Chapter 16 Tip of the Iceberg

Chapter 16: The Tip of the Iceberg

Unlike him, the idle wanderer, the Administrator clearly had business to attend to here.

"The situation might get chaotic. If I'm not nearby, stay put."

"I want to leave early."

The items being auctioned were commonplace items from the past: seals, ink and brushes, paper, ornately patterned plates, vases in assorted shapes, gem-inlaid rings and necklaces.

"There will be fireworks outside tonight. They say they're quite beautiful."

Chen Jiyan put down the brochure and turned to look, but the familiar figure was nowhere to be seen.

He ate a couple of cookies so delicate they looked like decorations, had the red liquid in his goblet replaced with a non-alcoholic drink. Listening to the host's introduction on stage, he occasionally checked the time, thinking of leaving. The centerpiece was a transparent vessel containing an organ.

The label displayed only a string of numbers.

"Little E, explain this serial number. Also, can you track the provenance of similar lots?"

"Affirmative. Analyzing now. This is the heart of a 0xxx born in New Calendar 0987. The system has no record; it should be a reject that failed the evaluation."

Everything made sense now. The questions that had been troubling him were finally answered.

This, then, was the final destination for those children who failed the assessment, who couldn't graduate because their FS resistance was below 60.

He listened as the lavishly dressed presenter spouted flowery prose, the exhibit in the transparent case hailed as a "divine gift," an "untainted treasure."

The system, unaware of Chen Jiyan's complex emotions, continued its speech:

"All children born in Sangsia automatically sign organ donation agreements as repayment to the Main City. There have been 27 similar transactions for corneal donations, 89 for kidney replacements, and... Warning: Detected significant emotional fluctuation. Please adjust your breathing. If needed, you may contact the Research Institute to apply for sedative injections. Remaining optimal activity time for today: 2.5 hours."

Phrases like "voluntarily signed" and "uncompensated donation" were nothing new in the past, merely excuses some used to justify consuming human flesh and blood, cloaked in a veneer of respectability to avoid appearing like beasts. Those immature organs, after careful cultivation, were openly priced and circulated through various channels in so-called high society. What was displayed at auctions were the cream of the crop.

When certain evils are exposed to sunlight, it means they are already widespread. What becomes known to people is merely the tip of the iceberg.

Ding Shu's every pipe flows with sinful, filthy blood, yet it is called the last heart of humanity.

"Is this legal?" he adjusted his breathing, to steady himself.

"Organs recorded in the vetted database, every surgery followed procedure." Little E answered without hesitation.

So, what ended up in the auction houses were unrecorded private collections.

Chen Jiyan couldn't fully relate because he had no memories before age eight. He wasn't born here; he felt no particular attachment to Sangsia. He wasn't one of these unfortunate chosen ones; on the contrary, he was very lucky to have a good family background, which placed him among the selectors.

But he was still furious.

And beyond the fury, he felt disappointment.

"What's wrong? The system alert came to me."

The voice of his guardian sounded in his mind. Chen Jiyan's thoughts were transmitted to him almost in real-time.

Trust the government. Those things that can be made public, that appear openly under the sun, no matter how cold, cruel, or impersonal, are what they have filtered out—the few things that can be disclosed to all compatriots.

Do not attempt to dig up the rotten roots beneath; it won't do you any good.

"I am not anyone's experiment,"

"And you are not my kind."

No mercy, no respect, no fairness, not even the pretense of superficial peace was deemed worth maintaining. Even life itself could be measured.

He couldn't bear it. The society he lived in, the civilization he belonged to, had equality and freedom ingrained in its bones, flowing in everyone's blood.

Not this blatant, brazen display before everyone, flaunting crimes as if they were achievements.

"So, you're still too young. This is precisely the reason for my existence as a guardian." You Jinhui's demeanor was the epitome of a parent dealing with a rebellious teenager. "Freedom, dignity—these are things you have to fight for. As for equality, perhaps our understanding differs slightly. Everyone lives under the same sky; that is equality enough."

"Meaning they won't be punished?"

"What kind of punishment do you think is appropriate?" the Administrator countered.

"They should all die. Everyone involved in this process."

"The law doesn't see it that way."

Indeed, this was the New Calendar era, with its sharply declining population. Life was incredibly precious, and the criteria for the death penalty were extremely stringent.

"I see. So this is a place where hypocrisy, lies, and deceit thrive."

He looked at the eyes of many buyers in the audience—naked, primal, savage, undisguised.

This wasn't the future at all, not a continuation of civilization, but an apocalypse after the apocalypse.

He rejected this future.

Perhaps dying a hundred years ago wasn't such a bad thing.

Now, he could finally understand the resolve of Vita Star. They were such vibrant lives, yet conditioned into numbness, into mechanical obedience, even willing to destroy themselves in pursuit of freedom.

The collapse of Sangsia was inevitable. Its very founding principle doomed it from the start.

"So, is crime permitted here?"

"Of course not."

