EDEH Chapter 68

But Sang Jue said: “The person in my dream was shrouded in mist, I couldn’t see clearly, only a hand wearing black leather gloves, constantly touching me. I said no more, but he kept going, very bad.”

 

Huo Yanji: “…”

 

At times like this, anyone who could refrain from asking ‘how did he do it’ would be a saint.

 

Huo Yanji was that saint.

 

Even though his eyes darkened, his thin lips pressed into a restrained line, veins on the back of his hands jumping violently, in the end he only hoarsely changed the subject: “Sang Jue, not everything can be helped with by others.”

 

Sang Jue looked at him: “But you’ve helped me before.”

 

Huo Yanji lifted Sang Jue off him, got up and buttoned his rumpled pajama shirt: “That was to teach you.”

 

“I haven’t learned it well yet, and…” Sang Jue said quietly, “I can’t do it myself.”

 

Since the last time he helped, the little evil dragon seemed to have tasted fresh pleasure, becoming addicted. Yet when he said these things, he was as frank and serious as if discussing proper studies.

 

Huo Yanji suddenly asked: “Others could too?”

 

If he had encountered someone else outside the city instead of him, could it have developed to this point today?

 

But this question was meaningless.

 

Huo Yanji lifted his leg as if to leave, and a tail immediately followed behind, hooking his leg as if trying to keep him.

 

Sang Jue asked puzzledly: “What others?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Okay.” Sang Jue said obediently, “If you don’t like it, I’ll…”

 

His mouth was pinched shut.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes were dark: “In the future you’ll go find others?”

 

Sang Jue innocently shook his head, but couldn’t speak with his mouth pinched.

 

He actually wanted to say that if Huo Yanji didn’t like it, he wouldn’t do it anymore in the future. He could control himself—he wasn’t really an animal or human controlled by biological instincts.

 

But the little evil dragon felt that Ji Ji didn’t dislike it.

 

Huo Yanji pinched his brow, released his grip and extended his arm. Sang Jue immediately threw himself into the embrace, licking his Adam’s apple appeasingly, like a small animal eager to nuzzle its owner.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyelid twitched: “I can help, but don’t touch me.”

 

Sang Jue: “But you can touch me while I can’t touch you. That’s unfair.”

 

Huo Yanji: “Those actively seeking help have no standing to demand fairness.”

 

Sang Jue: “…Oh.”

 

The little evil dragon always demanded fairness because after being treated that way by Millie as a child, Dr. Anya had taught him that human emotions required mutual giving. Others had to be good to him before he could be good to others. He shouldn’t keep clinging to people who didn’t like him—that would hurt.

 

Millie really didn’t like him, even hated and feared him.

 

Rain pattered outside the window, the bedroom door slightly ajar, only faint, intermittent sounds could be heard.

 

Not only were his hands bound behind him and his mouth gagged, but because he kept whimpering, a large hand covered his mouth. His legs stretched straight, toes curling from time to time when he couldn’t bear it.

 

Huo Yanji asked quietly in his ear: “Want more?”

 

Sang Jue’s eyes widened, fine sweat covering his face, unable to make a sound.

 

Too much.

 

Even worse than the hand in his dream.

 

This night he slept particularly deeply. The little evil dragon was probably tired, lying motionless all night.

 

At 3 AM, Huo Yanji finally put him down: “Sleep a bit more, I’m going out.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “The lockdown lifts at nine today. Can I go back to work?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Wait two more days, see how the security situation is.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Sang Jue came to the door as usual to see Huo Yanji off. His tail was stroked twice, putting him in a good mood: “Come home early.”

 

Huo Yanji hummed: “I’ll try.”

 

“Without work, can I mix drinks at home?”

 

“Yes, but don’t drink them.”

 

Sang Jue continued asking: “Can I go out?”

 

Huo Yanji paused: “Going out or not is your personal freedom. Theoretically, I have no standing to restrict you.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “What about non-theoretically?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “The city is very chaotic now. If you encounter trouble while out, I can’t come find you immediately.”

 

Whether danger or other matters, Huo Yanji would find it hard to drop everything to look for Sang Jue.

