11235 believed that he performed physical labor—whether he was killing people or singing—so he thought that he should be constantly replenishing his physical strength. Therefore, he looked rather vicious when he was eating, so vicious that if a person eating at the same table as him wanted to be polite and serve him some food, they would have to take advantage of the time before he had picked up his bowl and chopsticks. 

His record was eating up a whole bowl of rice in three mouthfuls. Both his mouth and his esophagus seemed to be made out of rubber, able to expand and contract without limit. 

An elderly man with a head of silver hair sat at his left hand, pushing a plate of some smoked chicken legs towards him. He was just about to speak when 11235 stuck out a chopstick to block the plate. This non-mainstream killer took a few seconds out of the many pressing affairs of eating to give the man a rather gloomy look. “I don’t eat that, and I don’t capture people.” 

Then he put his head down. “When it comes to the living, don’t come to me. And I won’t go out with the stupid cunts.” 

The man’s self-restraint was excellent. He said nothing, only lowered his head and smiled. In a low, soft voice, he said, “Don’t keep taking the contrary position to Dr. Zheng…” 

“Zheng Qinghua?” 11235 didn’t even raise his head. His mouth was full of rice. He said indistinctly, “He’s the chief of the stupid cunts.” 

The man frowned. 

11235 glanced at him, then put more rice into his own empty bowl and rudely swept up all the dishes on the table. His bowl was piled high over the brim. Then he set to it again, as though trying to drown himself in food. Even so, it didn’t keep his beak from talking: “Let me tell you, Fei, you pay for my upkeep and have me kill people for you—that’s fine, no problem, that’s what we do. But you don’t pay me to capture people or say pretty words, right?” 

The man sighed, feeling that he had raised a wolf. He had been giving it good food and drink for years, and if he couldn’t hope that it would be devoted, at least it should have gotten familiar with him and not bite anymore? 

“I’m done.” 11235 stood up and wiped his mouth. He very insincerely said, “Thank you, I’ll go.” 

“Slow down.” The man took something like a playing card out of his coat pocket. With its reverse side up, he slid it over the table to 11235’s hand and said in exasperation, “Go and do your job.” 

11235 whistled, brought the paper up before his eyes, and glanced at it. He was a little doubtful. “Do you need me for this person? Can’t your little whoever-it-is handle it?” 

The man laced his fingers together, put his elbows on the table, and quietly said, “Just in case.” 

11235 took another look at the name, photograph, and serial number on the card. With a forced smile, he commented, “Besides which, you and your little whoever-it-is, sir, you’re really, you know.” 

He made a very obscene hand gesture. As though worried that the man wouldn’t understand, he specially explained: “You’re real motherfuckers.” 

Then he fearlessly picked up his big bag containing both a guitar and a gun from the door, and looking pleased with himself, very festively said, “I wouldn’t have thought that would be a hereditary trait. What a wonderful world! So wonderful.” 

The grey-haired man’s face was ashen. His hands even began to shake. But what could he do? Years ago, when that damn 11235 had nearly driven him to a heart attack, he had made countless oaths that in the future, when he found someone more capable, the first thing he would do would be to get rid of this thing. 

Over a decade later, 11235 was still hopping, whereas he himself…

The man sighed and looked at the backs of his hands, beginning to break out in age spots. His fingers still had a slight uncontrollable tremor. He took a small pill bottle out of his pocket and swallowed a handful of pills. He closed his eyes, took some deep breaths, and finally stabilized. 

He felt that he was already old. Zheng Qinghua could turn a man into a monster, but he couldn’t turn an old man into a young one. 

Time was the only eternal law in this world. 

Su Qing spent a long time staring blankly at the little box at his feet. It contained all kinds of bewildering instruments. It included what was supposed to be the most precise, most advanced energy detector and all kinds of protective devices against unusual energy, but when their tags had “Xu Ruchong” printed on them, they were worth great deliberation. 

The RZ Unit had simply been letting the fox guard the henhouse. They had hired the cat to watch the fish pond. 

He sat in the surveillance room alone, the ashtray next to his hand so full of cigarette butts that it was overflowing. A person could fall over choking when they opened the door to this room. The smoke he had polluted it with made it look like the Southern Gates of Heaven. Xue Xiaolu came in looking for him midway. Before she could finish speaking, she was driven to tears by choking. 

Su Qing seemed to be unaware that he was poisoning his lungs. He was thinking, what role did Xu Ruchong play in this whole business, after all? 

The cause of this was a case—he had already considered this. There were many strange points, and the strangest of all was that while it simply seemed to be tailor-made for him, the person who had discovered it was Xu Ruchong. Then there had been neither too many nor too few clues left behind, precisely drawing their line of thought to “external energy crystal” and “double core experiment.” 

