It was as if Xing Bi had given him a cue — he hummed that one line, then fell silent.
Qiu Shi didn’t know what state Xing Bi was in now, but he had to cling to this one “clue” and keep going. Not only could he not remember the tune of the song, he didn’t even recall how many times the phrase “Happy Birthday” was supposed to be sung. Still, he forced himself to sing it, knowing that Xing Bi already recognized that since the first time Qiu Shi sang it, the song had turned into something new.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” Qiu Shi stared at Xing Bi’s face, leaning close to his ear, repeating over and over, “Happy birthday to you…”
Then Jing Sui’s voice came through the earpiece: “Happy birthday to you…”
“Shit.” Qiu Shi suddenly realized he hadn’t muted the team comms — the whole team had been listening to him leaning over Xing Bi’s car, singing this improvised version of “Happy Birthday.”
“Happy birthday to you…” Feng Zhi’s voice came through as well.
Then Song Heng joined in, and after hearing the full song once, Sang Fan also joined. Everyone was singing “Happy Birthday” together over the earpiece.
“Xing Bi, can you hear us?” Qiu Shi finally found the right tune and started singing along with everyone, “Happy birthday to you…”
Honestly, Qiu Shi lost track of how long they sang or how many times they repeated it. All he knew was his throat was a bit hoarse. Maybe it wasn’t just from singing, maybe it was from lack of sleep, but they had indeed been singing for quite a while.
Xing Bi moved slightly and opened his eyes. When the singing stopped simultaneously over the earpiece, Qiu Shi felt the sudden silence around him make his mind go blank.
After several seconds, he leaned closer to Xing Bi and quietly called, “Xing Bi?”
“Mm.” Xing Bi responded.
The black patterns on his face had already faded significantly but hadn’t completely disappeared, faintly showing like veins beneath the skin. Qiu Shi rolled up his sleeve and saw the same faint patterns on his arm.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether Xing Bi’s condition was normal or not and didn’t dare to release the control.
Not because he feared Xing Bi losing control, but because he worried that the terrifying symbiotic state from before might reoccur.
“It’s okay now,” Xing Bi said.
“Those patterns haven’t disappeared yet,” Qiu Shi said, “Why is that?”
“I don’t know, no experience,” Xing Bi replied, “Maybe it’s stained.”
“Damn,” Qiu Shi couldn’t help but laugh, “It can get stained?”
“Who knows,” Xing Bi said, “Anything’s possible. You sang ‘Happy Birthday’ over three hundred times without finding the tune; it’s not strange if I get stained.”
“Cut the crap,” Qiu Shi felt Xing Bi’s mood had moved away from the previous angry state, so he released his control. “After everyone sang together a few times, I finally got the tune.”
“You’re not off-key now, partner,” Xing Bi turned his head to look at him, “You’re off-key, but you can’t hear it yourself.”
“Off-key?” Qiu Shi was shocked, “I was off-key? Jing Sui?”
“A little bit,” Jing Sui said.
“Really?” Qiu Shi still couldn’t accept it. He felt full of passion and thought he was getting better.
“Like, can’t be pulled back no matter what,” Feng Zhi said.
“I muted the team comms; I’m going to rest for a bit,” Qiu Shi said and turned off the team comms.
Xing Bi smiled and also turned off the comms, then sat up.
“What did it feel like just now?” Qiu Shi looked at the faint marks on his face, “It didn’t seem like a coma.”
“Not a coma,” Xing Bi said, “It’s the effect of 249 — like a hallucination.”
“What kind of hallucination?” Qiu Shi asked.
“He’s data. He once infiltrated our information. He had enough time to hide where we couldn’t detect him, watching us. He knows every biotic’s traits and weaknesses,” Xing Bi explained, “He customizes control for each symbiotic host.”
“You were controlled by him?” Qiu Shi was surprised, “I thought you controlled that super symbiont?”
