Chapter 64 Unresolved

Chapter 64: In Limbo

Once Xisha had left, the lively atmosphere settled back into silence.

“Are the results in?” Zhao Lin, without the usual group of interns trailing behind him, had on his usual black-framed glasses and a serious expression.

“Director Zhao is an excellent teacher. He explained the various negative effects of extremely low resistance to me in simple terms. I already knew that people in Aishi generally have shorter lifespans than elsewhere. Tell me. I think I can take it.”

“We’ve used various physical methods to control the FS in your body as much as possible, but the effect is minimal. The currently discussed plan is conservative treatment.”

Low resistance, high inertia: the FS retained in the body is also difficult to eliminate completely. Chen Jiyan knew this.

Every day was extra, every second was a luxury.

“Mm, I want to know how much time I have left. Tell me.”

The calmer Chen Jiyan was, the harder it was for Zhao Lin to speak.

“Estimating lifespan, like determining gender, is technically possible but legally prohibited. Actually, knowing or not knowing makes no difference because,” Zhao Lin saw Chen Jiyan was even smiling, making it even more difficult to continue, “people don’t just die at a set age; they can die anytime. Your risk is higher than anyone else’s, and it’s very likely you won’t survive this hurricane.”

“I see.” So, when things are going smoothly, people always worry if some disaster is looming. Knowing what the unresolved thing actually was, Chen Jiyan felt more at ease. After all, almost every day here he experienced the feeling of being on the brink of death.

“That’s enough.”

He looked out the window, feeling he was very much like the tree in the courtyard: having passed through the lush period of spring and summer, life was beginning to drain away, entering the desolate autumn.

“Don’t worry,” knowing how things would end, he actually felt relieved, smiling, “I’ll cooperate fully.”

“But, there is another choice.” Zhao Lin was holding a black box behind his back. “That lost Crystal Source came from Sang Xia’en. You know the crystalline state is a natural way to lower FS concentration; it only erupts after accumulating to a certain amount. Artificial mining and utilization, like decompressing a file, adds a lot of burden to the environment. This one, however, is very different—structurally stable, almost perfect, with no impurities. To some extent, it can achieve a very perfect state, with only water and inorganic matter as byproducts. This is something other naturally formed or artificially mined crystal ores cannot achieve. The R&D team only succeeded once, under extremely strict conditions. Even then, it was accompanied by a large amount of FS release, albeit relatively low. The failure rate was near one hundred percent.”

“The footage left by Sang Xia’en’s self-destruction contains many details. We all think that letting you experience it firsthand might yield some insights.”

“Let me think about it,” Chen Jiyan took it with both hands. “Don’t tell You Jinhui for now.”

“Also, when you said ‘we’ just now, did that include people from the CSA?”

An old acquaintance, Lin Fan, was standing right at the door, and seemed right at home. Behind him was another acquaintance, Xu Qingzhi, who had assisted Chen Jiyan in leaving Ding Shu.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. The institute currently has no specific project cooperation with the CSA. The Administrator is the big boss; our stance is clear, our position firm.” Xu Qingzhi was the one whose experiment came closest to success, hence her interest in Chen Jiyan. “Director, let them talk first.”

Zhao Lin left the item and followed his senior sister out. After closing the door, he asked, puzzled, “Why should we avoid them? This isn’t CSA territory.”

Xu Qingzhi only gave the director face in front of outsiders. Turning her back, she gave him a sharp knock on the head. “Call me senior sister, no respect for seniority.” Then she added impatiently, “Every time I’m in the same room with that guy surnamed Lin, I feel like I can’t breathe. His and his lackeys’ brain-dead comments make it hard not to wonder if they're brain-damaged. I’m afraid if I stay any longer, I won’t be able to stop myself from throwing a punch.”

“Also,” under his senior sister's glare, Director Zhao turned meek and compliant. Xu Qingzhi gave an advance warning: “You’re the one who promised not to tell the specifics to that dog. I’m not someone who can keep secrets. If he asks me, I’ll tell him everything. Be prepared.”

Prepared for what? Get a head start on hanging myself?

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Zhao Lin comforted himself. “Xiao Chen is kind-hearted and understanding. He’ll definitely back me up.”

Chen Jiyan’s opinion of the CSA had hit rock bottom, from a somewhat cultured money-laundering organization, to a now meticulously scheming illegal group. All that talk about civilized scavenging and repairing history was just a gimmick—few actually did the work, many were self-righteous.

“Don’t be so on guard around me. My goal is different from theirs; I’m not really interested in the Crystal Source itself.” Lin Fan tried to ease the tension but failed, so he got straight to the point: “Chen Jiyan, have you ever thought about why we must always start from scratch? Century after century, humans repeat the same mistakes. Even with history as a warning, similar tragedies continue to play out.”

“People in the New Calendar are too rigid, only focusing on the Crystal Source. I’ve always believed people in the past were wiser than those now. The New Calendar only ensures survival for most people. You should understand what I mean—spiritual life is extremely impoverished. Don’t you think the present is pathetic? But since you and I are here, why not let more of our kind come over?”

Lin Fan’s cooperation with the institute shared the same process but pursued different outcomes.

“If one day it can truly be realized, no longer needing to start from nothing, it will be an exceptionally huge revolution, a Renaissance for the New Calendar. You and I will be recorded in history.” He grew more and more excited, more and more impassioned. After his speech ended, his sole listener, Chen Jiyan, gave a calm evaluation:

“Putting aside feasibility and success rate, this idea is really simple and crude. Isn’t it inhumane?”

The other party was dismissive. “This is far more precious than the so-called high-quality population screened through resistance indicators. Of course, they can’t be compared to ordinary humans.”