 

“I’ll protect myself well,” Sang Jue added, “Won’t cause you trouble.”

 

Huo Yanji stroked his hair: “You’d better cause trouble.”

 

Leaving this cryptic remark, Huo Yanji went out.

 

Only after Huo Yanji’s figure disappeared at the end of the corridor did Sang Jue close the door.

 

He wouldn’t obediently stay home.

 

He still had to help 007 complete the mission.

 

But it was only 3 AM now, the night still deep. He could sleep a bit more.

 

Sang Jue was very sleepy. He returned to the bedroom, throwing himself onto where Huo Yanji had lain, Huo Yanji’s scent flooding his nostrils.

 

Last night Ji Ji had bullied him.

 

Rubbed his chest and made the skin around his member red.

 

Actually, he hadn’t told the truth. What he dreamed of these past two days wasn’t just hands, but also Huo Yanji’s face. In the dream, Huo Yanji called him “baby” like Colin said, even more wicked than outside the dream.

 

Actually, he didn’t like being called “baby,” but from when they met until now, Huo Yanji had never used a pet name for him.

 

He couldn’t sleep now, asking: “I dreamed of Ji Ji, does that mean I want to mate with him?”

 

007 said: “Theoretically, yes.”

 

The little evil dragon said worriedly: “But we’re both male, and there’s species isolation.”

 

007 said: “As long as you maintain human form, whether there’s isolation doesn’t matter.”

 

“So do I like Ji Ji?”

 

Humans and animals were fundamentally different. Animals did such things driven by instinct, while humans were driven by emotion. Of course, some humans were worse than animals—animals only went into heat in spring, while they were in heat year-round.

 

Sang Jue was probably the only one in the world who would ask an AI to teach him about emotions.

 

007 said: “It’s simple to distinguish whether you like someone. Would you want others to help you with what happened last night?”

 

Sang Jue asked: “What others?”

 

007 said: “Anyone you know.”

 

Sang Jue carefully filtered through everyone, but replacing Huo Yanji’s face with anyone else felt wrong: “I don’t like it.”

 

007 said nothing more.

 

Sang Jue understood, hugging the pillow Huo Yanji had slept on, falling into worry.

 

When the mission ended, he had to return to his home planet, but how would he take Huo Yanji with him then?

 

Huo Yanji wouldn’t obediently leave with him. Sang Jue knew that for him, responsibility was more important than himself.

 

Then he’d just remove his responsibilities.

 

Sang Jue asked: “If the world gets better, will he come with me?”

 

007 said: “Not necessarily. When current problems are solved, new ones will quickly emerge. Even if all disasters end and humanity enters a reconstruction phase, they’ll need excellent leaders even more.”

 

“…” Two small horns emerged from his head. Sang Jue tugged at them twice, unhappy: “Can I make Ji Ji disabled? Once he’s useless to humanity, he can belong to me alone.”

 

007: “…Why don’t you consider staying to accompany him?”

 

Sang Jue quickly refused: “I can’t. I have to return to the doctor’s side.”

 

This was fair. Huo Yanji couldn’t let go of responsibility, and he couldn’t leave the doctor. They’d have to see who was stronger.

 

If he didn’t use human weapons, Ji Ji definitely couldn’t beat him.

 

Hmph.

 

…

 

After the lockdown was lifted, the main city became chaotic. Long-accumulated emotions exploded collectively, with deviants gathering in protests at the Supervision Center, administrative building, and even research institutes.

 

Ordinary people stayed home, afraid of becoming collateral damage.

 

Though compensation policies were issued, compared to life itself, no amount of compensation could help.

 

All high-level officials began working around the clock. Soldiers also joined in maintaining city order, but it was difficult to handle—arresting ordinary troublemakers would only incite more intense resistance.

 

If this were just a group of people, perhaps the Court or high-level officials could forcibly suppress them, but this was nearly half of humanity.

 

All safe zones were like this, though compared to the main city, official voluntary disclosure of the “Dawn” plan reduced much pressure on the high-level officials.

 

After all, the plan’s drafters were the Court—previous councilors who had died decades ago.

