RotA – Chapter 57

Shi Wenlin calmly explained the two hypotheses he had mentioned.

The person who proposed these hypotheses presumed that the turkeys on a farm and the hypothetical two-dimensional beings on a shooting target possessed human-like minds, and that their scientists would study the laws of their world.

For instance, at what time of day the farm’s food would arrive, or what kind of pattern existed in the spacing of the holes on the target.

They would revere these patterns as truth, but what caused these patterns wasn’t truth—it was humanity.

As long as humans wished it, they could easily shatter their truths at any time.

In the eyes of humans, their existence could be easily manipulated.

So, above humanity, did there exist a higher-dimensional intelligent being, absently looking down upon this world?

Humanity had journeyed from a primitive era to modern civilization. Our ancestors exhausted their wisdom, diligently exploring and researching, to finally arrive at a modernized scientific system. But was this system, too, something that those higher-dimensional beings could easily alter?

Why were there no more laws?

Was it possible that from the moment of its birth, this world never possessed any laws at all? That it was merely intermittently ordered, and humanity just happened to exist within one of these orderly intervals.

To humanity, this small interval was an eternity, but to the vast, boundless universe, it was perhaps like a single drop of water vanishing into the ocean.

Now, an unseen hand had thrown this order into disarray.

The eternity that humanity had taken for granted was, in an instant, annihilated by a fear of the infinite unknown.

“Before the complete collapse of the scientific system, humanity could only prove what existed, not what didn’t. For example, God.” As Shi Wenlin spoke, he shook his head with a bitter smile, his aged voice filled with exhaustion. “Now, those things that ‘don’t exist’ have begun to take control of this world…”

He then quickly denied his own words. “No, not necessarily control. Perhaps they were just bored and played a little joke on our world… Human science is too insignificant, and human civilization, besides humanity itself, is cared for by no one.”

“If that’s the case…” Chai Yuening asked in a low voice, “can we only wait quietly, meekly, for the coming annihilation, is that right?”

The moment she asked the question, she was startled by her own calm tone.

She had never thought she could view life and death so dispassionately, to the point where hearing an old man speak such despairing words didn’t surprise her in the slightest, nor did it stir much desire to resist this so-called fate.

But humanity shouldn’t be like this, should it?

Chai Yuening was momentarily lost in a daze. She saw Shi Wenlin looking at her, deep in thought.

Shi Wenlin said, “Child, do you really think so?”

For an instant, Chai Yuening realized that the man uttering these desperate words did not, in fact, have much despair in his eyes. He was far calmer than the two doctors from the Underground City and the Floating City.

Chai Yuening came back to her senses. “No. We shouldn’t wait for death. Even if the path ahead holds only a slim, glimmer of hope, we should keep moving forward, tireless and unafraid of hardship.”

This old gentleman, esteemed and respected by all, though he constantly spoke of despair and humanity’s eventual doom, had single-handedly propped up the entire Fog Zone Base. For the past fifty-odd years, he had never been defeated by the despair in his heart, nor had he ever abandoned a single person here who trusted him.

In this era, the more one knew, the closer one was to the truth, and the more desperate one became.

But while despair filled his reason, it had never broken his will. He foresaw the worst possible outcome, yet he refused to resign himself to it.

Humanity, for all its weakness, would not willingly perish.

“Life is born, and it dies,” Shi Wenlin said softly. “But life also struggles, reproduces, and evolves. All of this is life’s innate instinct.”

“Such an instinct drives life to constantly seek survival, to never meekly accept death.”

“If there truly is a God in this world, no matter how little He cares for it, at the moment He chose to create life, He must have bestowed upon it the greatest tenderness.”

“Because life is the most wondrous existence in this world. It is fragile, yet also tenacious. No matter what desperate straits it faces, it will find its own way out.”

As he spoke, Shi Wenlin turned to look out the window at the boundless fog. “We should all pursue hope while embracing the deepest despair…”

Perhaps, when a person feels they have nothing, every small gain is a glimmer of light in the deep darkness.

Shi Wenlin said that life would find its own way out.

Was this a form of self-deception? Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn’t.

But the answer to that question wasn’t important.

Humanity needed faith, needed direction, and this was a form of faith and direction.

That morning, Chu Ci followed Shi Wenlin to the laboratory. Chai Yuening couldn’t help but wait anxiously outside the door for the sample collection to end.

Before long, Chu Ci came out. She looked perfectly normal. It seemed Shi Wenlin hadn’t lied; the sampling was done without harming Chu Ci.

“Let’s go back and rest,” Chai Yuening said with a smile, taking Chu Ci’s hand.

