EDEH Chapter 124

Sang Jue was indeed very smart.

 

Mixing drinks—something that took others time to learn—he had mastered quite well just through 007’s guidance and self-study. His sometimes clumsy fingers were now very nimble.

 

He lifted a glass half-filled with golden liquid high against the outside natural light, slowly pouring in another blue liquor.

 

The two liquids were initially distinct, but after gentle swirling, they became like colored mist—tentatively approaching, clashing, slowly entwining, finally fusing into new brilliant colors.

 

Sang Jue mixed two glasses, pushing one to Huo Yanji.

 

Then he secretly held his own glass, glanced at Huo Yanji, and seeing no reaction, took a small sip.

 

Huo Yanji curved his lips.

 

He’d learned to be clever.

 

In this situation, Sang Jue didn’t directly ask if he could drink. As long as Huo Yanji didn’t stop him, it meant drinking was allowed—also fitting Huo Yanji’s previous rule that he could only drink in front of him.

 

Huo Yanji took a light sip. It smelled like nothing, but once past his throat, spicy sensation swept through his mouth.

 

He suddenly felt trouble brewing and called: “Sang Jue—”

 

Sang Jue’s pale skin had already flushed red. Hearing the call, he turned his head dazedly. After just a few sips, his behavior was already sluggish. To put it impolitely, he looked foolish, dumb, and easily deceived.

 

“…Come here.”

 

Things had reached this point. Huo Yanji didn’t stop him anymore—after all, there was no concept of alcohol harming Sang Jue’s health.

 

Sang Jue walked over dazedly, burying his head in Huo Yanji’s embrace: “I want another sip.”

 

Huo Yanji held his waist: “Just one sip?”

 

“Mm… three sips?”

 

“Drink up.”

 

As if he hadn’t expected such easy agreement, Sang Jue first lifted his head, then picked up his glass, tilting his neck back for a big gulp.

 

“…” Huo Yanji chuckled: “Might as well finish the whole glass in one go.”

 

Sang Jue wanted to, but he only had most of a glass left—just enough for three sips.

 

Huo Yanji sat on the high stool, closing the tavern’s venetian blinds. Dim natural light filtered through, hitting Huo Yanji’s face in alternating light and shadow.

 

Sang Jue was gradually intoxicated by alcohol, becoming soft as putty, finally scooped up by a long arm into an embrace, rubbing against him boneless.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes gradually darkened as he caressed Sang Jue’s neck: “I have half a day of rest time.”

 

Sang Jue drew out his tone, soft and languid: “Mm?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Didn’t you say before that I hadn’t fulfilled my duties, hadn’t been responsible to you?”

 

Sang Jue was even more sluggish, not knowing what he meant: “Roar?”

 

The palm at his neck slowly moved up to his chin, slowly caressing his red, even glistening lips: “Being responsible now—is that okay?”

 

Sang Jue had no idea what “being responsible now” meant, but was seduced into nodding.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes suddenly darkened. He drained his glass in one gulp, directly lifting Sang Jue’s neck for a forceful kiss, plundering every inch of air in his mouth.

 

Sang Jue was like a lamb awaiting slaughter—clearly capable of resistance but too trusting of the human before him to struggle, allowing him to do as he pleased.

 

This kiss came swift and fierce. Looking at the obedient, dazed Sang Jue, Huo Yanji thought that perhaps a hundred years later, there might be someone coaxing Sang Jue into anything… His grip unconsciously tightened. Sang Jue made a pained sound but snuggled even more obediently into his embrace.

 

Rain pattered outside the venetian blinds. Hurried passersby couldn’t see inside the tavern, but light and shadow could filter through the slats into the tavern, falling on the slender waist reddened by palms. Broad hands gathered around it, making that waist’s curves even more enticing.

 

Besides the rain sounds, the nearby noodle shop would also emit noisy discussions, frequently mentioning Huo Yanji, who currently had the most heated and controversial reputation.

 

However, they would never imagine that the protagonist they were discussing was right next door in the tavern, holding the little monster in his arms as they moved together drenched in sweat, occasionally coaxing him to do shameful things.

 

“Shh… don’t make noise.” Huo Yanji went very deep, saying: “It wouldn’t be good if passersby noticed, right?”

 

Beautiful eyes were filled with thick mist, unknowingly seductive as he turned to look at the venetian blinds.

 

He could see the passersby outside sectioned by the blinds, but they couldn’t see them.

 

The occasional moans that escaped would be caught by deviants with sensitive hearing. Passersby would stop, looking around suspiciously, but hearing no follow-up, they’d shake their heads thinking they misheard and continue walking.

 

He laughed and joked with his companion, clicking his tongue: “I’ve probably been abstinent too long, I’m having auditory hallucinations. Tonight I’ll go to the entertainment district to find a tender one…”

 

The voice gradually faded. Only then did the hand covering Sang Jue’s mouth suddenly release, his body lifted into the air and laid flat on the table, back pressed tightly against the cold surface.