 

But unable to find the real culprits, emotions could only be vented on ordinary people who had always discriminated against them.

 

The collective became fragmented. Even without external forces, internal conflicts were enough to destroy everything.

 

This was the evil consequence of the Dawn plan.

 

Chaos ran deep, casualties continued.

 

This situation lasted seven days before news of Huo Jiangmin’s participation in the “Dawn” plan and even “Dawn No. 2” suddenly exploded. Most seriously, a recording of him saying he hated everyone to the bone was leaked, instantly mobilizing everyone’s emotions.

 

After Huo Feng’s heroic image collapsed, Huo Jiangmin’s existence became extremely delicate.

 

Huo Jiangmin, previously thought to be a fellow victim, suddenly transformed into a perpetrator.

 

Instantly, all deviants’ fury focused on him.

 

They couldn’t drag out Huo Feng and the Court members from back then to pay the price, but wasn’t Huo Jiangmin, the descendant, right here?

 

A father’s debt paid by his son—perfectly reasonable.

 

The deviants, who had been in aimless anger, suddenly had a target.

 

Ordinary people felt similarly. Though their voices weren’t as loud, they also feared having a powerful human who hated everyone occupying the District 1 Commander position. Was this leading humanity toward light or destruction?

 

There was also Huo Yanji—both a descendant of Huo Feng and the highest executive officer of supervisors. Who knew how many deviants he’d killed over the years? All were accomplices helping tyrants.

 

It was just that Huo Yanji had previously been exposed as an opponent of the Dawn plan, so received less impact.

 

Everywhere were deviant teams clamoring for public trial of Huo Jiangmin, wandering the streets intimidatingly.

 

Besides this, countless low-level deviants gathered at the city gates, demanding to leave the main city and live independently. Their emotions were more agitated, shouting they would absolutely never again die for the so-called future—they wanted to live their own lives and build their own safe zones.

 

As for those sunless lower districts, whoever wanted to stay could stay.

 

Chaos abounded.

 

The city gates were tightly shut. Huo Yanji stood under the high tower, looking down at the people below continuously waving their arms with high emotions.

 

Zhang Min approached: “Sir, according to regulations, we’ve searched all of General Huo’s residences and found no documents related to ‘Dawn No. 2.'”

 

This couldn’t prove Huo Jiangmin was a participant in “Dawn No. 2.”

 

Zhang Min hesitated: “Sir, should we continue?”

 

Below, crowds gathered. These deviants caught in emotion hadn’t considered what they’d face after leaving the city.

 

After a long while, Huo Yanji said: “No need. Whether evidence actually exists doesn’t matter to them.”

 

What mattered was that they believed Huo Jiangmin had done it, as Huo Feng’s descendant continuing his father’s legacy.

 

Even if they told everyone no evidence was found, people would only think the high-level officials were covering for each other.

 

As soon as he finished speaking, the communicator beeped twice—it was Huo Jiangmin calling.

 

Huo Jiangmin was currently under travel restrictions. His laughing voice came through the earpiece: “Disappointed there’s no evidence?”

 

Huo Yanji said calmly: “I’m very happy.”

 

Huo Jiangmin clicked his tongue: “Your voice doesn’t sound happy at all.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Is this your first day knowing me?”

 

Huo Jiangmin laughed mockingly, then after a while asked: “Do you plan to announce your search results?”

 

Including matters like Huo Jiangmin killing Norman and forcing Old Herman to suicide—none were conclusively determined. Evidence was extremely insufficient; everything was circumstantial.

 

Huo Yanji: “Otherwise?”

 

“Forget it.” Huo Jiangmin said indifferently, “You know there’s no perfect solution to this. They just need to vent their emotions and accept reality. Having someone for them to blame isn’t ideal? And I’m most suitable.”

 

Huo Yanji’s tone suddenly turned cold: “You leaked the recording yourself.”

 

The recording referred to what Huo Jiangmin had said at the Military Inspection Office days ago—about hating everyone to the bone.

 

Huo Yanji spoke in a stating tone, clearly certain.

