” Qiu Shi immediately sat up.
“Mm,” Xing Bi said, “otherwise you’d have to go to the archives to listen, right?”
“I thought you’d delete it.” Qiu Shi said.
“This is mission-related,” Xing Bi said, “can’t delete it.”
“This is still mission-related?” Qiu Shi put on the earphones and lay back down on the bed, “so it will be stored forever?”
“As long as the device isn’t destroyed, it’ll be stored forever,” Xing Bi said, “even after a hundred years, you can still listen.”
“I won’t be able to listen then.” Qiu Shi said.
“Qiu Shi,” Xing Bi’s voice came through the earphones, “listen to my voice, you can hear it, you have to listen…”
The transferred recording segment was quite clear; Xing Bi’s voice seemed to come from right behind his ear. He instinctively turned his head to look at Xing Bi.
Xing Bi lay down beside him, resting his head on one arm and looking at him, one hand pressing gently on his back.
“What do you want to hear? How exciting should it be…”
Qiu Shi could detect the unease beneath Xing Bi’s calm voice. He turned his head to look at him: “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Xing Bi said.
“My teacher once took me to a wedding when I was still ‘Little Xing Bi.’ It was the first time I heard a human say ‘I love you,’ but I couldn’t really understand it…”
When Qiu Shi heard those three words, his heart suddenly trembled. Although Xing Bi said them simply, as a plain statement, he felt his breath momentarily catch.
Xing Bi’s fingers traced from his back to his shoulder, then around his neck, lightly curling on his face.
“The teacher said love comes in many forms. Romantic love might be thrilling or steady as a slow stream; if unlucky, it might be like enemies meeting. Love has many endings, but its beginnings aren’t much different. Once you feel it, you will know…”
Qiu Shi stared at Xing Bi, feeling his eyes grow warm. He almost didn’t dare to blink.
Xing Bi spoke, syncing with the voice in the earphones, “I don’t know when it started, but when I felt it, it seemed like a long time ago. This is the only feeling I have with no human sample, but it is clear and definite…”
Qiu Shi kept looking at him, not daring to blink.
“Qiu Shi,” Xing Bi removed one earphone from his right ear and whispered, “I love you.”
Qiu Shi blinked, tears instantly flooding from the corners of his eyes, running across his nose bridge into the other eye, then mixed with more tears, soaking the pillow beneath him.
“I love you,” Xing Bi leaned close, softly kissing the corner of his eye, “human.”
Qiu Shi closed his eyes, gripping Xing Bi’s hand tightly, his voice trembling uncontrollably, “I love you.”
Xing Bi smiled.
Qiu Shi rolled over, wrapped his arms tightly around him, softly repeating in his ear, “Xing Bi, I love you, I love you… Xing Bi…”
“Still crying?” Xing Bi whispered in his ear.
“No,” Qiu Shi sniffled, his voice nasal, “I don’t know why I cried. Shouldn’t this be something to laugh about?”
“Crying and laughing aren’t opposites,” Xing Bi said. “Many emotions can be expressed with both crying and laughing. As a human, don’t you know that?”
“Then maybe I’m not human,” Qiu Shi said. “I’ve only cried a few times.”
“Since I’ve known you,” Xing Bi said, “including this time, only three.”
“Remember it so clearly?” Qiu Shi said.
“Because it’s really rare,” Xing Bi said. “Easy to remember. I don’t know about before I knew you.”
“I can’t really remember either,” Qiu Shi said, resting on his arm, “Maybe I haven’t had anything happy enough to cry for. Usually I only cry when I’m sad, but crying when sad doesn’t help, and I don’t even know who I’m crying for.”
“From now on, cry for me,” Xing Bi said.
“Okay.” Qiu Shi smiled.
“Hmm?” Xing Bi looked at him.
“Feels like an idiot,” Qiu Shi said.
“No,” Xing Bi said. “When I cry in front of you, do I look like an idiot?”
“No,” Qiu Shi touched his face. “Just feel sorry for the poor kid.”
“I am your ancestor,” Xing Bi said.
“Just chatting,” Qiu Shi glared at him, “Don’t insult me!”
Xing Bi laughed and hugged him tightly. “Can you fall asleep now?”
“Hell no, I’m even less sleepy now…” Qiu Shi sighed.
—
Li Feng held a can in his hand; his coat buttons were misaligned. When he rushed into the lab with Ji Sui and Xu Jie, Curator Wu anxiously came up to meet them.
Li Feng threw the can straight at Curator Wu’s head: “At least wait until I’m awake before causing trouble!”
The can hit Curator Wu’s forehead with a solid “thunk” and bounced to the floor.
Curator Wu grabbed his forehead and yelled, “This is a normal experiment! It’s not trouble!”
“Then why did you have me bring two special guards here early this morning?” Li Feng pushed him aside and walked into the experimental chamber.
Just turning the corner, they heard the sound of glass being struck.
“They activated Zheng Ting’s super-comm,” Ji Sui immediately recognized.
“He’s in a shielded state now,” Curator Wu held his head and followed. “He can’t control it. We need to calculate when the super-comm formed to know in advance before their next attack…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Li Feng entered the chamber and saw the black fungal organism trapped inside a special glass enclosure, with Wang Hong and Zhang Tan standing beside it.
“This is normal research. It doesn’t need reporting,” Wang Hong said.
“Open it,” Li Feng ordered.
Wang Hong looked at him.
“Open it.” Li Feng drew a gun and pointed at him.
Wang Hong pressed a button next to him; a narrow door appeared on the glass enclosure.
Ji Sui and Xu Jie dashed in at high speed, Wang Hong hurriedly closed the door behind them.
The super-comm moved slowly, but with tremendous power and resistance. Ji Sui and Xu Jie simultaneously jumped, using their knees to strike the super-comm’s shoulders, using its movement to knock it down.
Then Xu Jie took a large syringe from a small pouch at his waist and forcefully injected it into the wound on the super-comm’s chest—the wound that Xing Bi had smashed but hadn’t healed yet.
When the two came out of the chamber, Curator Wu said, “Is this taken from the lab before?”
“Yes,” Li Feng responded.
“This needs to be made into gas, an aerosol,” Zhang Tan said, “Injection is too risky.”
“I warn you two,” Li Feng pressed the gun to Wang Hong’s nose, “Don’t conduct any experiments beyond current needs without my permission under my watch.”
Wang Hong and Zhang Tan instinctively raised their hands, lips trembling and unable to speak.
“Say you understand,” Li Feng said.
“Yes,” Wang Hong responded.
“All research related to Zheng Ting is suspended.”
“But…” Wang Hong looked toward Curator Wu.
“Wait until Xing Bi returns to decide,” Li Feng turned and left the chamber. “Has Xing Bi contacted you? When are they coming back?”
“No contact,” Ji Sui said.
“Not up yet?” Li Feng glanced at the time.
“Not many humans get up this early,” Xu Jie said.
“Too early?” Li Feng said. “Those three crazy humans inside are all awake. This unlucky human is awake too.”
“Qiu Shi isn’t crazy,” Xu Jie said, “and not unlucky.”
Li Feng glanced at him, smiled, and answered Qiu Shi’s call.
“You’re crazy, Director Li?” Qiu Shi’s voice came through.