“Yes, I controlled that super symbiont, so I could deeply sense 249,” Xing Bi said.
“Don’t use that symbiotic state anymore,” Qiu Shi said, “I’m afraid next time you won’t wake up, and you’ll become the next super symbiont.”
“Mm.” Xing Bi agreed.
“Why did it happen?” Qiu Shi frowned, “Your method of creating super symbionts is totally different from theirs, right?”
“That’s the price,” Xing Bi said, “The price of this unconventional survival method — from the very beginning, it meant giving up yourself.”
“Speaking of which,” Qiu Shi leaned back in his chair, “The deeper and longer the control, the fewer can wake up on their own, like Song Heng, right?”
“Yes,” Xing Bi said, “Most of the earliest controlled were the hidden guards. I doubt many of them will come back.”
Qiu Shi said nothing. After a moment, he looked at him again: “Did you promise me just now?”
“I promised,” Xing Bi said.
“Are you sure?” Qiu Shi asked, “Do you want to promise again?”
“I promise you I won’t use that level of symbiotic ability anymore, won’t directly sense 249,” Xing Bi said, “Is that okay?”
“Okay.” Qiu Shi nodded.
He didn’t require Xing Bi to completely stop using symbiotic control — they were facing symbionts, and until enough backup biotics arrived, they still needed some control. After all, their goal was to find 249’s hiding place as soon as possible and withstand his attacks without getting entangled.
“Try to get some sleep. It’s almost dawn. We have to set off again,” Xing Bi said.
“I can’t sleep,” Qiu Shi looked at him, “You…”
Xing Bi took out a pair of handcuffs from a nearby box, cuffed one wrist to himself, then cuffed the other wrist to Qiu Shi.
“I can’t open these without disturbing you,” Xing Bi said, “Now you can rest easy.”
“Damn,” Qiu Shi closed his eyes, “It’s not like I’m worried you’ll sneak out and go crazy.”
“Going crazy and sneaking out — you’ve thought this through at least ten times in your head,” Xing Bi said.
Qiu Shi smiled with his eyes closed.
“Sleep.” Xing Bi held his hand.
“Good night, partner.” Qiu Shi said.
“Good night, partner.” Xing Bi replied.
At the first light of dawn, Qiu Shi woke up, seeing people moving outside the car window.
He rubbed his face and felt something swinging on his wrist. Looking down, he saw the handcuffs that had linked him to Xing Bi earlier.
The other side of the cuffs was no longer attached to Xing Bi’s wrist but just hanging on his own.
Though he knew Xing Bi must have unlocked the cuffs and left without him noticing, he still couldn’t help glancing sideways to confirm.
He opened the car door and stepped out, seeing Li Rui sitting soundly asleep against the wheel.
The weather was still cold — it hadn’t snowed these days, but it was cold. Yet this kid was sleeping soundly on the ground, wrapped in some random coat.
Qiu Shi wanted to wake Li Rui but couldn’t bring himself to do it. If he wasn’t frozen to death, then it meant he could handle it — and he was sleeping quite peacefully.
A bioroid holding a disinfection device approached. Qiu Shi stepped aside and let him get on the vehicle.
This was a park. When they arrived yesterday, Song Heng had said these buildings used to be a small fossil museum, housing very ancient stones that predated even their ancestors by hundreds or thousands of years.
Of course, now there was nothing left inside. This place had become a liaison station for Song Heng’s organization because a squad had been slaughtered here yesterday. The atmosphere inside the station was somewhat gloomy.
Just as Qiu Shi wanted to take a look, Xing Bi came out from inside with a bioroid and a human.
“Jiang Zhuo,” the bioroid extended his hand to Qiu Shi, “I’m the station chief here.”
“Qiu Shi.” Qiu Shi shook his hand. Jiang Zhuo’s right hand only had three fingers left — the thumb and pinky were missing.
These bioroids who had roamed the outside world for over a hundred years mostly bore injuries that could no longer self-repair.