 

Huo Jiangmin didn’t argue, laughing quietly: “Of course. Who doesn’t know our General Huo’s soldiers have the highest loyalty and would never betray? I had to do it myself.”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Why?”

 

Huo Jiangmin evaded the question. The voice through the communicator was somewhat distorted as he asked: “Do you see how these people calling for my trial are exactly like those who wanted your public execution days ago?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “They can’t access the essence of matters or see the truth. We can’t expect too much.”

 

Huo Jiangmin seemed not to hear this, talking to himself: “It’s like the public trial back then… ah, no, that was more absurd—Bo Qing didn’t even have surface charges.”

 

Huo Yanji wouldn’t buy this, saying coldly: “So why put yourself in this situation?”

 

“Everyone thinks I’m taking revenge for Bo Qing… They don’t know how much I wish this really was my doing.” Huo Jiangmin said casually, “The old friend I met recently and Sang Jue both said ‘you should do this.’

 

“Maybe I really should do something, maybe humanity is beyond salvation… But like you said, we’re doing this for future generations. Thinking that way, I can barely endure for Bo Qing’s ideals.”

 

Huo Yanji cut straight to the point: “Which old friend?”

 

Huo Jiangmin simply wouldn’t answer: “But the Governor is dead, that humanoid creature is gone too—quite boring… Since I can’t do anything for him, why not experience what he went through back then? Not bad, right?”

 

Huo Yanji asked again: “Who is the old friend?”

 

Huo Jiangmin sighed helplessly: “You really are—”

 

Huo Yanji said directly: “Ji Zhen is still alive?”

 

Huo Jiangmin hummed: “Can you believe that gentle girl who only wanted to heal and become a doctor or researcher has now become a… deviant?”

 

The pause was probably him trying to find descriptive words but really unwilling to place any negative terms on the Ji Zhen of the past.

 

Huo Yanji closed his eyes: “I went looking for her back then.”

 

“I know, we all did, but couldn’t find her.” Huo Jiangmin smiled, “You definitely wouldn’t want to see Xiao Zhen now… she’s changed too much.”

 

“What happened in District 19 back then?”

 

“Do you think she came back to reminisce with us? She said nothing. But it must have been something unforgivable—I don’t want to ask.”

 

“…” Huo Yanji asked, “She made you do this?”

 

“Sort of.” Huo Jiangmin said, “She thinks I didn’t keep my promise from back then, that I should make those who killed her brother pay.”

 

Regarding Ji Zhen’s question about “if her brother and the world stood opposed,” Huo Jiangmin hadn’t acted as he’d answered back then.

 

They hadn’t paid much attention to those words, since no one expected them to become prophetic years later.

 

“Where is she?”

 

“How could I possibly know… She doesn’t trust anyone now, especially me.” Huo Jiangmin said calmly, “Originally, if you hadn’t locked down the city, in her plan I would already have been torn to pieces by angry citizens.”

 

Perhaps after all these years, he still couldn’t bear to see that little girl from back then work so hard without success. Or perhaps he really did want to do this, wanted to die with Bo Qing in that trial… so he’d fulfill Ji Zhen’s wishes.

 

“Forget it, that’s how it is.” Huo Jiangmin said, “I don’t want to continue. The masses need an outlet too. After they ‘dismember’ me, this supposed hero’s descendant, along with the Court members, their anger will subside. What’s needed next is patient appeasement.”

 

Huo Yanji stood atop the tower, gazing at the city with dark eyes: “Is this the ending you want?”

 

“Of course not. The ending I wanted was to love and fight with Bo Qing until death, leaving an easter egg for posterity. When they discover that the eternally reviled Huo Jiangmin and the eternally celebrated Bo Qing were secretly involved… imagine how interesting that would be?

 

“But if you mean now, then for me there really is no better ending. You know, with the Governor dead, I’m terribly bored. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll snap and drag everyone to hell for fun.”

 

The sky hung low and heavy. The rain wasn’t as strong as previous days, but made the city appear more gray and gloomy.

 

The streets were chaotic, full of conflicts and disorder everywhere.

 

He seemed to see a yellow umbrella among the crowd, particularly striking, but when he blinked, it disappeared.

