ICAWZ Chapter 233

Lin Kong was an optimistic person. The recordings, scattered and fragmented, captured the little things in his life—from major events like the entire Zerg Race overthrowing the rule of the former Zerg King, to small moments like the surprise of finding a single rosebud in the dense forest and watching it sprout and grow day by day.

The evening wind swept across the open plains, the mountains rising and falling endlessly in the darkness. Ancient, pale trees trembled lightly in the breeze, as if they had once borne silent witness to history.

Xu Cenfeng sat cross-legged on the muddy ground, eyes closed, holding the phone close to his ear, listening intently to this story that belonged to Lin Kong.

[After the former Zerg King died, Hermes became the new king. Those low-ranking zergs were living rough, exposed to the elements every day. I wanted to teach them how to build houses, cook meals, and farm…]

As Lin Kong’s soft murmuring played, Xu Cenfeng felt as if he could see how the primitive zergs had once begun to develop.

[They finally learned how to build houses—and they were much smarter than I was. At first, they could only manage thatched huts, but later, they could even build wooden houses like mine. I thought to myself, there are quite a lot of them—enough to form a small nation. Shouldn’t they have a name?]

Lin Kong made the final decision:

[Let’s just call them the Zerg, then. Starting this year, it’ll be the first year of Zerg Star.]

After that recording, there was a two-year gap before Lin Kong left a few more messages. It seemed he had fallen seriously ill—his voice sounded hoarse, and there were stifled coughs in the background.

[Just my luck—I got bitten by a venomous snake.]

[Cough, cough… But I didn’t die. I just kept running a fever… I think, at some point, my body must have been changed by this world. At the very least, it seems like I can live a long time…]

[But Hermes doesn’t seem to understand what I’m saying. He doesn’t get what a fever is. He thinks I’m dying, and stays by my side every day, pouring huge amounts of life force into me…]

[He once said that if I died, he would eat me. Years have passed, and I suddenly got curious whether his answer would still be the same. But he shook his head and said he wouldn’t eat me anymore.]

[He said if I died, he would die with me.]

You could hear it—Lin Kong must have been very surprised at the time. He held the phone in silence for a long while before finally speaking in a quiet voice:

[The truth is, I really can’t bear to part with him.]

[Hermes may be powerful, but he’s easy to fool. Sometimes he’s as pure as a child. If I really died, I know he would definitely follow me.]

[Even now, I still can’t figure out whether waking up on that long-distance bus was just a dream. I can only be thankful that the driver didn’t let me get off back then… otherwise, I would never have met Hermes.]

[If he knew I had wanted to get off the bus back then… would he blame me?]

[But if I had the chance to do it all over again… I think—I would have stayed.]

It was a recording made two months later—the final one left by Lin Kong. Xu Cenfeng stared at the screen for a few seconds before finally pressing play. After a burst of noisy wind, Lin Kong’s clear voice came through:

[This phone is too old now. This is probably the last time I’ll use it.]

[The zergs didn’t use to eat food. They survived like vampires, by absorbing life force. But now, they’ve learned to make fire, roast meat, hunt, and build.]

[They’re becoming more and more like humans… Sometimes, I even get the illusion that I never left Earth at all…]

Lin Kong’s voice gradually softened, filled with longing and hope:

[I wonder what the zergs will become in the future… Will they one day, like humans, develop their own civilization and build countless skyscrapers? Will their descendants one day discover the existence of me and Hermes?]

[But the human lifespan is just too short. I don’t think I’ll live to see that day… I can only…]

I can only what?

But the rest of the sentence was never spoken. Lin Kong’s voice cut off abruptly—the phone had run out of power.

Xu Cenfeng looked down. All he saw was a red exclamation mark flashing briefly on the screen before it went dark, silently and completely, never lighting up again.

It was as if an era had come to an end.

Xu Cenfeng didn’t know how Lin Kong’s story had ended. But after tens of thousands of years, both he and Hermes had long since vanished from the world—their bones, perhaps, buried beneath this vast land, having witnessed countless turns of the seasons.

Even though he had heard this recording in his previous life, he still couldn’t keep the heaviness from his heart.