The human beside him also looked battle-hardened, scars covering his face and neck.
“Jiang Liu.” The human shook Qiu Shi’s hand as well. “People here usually call me Sixth Brother.”
“Sixth Brother.” Qiu Shi glanced at him.
“Further east ahead is relatively safer. I suggest you take a longer detour from the base. There are still many bioroids near the base, few vagrants, and no 249 camps,” Jiang Zhuo said. “Also, we received information that starting yesterday, a large number of vagrants began attacking various symbiotic camps. This will divert some of 249’s forces, but they will definitely still be after you.”
“For safety, I’ll have a vehicle with people accompany you,” Jiang Liu said. “From the base eastward to Luhai Town, I know it well. After passing Luhai Town, it’s just two more days to your destination.”
“A vehicle full of people?” Qiu Shi was stunned. “Our vehicle can’t fit that many.”
“We have vehicles,” Jiang Liu said.
Qiu Shi looked at Xing Bi, who nodded.
“Thanks,” Qiu Shi said, “but it might be more dangerous with you following us…”
“As long as 249 exists, there is no safe place in this world,” Jiang Liu said. “If you want peace, you can’t rely on lone heroes. Everyone has to work together.”
“Alright.” Qiu Shi said no more.
“Our vehicles will go ahead. There are some roads not on the map that are less likely to have 249 ambushes,” Jiang Liu said. “My dad and I explored many times before; these routes let 249 chase us but make it hard for them to lay ambushes in advance.”
“…Your dad?” Qiu Shi was puzzled.
“Jiang Zhuo.” Jiang Liu said.
“What the hell?” Qiu Shi couldn’t quite understand. Jiang Liu looked to be in his thirties, but most bioroids were designed to be under thirty. Jiang Liu looked older than his “father” Jiang Zhuo.
“He raised me. I’m a descendant of vagrants. My family all died,” Jiang Liu explained.
“Oh…” Qiu Shi nodded. “Got it.”
Judging from this, Jiang Liu didn’t seem like a human raised by a human. Whether vagrant or refugee, he appeared more like a bioroid who showed little outward emotion.
“This morning, I already contacted Yun City,” Xing Bi said as they walked toward the convoy. “The people Xu Jie brought should catch up to us tonight. There won’t be many obstacles on the way.”
“We need to clear the tunnel we blew up,” Qiu Shi said.
“They brought engineering vehicles,” Xing Bi said.
“That much commotion?” Qiu Shi asked.
“If they find where 249 is hiding, those vehicles might be useful. The situation could get more complicated. After all, 249 had hidden there for over two hundred years without being discovered. Even if found, it wasn’t destroyed,” Xing Bi said.
“Hmm.” Qiu Shi nodded.
It seemed the journey was tough, but compared to the final attack, the troubles on the road were relatively simple.
The convoy was ready. The soldiers had rested yesterday in the museum, where conditions were decent. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits.
While inspecting near the vehicles, Qiu Shi noticed Sang Fan had switched seats with Song Heng and returned to their vehicle this trip.
“Does Li Rui not need Sister Sang Fan anymore?” Qiu Shi asked.
“He wanted to ask about Water Margin,” Sang Fan said. “I don’t know what it is, but Song Heng did and went to explain.”
“What tiger?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Ask later. Maybe the refugee school will teach it someday,” Xing Bi patted him.
“Damn,” Qiu Shi sighed. “Li Rui really doesn’t seem like someone who grew up in this kind of world.”
“That’s why humans are amazing,” Xing Bi said. “There’s always something surprising, no matter how many years pass or what environment.”
“You mean…” Qiu Shi thought for a moment and asked quietly, “That Jiang Liu — raised by a bioroid — he even calls Jiang Zhuo ‘Dad’ so casually, and they look like brothers too.”
“Jiang Zhuo is over a hundred years older,” Xing Bi said.
“And you,” Qiu Shi took a breath, looking at him, “do you see me like a son?”
