SZAR Chapter 44

Realizing the youth’s unusual nature, Chu Ci leapt down from the aircraft. Unfortunately, it was too late, the young man with the egg had already been swallowed by the crowd, vanishing without a trace.

“Damn it…”

Chu Ci felt something was off. Earlier, when he had grabbed the young man’s cloak, he hadn’t paid any attention to the back of his neck. It was only the moment he got on the aircraft that he recalled it, as if something had blocked his perception before.

Could this male have methods targeting the mental sea?

The zerg research into the mental sea had never stopped. The Central Interrogation Room’s lie detector was one application. Its probes use specific frequency waves to forcibly invade the mental sea, scanning for desired answers while simultaneously destabilizing it.

This was already a mature application. Numerous other studies were ongoing. For example, Yi Xi had invested in several labs researching mental waves. If the young man possessed similar methods, Chu Ci’s earlier confusion could be explained.

He gripped the controls tightly and took a deep breath.

Then there was the location the young man had mentioned, an abandoned house 50 kilometers away at a 45 degree southeast angle. 45 degrees, 50 kilometers, such coincidental numbers all seemed like a spur-of-the-moment lie, yet at the time, he hadn’t noticed a thing.

Even though it was probably a lie, Chu Ci still started the aircraft, set the coordinates, and flew in that direction.

Pamir was on the edge of the star systems. Except for a few habitable areas, most of it was desolate and rarely visited, filled with high-altitude permafrost that never melted. The farther Chu Ci flew, the emptier it became; almost no signs of life. Just when he was convinced he’d been tricked, a rectangular building appeared ahead.

Chu Ci landed the aircraft and saw a sign that read: [Pamir No. 1 Mining Camp Worker Residence.]

The building was extremely old. Windows were broken and fallen, the door lock was rusted, and the exterior was covered in a coal-like black dust.

He circled the building. By the entrance was a card reader and the Stellar Group logo. Chu Ci thought for a moment, then pulled a business card from his bag with the four large characters  [Mining Specialist] printed on it and placed it on the reader.

Beep. Verification successful.

The latch slid to the right. Chu Ci placed his hand on the door and gently pushed, it slid open.

He looked around. The house had been abandoned for years. In the middle was a long rectangular table, polished smooth. Chu Ci went closer and saw seven or eight Pamir gems the size of cobblestones on it, with a layer of crushed fragments underneath. The gems were milky yellow, low quality, dull in color, with many cracks, basically unsellable junk.

That strange young man had led him here just to give him two worthless gems?

Chu Ci picked up the gems, examining them, but saw nothing special. As he dumped all the fragments into his bag, he suddenly noticed a piece of paper underneath.

Stellar Sector A, District 306, Neuroscience Lab, L-7F.

This location was even more puzzling. It looked like Yi Xi’s territory. Chu Ci used his light-brain device to take a photo and sent it to Secretary Lin, asking him to check what was inside. Then he put the paper into his bag.

He had a vague lead, but it didn’t connect. In a daze, Chu Ci felt as if he were back in a high school classroom. He held a problem and asked a genius preparing for Qingbei. The genius worked with a ferocity like a tiger, scribbled a bunch of symbols on scrap paper, and then handed it to Chu Ci with flair: “Here’s the solution approach. Take it.”

Chu Ci: “……”

Less than twenty minutes later, Secretary Lin replied.

He sent Chu Ci a video, pointing the camera at an octahedron-shaped metal device with several ports, as if it could be connected to data cables.

Secretary Lin said, “The address you gave is indeed a neuroscience lab funded by Stellar. This station belongs to one of our A-level researchers. He’s been missing for six months. Four months ago we reported it, and the police sealed off his station. This is the only physical evidence left behind.”

Chu Ci asked, “What’s this box for?”

Secretary Lin replied, “We don’t know. We can’t open it, and we don’t know what these ports are for.”

Chu Ci asked again, “The researcher, male or female?”

Secretary Lin clicked his tongue and said firmly, “Of course he’s a female. I even had him make me coffee before.”

Then he gave Chu Ci a disdainful look. “You think everyone’s like you, changing identities for fun just to get a job?”

Chu Ci didn’t bother replying. He asked, “Any other details?”

Secretary Lin thought for a moment. “He’s quite pretty. Supposedly the youngest PhD graduate in the history of the Central Research Institute. He even worked on lateral projects with Admiral Erwen. So young, and now missing, what a shame.”

