EDEH Chapter 115

After standing by the lake in the storm for an hour, not a single fish bit.

 

The old general reeled in his line: “With such heavy rain, they must have all drowned.”

 

How could fish die from drowning?

 

But in such a large lake, they indeed hadn’t seen a single fish today.

 

Huo Yanji lowered his eyes. Ripples on the lake surface reflected in his gaze, as if he could see the girl from over ten years ago who thought even killing infected people was cruel and said she wanted to become a doctor or researcher to save people.

 

Over ten years had passed, and everyone had changed. Only the dead remained forever at their glorious moments, their faith never withering.

 

But the living had their hearts and minds constantly pried at by external forces.

 

How much longer could they persist?

 

From a hundred years ago to today, how many dark, reprehensible ugly deeds had humanity committed?

 

Impossible to count, impossible to settle accounts.

 

“That day, after I learned Ji Zhen had orchestrated all this, I kept thinking—it’s all karma.” The old general tidied up his fishing rod: “Human history is countless circles, constantly repeating the same cause and effect. When one day this circle can no longer hold, civilization’s castle in the air will completely collapse.”

 

Huo Yanji slowly looked up and also reeled in his rod: “You’ve started believing in fate.”

 

“Can’t help but believe.” The old general moved closer: “This planet has existed for billions of years. How long have we humans existed? Just a million years, and we’ve only been in the technological age for less than a thousand years.”

 

In this thousand years, countless animals and plants had gone extinct, yet only human civilization had developed smoothly until now, suffering almost no major setbacks and encountering no devastating disasters before the collapse.

 

“So this gave us an illusion—that our species would last forever… and brought us the arrogant pride that civilization must continue.”

 

Huo Yanji turned to look at him: “You’re wavering.”

 

“Yes, but who hasn’t wavered?” The old general shook his head: “I should just be grateful I only started wavering in old age, after doing what needed to be done.”

 

The storm grew heavier. Underground sewers roared turbulently, muddy water crashing against pipes with thunderous sounds.

 

They stood by the lake, young and old looking at each other. Wind made their raincoats rustle loudly, and the old general’s hood was blown off by fierce winds, raindrops hammering his aged face.

 

The heavy rain couldn’t moisturize his rough, dry skin but instead bent the spine he’d kept straight for decades.

 

The old general turned his head to look at the second floor of the small house in the distance, where a thin figure seemed to be pacing back and forth at the window.

 

“Most of the time, people can’t have everything perfect. Yanji, you can’t have it all. Those who bear great responsibilities must make choices.” The old general said meaningfully: “Once you’ve handled things, come to the main communications building. No rush—rest well first.”

 

He opened his raincoat and took out a document sealed in a transparent waterproof bag from his chest, handing it to Huo Yanji.

 

After being warmed in his chest for a long time, the document bag was somewhat hot but quickly became cold from the rain.

 

“I thought about it and decided you should know first.”

 

“Take care.”

 

Huo Yanji looked down. What the old general gave him wasn’t any classified document but a private genetic test report.

 

In the first row where the name was written, it clearly read: Huo Jiangmian.

 

“Wife!” From afar, a clear shout mixed with the rain.

 

“Hm?” Huo Yanji instinctively responded, looking up to catch Sang Jue running over: “What’s wrong?”

 

“You don’t need to call someone to clean.” Sang Jue said: “I cleaned the house.”

 

“How clean?”

 

“Very clean anyway.”

 

Huo Yanji was noncommittal. He brushed dust off Sang Jue’s shoulder: “Why didn’t you shower?”

 

“Waiting for you.”

 

Huo Yanji curved his lips: “Then let’s go. Help me carry a fishing rod—going home.”

 

Sang Jue: “…Not urgent though.”

 

Huo Yanji smoothed away hair from Sang Jue’s ear: “Can only fish for half an hour. You’ve been in the rain too long today.”

 

“Okay.” Sang Jue hesitated, then curved the corners of his mouth at Huo Yanji in an obedient smile.

 

Since learning of the doctor’s death, this was Sang Jue’s first smile.

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “Acting spoiled all the time.”

 

This time he didn’t hear Sang Jue’s denial.

 

Initially, Sang Jue hadn’t planned to clean, but seeing the old general and Huo Yanji fishing from the window sparked his curiosity—he wanted to try it.

 

His wife understood dragons well and saw right through what he wanted to do.

 

Huo Yanji didn’t fish together, instead taking calls from subordinates while using break time to teach Sang Jue how to fish.

 

“Don’t move around, wait patiently.”

 

After Huo Yanji finished two phone calls, Sang Jue’s hand holding the rod was sore and his eyes watching the float were strained: “Why aren’t any fish biting?”

 

“Maybe they’re all dead.”

 

Sang Jue denied: “There are lots of fish below.”

 

Huo Yanji paused: “Then the fish are all hiding from the thunderstorm, not daring to swim to the surface.”

 

“Then I’ll come back when the rain stops.”

 

Sang Jue reeled in his rod dejectedly, crouching to poke the lake surface to wash his hands. The next second he let out a small cry.

 

Huo Yanji instantly looked up: “What’s wrong?”

 

Sang Jue looked up helplessly: “…A fish bit me.”

 

Huo Yanji frowned, his first reaction being that the lake fish had mutated.

 

He took Sang Jue’s hand to examine it—no broken skin, just a bit red. In front of Sang Jue, beneath the lake surface, over ten fish were swimming around despite the storm’s pounding, competing to leap from the water.

 

They still looked original, not strange at all.

