In a lounge at the City Defense Center, warm yellow light shone on the two people sitting close together, casting a faint, thin shadow on the light gray, fractured-pattern floor tiles.
They had been placed here, in this impeccably quiet room, under multi-angle surveillance, to await the outcome of an emergency Base meeting.
The little gadget Chu Ci had handed over had been taken away by relevant personnel two hours ago.
The technical staff preliminarily determined that the object did indeed seem to be a miniature tracking and positioning system. Furthermore, the damage was not severe, and it could be repaired. However, considering its manufacturing principle was unknown and its internal structure was small and complex, they needed some time for structural analysis to avoid the risk of complete destruction. They estimated it could be repaired in about three days.
This sudden hope sent a jolt of excitement through the entire Base.
All at once, whether to proceed with activating the outer city’s self-destruct sequence became a question worth debating.
Given that the Base’s own external signals were completely cut off, could that square object truly transmit the Underground City’s location to the distant Floating City?
Was the girl who claimed to be a test subject from the Floating City important to them?
With only a location and no way to transmit any other information, would the Floating City care where a single test specimen was, and would they dispatch sufficient reinforcements for one specimen?
If the answers to these questions were all affirmative, then how long after receiving the location would the Floating City’s reinforcements arrive?
Could the outer city, which had already been lost for several days, hold out until the moment reinforcements arrived?
If the outer city bred mutated beasts that human firepower couldn’t handle, then even if the Floating City’s reinforcements arrived, it would likely be too late to turn the tide.
Even scholars from the research institute participated in this emergency meeting convened by the main city. The question of whether to insist on destroying the outer city was destined to be a debate where both sides had valid points, and the final outcome was bound to be controversial.
But what did any of that have to do with the people in the lounge at this moment?
Chai Yuening looked up at the surveillance camera in the corner of the room, as silent as a mute.
She was all too aware of her own status; she didn’t even qualify to sit in on that meeting, let alone influence its outcome.
More than the meeting’s result, she wanted to know what the girl sitting beside her was truly thinking right now.
Chai Yuening thought for a long time, starting from the day they met. The more she thought, the more she felt she had never truly known Chu Ci.
Back then, she had met Chu Ci deep in the Fog Zone.
She saw Chu Ci bandaging the deepest wound on her arm, saw the blood-stained knife in her filthy hand, and, relying on past experience, had naturally assumed she was gouging out the flesh to debride the wound and prevent infection.
When she worried that Chu Ci might be infected, the answer she received was a particularly firm, “I’m not infected.”
If not for today, she would have almost forgotten that Chu Ci was a being who couldn’t be infected by mutated beasts at all.
A person who was certain she wouldn’t be infected, and who in fact couldn’t be infected, had no need to treat a wound in that manner.
Chu Ci had said she truly had amnesia.
But if that was true, and they had been together the whole time, when had she removed the device implanted in her body?
No matter how she thought about it, it had to be the day they first met, right?
Chai Yuening was suddenly lost.
She didn’t know, and was even beginning to fear knowing, how much of what Chu Ci had told her was true and how much was false.
A deathly silence persisted for an unknown length of time.
In the end, she couldn’t help but break it.
Chai Yuening: “The day we first met, you dug it out, didn’t you?”
Chu Ci lowered her head, her reply very soft: “Yes.”
Chai Yuening: “You said there was one thing you didn’t lie to me about—that you really had amnesia.”
Chu Ci: “Do you still believe me now?”
Chai Yuening thought for a moment, then gently hummed in affirmation. “If you say it, I’ll believe it.”
She turned to the side to look at Chu Ci, as if in anticipation of something.
Chu Ci pressed her lips together slightly, her slender fingers unconsciously tightening on her knees. “It’s true.”
The amnesia was real, she said, she wasn’t lying.
When she woke up, the deepest wound on her body was on her right arm. There was something inside, so she gouged it out.
She didn’t know what it was. She couldn’t remember anything. It was something from her body, so it must be related to her past. That was why she had hidden it away.
Chai Yuening asked, “You remembered later?”
Chu Ci nodded, her tone calm. “My memories are sporadic fragments. Every night, they draw a little closer to me. I always seem to be in a blue water tank, watching a green light glow on an electronic screen outside, or in the Fog Zone, with many people following me. I didn’t know what it meant, until I remembered… what kind of thing I am.”
She spoke softly, her face devoid of any emotion, but her eyes seemed to be veiled by a thin layer of mist.
She said, “I don’t want to go back.”
Her voice was so light, like someone who had long since given up struggling, voicing a fantasy they knew was hopeless.
