The strange, great fog dispersed, and the black vine’s energy no longer caused species to fuse and mutate. A brand-new ecosystem entered a state of stability, and the journey into the new world officially began.
Humanity’s two great bases merged into one, and some researchers shifted their focus to studying the habits of the new ecosystem’s species.
The dense fog had shrouded the world for far too long. Having finally glimpsed the light of day again, people were eager to reacquaint themselves with a world that had, unbeknownst to them, been completely transformed.
Not long after the final battle, the research institute personnel regretfully announced that all previous methods for extracting the black vine’s energy had become ineffective. The energy could no longer be artificially extracted—that anomalous power that had affected the Earth for over fifty years seemed to have vanished from the world entirely.
Several months later, the Base completely ceased all research on the black vine. It was announced that the Floating City’s buoyancy system, which relied on black vine energy to generate lift, was now utterly obsolete. The Base would no longer dispatch anyone to recover or repair it.
The Floating City ultimately fell back to the earth, becoming a heavy stroke in the history books, sketched in blood and smoke.
However, most people would never know that inside the Base Research Institute, which claimed to have ceased its studies, a small black vine was still being kept under special care.
The little black vine disliked being confined, disliked noise, and disliked the laboratory’s nutrient solution. It only liked to cling to a mercenary who knew nothing of biology and cared not a whit for the Base’s research.
That mercenary’s name was Chai Yuening, captain of the Thirteenth Mercenary Team from the Sixth District of the outer city. Her squad had made outstanding contributions to the Base during a large-scale mutated beast invasion and was now permitted to reside in the main city, with unrestricted access to important locations like the City Defense Center and the research institute.
For a mercenary, this was an unprecedented honor.
Yet she herself only wanted to stay in the research institute every day, watching that little black vine grow, bit by bit.
This time, there was no broken water tank to confine it, no dim room, no large screen casting a green glow, no sampling taken without regard for its pain.
It was free, and in Chai Yuening’s company, it received the care of many people at the institute.
This little black vine was Chu Ci. This was by no means Chai Yuening’s wishful thinking; everyone who knew Chu Ci believed it to be true.
Even Yi Shuyun, who had been responsible for Chu Ci’s care for so many years, said, “Quiet, well-behaved, and inactive. She doesn’t like anyone else, only clinging to you. This is completely her nature.”
But no one could say for sure whether it retained human consciousness, or if it could ever change back into human form.
Yi Shuyun: “If it stays like this forever, will you watch over it for the rest of your life?”
Chai Yuening: “What else would I do?”
The underground base had no sunlight; incandescent lamps illuminated the entire room. Chai Yuening’s brows curved as she lowered her head, continuing to softly coax the little black vine to take its daily dose of nutrient solution.
Yi Shuyun pursed her lips and said with a light chuckle, “You certainly are worthy of how much she cares for you.”
She spoke, then pondered for a moment before offering quiet reassurance. “You’ll get her back.”
Chai Yuening: “Really?”
Yi Shuyun: “Yes.”
Chai Yuening nodded and didn’t press further, only saying, “Dr. Ge said that all living things have stopped mutating. Humans will no longer transform into other species, and other species can no longer acquire human characteristics.”
Yi Shuyun leaned against a cold data cabinet and said faintly, “That’s true, but Chu Ci fused into a human before the mutations stopped. And she does possess the ability to switch freely between two physical forms, so some things aren’t absolute. After all, the people who mutated before the fog dispersed can’t revert to their original appearances either.”
Yi Shuyun continued, adding, “Judging from the data analysis of her last few checkups, she should be in a semi-comatose state right now—not a physical coma, but a coma of consciousness. You know what a vegetative state is, right? Her condition is a bit like that, but not entirely. People in a vegetative state mostly retain only the most basic nerve reflexes, energy absorption, and metabolic functions. She’s better off than that; she can make minor autonomous movements, and she can still cling to you every day. Her basic cognitive abilities haven’t been completely lost… Perhaps this isn’t a semi-vegetative state, but rather a deep sleep that is uniquely hers. In this state of sleep, she still retains a shallow layer of consciousness, and this consciousness influences her to perform actions similar to ‘sleepwalking.’”
