EDEH Chapter 107

Sang Jue still liked the sleeping position of lying on top, but he was no longer as casual as before. His legs would firmly straddle Huo Yanji’s hips, and while listening to Huo Yanji’s heartbeat, he had to clasp one hand as well, as if afraid Huo Yanji would run away.

 

He couldn’t hold onto the doctor because she had already vanished in the long river of history. He couldn’t hold onto 007 either because 007 was just a string of data with no physical form or life.

 

Only Huo Yanji before him was the only person he could firmly grasp.

 

“Morning.”

 

“Morning…” Sang Jue, propping up his body, rubbed his eyes and mumbled: “I had a dream where the doctor didn’t want me to come home…”

 

Sang Jue’s voice grew smaller and smaller. After staring at the silent Huo Yanji for a while, he seemed to suddenly wake up, realizing this wasn’t a dream.

 

Then he went completely quiet, kneeling on the bed without making a sound.

 

Huo Yanji got out of bed, put on a white shirt, meticulously buttoning every button. The shirt hem and his lean but powerful waistline were tucked into black pants, finally topped with a military jacket.

 

He tossed leather gloves on the nearby table, picked up clothes several sizes smaller, and walked to the bedside.

 

“Time to go, Sang Jue.”

 

It was now four in the morning. The underground city dome’s sunlight hadn’t yet spread, and most residents were still lying in warm beds, perhaps dreaming of a row of crimson countdown—

 

“You have nine years and three hundred sixty-three days of life remaining.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “Even though you now have authority to lift the self-destruct program, the underground city is no longer suitable for human habitation, right? What will happen to them?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “After research and assessment, the dome radiation has minimal impact on adults, so residents staying here temporarily isn’t a big problem. It’s too chaotic outside—everything needs to stabilize before we can relocate them.”

 

Sang Jue lowered his head: “What about 007?”

 

Huo Yanji’s heart softened. He pulled the person into his embrace and gently patted his back: “Its carrier isn’t in the underground city, is it? It’s different from 005—it doesn’t need to be bound to the underground city. It’s free.”

 

Sang Jue thought: “In the aircraft.”

 

Huo Yanji hummed: “So this time we’re going to bring back your aircraft.”

 

Sang Jue pursed his lips: “The aircraft is mine. The doctor said only I can open it—even 007 can’t.”

 

“Yours, I won’t fight you for it.” Huo Yanji cupped the back of Sang Jue’s neck and squeezed: “I only want the resources inside.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “What if others want to fight me for it?”

 

“As long as I’m alive, no one can take it from you.” Huo Yanji said lightly: “If I die, eat whoever tries to steal it.”

 

“…” Sang Jue pushed away from Huo Yanji and stared into his eyes.

 

Huo Yanji casually zipped up Sang Jue’s jacket: “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Sang Jue climbed down from the bed and walked toward the breakfast table without looking back.

 

Huo Yanji watched his retreating figure, unconscious amusement flickering in his eyes.

 

Life in the underground city was quite affluent—three hot, fresh meals a day without needing to eat fast food or gnaw on compressed biscuits.

 

Toast sandwiched with fried eggs and meat patties was very fragrant.

 

Sang Jue, one dragon, ate six portions plus a large milkshake.

 

Huo Yanji was only on his second portion. He said leisurely: “I estimate it won’t be long before people spread rumors that I keep six lovers in my room.”

 

Sang Jue: “…”

 

The evil dragon’s brain turned for a while before reacting. He lowered his head and huffed quietly: “You agreed to be mates with a dragon, so you have to accept a dragon’s big appetite.”

 

Huo Yanji didn’t understand genetic issues, but Sang Jue was really quite miraculous.

 

Theoretically, whatever form Sang Jue took should have the genetic characteristics of that form. As for why human form could eat dragon-sized portions…

 

“You’re mocking me.”

 

“No.”

 

“You did.”

 

“Alright, I did.”

 

“…” Sang Jue bit down the last bite of toast and looked out the window: “Why hasn’t the self-destruct countdown disappeared yet?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “We won’t lift it until things stabilize. If the council discovers 007’s existence and realizes the rumors are true, they might take the opportunity to cause trouble.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t understand: “Weren’t all the council members arrested?”

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “It’s not that simple. To put it bluntly, the Dawn Plan was done by predecessors, and Dawn Plan 2 wasn’t successfully executed. The charges aren’t so easy to pin down. They’ve just temporarily quieted down, but they still have many supporters. One careless move could let them make a comeback.”

 

“Oh…” Sang Jue finished eating and rested his chin on his hand, staring at Huo Yanji.

 

He rather liked this feeling. Though he didn’t understand, Huo Yanji would still tell him things very patiently.

 

“So we can’t relax.” Huo Yanji brought his unfinished toast to Sang Jue’s lips: “Eat it. This is the last bite. If you get hungry, you’ll have to eat on the road.”

 

“I didn’t want to eat your breakfast.” Though he said this, his mouth nimbly bit down, chewed and swallowed: “Why do you eat so little but still stay so big?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “If I ate six meat patty toasts for breakfast, I could be even bigger.”

 

Sang Jue: “How big?”

 

Huo Yanji recalled someone Sang Jue knew: “Like Bao Cang? But all the muscle would have to be replaced with fat.”

 

Sang Jue looked down and touched his stomach: “The doctor always told me to eat more because I couldn’t harm my body, so she would always make delicious food for me.”

 

Huo Yanji wouldn’t avoid discussing this topic because of Anya’s death. Sang Jue would eventually have to formally face the fact of death.

 

He asked naturally: “The doctor could do everything?”