They walked through this unfamiliar base. Every person who passed them was a stranger, but their kind smiles brought them an unprecedented sense of peace.

Chai Yuening had already caught a bit of a chill the night before and had stayed up all night because of the unfamiliar, severely injured patient. The moment she returned to the room, drowsiness flooded her eyes.

She lay down on the bed, her eyes and temples aching dully, too tired to even bother pulling up the quilt folded at the foot of the bed.

The air was cool after the storm. Chu Ci covered her with a quilt, then quietly slipped into the bedding beside her.

For once, Chai Yuening slept soundly, with no strange dreams or terrifying sounds to startle her awake.

In a daze, she heard someone knock on the door. The sound was very light, accompanied by a gentle greeting.

Chai Yuening sat up, patted her woozy head, and quietly got out of bed to open the door.

“I heard you two were staying here.” Outside, Lan Yi gave Chai Yuening a faint smile. She was still wearing an apron, holding two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks in her left hand, and carrying a multi-layered thermal container in her right. “It’s already afternoon, and I haven’t seen you come out. You must not have eaten, right?”

Chai Yuening was indeed hungry, but she was long accustomed to the feeling of an empty stomach. To have a place to get a good night’s sleep, even on an empty stomach, was a kind of happiness for her.

She had never thought, nor dared to think, that in such a strange place, someone with whom she had only exchanged a few words would be concerned about whether she was fed and warm.

She unconsciously pressed her lips together, taking the items from Lan Yi’s hands with a mix of emotions.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. I noticed you had a bit of a chill last night, you kept sneezing, so I made you something to warm you up.” As Lan Yi spoke, she seemed to remember something. “Oh, right, I still don’t know your name.”

“Chai Yuening.” As she said this, Chai Yuening glanced back at Chu Ci, who was sitting on the bed rubbing her eyes. “Her name is Chu Ci.”

“Got it.” Lan Yi smiled and waved, not forgetting to add before she left, “You have to return the bowls to me when you’re done. I live in Room 703 in the opposite building.”

Chai Yuening used her elbow to close the door, then turned and placed the thermal container and tableware on the small side table by the window.

“Are you hungry? Someone brought us food.” As she spoke, she twisted open the lid of the thermal container. Inside was steaming hot ginger and chive meat congee, its fragrance instantly filling the air.

Meat, whether in the Floating City or the Underground City, was an astronomically expensive commodity. It had been far too long since they had eaten any.

Lan Yi was an excellent cook. They sat on the edge of the bed and drank every last drop of the congee from the container.

The hot congee warmed not just their bodies, but also their long-wandering hearts.

The sky outside gradually darkened. Chai Yuening took the washed bowls, chopsticks, and thermal container to the door of Room 703 in the opposite building to return them to Lan Yi.

Lan Yi asked her enthusiastically, “How was it?”

“It was amazing!” Chai Yuening replied, a little embarrassed. “That congee was such an extravagance, it even had meat. We usually can’t afford to eat like that.”

“Is raising livestock difficult in your Underground City too?” Lan Yi asked, a hint of gossip in her tone.

Chai Yuening nodded. “There were a few years when they almost had to stop selling pork entirely.”

Lan Yi said, “We don’t have to worry about that here.”

Chai Yuening asked, “How come? I didn’t see any farms.”

Lan Yi replied, “We don’t need to raise them. They’re all over the place outside.”

Chai Yuening suddenly froze.

After a brief stupor, she asked in a small voice, “So, the meat in the congee just now… what kind was it?”

Lan Yi’s eyes suddenly turned mysterious.

She arched her brows and asked with a smile, “Mutated beast meat. Never had it before, have you?”

Chai Yuening swallowed unconsciously. “Won’t… won’t that cause infection?”

“The base has special decontamination equipment that can safely process small, low-infectivity mutated beasts,” Lan Yi said. “And even if it’s not processed completely, we still have inhibitors.”

Chai Yuening was too shocked to speak.

Life, she thought, was truly wondrous. Not only would it find its own way out, but it would also find its own food.

The weirdly shaped kind.

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Author’s Notes:

Little monster meat, a delicacy exclusive to the Fog Zone. The kids from up in the sky and down below are all crying with envy.

A supplementary note: small mutated beasts cannot be transformed humans. Humans who transform cannot be small mutated beasts. The ultimate goal of fusion is evolution. Even if one is infected to the point of no longer being human and their intelligence declines, their body is still evolving. It makes no sense for them to get smaller and smaller. Therefore, eating small mutated beasts means you won’t be eating human mutants; they are all just little critters that have fused with each other (:з」∠)

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