“Then why didn’t you throw it away?” Chai Yuening’s voice trembled slightly. “The world is so big, no one would have been able to find you.”
“You said I could choose.”
“I did.”
“But there were always people telling me what was right and what was wrong, what I should do, what I could do for humanity. Before I met you, I had never chosen.” Chu Ci spoke, her eyes curving into a smile. “Choosing is so hard. I’m afraid of choosing wrong, but there’s no one to tell me.”
Chai Yuening unconsciously held her breath.
She stared blankly at Chu Ci, as if she had forgotten how to speak.
“You’re different from the people in my memories. You always let me choose for myself, no matter how big or small the matter,” Chu Ci said with a calm expression. “I don’t actually need to choose. I’m used to having someone arrange everything for me, and then following that arrangement, whether inside or outside, to live out my day.”
She looked up at the surveillance camera on the opposite diagonal, her gaze as composed as if she were seeing an old friend, showing not the slightest discomfort at being watched.
“I have no direction,” she said softly. “It doesn’t matter who it is; as long as someone gives me a direction, I can go there. Anywhere is fine.”
“What are you asking me to choose? I don’t understand anything. What’s there to respect about my thoughts?”
“You could have left me in the Ninth District. You could have suspected I wasn’t human. You could have hoped a more advanced infection test would expose me. You didn’t have to care if I lived or died, didn’t have to consider my feelings. We were never the same to begin with. I’m not even human. Even if you shot me, or sent me to the Base Research Institute, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
As she spoke, Chu Ci’s gaze turned pensively toward Chai Yuening.
She asked her, “Aren’t you good at choosing? Why don’t you choose for me?”
There was not a trace of blame, only curiosity.
This human was so strange, different from anyone else she had ever met.
She was clearly not having an easy life herself, yet she insisted on taking on another burden.
She clearly suspected she wasn’t human, yet she still cared about her safety, wanted to help her evade detection, and even wanted to leave her the only car key so she could escape the danger zone alone.
She clearly knew she was a different species, clearly knew she had research value, and clearly had entertained the thought of handing her over to the Base, yet for the sake of her feelings, she had hidden everything from others.
This strange human had seen her in her truest form, yet still treated her like a person, and would earnestly tell her that she could have her own choices.
She didn’t know when it started, but she had suddenly begun to really want to stay here.
Before that, it hadn’t mattered where she was.
Someone beside her let out a soft sigh.
She tilted her head and looked at that person.
“Chai Yuening,” she asked in a low voice, “if you knew that handing me over could save the outer city, what would you choose?”
Chai Yuening was momentarily struck dumb.
Something was blocking her throat, like weeds at the bottom of a lake, entangling her body and relentlessly dragging her down.
So heavy, so heavy.
She felt as if she had lost the ability to breathe.
If only she could choose…
She wished she had no choice at all.
If the world was collapsing, she ought to be a powerless person.
Struggling hard, living hard, until death.
Just as Xue Zhou had said, a mortal person shouldn’t blame themselves for things no one could accomplish.
But what if her choice could change something?
What if she could choose to sacrifice one test subject’s yearning for freedom to save countless people…
It was clearly a simple choice—one versus tens of thousands, and among those tens of thousands were comrades with whom she had faced life and death countless times.
A three-year-old child would know how to choose.
But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to say the answer.
“Thank you for your hesitation.” Chu Ci smiled. “But this time, it’s not your turn to choose. This is my own choice.”
“…”
“I can choose, right?”
“Right.”
“Did I choose correctly this time?”
“You will become a hero of the Base.”
“Like you?”
“I’m not.”
Chai Yuening replied in a heavy voice.
“You are.”
Chu Ci shrugged, her palms resting on her knees, her gaze calm, just like on any other ordinary day.
After an unknown amount of time, there was a soft knock on the closed door of the lounge.
Chai Yuening stood up, subconsciously raising her right arm, wanting to shield Chu Ci behind her.
When the door was pushed open, the person outside walked in.
He looked at them, his expression solemn. “Regarding the matter of the outer city, the Base has reached a conclusion.”
Chai Yuening instinctively took a deep breath.
Beside her, Chu Ci also stood up, her gaze toward Xue Zhou full of anticipation.
“Although there are many uncertain factors, although time is short, and although the final decision carries enormous risk, the Base is still grateful to you for giving us a choice.”
The Major General’s tone was extremely solemn.
“This time, the Base chooses to believe in hope.”
Author’s Notes:
The day we looked at the colored lights…
“What do you think this looks like?”
“Like the outside.”
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