“Phew…”

Xu Cenfeng lowered his head and slowly let out a breath. Then he stood up from the ground, patted the dirt from his clothes, slipped the old phone into his pocket, and picked up the rose from the wooden box. Taking a few steps back, he broke into a short run and leapt up—back to the surface.

The night was heavy and dark. Xu Cenfeng had initially planned to return to the camp, but as he lifted his head, he found himself frozen in place, staring at a familiar figure standing beneath a tree.

Faeus, who had been sleeping in the tent, must have come out at some point. He wore a thin shirt, standing in silence beneath the tree, framed by the night sky and the stars. There was a certain casual laziness about him.

Faeus squinted at Xu Cenfeng, his voice hoarse with lingering desire: “What were you just doing?”

Xu Cenfeng didn’t answer right away. He took a step closer to Faeus, his voice clear and warm, showing no hint of the panic one might expect from being caught: “Weren’t you supposed to be sleeping in the tent? How did you end up out here?”

Faeus frowned, clearly displeased by Xu Cenfeng’s evasiveness: “I’m the one asking the questions.”

Xu Cenfeng gave a helpless smile and gestured to the dirt on his clothes: “I was just curious to see how the temple excavation was going, but I ended up falling in by accident. What about you? When did you come out?”

Faeus saw his innocent look, the dirt on him looking genuine, not at all like he was pretending. He moved his neck with an indifferent expression, his tone turning slightly cold: “I noticed you leaving the tent as soon as you stepped out.”

He had waited a few minutes, and when Xu Cenfeng hadn’t returned, Faeus had become worried and followed. He hadn’t expected that the other would fall into a pit.

Xu Cenfeng seemed to pause for a moment after hearing this, perhaps surprised by how keen Faeus’ senses were. “But you…”

He stopped himself and then asked: “But weren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

Faeus raised an eyebrow slightly “Is it that I can’t wake up if I’m sleeping? If the military females slept so soundly, how would we fight on the battlefield?”

Xu Cenfeng was left speechless. “….”

Faeus then used two fingers to pinch the hem of Xu Cenfeng’s shirt, looking at the dirt on it with clear disdain. “Why are you just standing there? Go change your clothes.”

Faeus spoke, then turned to lead the way back to the camp. After taking a few steps, he suddenly sensed something was off. He looked back and saw that Xu Cenfeng was still standing in place. The other male’s slender, tall figure seemed to merge with the night, looking lost and dazed, as though Faeus’ offhand words had struck him like a delayed bullet, hitting his heart with a sudden “bang” on this quiet night, after years of separation.

That heart was shattered into a bloody mess, numb to the point where it couldn’t even feel the pain.

When Xu Cenfeng had fled in the past, he had often wondered about one thing. He thought about how Faeus, being an S-rank military zerg, was surrounded by so many guards, yet on that night, he had managed to escape so easily—without any hindrance, as though it were all planned.

Did he truly not notice? Did he really fall asleep?

Xu Cenfeng didn’t know. If only he had been willing to turn back when he fled, he would have seen that figure standing still in the distance. But he didn’t dare. He was afraid that if he looked back, he would soften and miss the chance to gain his freedom. So, he ran without a second thought.

And that was how he lost everything—forever.

“…What’s wrong with you?”

Faeus didn’t understand why Xu Cenfeng looked so dazed. He moved forward and waved his hand in front of his eyes. But before he could react, he was suddenly pulled into Xu Cenfeng’s embrace. This tender male zerg, usually so composed, now lost control, tightening his arms around him. If you looked closely, even his fingertips were trembling.

Faeus was stunned: “Xu Cenfeng?”

He wondered if Xu Cenfeng had somehow damaged his brain.

Xu Cenfeng closed his eyes, holding Faeus tightly, unable to say anything for a long while. He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse as he shook his head: “It’s nothing. Let’s go back.”

Faeus turned his head with difficulty to look at him, his eyes filled with suspicion: “Don’t you need to see a doctor?”

Xu Cenfeng lightly kissed him, a brief touch like a dragonfly skimming the water. His forehead rested against Faeus’, and their noses brushed as he spoke, his warm breath washing over Faeus’ face, causing a faint tingling sensation: “No need.”

He gently placed the bright red rose into Faeus’ white shirt pocket: “For you.”

Faeus looked down at the rose: “A rose… what does it mean?”

Xu Cenfeng smiled faintly: “It means I like you.”

