Su Qing wasn’t really sure what benefit he would get out of doing this. It had been over three years. Would Su Chengde have moved? Even if he hadn’t moved, would he necessarily be home? Would he have gone out to a social engagement? Would he have gone on another business trip somewhere? 

Over the years, Su Qing had developed a habit. No matter where he went, he would find a way to get his hands on a B City evening paper. This paper was in fact worthless. Half of it was taken up by ads. Apart from the front page headlines concerning the government’s major policies that every Chinese citizen already knew brought out as news, the unreliable celebrity gossip in the entertainment section, and the even less reliable commentary about stocks and bonds in the finance section, basically all that remained were lost-and-found notices and funeral announcements. 

Su Qing’s only sentiment towards it lay in the occasional publication of interviews or hearsay concerning the city’s entrepreneurs. Su Chengde from time to time appeared in it, satisfying his old-fashioned vanity about “being on TV” and “being in the papers”—even if supposedly only B City’s major institutions subscribed to the paper in question, and it was mostly used as a coaster for teacups. 

When Su Qing saw anything concerning Su Chengde, he would cut it out and save it. Sometimes he would think, The old thing is closing on sixty, why does he still need to earn his living? What’s he trying to do spending all day hustling and bustling? But when he asked this, Su Qing’s heart began to sting—Su Chengde was on his own in that big house with only the housekeeper. If he didn’t go gamble with his life doing business every day, what else was he supposed to do? 

Su Qing felt that he had climbed thousands of walls and had at last fallen off of one—he duped others every day, and one day he had at last been duped by someone else. That day, General Xiong had asked him three questions, none of which he had been able to answer. So General Xiong had promised him: “If you come to the RZ Unit, I’ll give you an identity, an identity that will let you go home.” 

However, he now had an identity and could say “I work for the government” as breezily as Hu Bugui had back then, and the name on his ID had at last returned to his original one, but he found that he still didn’t dare to go home. He didn’t know whether there would be another hidden sniper or another person with a “big chrysalis” on their back lying in wait. 

He only dared to dress up as an old beggar with a face covered by a big grizzled beard and smeared pitch-dark, wearing very “cutting-edge” clothes and dragging a fake missing leg. Holding a small enamel tin, he huddled at an intersection Su Chengde had to pass on his way home from work. 

There was often traffic at this intersection. Su Chengde sometimes had the driver take the car away and walked home on his own. 

All afternoon, he leaned idly against a wall. When passersby tossed change into his bowl, he didn’t react and thank them, only squinted at the murky light. He only collected around ten yuan during the afternoon. 

The sky gradually darkened, and people started to pass by one after another on their way home from work. The flow of people and cars became congested. Only then did Su Qing slowly come around. At the noisy, bustling intersection, he looked out from the sea of people and flow of traffic, gazing fixedly in one direction for a long time. 

Suddenly, a light flashed in his thinly narrowed eyes. Su Qing’s back, disguised as an old beggar’s hunchback, stiffened undetectably, and the hands hanging at his sides shook slightly—he had seen a familiar car. 

It was slowly coming his way through the congestion of the afternoon rush hour. Five hundred meters, four hundred meters…

Then that figure, unseen for many years but still familiar, got out of the car as usual. Someone slowly walked towards him. Su Qing cleared his slightly tight throat, which felt as though something was blocking it. Tapping his worn-out enamel tin, he began to sing quietly and deeply: “Men and ghosts, heaven and earth. Riches give the appearance of bounty. If life is like a drunken dream, the way will be smooth. But sadly conscience remains—¹” 

Every person came and went hurriedly. Very few people noticed the old beggar by the wall with his missing leg. Su Chengde’s steps weren’t fast, because he had nothing to do when he got home. The weather had been bad lately, and his joints were giving him trouble. He avoided the flow of people and went slowly along the wall, so by coincidence or not, he heard these lyrics mixed in with the din of the city. 

Not a single note was on key, but the whole thing was permeated with an unspeakable sadness. 

Su Chengde glanced at him and suddenly felt miserable. Self-mockingly, he thought, At least I still have some money. I don’t need to beg on the street. 

As he thought this, he paused next to the old beggar. He listened to him finish singing the whole song, forgetting the words and going off tune, humming and making it up. 

Only then did the “old beggar”’s slightly sluggish gaze move away from the corner. Like the thousands upon thousands of people who begged for a living, he cupped his hand in a salute, bent over laboriously, and in the most humble gesture, lightly touched his forehead to the ground, indistinctly speaking in a dialect from some unknown place. 

Su Chengde ordinarily would have ignored this. He was accustomed to vicious striving and snatching. His compassion had more or less died out long ago. Anyway, even a child knew that most of these beggars pretending to be handicapped were swindlers—this time, he had tragically hit upon the truth—but for some reason, he felt a stinging in his heart. He didn’t consider it deeply, only thought that perhaps the old beggar’s voice had moved him. 

He was a poor wretch anyway, even if he was a swindler, sitting there day after day clasping his hands and kowtowing. He didn’t have it so easy—Su Chengde took a handful of change out of his pocket and dropped it into the worn-out bowl, then walked directly home without a sideways glance. 

He didn’t see the old beggar behind him, like a pious believer crawling on a pilgrimage, dragging one long and one short leg, strenuously reverse himself and kneel in his direction, his forehead pressed for a long time to the ice-cold ground, as though he had lost the strength to straighten up again.  

In that lifetime, I traveled over mountains and rivers and places of worship, not to improve my next life, only to meet you on the way². 

All the field personnel were on holiday, but Hu Bugui hadn’t dared to leave. He was carefully following the results coming from the tech department, which had already worked through the night. Xu Ruchong came out to give a report sporting enormous dark circles under his eyes. “Captain Hu, Professor Cheng’s guess makes sense. This thing really is something like an external energy crystal.