“Like a great-grandson,” Xing Bi said.
“Fuck your ancestors,” Qiu Shi said.
Xing Bi laughed. “It’s different. I only met you when you were 25. I never thought of you as a child, so I don’t have any parental feelings.”
“Oh.” Qiu Shi frowned, feeling he almost understood.
“I only feel, ‘Oh, this handsome guy attracts me,’” Xing Bi whispered into his ear.
“Fuck.” Qiu Shi was startled and even took off Xing Bi’s headphones to check if the comms were on.
“They just turned on,” Xing Bi smiled and put them back on.
“Can you hear me? This is Jiang Liu,” Jiang Liu’s voice came through the earpiece.
“Yes,” Xing Bi answered.
“We can depart. Our vehicles are waiting at the park’s east gate,” Jiang Liu said.
“Alright.” Xing Bi said and got into the vehicle.
Qiu Shi glanced back at the convoy and made a hand signal. The vehicles started up one by one.
No one from the liaison station came out to see them off or say anything. Such ceremonies and tokens of blessing only happened in places like Yun City, which were relatively peaceful.
For those living in the outside world, no blessing could truly guarantee safety or psychological comfort. The only real feeling came after surviving the day intact.
Qiu Shi had always thought many refugees saw Yun City as their last paradise, something to reach even if it meant dying trying — naive, really. But now, it seemed that Yun City was indeed a paradise for those struggling to live in such a world.
The convoy passed through the park and headed toward the east gate.
Such parks, large open spaces dedicated to various entertainment functions, were common after entering the city zone. Yun City had none of these — just tall, densely packed buildings where everyone squeezed together. Qiu Shi was a bit puzzled why they would keep such a large patch of land for growing flowers and letting people stroll.
Jiang Liu’s vehicle was parked just inside the east gate. Seeing the convoy approach, it flashed its lights and began to lead the way.
But Qiu Shi was surprised by their vehicles — not just one car, but one SUV followed by four three-wheeled motorcycles, all carrying people.
The vehicles had a distinct vagrant style, heavily modified and camouflaged to the point that their original forms were hard to recognize. Iron plates, steel cables, and hook-like tools made it easy to imagine the rough life the liaison station folks led.
Even the people riding them, if met on the road, Qiu Shi would instinctively classify them as vagrants. Their simple, brutal, and bloody gear matched their fierce expressions perfectly.
Jiang Liu’s men skillfully led them onto a side path, then began winding through various ruins.
Because they weren’t taking regular roads, the buildings had countless corners and turnoffs, which helped effectively avoid ambushes.
“We’re detouring to the base?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Yes,” Xing Bi said.
“You haven’t been back since you left, right?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Mm,” Xing Bi looked out the window. “Revisiting old places.”
“Would it also be… ruins there?” Qiu Shi had seen almost no intact buildings on the way. Except for some extraordinarily sturdy bridges, most houses were collapsed or reduced to piles of rubble.
“The base buildings are different — stronger under equal conditions,” Xing Bi said quietly. “But there was fighting, explosions, fires. When we left, it was already destroyed.”
Qiu Shi sighed softly. For both humans and biomes, what the base truly represented—no one could say clearly anymore.
“But there are some underground areas inside,” Xing Bi said, “Maybe we can find something useful for Yun City—medical equipment, for example. If the data isn’t completely destroyed, there might still be some information.”
“What kind of information?” Qiu Shi asked sharply, then touched his earpiece to make sure it was turned off.
“Medical-related. Before the war, the base was researching long-lasting inhibitors,” Xing Bi said. “If possible, it might help reverse Zheng Ting’s condition.”
If Zheng Ting’s state could be reversed, it would mean that the symbiotic state Xing Bi and the others were in might also be reversible.
“You never mentioned this before,” Qiu Shi said quietly.
“There wasn’t much hope, so it felt meaningless to talk about it,” Xing Bi replied. “The longer the time passes, the greater the expectations become.”
