EDEH Chapter 77

Sang Jue: “Why aren’t you talking anymore?”

 

Colin mourned for himself for two seconds: “Next time we chat about anything, can you not tell the superior I was the one who told you?”

 

“Lying is bad.” Sang Jue thought about it: “Besides, I don’t have many friends, and the general is so smart, he’d figure it out with one guess.”

 

Colin took a deep breath: “For the sake of my life, let’s have fewer calls and meetings from now on.”

 

Sang Jue answered immediately: “Okay.”

 

Colin: “…”

 

Such a quick agreement – this friend really wasn’t important at all.

 

The research institute arrived quickly, and the two were about to part ways. Colin came here on mission-related business; he just wanted to finish quickly and leave, not wanting to run into the general at all.

 

He didn’t want to die yet.

 

Sang Jue went to the elevator alone. Huo Yanji had given him the access card a few days ago – after all, Huo Yanji could just use face recognition, but he needed the card.

 

Having contacted Hill in advance, Sang Jue saw that head of golden hair as soon as he reached the third floor.

 

He took the initiative: “Long time no see, Hill.”

 

“Long time no see.” Hill in her white coat smiled warmly: “How have you been lately?”

 

Sang Jue thought about it: “Pretty good. I caught my fem— wife.”

 

Hill raised her delicate eyebrows: “Wife? General Huo?”

 

Sang Jue nodded: “Yes.”

 

“Very impressive.” Hill chuckled: “Mr. Karl’s body is over this way.”

 

The research institute always felt cold. Sang Jue saw that forget-worry vine from before.

 

It had grown bigger and been moved to a larger container, as big as a small laboratory. Dark green vines occupied the entire glass chamber, intertwining and writhing.

 

Sang Jue instinctively moved to the left, staying away from it.

 

But it was too late. Sensing the desired scent, countless vine branches suddenly began swaying, striking the glass chamber on Sang Jue’s side, making muffled “clanging” sounds.

 

The glass chamber was very sturdy, not shaking at all, even blocking out most of the noise.

 

Hill’s eyes flickered: “Don’t be afraid, it can’t get out. It’s already in adult form now. Once the juvenile forget-worry vines mature, it will be eliminated.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “Why?”

 

Hill said: “Forget-worry vines can reach the size of a plaza at maximum, but the laboratory doesn’t have enough nutrients to supply it, so it grows slowly.”

 

Sang Jue understood – the research institute didn’t have a bigger space to contain it.

 

Old Karl was in a laboratory further inside. To enter, they had to decontaminate first and put on isolation suits.

 

Hill walked ahead, the corners of her white coat swaying with her walking motion, making Sang Jue a bit dazed… She really resembled Dr. Anya.

 

When he was six, after his body recovered, Sang Jue was kept by Dr. Anya’s side. He refused to stay alone and insisted on following her around, unwilling to change back to human form.

 

Every time this was mentioned, the little evil dragon would growl unhappily.

 

He stubbornly followed Dr. Anya around. To avoid knocking over experimental equipment, he’d fold his dragon wings and imitate humans by walking on two feet, front claws tucked against his chest, lightning-like horns extending backward.

 

Small as he was, though very heavy, he only reached the doctor’s waist.

 

Just following the doctor wasn’t enough for Sang Jue – he had to bite the corner of the doctor’s white coat. His teeth were too sharp, quickly wearing two cigarette-burn-like holes in the white coat.

 

Wherever Dr. Anya went, he followed, holding the coat corner in his mouth.

 

Like a little tail, or like a bodyguard.

 

But only for that year. After he became willing to change back to human form, Sang Jue wasn’t as clingy, only occasionally when he wanted companionship would he run to find Dr. Anya, grabbing the corner of her white coat with his hand, not saying what he wanted, just quietly staring at her.

 

The little evil dragon hadn’t been so straightforward from the beginning.

 

It was the doctor who taught him to say what he wanted, not to hold back when unhappy, to learn to express himself.

 

And that white coat with the two holes from being bitten – the doctor kept wearing it right up until their separation when Sang Jue turned eighteen, never throwing it away.

 

Though strictly speaking, Sang Jue wasn’t a conventional creature with no difference between adult and juvenile stages, the doctor still held a simple coming-of-age ceremony for him.

 

The doctor’s eyes were sad, but she smiled: “Our little evil dragon has grown up…”

 

At the time, Sang Jue didn’t quite understand, simply thinking the doctor was sad because he had grown up. Because in human society, children often leave their parents’ side after coming of age to venture far away.

 

So he said to the doctor in confusion: “I’ll always stay by your side. If you don’t like me growing up, I can stop growing.”

 

But everyone grows up. Even if the body stays at the same point, the soul changes with time’s tempering.

 

And now Sang Jue finally understood that the doctor had been sad then because she had decided to send him away.

 

He instinctively reached out to catch the swaying corner of Hill’s white coat, but pulled his hand back halfway.

 

Hill noticed his movement and said gently: “What’s wrong?”

 

Sang Jue pursed his lips, shook his head, and said nothing.

 

Old Karl was in a cultivation container, his entire body overtaken by beige lingzhi mushrooms. The mushroom caps layered upon each other, covering Old Karl completely.

 

The corpse’s flesh and bones had been consumed, with only some skeletal traces visible through the gaps between mushrooms.

 

Sang Jue wondered: “Where are its roots?”

 

“This type of lingzhi doesn’t have roots in the traditional sense,” Hill explained. “It’s composed of fruiting bodies and mycelium. Many people think the stipe is its ‘root,’ but it’s actually not. Below are finer mycelia distributed in the soil, absorbing nutrients, now clinging to the bones.”