“There’s a probe here that can enter the body—the basic principle of the operation of the energy crystal is the Law of Emotional Attraction, you know that, right?” Seeing Hu Bugui nod, Xu Ruchong rubbed his temples. “This has about the same function. The difference is that the emotions it absorbs are the wearer’s own, and it absorbs a tiny amount, then alters the frequency of this tiny amount of emotion, and the high frequency emotional waves appear in the form of energy. But because the amount of emotions absorbed is small, the amount of energy transformed is also small. You guessed right. This thing must still be in its experimental stage.” 

“You mean that their human experimentation is for the purpose of making an artificial energy crystal?” 

Xu Ruchong lowered his voice. “To my knowledge, the only double core in the world is Su Qing. Right now, no one understands exactly how he managed to survive. It seems that ‘over there’ they’ve also been attempting quite a bit of research over the last few years, but they couldn’t produce another Su Qing. Now, if the human body is unable to withstand a second energy crystal, then it’s easy to think that one method would be a manmade transplant.” 

Hu Bugui was silently for a while. “What stage has this thing reached?” 

Xu Ruchong shook his head. “I can’t say. The complexity of the energy crystal far surpasses human imagination. Perhaps it’s another brain. Perhaps reproducing even a portion of its functions would take a very long time. Up to this point, we haven’t been able to completely work out the energy crystal’s operating mechanism, or exactly what it does, or why so many blue seals have such different qualities in all aspects.” 

Xu Ruchong took off his enormous glasses and rubbed his eyes hard. “This project really is too vast, and you can basically eliminate the possibility of animal experimentation. Either you only make inferences from theory, or… Frankly speaking, Captain Hu, I heard before that we also had a research institute that reported to the higher authorities that it wanted to gather volunteers to systematically research this thing, and General Xiong put a stop to it and turned them down.” 

Hu Bugui coldly said, “Oh, yeah? If it were me, I would have turned them down, too. They had some nerve coming up with using humans as experimental subjects.” 

Xu Ruchong sighed and lowered his voice even further, almost whispering to Hu Bugui: “Don’t say that, Captain Hu. General Xiong can put a stop to it once, but he can’t stop it forever. For depth, research on theory only will never match up to theory tied to experiments. General Xiong holds power now, so he has the final say in what goes and what doesn’t, but if there really comes a day when a complete double core becomes a technology it’s possible to master, what do you think we should do?” 

Hu Bugui raised his eyes, looking profoundly at Xu Ruchong. He saw repressed worry appear on this normally brainless nerd’s face. “This brand-new race would inevitably have superiority over ordinary humans and hold this world’s authority and resources. When that time comes, what will our country do, and what will the other countries do? Captain Hu, I don’t understand detective work and field assignments, but I do understand something of this… I said to you long ago, both research and weapons are money sinks. You believe that behind Utopia, there isn’t a…” 

He made a gesture, then shook his head with extreme slowness. “I don’t believe it.” 

Hu Bugui raised a hand to bring his speech to a halt. 

“Do your own work,” Hu Bugui said quietly after a silence. “Whether it comes to interest or authority, I only know one thing. No matter what, people are people—don’t worry.” 

He tapped his thumb twice against his own shoulder. “Go on, and don’t talk about these things to a third person.” 

That day, Su Qing only returned to headquarters very late at night. The others didn’t know when he had gone or how, and they didn’t know how he suddenly returned. His appearance was a little beleaguered when he returned. Downstairs, he ran into Xue Xiaolu, holding a freshly arranged stack of materials. He nodded, smiled, then went right around her to take the elevator. 

For some reason, Xue Xiaolu thought that Su Qing’s smile had been a little forced. 

During the weekend, there were far fewer people in the headquarters than usual. It was a rest period. The dining hall supplied alcohol, so Su Qing carried in a big crate and said to Tu Tutu, who was sitting on the couch watching TV, “Little devil, go spend the night with your Grandpa Cheng.” 

Tu Tutu dimly turned his head. There was a potato chip in his mouth, puffing up his cheek. As he chewed, he recited along with the female main character on TV: “You heartless bastard…” 

Su Qing coldly said, “If I catch you watching any more soap operas, I’ll break your legs.” 

Without another word, Tu Tutu picked up his chips, ran to his room, picked up his storybook, picture album, and jigsaw puzzle, and obediently trotted away. “You’re busy, I’ll get out of your way.” 

Having cleared the area, Su Qing took all the alcohol out of the crate and lined it up on the table—there was baijiu and beer and everything else. He used the edge of the table to open a beer bottle, took a big swig, stared fixedly at the table thinking of something, then suddenly stood back up. Carrying the bottle, he walked out of his room and went to knock next door. 

He raised the bottle in his hand at Hu Bugui. “Come out, I’ll treat you to drinks.” 

Hu Bugui: “…” 

Everyone on Earth knew that the food and drinks at headquarters were all provided for free. Though Captain Hu was experienced and knowledgable, he had still never seen an invitation so lacking in good faith. 

Su Qing smiled, beckoning as he turned back to his own room. “If you can get me drunk, I’ll provide you one-time service in bed.” 

Hu Bugui: “…” 

He stood there dumb as a wooden chicken. After a moment, Su Qing suddenly came back and asked, “That wouldn’t count as violating discipline, would it?” 

Hu Bugui was dumbfounded. He automatically shook his head. Halfway through shaking it, he caught up. He simply didn’t know what to say. He was stuck standing there with his head half-shaken. But Su Qing left the door open and swayed right in without consulting anyone.