“Afraid of disappointment?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Afraid we’ll all be disappointed together,” Xing Bi said.
“Well, you just said it now,” Sang Fan remarked.
“Because we’re almost there and have to start looking,” Ji Sui smiled, “so I’m telling you ahead of time.”
“Oh,” Sang Fan nodded, “I won’t be disappointed.”
“You’re like an axe,” Ji Sui said.
Qiu Shi couldn’t help but laugh.
“This trip probably won’t have much trouble,” Xing Bi said with a smile. “You should get some sleep.”
“No need,” Qiu Shi replied.
Xing Bi nudged him to the side.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Qiu Shi moved to the adjacent seat and looked at him. “You don’t want me next to you anymore?”
Xing Bi didn’t reply but grabbed Qiu Shi’s shoulder and pulled him closer. Caught off guard, Qiu Shi was pulled down onto the seat, his head resting on Xing Bi’s lap.
“Sleep a bit,” Xing Bi pressed on his shoulder.
Although Qiu Shi didn’t feel sleepy, the moment his head touched Xing Bi’s leg, comfort and relaxation quickly spread through his body, and his eyes began to close.
“I actually…” Qiu Shi tried to protest since Ji Sui and Sang Fan were still sitting behind them.
“Hurry up and sleep,” Sang Fan said. “There’s no use being awake now.”
“…Damn.” Qiu Shi laughed.
Curator Wu came out from the experimental pod, frowning.
“Not possible?” Li Feng lay on three chairs pushed together, turning his head to look at him.
“Ordinary biomes’ bodies might not adapt to Zheng Ting’s system,” Curator Wu said. “After all, we still can’t completely separate the fungus from the system. But if…”
“No buts, no ifs,” Li Feng said. “No one touches Zheng Ting before Xing Bi returns.”
“I’m not talking about touching him. I mean, the current experiments are based on our own symbiotic experiments, not really trying Zheng Ting’s system,” Curator Wu said after taking two sips of water. “Maybe if we just use it directly, he can adapt on his own.”
“Wait for him to come back,” Li Feng said. “Don’t mess with the chief scientist, or I’m afraid I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“I’m not that crazy,” Curator Wu said.
“I think you are,” Li Feng said.
“Crazy enough to beat you!” Curator Wu shouted. “You’re just a lunatic.”
“We’re just chatting. Don’t suddenly start insulting me,” Li Feng said. “Old age and still can’t control your temper.”
“I…” Curator Wu was cut off as the lab door was pushed open. He looked at Chen Dang, who walked straight in. “Another one, huh? I don’t even need passwords here. Anyone can just walk in.”
“Xing Bi and the others have arrived at the base,” Chen Dang said.
“Already?” Curator Wu suddenly stopped complaining.
“They’re at the first gate at the base entrance,” Chen Dang said. “Still some distance from the core area.”
“Not inside yet?” Li Feng struggled to stand from the wheeled chairs, trying not to fall.
“Waiting for Xu Jie’s team,” Chen Dang said, propping the chair with his foot. “Need to leave some guards; there are many biomes over there.”
“Okay, patch the comm here,” Li Feng said, standing and walking into the conference room.
Qiu Shi’s face was projected onto the wall of the conference room. “Dog official, come see the world.”
“Comms all set?” Li Feng smiled.
“Yeah,” Qiu Shi replied, pointing behind himself to the uneven black silhouettes under the setting sun. “There—that’s the main part of the base.”
Qiu Shi stepped away from the screen. The distant shadows enlarged bit by bit, gradually revealing a huge silver-white complex.
Li Feng had seen photos and some videos of the base in the data archives. The buildings now, half destroyed by war, were no longer as magnificent as in the pictures.
But this real scene bathed in the afterglow of the sunset, showing only the outlines of ruined, abandoned buildings, struck more powerfully.
The Life Science Research Base.
This was where it all began—and where it all ended.