No sooner were the words spoken than a gunshot rang out. The transparent glass case gleaming with a silver-blue light shattered.

All lights in the venue suddenly went out. The originally hazy, intimate atmosphere vanished instantly. The sound of plates crashing to the floor, liquids splashing, gasps and exclamations of varying pitches and lengths rose and fell in succession.

The glamorous soirée of socialites instantly turned into a noisy, chaotic bazaar.

"Ding Shu executing official duties. Silence."

In the confusion, Chen Jiyan glanced at the central display podium. It was empty.

You Jinhui, who had set the trap, holstered his pistol and folded his arms, enjoying the spectacle.

"Aren't you going down?" Chen Jiyan asked with his eyes.

"Someone else's stage. Won't steal the Military Department's credit."

You Jinhui's gunshot had a unique sound. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was different. The first time he heard it, the bullet grazed his ear, and he instinctively dodged.

The sharp, short crack was startling, pulling him back to solid ground from a bizarre, fantastical world.

"What, you want it?"

He kept staring at his waist. You Jinhui took out his pistol, twirled it twice, loaded it, and handed it over.

"One bullet left. Want to play?"

Always happy to stir the pot, and with the military already involved, their shenanigans would blend right in.

"Give it a try. Aim at whatever bugs you."

His voice naturally carried an air of command, making those susceptible to authority quick to obey.

Compelled, Chen Jiyan, who had lived in the gun-controlled society of the 21st century, held, for the first time, something he'd only seen on TV.

"Yes, that's right, just like that."

Bang!

"You really..."

He shot down the largest crystal chandelier.

Now they were definitely going to be noticed.

"Caused some trouble?"

Chen Jiyan was both scared and excited, his hand trembling slightly from the recoil, and he even wanted to do it again.

"At times like this, you do resemble me a bit." Looking into those bright amber eyes, You Jinhui felt his heart soften inexplicably.

"Well done, truly outstanding."

"However, it's time to return it to me."

He took the gun from Chen Jiyan's hand without question, yanking him sideways to the nearest display stand as cover.

Amidst the surrounding chaos, all Chen Jiyan could see was You Jinhui. By now, he finally understood what else was behind those looks of pity he never understood.

They probably thought he was a mobile organ bank prepared by You Jinhui for himself, hence naming an heir so early and keeping him close at all times.

The informed researchers, of course, wouldn't think so. His health was plain for anyone to see. Forget whether You Jinhui would even want it, the cost of cultivating and maintaining an organ incubator for decades would be astronomical.

This kind of thing kept happening, bans or no bans. You Jinhui cultivated this very misconception, which was how he gained entry to this auction.

"So cold-hearted."

The takedown wrapped up quickly. You Jinhui hadn't come alone; he wasn't even leading this operation, just playing a supporting role. Military personnel hidden among the attendees took control, and the uninformed were pushed and shoved toward the center.

After settling Chen Jiyan, the Executive went to listen to reports from subordinates of various departments.

It was already late at night. The clock struck twelve on time, and the scheduled fireworks lit up the dusk.

These weren't the most expansive fireworks Chen Jiyan had ever seen, but they were certainly the most flamboyant. As if showing off, champagne-colored bursts vanished into the deep blue night sky, and where the sparks fell, magnificent flowers bloomed again, one after another, filling the sky as if they'd never end.

Amidst the explosions, the room fell suddenly quiet.

Everyone was drawn to the windows to admire the spectacular sight.

Background music had been playing indoors all along, but it had been drowned out by the chaotic noise. It was a piano piece he had never heard before, its ornate final notes slicing through the opulent, decadent banquet hall, mingling with the scents of alcohol and perfume.

He passed by one marble-carved door and window after another, with no thought for the view outside.

The FS concentration in the air was rising. Chen Jiyan was gasping for air.

The system gave no warning, as if dead. He understood his current physical condition well—ten minutes tops before another forced shutdown.

In standby mode, he was too easily mistaken for a corpse. With so many people and such chaos, he could wake up in a ditch somewhere.

He had only one thought now: find You Jinhui and go back immediately.

"Didn't I tell you to stay there? Just a bit left to wrap up, then we'll—"

You Jinhui stood frozen, stock-still.

Chen Jiyan was practically draped over him.

Too close.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Take me back. I'm fading... three minutes at most."

He didn't even finish before Chen Jiyan lost consciousness.

The body that had been warm and carried the scent of alcohol just moments ago went cold and still in a heartbeat.

This wasn't the first time You Jinhui had witnessed his sudden collapse, but he had never felt it this closely before.

For a split second, he was afraid Chen Jiyan might never wake up again.

Screw all the recommendations and protocols. For someone in Chen Jiyan's condition, the best course was to lock him in a constant-pulse chamber under 24/7, all-angle surveillance.

It was his fault. Chen Jiyan had clearly said he wanted to return early. How could he let his guard down just because there had been slight improvement recently, cocky enough to think nothing would go wrong with him right there?

Author's Note:

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