 

Huo Yanji’s spine remained straight, but his eyes lowered.

 

“Don’t worry, before that happens, I’ll help you solve the underground city problem.” Huo Jiangmin said, “What you asked me to do is going smoothly—soldiers will arrive the day after tomorrow.”

 

A few days ago, Huo Jiangmin and Huo Yanji had made a deal.

 

Since they were preparing to lift restrictions, they needed substantial forces to maintain order. Huo Yanji couldn’t spare personnel for outside the city, but Huo Jiangmin had left many people at Rift No. 2.

 

The underground city’s location was extremely safe, basically impossible for contaminants to attack suddenly. Its forces weren’t strong, so controlling it wouldn’t require too many people—they’d only worried about the Court cutting off passages from the underground city to the surface.

 

As long as they controlled it before the Court members remaining in the underground city could react, they wouldn’t have to worry about losing their retreat route.

 

After a while, Huo Yanji said nothing and directly hung up.

 

He watched the deviants below the city gates who seemed tireless, shouting for days about leaving the main city collectively, then made a call.

 

Sang Jue’s voice came through quickly: “Are you done with work?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Not yet.”

 

Sang Jue made a sound: “Did something happen?”

 

Though Sang Jue could be oblivious sometimes, he was quite sensitive to people’s emotions.

 

“Nothing.” Huo Yanji said, “What are you doing?”

 

Sang Jue said: “I’m mixing drinks, making the one Old Karl first treated me to.”

 

Huo Yanji didn’t need much recollection to remember the drink’s name—Dawn.

 

That time Old Karl was infected and had killing intent toward Sang Jue, his hand was already on his gun, but his clothing was tugged. Those eyes gazing at him were unbelievably clean, completely lacking the chaos and madness that should exist in this era.

 

He listened to the youth chattering about his affairs, thinking how could there be such a talkative contaminant—he must have misjudged.

 

Huo Yanji said: “Dinner is in the fridge, heat it before eating.”

 

“Okay…” Sang Jue was rarely shy, “Can you bring another pillow home tonight?”

 

Huo Yanji: “…What’s wrong with the pillow?”

 

The apartment originally had one pillow. After Sang Jue moved in, they should have gotten another, but except for the first night, Sang Jue had never slept on a pillow—Huo Yanji was his bed.

 

He didn’t need pillows either, always sleeping face down.

 

Sang Jue said quietly: “The pillow broke.”

 

His horns hadn’t been worn down in a long time, so he let them out for air, but accidentally…

 

Huo Yanji: “Besides destroying the house, what else can you do?”

 

The little evil dragon said righteously: “I can do lots of things.”

 

In the distance, Zhang Min, who had already left, returned with hurried steps.

 

Sang Jue on the other end was still saying: “I should be able to afford the pillow.”

 

“No money needed.” Huo Yanji said flatly, “Pay by coming to find me.”

 

Sang Jue was puzzled: “Hm?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “I can’t go back tonight, probably have to sleep in the office.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t immediately agree, perceptively asking: “So you missed me?”

 

Sang Jue had already put away all the drink-mixing supplies, his tail happily perked up.

 

He waited for Huo Yanji’s answer: “I went to the street today, wanted potato strips, but that shop wasn’t open, so I found the owner’s home, only to discover his house was empty—”

 

Huo Yanji didn’t ask how Sang Jue found the owner’s home, saying flatly: “I’ll investigate when I’m free, he might be dead.”

 

Sang Jue hummed, saying: “I just wanted to say, when you’re not here, I want to keep eating to pass time.”

 

The little evil dragon could be less direct too, expressing “missing you” euphemistically.

 

Over there, Zhang Min had reached Huo Yanji, looking grave: “Sir, there’s trouble.”

 

Huo Yanji: “What trouble?”

 

Zhang Min said quietly: “Related to you… and Sang Jue.”

 

Through the earpiece, Sang Jue asked again: “So did you miss me?”

 

“I did.” Huo Yanji strode away hurriedly, “Stay home, don’t go out, wait for me to pick you up.”

 

**

 

---