Although Secretary Lin swore he was female, Chu Ci didn’t trust his gaze at all. After all, Secretary Lin had once grabbed Chu Ci by the collar, scolded him for being a pretty boy, and even threatened him to stay away from the Major General’s ‘male master’.

Chu Ci and the Major General were always in close proximity anyway. To stay away, he’d practically have to become a quantum pervert.

Chu Ci rubbed his forehead. “Send me the files.”

Secretary Lin was annoyed at Chu Ci’s distrustful expression, but quickly sent over a stack of documents.

Unlike Chu Ci’s plain résumé, which needed a lot of backstory from his past life just to get an offer, this young man, named Qu Xia, had an outstanding record. He completed his master’s and PhD at the Central Research Institute and had won several major awards in neuroscience.

He worked at the Central Research Institute for years, then was headhunted by Yi Xi for Stellar at a high salary. He became Stellar’s chief neuroscience expert and collaborated with the First Army on six or seven lateral projects. Chu Ci flipped to the last page of the documents. Looking at the joint signatures with the First Army, after the elegant Qu Xia in ink, the steady, calm handwriting. sure enough. was Erwen’s.

Chu Ci let out a small laugh. “Not simple at all. How did he get connected to Erwen?”

The First Army’s admiral, lowering himself to appoint a small researcher as the person in charge. it all seemed very strange.

Secretary Lin scratched his head. “When he came, he was already connected to the First Army. Supposedly they knew each other from school. How exactly they met, I don’t know.”

Chu Ci flipped through the stack of written documents. “What about photos?”

“Oh, here.”

The network on desolate planet was bad. The image on the light-brain took two minutes to load. The moment it appeared, Chu Ci burst out laughing.

Secretary Lin, confused, asked, “What’s so funny?”

Chu Ci put away his laughter and left a piece of advice. “Secretary Lin, before you make an irreparable mistake, maybe get your eyes checked first.”

Not every male is as… peculiar as he and this researcher.

Secretary Lin said, “What the heck?”

Chu Ci didn’t explain. With a smack, he ended the call.

The light-brain remained on the communication screen. The researcher in the photo wore thick-framed glasses, holding a stack of books, radiating pure scholarly energy. His face still had a hint of youth, making him look younger than his age. But under his left eye was a strange tear mole, sharp and striking, completely cutting through the “good student” aura.

—This was no ordinary character.

But if Erwen hadn’t defected, and Nuo Wei was Erwen’s nephew, then this mysterious researcher should be an ally.

Chu Ci decided that once he returned to the main star, he’d go straight to Stellar’s neuroscience lab to see what Qu Xia was up to.

By the time he returned to the hospital, three hours had already passed since he left.

The hospital bed was empty.

Chu Ci grabbed a random nurse and asked about Nuo Wei’s whereabouts. He worried that the investigation team, relentless as ever, might come to harass Nuo Wei while his mental state was still unstable. Fortunately, the nurse pointed downstairs. “Right over there.”

Peering through the gap in the stair railing, Chu Ci looked down the atrium from the third floor. In the center of the hospital, an outdoor screen had been set up, a long-obsolete projector, and in front of a yellowed screen sat the light-brain of a lone viewer, displaying something.

A male bass voice, rough and jarring with static, came through. It was the judge reading out the trial schedule. Chu Ci heard the name of  Major General Lin En.

This was a pre-trial for Erwen’s remnants.

Nuo Wei was still recovering and did not attend. The trial for Duan Shan and the other officers had been conducted in advance. Lin En and other lieutenants were forced into a half-kneeling position in the courtroom. Their faces were pale, uniforms tattered, necks strapped with tightly fastened suppression rings that left barely enough room to breathe. Electrodes on their foreheads connected to the lie detector.

The lie detector in the courtroom was much larger than the ones Chu Ci had seen. This was a disciplinary model, different from the hospital’s. Any detected lie would trigger a current through the electrodes, forcing the offender to lose composure on the spot as a form of punishment.

The crowd downstairs was noisy, and the judge’s voice came in fits and starts.

“So, you cannot prove that you had no connection to Erwen’s defection?”

“Who was the last person to enter Erwen’s office? Was it Nuo Wei?”

“You are Erwen’s direct subordinate and were close to Nuo Wei, correct?”