 

Sang Jue said hesitantly: “They’re not contaminated, and they don’t want to infect me.”

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes moved subtly as he led Sang Jue toward the house, saying flatly: “Our Sang Jue really is a sweet treat—everyone wants to get ‘close.'”

 

Sang Jue looked up: “What did you just call me?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Sang Jue?”

 

Sang Jue: “…That’s not it.”

 

Huo Yanji had said “our Sang Jue,” which felt remarkably like how the doctor used to tenderly and lovingly call him “our little evil dragon.”

 

Sang Jue rubbed his sore nose as Huo Yanji, removing his raincoat, picked him up and walked upstairs, leaving water stains behind.

 

Passing the bedroom, Huo Yanji roughly glanced around. On the surface it was quite clean, but actually Sang Jue’s cleaning was perfunctory—the windowsill still had a thin layer of dust.

 

He casually tossed the report with Huo Jiangmian’s name onto the desk and carried Sang Jue to the bathroom.

 

The bathroom had a simple bathtub. Huo Yanji put him in and began running water.

 

“Aren’t you going to be busy?”

 

“Changed my mind. I’m a bit tired and want to sleep first.” Huo Yanji sat on the bathtub edge, scanning Sang Jue’s pale body, and patted his leg: “Sit.”

 

Sang Jue obediently nestled into Huo Yanji’s embrace: “If you’re tired, just come with me.”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Where to?”

 

Sang Jue thought: “The planet is so big. We could take the aircraft traveling, go see snow, see the ocean.”

 

Sang Jue had been human for too short a time—there were still too many things in this world he hadn’t seen.

 

“I haven’t seen the ocean either.” Huo Yanji said casually: “There’s a safe zone by South Cliff Bay I haven’t been to.”

 

Sang Jue said: “I thought you’d been to all the safe zones.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “The farthest safe zone is tens of thousands of kilometers away. Usually, aside from cargo exchanges, there’s almost no personnel movement.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “Only tens of thousands of kilometers? But isn’t the planet’s surface area hundreds of millions of kilometers?”

 

“With all safe zones as boundaries, humanity’s current activity range is only about 100,000 kilometers.” While waiting for the bathtub to fill, Huo Yanji patiently explained: “You can think of the planet’s surface spread flat, with monsters and treacherous terrain occupying everything around. These 100,000 kilometers are humanity’s only breathing space and the limit of what we can currently expand to. The monsters on the periphery are constantly shrinking this circle, compressing human living space. So the former Supreme Council believed humanity would be finished in at most two or three hundred years.”

 

Sang Jue hummed.

 

Huo Yanji lowered his eyes. From this angle he could only see Sang Jue’s upturned eyelashes. He stirred the bathwater and said flatly: “If I weren’t in this position, I should go see what the planet’s surface looks like beyond these 100,000 kilometers.”

 

“It’s not too late to go see now.” Sang Jue added: “I’ll protect you.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “I still have many things undone. Just leaving like this would be too irresponsible.”

 

Sang Jue pursed his lips. Humans always talked about responsibility.

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “If I’m gone in the future and humanity has also perished, you can go see for me.”

 

“…” Sang Jue struggled out of Huo Yanji’s embrace, sat in the bathtub, and said nothing.

 

Huo Yanji stood up and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, his slender fingers moving down bit by bit until layers of military uniform were thrown piece by piece into the dirty clothes basket.

 

Without clothes, Sang Jue’s shoulders and back looked even thinner.

 

Watching him, Huo Yanji’s movements unconsciously slowed.

 

In that instant, the young general’s mind conjured a scene: humanity perished, civilization destroyed, the vast world occupied by monsters, with only a little evil dragon shuttling through jungles and surface terrain. He would ask every passing monster: “Have you seen humans?”

 

No monsters had seen them—they only wanted to contaminate this dragon.

 

But this very human-like evil dragon would forever remember that a species called “humans” once existed on this planet.

 

He would become the last existence capable of human language, yet have no one to accompany him or speak with him. He would become the loneliest existence.

 

Perhaps everyone’s heart would waver, except Huo Yanji’s.

 

The lamplighter walking ahead didn’t need particularly bright or noble reasons or faith. Even if just to prevent a certain dragon from being forever lonely, civilization’s flame needed to be passed down.

 

“Don’t stop making friends or talking to people because you’re afraid of death’s parting.” Huo Yanji stepped into the bathtub and pulled Sang Jue into his embrace: “Human lifespans are short, but there will always be new people to replace the old ones.”

 

“…”

 

But Sang Jue didn’t know who could replace the doctor, or who could replace Huo Yanji.

 

No one could.

 

Sang Jue leaned against Huo Yanji’s chest, warm water enveloping their bodies. For once he didn’t think about happy things, but stared blankly while listening to the heartbeat by his ear.

 

Before he had consciousness, where was he and in what state?

 

Sleeping?

 

After Ji Ji died, could he take Ji Ji with him back to sleep? As long as they slept without waking, he wouldn’t miss anyone, and they could even meet in dreams and do lewd things.

 

Sang Jue asked quietly: “Does the report you brought back have anything to do with me?”

 

Huo Yanji answered: “Nothing to do with you. It’s Huo Jiangmian’s report.”

 

Sang Jue: “…What’s wrong with him?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “His current genetic stability level is F-grade.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t understand: “What does that mean?”

 

Huo Yanji said calmly: “It means he can maintain stability for at most half a year before facing loss of control.”

 

How many lucky deviants could actually last the full thirty years?

 

Most died midway.

 

**

---