 

“They’re gone.” Huo Yanji braced himself beside him, pressing down his back, perfectly defined muscles stretching taut. He pulled the dazed drunk Sang Jue’s hand: “Put it in yourself, hm?”

 

Sang Jue mumbled incoherently, unclear words that were probably complaints.

 

Huo Yanji spoke seriously as if teaching a class: “Sang Jue, you have to fight for what you want yourself.”

 

…

 

“Beep beep—”

 

“Beep beep—”

 

Even during this, the mini communicator by his ear hadn’t been removed. Huo Yanji opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again. Only when the drunk Sang Jue in his arms was about to wake did he reach for the earpiece: “What is it?”

 

“Audio came back from Rift No. 2 base.”

 

“…” After so many days, they finally received underground-related information again.

 

He immediately propped himself up. Sang Jue in his arms opened his eyes, quietly humming: “Are you going to be busy again?”

 

“Mm, you might need to make a trip too.”

 

“Okay…”

 

Sang Jue’s drunk state was different from ordinary people. When he didn’t want to sleep, he could control himself not to sleep. Plus he’d sweated a lot just now and much alcohol had evaporated, so acting as translator wouldn’t be a problem.

 

Of course, that’s what Sang Jue thought.

 

“No problem?”

 

“No problem.”

 

The communications room was the same as before, with many high-ranking officials present, though some were focused on other matters and didn’t come—probably no longer hopeful about the so-called Dawn Plan 2.

 

Before entering, Huo Yanji’s eyes narrowed as he looked Sang Jue over: “Put on a mask before going in.”

 

“Hm?”

 

Sang Jue’s face still had undissipated flush, like drunken flushing or post-coital afterglow. There was a clear kiss mark on his chin, and his neck had been thoroughly ravaged.

 

Previously Huo Yanji rarely left marks on Sang Jue’s exposed skin, but today under alcohol’s influence he really hadn’t restrained himself—it was both affection and venting.

 

Huo Yanji didn’t mind others knowing what he and Sang Jue had done, but he minded Sang Jue’s current appearance arousing others’ improper thoughts or being treated with strange looks.

 

He had a subordinate bring a mask for Sang Jue and pulled up his collar to cover neck marks before bringing him in.

 

Huo Yanji also had marks—like bite marks on his Adam’s apple.

 

But everyone was used to Huo Yanji having bite marks on his throat—it would be strange if he didn’t have them someday.

 

Hearing footsteps, Ling Gen turned back, nose twitching. As a deviant, he immediately noticed: “Been drinking?”

 

“Mm, had two glasses.”

 

Ling Gen didn’t say anything. Everyone was under great pressure lately, and Huo Yanji bore even heavier burdens. As long as he wasn’t alcoholic, it wasn’t a problem.

 

“Listen to the recordings.”

 

This time there were also two audio files, both with static and unclear voices.

 

The first audio was initiated from underground. After Deputy Leon connected: “This is Rift No. 2 base, I’m Leon.”

 

“Buzz buzz… shock… collapse…”

 

After listening for a while, Sang Jue made a confused nasal sound: “Hm?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “What’s wrong?”

 

Sang Jue slowly spoke a name: “Ah Qin.”

 

Huo Yanji paused. After a long while he remembered—Ah Qin was the seventeen-year-old girl brought back from the Governor’s community, whom he had warned.

 

This name appearing represented two pieces of information—

 

First: After being settled in District Seven, Ah Qin had undergone genetic testing, failed, and joined the Dawn Plan 2 restart. But weren’t all participants supposed to be in the main city? How did Ah Qin get there?

 

Only Ah Qin herself would know this. After so much time, what she’d experienced was unknown to others.

 

Second: This audio’s timeline was the present, initiated by someone from this era.

 

Sang Jue frowned delicately, listening for a long time: “They seem very panicked over there. It wasn’t intentionally requesting communication—probably accidental contact. They got separated from Huo Jiangmian and seem to have seen something terrifying they can’t approach… ‘Gone crazy… can’t disturb’—that’s what Ah Qin said.”

 

Everyone was confused. Someone asked urgently: “Did they mention what it was?”

 

Sang Jue shook his head.

 

Huo Yanji said: “Listen to the second audio.”

 

Sang Jue hummed agreement.

 

As soon as the second audio started playing, the previously confused Sang Jue suddenly widened his eyes. His normally drooping eye corners instantly lifted, something indescribable and strange settling in his gaze as he stared at the big screen showing audio frequencies for a long time without speaking.

 

For Sang Jue, who usually had little expression, this state change could be called rare.

 

Huo Yanji unobtrusively placed his hand on Sang Jue’s shoulder, curving his fingers to tap lightly.