 

Sang Jue nodded: “Everything. Everyone said she was a genius, and she wasn’t like other researchers who were wooden, wooden…”

 

Huo Yanji: “Dull.”

 

“Right, the doctor wasn’t dull at all. Very gentle, understood everything, always knew what I was thinking, what others were thinking…”

 

Sang Jue said: “But some people also said that a very talented person who knows worldly affairs but can’t eliminate the emotional part will live very painfully.”

 

“Who made that assessment?”

 

“The research institute director.”

 

“Which one?” Huo Yanji recalled the two directors from Anya’s era: “Cree or Zhen Zhen?”

 

“Zhen Zhen.” Sang Jue said sullenly: “He died when I was in my teens. He said his dying wish was to see me fly once, and he scolded me for being a stupid dragon who couldn’t even fly.”

 

“…His words don’t count.”

 

“Of course not. Only the doctor can call me stupid.”

 

“Did the doctor ever say that?”

 

“…No.” Sang Jue unconsciously zoned out: “I’ve never had my IQ tested, don’t know if it’s high, but the doctor always praised me for being smart.”

 

So the little evil dragon had always thought he was smart since childhood.

 

“You’re not stupid to begin with.” Huo Yanji stood up and casually patted Sang Jue’s head: “Human judgment of intelligence is just based on human thinking logic. No need to imitate.”

 

Sang Jue said nothing and followed Huo Yanji into the elevator.

 

They didn’t have much luggage, just two bags, both in Huo Yanji’s hands.

 

Sang Jue looked at the tightly closed elevator door crack, as if the moment the elevator doors opened, the doctor would be standing outside, gently calling: “Sang Jue, come here.”

 

He always missed the days by the doctor’s side, when he could freely choose to be an evil dragon or a human. As a human, everyone liked to feed him food. As an evil dragon too.

 

Every time researchers discovered some new type of hard element, their first reaction was to bring it over for the evil dragon to gnaw on, to see how hard it was.

 

Then these people would get scolded by the doctor, who would say what if it was radioactive?

 

Everyone was initially somewhat afraid of him. After all, humans were always afraid of unknown existences they couldn’t control.

 

But researchers were a group of very pure humans who only believed in data. They didn’t care about his species. When he spent more time in human form, everyone would ask him to change back, wanting to pet his wings and tail.

 

Sang Jue generally wouldn’t let them pet him—scarcity made things precious.

 

And everyone there seemed to hope he would learn to fly.

 

Now he was somewhat capable, though he still couldn’t fly to very high places, at least he could sprint at treetop level. Unfortunately, the people who most wanted to see it could no longer see.

 

The moment the elevator doors opened, Sang Jue tugged at Huo Yanji’s shirt corner: “When we return to the main city, can I erect a separate tombstone for Dr. Anya in your manor?”

 

“Yes, need help?”

 

“No.” After answering, Sang Jue thought again: “When I need help, I’ll find you.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Sang Jue actually wanted to erect it in the wild, in a place only he could see, so the doctor would belong completely to him.

 

But there were too many humans who occupied most of the doctor’s heart. Sang Jue only occupied a small corner.

 

“I think I know why humans like to erect monuments.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because when they miss those who have already died, they have a place to go.”

 

Huo Yanji paused.

 

Previously, Sang Jue thought he still had a chance to go home and always had hope. Now that hope was gone, looking back, the people he cared about were long gone, his former home destroyed, with no familiar traces to be found.

 

“I’ve been missing her for a long time but didn’t know where to go.” Sang Jue said: “If there’s a grave, I’ll have a place to go.”

 

Huo Yanji rubbed Sang Jue’s head and suddenly said: “If I die someday, what would you want me to leave behind for you?”

 

“…” Sang Jue frowned and looked up: “Do you have a terminal illness?”

 

Huo Yanji stepped forward: “No.”

 

Sang Jue followed Huo Yanji’s steps: “Then why have you been making hypotheses about ‘you dying’ lately? I don’t like it.”

 

Huo Yanji said nothing and strode toward the roadside. The army had already assembled. This was only a small portion—the main force was already stationed at the passage.

 

“Sir, ready to depart.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Huo Yanji was as indifferent and steady as always, but his mind wasn’t on military matters—it was wandering badly.

 

From the moment he saw Sang Jue’s eyes redden upon learning of the doctor’s death, he’d been thinking: when he died, how would Sang Jue live?

 

Humans would deceive Sang Jue until he had nothing left, and monsters all wanted to eat him—they wouldn’t talk to him.

 

Who would then accompany Sang Jue through another period of beloved’s death?

 

If he could be called beloved.

 

Just as the car was about to start, the adjutant in front suddenly received a communication: “…Understood.”

 

The adjutant turned back: “Sir, Hao Hui has committed suicide.”

 

Huo Yanji wasn’t surprised: “Cremate him together with his wife and daughters.”

 

“Yes.”

 

In this era, having ashes merge together after death might be considered great fortune.

 

Humanity had never been as ‘united’ as now—even in death, they couldn’t be separated.

 

The vehicle drove past, false sunlight slowly moving over, illuminating this dead city.

 

Residents gradually woke up, treating the countdown overhead as if it didn’t exist.

 

Some were pregnant, some on rest periods, occasionally looking up at the dome, wondering if they thought about what the outside world was like.

 

Sang Jue suddenly murmured: “I’d rather die in trenches than breathe my last in bed.”

 

Huo Yanji turned to look at him: “Who said that?”

 

“Can’t it be something I said…” Sang Jue mumbled. He leaned against Huo Yanji’s shoulder, watching outside the car window as this historical city representing humanity’s glorious civilization gradually receded: “—It’s the epigraph from the doctor’s work diary.”

 

Better to die awake and in pain than live numb and void.

 

**

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