Faeus inexplicably blushed bright red, and at the same time, a joy he couldn’t control bubbled up inside him. After all, Xu Cenfeng rarely spoke such straightforward words of affection. Faeus mumbled under his breath: “Nonsense.”

It was as though he was denying that he, too, liked Xu Cenfeng.

They returned to the tent together, embracing each other as they slept through the night, undisturbed by dreams.

As dawn broke, the blood moon on the horizon disappeared, replaced by the rising red sun that broke free from the edge of the earth. The first light of day swept away the endless darkness of the night.

Ah Sui had slept soundly the night before, but he couldn’t ignore his sharp senses. He woke up early, stretched lazily, and his little eyes couldn’t help but drift toward Xu Cenfeng. “Brother Cenfeng, did you go out last night?”

Xu Cenfeng had just finished washing up. Without changing his expression, he dried his hands with a towel: “You heard wrong. Hurry up and brush your teeth. After breakfast, we’ll head out to see the strange beasts.”

Ah Sui made a face: “You’re lying. I heard it, okay?”

However, he was a bit intimidated by the fierce red-haired military female next to Xu Cenfeng, so he didn’t dare get too close. After breakfast, he joined everyone else to board the bus.

After last night, Xu Cenfeng seemed a bit clingier toward Faeus. He sat beside him, wearing a baseball cap. Meanwhile, Faeus was slouched in the seat, half-asleep. Xu Cenfeng took off the cap and placed it on his head: “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

Faeus lifted his eyelids to glance at Xu Cenfeng, then stretched out with a big yawn: “I slept well. I spent the whole night dreaming.”

Before Xu Cenfeng could say anything, Faeus interrupted, his tone playful: “Don’t ask. If you do, I won’t tell you what the dream was about.”

Xu Cenfeng was speechless for a moment: “We hardly ever get a chance to come out like this. After breakfast, we’re going to see the scenery. If you sleep through it, wouldn’t that be a shame?”

Faeus scoffed: “All the strange beasts in this forest have already been cleared by me. What scenery? I’ve seen it all.”

As Faeus spoke, he suddenly realized that all the male zergs on this bus, except for Ashya, had black hair and black eyes, and they all seemed to know each other. He couldn’t help but ask with some suspicion: “By the way, all you male zergs have black hair and black eyes. You must come from the same clan, right?”

Xu Cenfeng gave a vague response: “Something like that. Why?”

Faeus became slightly more interested: “Where do you all come from?”

He had never heard of any place that had so many pure-blooded male zergs.

Xu Cenfeng remained silent at Faeus’ question. His left hand rested on the back of the seat as he gazed out the window, his eyes seemingly piercing through the morning mist, drifting far and distant. His voice was low and ambiguous: “We come from afar…”

A place so far away that it could no longer be traced, existing only in memory.

Faeus raised an eyebrow, thinking to himself that Xu Cenfeng’s answer was no different from saying nothing at all. In the back seat, You Que suddenly spoke, as if recalling something, and sighed regretfully, “It’s a pity one’s missing.”

Xu Cenfeng knew that You Que was referring to the missing Lin Kong.

Back then, everyone on the bus had survived, except for Lin Kong, who had vanished without a trace. News of a black-haired male zerg had occasionally surfaced in various places, and they probably all believed Lin Kong was dead.

Although, deep down, Xu Cenfeng knew that Lin Kong was most certainly not alive now.

Xu Cenfeng rose from his seat, noticing that Faeus was still carefully hiding the rose in his pocket, as if it were a precious treasure. However, after a night had passed, the petals had wilted slightly and become wrinkled and dehydrated, no longer the fresh bloom it once was

Xu Cenfeng picked up the wilted rose and placed it on his seat, his tone carrying a subtle implication: “It’s not necessarily true.”

The bus continued its journey along the dirt road, the engine roaring as it sped forward into a sea of roses. In an instant, countless red petals filled the air, swirling around them like a storm, enveloping their entire field of vision. The rich fragrance flooded their nostrils, carrying with it a memory of romance so profound it felt as though it could last a lifetime.

“Whoosh—!”