 

The little evil dragon didn’t quite understand, though he also had a fungal body… but hadn’t used it yet, as it felt dangerous.

 

The spore output from lingzhi was enormous – blown by wind, it could contaminate a small safe zone, which would be terrible to think about.

 

Sang Jue’s visit to see Old Karl was partly for this reason. He had always felt he wasn’t contaminating, even in evil dragon or other forms, otherwise the doctor would have warned him.

 

But Old Karl’s corpse had grown lingzhi, which suddenly made him uncertain.

 

Though he wanted to ‘contaminate’ Huo Yanji, he wanted him to live even more.

 

Sang Jue asked: “Was Old Karl infected by lingzhi?”

 

Hill said: “Based on known understanding, yes.”

 

Sang Jue pursed his lips: “But why did ordinary lingzhi grow from his body?”

 

Though Hill didn’t say it, he could tell these lingzhi didn’t have those grotesque, chaotic rhythms – they were peaceful and serene, without contamination desires or abilities.

 

“This is exactly what we find hard to understand,” Hill stared at the cultivation chamber. “Theoretically, infection symptoms should appear within three days at most, and as observation samples, blood tests were conducted daily, but no spore genes were found. It’s as if it suddenly erupted after death.”

 

Sang Jue hummed: “Was it suppressed before?”

 

Hill paused: “Suppressed?”

 

Sang Jue blinked and immediately shook his head: “I don’t understand either.”

 

He seemed to have heard the doctor mention this term before, but hadn’t paid much attention.

 

Hill looked thoughtful.

 

For people today, the dead would be immediately cremated, disappearing like a wisp of sand in this world, leaving no trace.

 

But human remains covered with lingzhi, nourished by flesh and blood, seemed grotesque, yet from another perspective, it was like life continuing in another sense, human life merging with nature.

 

Hill said softly: “And there’s another unsupported hypothesis.”

 

Sang Jue turned back: “Hmm?”

 

Hill said: “Mr. Karl didn’t die from infection, but from natural death. His contamination index decreased every day before death, so we thought he’d be that one-in-a-thousand chance. Though he ultimately died, after lingzhi grew on his body, I tested his corpse again and found that not only did the lingzhi have no contamination index, but Mr. Karl’s genes didn’t either.”

 

Sang Jue’s head was a bit muddled: “Can you put it simply?”

 

Hill smiled, saying dreamily: “He who was already infected by honey-guide seemed to be purified by something before death, born clean, and finally received grace, leaving this world in complete purity.”

 

Grace?

 

Sang Jue didn’t quite understand this word only humans would use. He never wanted anyone’s grace.

 

Speaking of which, Old Karl’s game console was still at home. When bored, he’d play it – with hundreds of games inside, maybe he wouldn’t finish them all even after leaving this planet.

 

Hill came back to herself, sighing regretfully: “In the past, I probably wouldn’t have said this, but recently the Dawn Plan was exposed, and looking at this corpse’s state, it really feels like a blessing.”

 

Sang Jue was confused: “You didn’t know about the Dawn Plan?”

 

“The research institute has many departments. We’re researchers, not responsible for extracting and producing contamination genes – that’s another department’s job.” Hill sighed. “But this is hard to evaluate… From the deviants’ perspective, it’s indeed absurd and cruel, but as General Huo said the other day, without the Dawn Plan, would we really have today?”

 

Many people understood this logic.

 

Reason and emotion were tearing at each other – on one hand understanding this was a plan humanity had to implement in desperation, on the other hand unable to bear being sacrificed under deception.

 

From ninety years ago until now, how many deviants had died from this plan? Many, like Si Fu, believed they were fighting for their faith until death.

 

But in fact, the so-called faith was just an illusory bubble.

 

…

 

After removing the isolation suit and leaving the laboratory, Sang Jue was still in a daze. So he should have no contamination properties, right?

 

If only the doctor were here – she would definitely figure it out without harming him.

 

Besides the doctor, Sang Jue didn’t want anyone else to draw his blood. This period had made him deeply realize that most humans were self-interested and unworthy of too much trust.

 

Hill behind him had stopped at some point, calling: “Sang Jue.”

 

Sang Jue turned back: “What’s wrong?”

 

Hill opened her mouth, seeming to hesitate. Under Sang Jue’s pure gaze, she couldn’t speak for a moment.

 

Until another set of footsteps sounded from one side of the corridor, carrying a hint of coldness: “Sang Jue, let’s go.”

 

“Ji… wife came to pick me up for dinner.” Sang Jue’s lips curved up as he waved to Hill. “See you next time.”

 

Huo Yanji: “…”

 

Hill: “…”

 

Hill swallowed the words that had reached her lips, greeting Huo Yanji: “General.”

 

Huo Yanji nodded.

 

Sang Jue ran over to grab his hand, saying as they walked: “Now everyone knows I’m your little lover. Can we hold hands in public?”

 

Huo Yanji: “…Not little lover.”

 

Sang Jue hummed: “Then what?”

 

Huo Yanji curved his lips: “Little rascal, little slave.”

 

“…” Sang Jue let go of Huo Yanji’s hand, “Little slave won’t let you play.”

 

His word choice was still so bold.

 

Huo Yanji corrected flatly: “‘Playing’ is more appropriate for relationships that aren’t serious and where one party controls the other.”

 

Sang Jue thought about it – Huo Yanji had more experience than him, and in intimate matters, he was indeed controlled, unable to use any strength and could only be played with.

 

**

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