“In any case, I don’t think the situation is as dire as Ge Heguang makes it out to be. Perhaps there will truly be a day when she ‘wakes up.’ Just like when you took her from the research institute, from the Floating City—didn’t she change from a vine back into a person then?”
“Thank you, Dr. Yi. You really don’t have to comfort me.” Chai Yuening’s lips curved into a slight smile, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I thought I had lost her completely… I wanted to die there. My flesh, my blood, my very bones—they should have all rotted in the place she returned to, to be her nourishment for all eternity. Just as I promised her, I would never again leave her to face anything alone. But she came back. From the moment she wrapped herself around my body, I knew she had come back.”
“She couldn’t bear to part with me, just as I couldn’t bear to part with her.” She smiled at Yi Shuyun. “We’re still together. That’s enough.”
Yi Shuyun shook her head, said no more, and quietly pushed open the door to leave.
Chai Yuening was momentarily lost in thought. She gazed for a long time at the little black vine, which had just obediently settled into the tank full of nutrient solution. Finally, she couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.
“So you can sleepwalk, huh?”
“Can you hear people talking when you do?”
“When will you finally be willing to wake up? You weren’t like this before… I often don’t sleep well, and I already get up early enough as it is, but the old you… you always got up even earlier than I did…”
The waiting went on, day after day.
During this daily wait, Chai Yuening also went to the surface with her reunited teammates to help the Base military carry out a few missions.
If the little black vine didn’t see her for a single day, it would huffily grow to fill the entire room. Every time Chai Yuening returned from a mission and pushed open the door to her temporary quarters, she would be met with a roomful of temporarily “grown-up” black vines, leaving her at a loss for whether to laugh or cry.
Fortunately, as soon as the little black vine saw her return, it would obediently shrink back to its original size, pretending it hadn’t thrown a tantrum, pretending nothing had ever happened in the room.
The Base was to build a human city on the surface. It was undoubtedly a massive undertaking, but as time flew by, one high-rise after another rose from the ground above the Base.
In the blink of an eye, a year passed, and then another. The surface city was finally nearing completion.
The old gentleman whom everyone at the research institute respected passed away from natural causes, falling into his final sleep on the very afternoon Yi Shuyun had wheeled him to the surface city to bask in the sun.
The warm, early summer sun was the world’s most gentle farewell to him.
His ashes would be buried in the earth, and a tombstone would be erected for him.
It was a burial custom from the old world, reinstated only a few months prior. With the arrival of peace and tranquility, human death was finally once again worthy of remembrance and commemoration.
Shi Wenlin left behind a small plastic bottle.
Inside the bottle was bubble solution, mixed the night before by those aged hands lost in endless memories, along with a bubble wand twisted from a piece of wire.
Before he passed, he was still telling Yi Shuyun that in his hazy memory, the little girl, Chu Ci, had been very fond of playing with this.
Back in her room, Chai Yuening placed the bottle on the table.
The little black vine was hanging lazily from a clothes rack. It was hard to say when it had moved there; in any case, it had been growing more and more active lately.
“This is a gift Mr. Shi wanted to give you,” Chai Yuening said. After a long silence, she blew a stream of swaying bubbles into the room.
The bubbles popped in mid-air, like the unfulfilled wishes in her heart.
She turned and went into the bathroom, closing the creaking door behind her. She turned on the hot water and began to wash away the dust and mud from the unfinished surface construction site.
The water rushed down, droplets shattering on the blue and white tiles.
In a daze, she thought she heard a noise in the small room that wasn’t her own.
She turned off the faucet, her breath catching in her throat. She walked slowly to the door and pushed it open a crack.
Warm steam squeezed out through the gap, and a sliver of cool air drifted in.
She saw countless colorful bubbles, large and small, swaying and wobbling. They floated under the dim yellow light, crowded together yet drifting apart.
It was like a beautiful dream in a child’s balloon-themed amusement park, where countless colorful balloons had been released into the sky.
Chai Yuening’s heart stood still.
She leaned her damp body out—
Through the hazy steam, past the iridescent bubbles.
Cautiously, with the utmost gravity,
she finally met that pair of clear eyes, which felt as if they belonged to another lifetime.