 

Ling Gen, who was about to urge him, had to restrain himself. But after waiting over ten minutes until the audio ended, Sang Jue hadn’t said anything.

 

He couldn’t hold back anymore: “What did they say? Were they the group General Huo brought down?”

 

“No…” Sang Jue reluctantly snapped out of his dazed state, saying quietly: “It’s an unfamiliar voice, should be someone from Dr. Luce’s team…”

 

“What did they say?”

 

“Nothing.” Sang Jue lowered his head: “Similar to what Dr. Luce said, all jumbled.”

 

“How is that possible!?” Ling Gen was after all a regional commander, a man in his forties—how could he not see through Sang Jue’s micro-expressions? He instinctively questioned: “Ten-plus minutes of audio and they said nothing?”

 

Sang Jue looked up, staring directly at Ling Gen for a while, saying word by word: “If I say they said nothing, then they said nothing.”

 

Almost everyone present felt their hearts skip a beat, especially Ling Gen who was directly making eye contact with Sang Jue.

 

His heart lurched, an instinctive feeling of palpitation rising. His body, accustomed to battlefields, sounded danger alarms, making him unconsciously step back half a pace.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes moved slightly as he casually pulled Sang Jue over: “Then let’s go home and sleep off the alcohol.”

 

The somewhat dangerous-looking Sang Jue didn’t resist, letting Huo Yanji grab his hand.

 

This conveyed two meanings: first, he believed Sang Jue’s words; second, Sang Jue had drunk quite a bit and might not be fully conscious, so translation errors or abnormal attitudes had reasons.

 

Ling Gen intuited something was wrong and wanted to stop them, but saw the old general wave: “Go rest. We’ll notify you when the audio analysis is complete.”

 

As Sang Jue crossed the threshold, his good hearing caught the lowered voices of officers behind: “Forget it, didn’t the research institute say there might be a chance to adjust frequencies and restore audio content?”

 

Ling Gen said: “That’s just a possibility. What if it doesn’t work?”

 

“If it doesn’t work, you don’t really trust what he says anyway. What’s the use?”

 

“I just have a gut feeling something’s wrong with Sang Jue. You don’t know—a month ago, so many people saw Sang Jue dragged underground by ant lions with their own eyes, yet he mysteriously appeared in the underground city days later. That same day a lone evil dragon appeared in the city… don’t you find it strange?”

 

Sang Jue walked away like a stiff puppet, led by Huo Yanji.

 

All the way back to the manor, Huo Yanji didn’t ask about the audio, but made the bed and removed Sang Jue’s mask: “Sleep for a while.”

 

Sang Jue burrowed under the covers, only his eyes showing as he stared at Huo Yanji: “Where are you going?”

 

Sang Jue’s thoughts weren’t hard to guess. Huo Yanji said flatly: “Not to the research institute—going to see how the underground city residents are settling in.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You can come with me too.”

 

“I want to sleep.” Sang Jue quietly added: “Sleep alone.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Huo Yanji changed into military uniform. Before leaving the room, he looked back to see Sang Jue with his back turned, curled up in the covers.

 

He frowned slightly. Though knowing Sang Jue’s reaction was abnormal, he still didn’t press. Perhaps due to having evil dragon genes, Sang Jue’s nature had acquired some stubbornness—basically impossible to pry open his mouth to say things he didn’t want to say.

 

Looked soft, but actually harder than anyone.

 

Hearing sounds fade away, Sang Jue kept his eyes open for a while without moving, then slowly got out of bed, walking barefoot downstairs and outside into the pattering rain.

 

The ground was muddy, rain soaking his clothes. Sang Jue seemed oblivious, walking straight toward the distant tombstone—the only tombstone in this manor—

 

Anya’s grave.

 

Every character on it was carved by Sang Jue’s own hand, finally planted closest to the small house. This way, every morning upon waking or evening coming home, he could directly see his doctor.

 

He thought that like humans, erecting a monument for the deceased would give him somewhere to go when missing them.

 

But it wasn’t so. Looking at the tombstone when missing someone only made his heart emptier, more desolate.

 

Tombstones actually reminded you that the person you wanted to see had left forever and would never return.

 

Fists clenched at his sides. From his physical reactions, Sang Jue should be very distressed. But he didn’t know how to vent, had never learned to scream. All sounds could only be suppressed in his throat, blocked to near suffocation.

 

The thin figure in the rain gradually dispersed, becoming a massive evil dragon. Sharp dragon claws carefully embraced the tombstone, only the thick pad side touching the two characters “Anya” on the stone.

 

His thick long tail wrapped the tombstone into his embrace. The extremely dangerous-looking evil dragon curled up by the rippling lakeside, trying to sleep in the rain.

 

Rain washed over rough dragon skin, but he refused to open his eyes, determined to enter dreams to see the person he missed.

 

**

 

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