The group couldn’t help but gasp in unison, clearly taken aback by the sheer magnificence of the scene. The mutated rose vines towered high, some even reaching above their heads in the bright sunlight. They were completely engulfed by the flowers, their vision obscured, with petals raining down from every direction. The sight was overwhelming, so beautiful it seemed almost unreal.

Xu Cenfeng gazed into the distant hills and softly spoke, “This is a gift from a friend.”

It was the last thing Lin Kong had left unsaid in the recording.

The brevity of human life is such that he would likely never see what the future holds. All he could leave behind was a field of flowers. He would eventually fade away, but those flowers would bloom year after year, across vast stretches of land, until one day, millennia later, they would serve as a reunion for him and his long-gone companions.

In the faint light of dawn, a bird flapped its wings as it soared through the trees, creating a soft rustling sound.

Ah Sui leaned against the window, lost in thought. The sight and sound stirred memories of the mornings in Folang Village, where countless birds would gather and chirp non-stop, urging them to wake up and begin their training.

He rested his chin in his hand, drifting into a daze, wondering how his great-grandfather was doing now…

In Folang Village, everyone practiced martial arts, and their physical strength was much greater than that of ordinary people, but in the end, they couldn’t escape the cycle of life, illness, and death.

When Ah Sui was young, his great-grandfather was still in good health, but as time passed, his hair gradually turned white, and he lost all his teeth. The thing he did most every day was sit in the rocking chair at the entrance of the village, watching his grandchildren play.

“Great-grandpa! Great-grandpa!!”

A small child rushed into his arms, then climbed up his knees, giggling happily, “Grandpa, will you take Huzi to dig for bird nests? Huzi wants to eat bird eggs.”

“Ah, my goodness!”

Great-grandpa’s face couldn’t hide the tenderness. He seemed like he wanted to pick the child up, but due to his frailty, he could only muster enough strength to raise one arm slightly. In the end, he had to use his cane to gently set Huzi down on the ground. He patted the child’s smooth forehead and sighed, “If you dig up the bird’s nest, won’t the little birds have nowhere to stay? Huzi, be good, go study with your uncle and learn some characters. Once you’ve learned well, great-grandpa will take you to pick fruits.”

Huzi was the youngest and the most pampered of all the grandchildren, so it was inevitable that he would act a bit spoiled. He climbed up onto the stone monument at the village entrance, pouting, and said, “Great-grandpa, Huzi already knows how to read, I don’t need to study anymore.”

Great-grandpa looked at him with a fond smile and, shaking his head at his silly antics, grew even more loving. He tapped the stone monument with his cane and said, “Then great-grandpa will test you. How do you read the two characters on this stone?”

Huzi was quick-witted: “This is Folang Village. Of course, the two characters carved here are Folang. My mom taught me that a long time ago.”

But great-grandpa kept shaking his head, dismayed, “Wrong, wrong…”

He only said “wrong” without explaining why. He slowly sat down on the lounge chair, using his cane for support. His graying hair glowed under the sunlight, and though his eyes were cloudy with age, they were full of kindness.

Huzi slid down with a “slip” and rushed to hug his great-grandfather’s legs, saying, “Great-grandpa, then tell Huzi, what do these two characters mean?”

Great-grandpa patted his head, his voice soft and serious, though his teeth were missing, and his speech carried a slight rural accent. He repeated the same two characters:

“Folang… these two characters are pronounced Folang…”

Huzi shook his head, pouting, “But that’s still Folang! Great-grandpa, you’re tricking me. How mean!”

Great-grandpa stroked his beard, closed his eyes, and sighed as he leaned back in the rocking chair. He thought to himself, It’s not Folang… it’s Faran…

The faded characters on the stone stele once read Salaranfa, but over time, the wind and rain wore away one character, and time erased another. The broken stele split down the middle, and all that remained were the characters “ranfa.”

The person who carved the stone stele originally inscribed it from right to left, but later generations became accustomed to reading from left to right. Over time, through the words of one elder after another, laced with their local dialect, the name gradually transformed into what it is now.

Faran.

Folang.

When descendants asked for the reason, no one could clearly explain. All they knew was that their ancestors had always pronounced it that way.

It is a long story, one that spans tens of thousands of years. A group of humans had once left their homeland. At that time, the roses had not yet bloomed, thorns covered the crowns, and only one lonely planet remained, quietly waiting in the universe for the return of old friends…

 

 

 

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