A childlike, innocent expression appeared on Lin Fan’s face, exactly like during their first meeting in Sang Xia’en. So, the signs were already there back then. Coincidences and accidents were all carefully designed. Later, being taken to Ding Shu and moving through several cities were also within his control. Compared to the natural affinity between those of the same kind, Lin Fan preferred this young man to see the world’s wretchedness and decay clearly and actively draw closer to him. The more he suffered, the more confused he was, the firmer and more urgent he would become later.

Originally, everything was developing as he had hoped. Unfortunately, the plan didn’t go smoothly; a variable named You Jinhui appeared. No one expected him to care so much about the child his parents adopted, even to a pathological degree.

“The institute, having accumulated a wealth of failure experience, and me, who will either succeed or die trying—one day you’ll have to make a choice, and your time is running out.” Lin Fan also considerately gave him time to think. “However, I am quite confident. After all, humans are gamblers. Or, you could call it a spirit of adventure?”

Is that so? From the beginning, there was no choice but to be brought to a hundred years later, told not to fantasize about returning.

Now everyone was urging him to make a choice, as if the fate of humanity rested on his single thought, as if his life placed on a scale could be balanced against thousands of lives, as if he were the chosen, crucial savior.

Perhaps he really was too immature. If it were during his student days, full of fervor, hearing inspiring words would trigger his chuunibyou phase; he wouldn’t need much description to envision a bright, splendid future. Or if he waited until he was thirty, having been immersed in society for over a decade, he could calmly and firmly make the optimal choice, take responsibility for his own and even others’ lives, and accept any outcome, good or bad, with equanimity, preparing for the worst.

Unfortunately, the timing of his crossing was awkward, stuck in the middle—neither possessing the headstrong, bleeding youthful spirit nor the composed, steady charm. What he was best at was execution and going with the flow.

“I need some time.”

“I hope to hear the result I want soon. See you tomorrow, Chen Jiyan.”

The lights gradually dimmed. The floor-to-ceiling window, over ten meters wide, mirrored the frail figure on the sickbed.

“Did you know the future would be like this?”

If the correct answer to a multiple-choice question isn’t immediately obvious, the fastest method is elimination.

Although he didn’t know what he wanted, he knew what he didn’t want.

Working and living in Ding Shu like everyone else—he didn’t want that. Staying in the CSA, lost in fantasies of past and future—he didn’t want that. The debauchery of Mandu, the pastoral scenery of Xugu, the absolute freedom of Aishi—he didn’t want those either.

“Perhaps you would be very disappointed with the future me.”

“Since people can die at any time, one should always do something one won’t regret too much.”

Otherwise, one would spend the latter half of one’s life romanticizing the missed choices.

“Does You Jinhui know about my physical condition?”

“All data is synchronized with the Administrator. However, the 100-day figure is inferred and calculated based on past experiments and isn’t necessarily accurate. He won’t know.”

Chen Jiyan nodded to show he understood. That’s good. “That box, I’ll find a suitable time to open it as soon as possible.”

“You’ve lost weight.” You Jinhui frowned almost imperceptibly, glancing inadvertently at the acting director behind him, blaming him for not taking good care of the person.

Zhao Lin had his difficulties but couldn’t voice them.

“I don’t like exercise, you know. Drinking nutrient solution just leads to this.”

“We’ll make it up to you when we get back.”

“You learned to make chicken soup? Is it really drinkable? Where did you get the chicken…”

“Ahem,” Zhao Lin fake-coughed twice. “Well, see you next Monday, Xiao Chen.”

The two chatted, treating the third person as air. Whether out of reluctance to break the mood or lack of tact, Zhao Lin still steeled himself and reminded Chen Jiyan he had to come back the day after tomorrow.

Sure enough, after saying it, he immediately received a look from the Administrator that could freeze a person to death.

“Does it have to be at Hengmai? Can’t I operate the equipment myself?”

This question had been asked countless times, and he had answered it from every possible angle. The Governor’s memory was failing catastrophically, requiring him to have it reconfirmed every day or two.

“When can I go back for good?”

Honestly, it would be best if he just stayed at Hengmai permanently. But Zhao Lin didn’t dare say that out loud.

Watching Zhao Lin struggle to find an answer, Chen Jiyan stepped in to bail him out: “Just think of it as your job. I get bored at home when you’re normally at the office.”

The calendar by the entrance was marked with different colored notes, marking out You Jinhui’s days off and his own discharge date.

“I get it, it’s been a whole week, but are you really going to hug me in the entryway until dark?” After at least ten minutes, Chen Jiyan finally spoke up. He actually missed the couch and the bed more.

“I want to kiss you.”

“How about we move somewhere else? It’s a bit… Mmm!”

Chen Jiyan still wasn’t very good at catching his breath. On the verge of passing out, his brain starved for oxygen, he thought he really should have followed the doctor’s orders.

Cool, scorching, restrained, unrestrained…

He almost thought he was going to die.

In his daze, he heard a soft, sigh-like chuckle.

“Taking advantage of the situation, Governor.”

Chen Jiyan fought back defiantly, ignoring his own hoarse voice and spinning head.

If only there weren’t so much time standing between them, Chen Jiyan thought. If only You Ting and Roze had taken him home from the start, if he had grown up with You Jinhui, gone to school together, worked together… then he could have given his feelings, his faith, his choices to You Jinhui without any hesitation, without any reservations, and with unwavering certainty.

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Author’s Note: Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!

The relationship won’t be angsty, but there will be disagreements leading to brief separations. There should also be an “if” scenario where they grew up together as childhood sweethearts. Or, for the extras, does anyone have any tropes they’d like to see?