The presiding judge read the questions expressionlessly, like an emotionless machine.

Lin En replied repeatedly with “I don’t know,” “I’m not sure,” “No,” appearing as lost and disoriented as Nuo Wei once had. The lie detector fluctuated between red and green zones, showing that the subject’s emotions were unstable, making it impossible to get accurate readings.

The judge frowned and closed the document. “Lin En, you were a discarded piece the moment Erwen defected without informing you. Why do you resist stubbornly?”

Something in that remark clearly angered Lin En. He suddenly looked up, fists clenched. “You—”

The electrodes emitted a blinding blue light. Immediately, a piercing scream followed. Lin En clutched his forehead and collapsed, rolling twice while gritting his teeth.

Although Lin En usually carried himself with a carefree, cynical air, he cared deeply about his appearance. He was one of the rare flashy types among the military females. But now he was kneeling on the ground, veins bulging, sweat soaking through the back of his shirt. His expression was twisted and terrifying. In the upper-right corner, a camera’s red light blinked, faithfully recording the scene.

This kind of wretched posture was being livestreamed across the entire network from every angle. If the high-definition camera zoomed in, one could even see the sweat-dampened pores on Lin En’s skin.

There was no dignity left at all.

For a military female who was known for enduring pain to be tortured like this, one could imagine how severe and horrifying the punishment was.

Chu Ci stood on the third floor and looked down. On the first floor, half of Nuo Wei’s body was hidden in the shadow of the staircase. From Chu Ci’s angle, he could only see a small, sharply defined tip of Nuo Wei’s nose lit by the glow of the projection screen.

At the moment Lin En rolled on the ground, Nuo Wei clenched his palm tightly. His eyelashes, like folded fans, lowered. Without a sound, he stepped back two paces and completely hid himself in the corner of the stairs.

Chu Ci did not even need to look to know that Nuo Wei had broken the skin of his palm again.

He was gripping so hard, harder than every time before, that his entire palm trembled faintly.

Then, as if suddenly realizing something, he forced himself to open his hand, wiped the blood onto the inside of his undershirt where it would not be seen, and placed his hands behind his back.

Chu Ci’s step downward halted.

He realized that at this moment, Nuo Wei did not want to be disturbed.

He was in a completely defensive posture. All the torment had turned into raised spikes, merging into the thick black shadows.

Some things were destined to be borne alone. Nuo Wei did not want Chu Ci to see him like this.

Chu Ci sighed softly, pretended he knew nothing, and turned back into the hospital room.

The ward was still as dim and dilapidated as before, like a prison from the end of the world, without a trace of any other color.

Chu Ci laid out the things he had gathered from the flea market one by one. He spread a beige wool carpet over the concrete floor, hung pure white velvet curtains over the narrow window, then unfolded a dark green folding table. He brewed a cup of flower tea, looked at it for a moment, then added a pot of unknown greenery dotted with a few small yellow blossoms.

The plant’s vines stretched outward, slender stems holding up round leaves like little copper coins. In the small flowerpot, it grew lively and full of life.

At last, Chu Ci dragged over the apple-green beanbag chair and placed it beside the bed. Crossing his overly long legs, he sank into it, his whole body curling comfortably inside.

After adjusting into a relaxed position, he leaned to one side and began browsing his light-brain.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Nuo Wei had returned.

The moment Nuo Wei pushed the door open, Chu Ci lazily flipped a page, then lifted his face and gave a casual smile toward the doorway. “Good evening, Nuo Wei.”

Nuo Wei froze.

The cold-toned hospital room had been filled with warm colors. The beautiful male lay sprawled on the sofa in lazy ease, flipping through a book at random, a cup of steaming flower tea in his hand. Hearing the door open, he tilted his face upward, amber eyes holding a gentle smile.

“Good evening, Nuo Wei.”

It was as if the flames of war and smoke, the torture and pain, had never existed. As if it were just like every evening after work before, when he pushed open the door, and the male would be curled up in the apple-green beanbag chair, looking up and smiling at the female who had come home.

This cold gray prison cell made him think of a warm home light-years away.

Nuo Wei’s nose stung.

He walked over and knelt halfway in front of the male, burying his face in Chu Ci’s chest.

“Male Lord…”

“Male Lord, Male Lord, Male Lord…”

Chu Ci ruffled his hair.

“Hey. I’m here.”