There were only two people in the world directly connected to a double core—one was Su Qing himself, and the other was incomparable maker of the double core—Cheng Weizhi. And the opportunity hadn’t been lost to use Cheng Ge’s drawing to draw his attention to Cheng Weizhi. 

Cheng Weizhi was an intellectual. His IQ was high, but he wasn’t very canny. It would be easy for Su Qing to get what he wanted out of him. 

Around and around—as though someone had made Xu Ruchong mislead him, then finally had pushed Xu Ruchong step by step, making him draw fire onto himself. 

There was a problem with Xu Ruchong, that was certain, or else Professor Cheng wouldn’t have covered up for him, and he wouldn’t have run, leaving behind a sketchy note. And if Professor Cheng had covered up for him, then he must think that the problem wasn’t so serious. 

Moreover, Xu Ruchong had been concealed for so many years. Why had he suddenly shown himself so meaninglessly? 

Or…did someone in Utopia want to get rid of Xu Ruchong? 

Su Qing pinched out his cigarette. His fingertips were starting to yellow. Expressionless, he kicked the little box at this feet with the tip of his foot. He thought, if there was a micro bomb in there, he would never be able to spot it. There would be a boom, and he would go from wholesale to retail packaging—wouldn’t that be tidy? 

If Xu Ruchong wanted to get rid of him, he really wouldn’t need to fool around with notes. Wasn’t it simply pulling down your pants to fart? He picked up the coat on the back of his chair, checked each of the knives in an inside pocket, casually draped the coat over himself, bent his head to put yet another cigarette in his mouth, curled his other hand in his pocket, then went out with his head down and his eyes narrowed. 

Xu Ruchong had arranged to meet him on the city outskirts—over an hour’s drive from the city. When you got off the highway, you passed through a wide expanse of farmland and scattered villages. Then you had go on foot for over half an hour on a small, muddy road, and go around a stretch of wilderness. Then at last you would see a small hill. 

Behind an uneven row of wild jujube trees, Su Qing saw Xu Ruchong, his cheekbones sticking out a little, looking like a wandering spirit. 

Xu Ruchong’s glasses were hanging from his collar, revealing the thick dark circles beneath them. He looked so haggard it was spooky. 

He nodded. “You came.” 

Don’t move if the enemy doesn’t move. Su Qing stood two or three meters away from him with a cigarette in his mouth, silently looking him over. 

Xu Ruchong said, “When I saw the drawing that little devil showed you, I understood what they were up to.” 

Su Qing didn’t ask how he had seen it. Every single mechanical component in the RZ Unit could be this genius’s eyes. He only asked, “Who are they? And who are you?” 

Xu Ruchong slowly breathed out, trembling a little. Quietly, he said, “They’re everywhere. I…used to be one of them.” 

Used to be? 

Xu Ruchong continued: “Now that I’m standing here face to face with you… No, maybe before, from the first time I mentioned something I shouldn’t have mentioned to Captain Hu, I wasn’t one of them anymore.” 

Su Qing’s impression of Xu Ruchong had always been of a slightly foolish and stubborn bookworm. He had never seen such a mix of despair, fear, solemnity, and something even more complicated in his expression. He breathed out a mouthful of smoke and waited for Xu Ruchong to keep going. 

“When I joined Utopia, I was still a student. Like all the members, I was fanatical about its ideals—none of you would understand that kind of fanaticism. We researchers might discover a theorem or two in our lifetimes, standing on the shoulders of giants, adding a brick or a tile to the mansion of learning they’ve already built, and that would already be amazing—but in Utopia, it was different. We were creators.” 

Su Qing pinched out his cigarette butt. Taking no care for the environment, he ground it under his foot, thinking, To me, you’re all inhuman. 

Xu Ruchong suddenly covered his head and bent down as though in intense pain. Su Qing looked again and found that tears had begun to flow down Xu Ruchong’s face. 

Su Qing didn’t speak. He watched as Xu Ruchong went from silent weeping to sobbing wails. Then he coldly said, “Stop crying. What the hell have you got to cry about? There are so many people dead who have nowhere to cry. Hey, let me ask you, what’s your relationship with Zheng Qinghua? What’s your position in Utopia?” 

Xu Ruchong cried vigorously, not answering. 

Su Qing became impatient. “Are you going to talk or not? I’m the one asking you now. When Hu Bugui and the others catch up, you won’t have a chance to talk anymore—what did you call me here for?” 

“Zheng Qinghua… Zheng Qinghua is my adoptive father,” Xu Ruchong said. “He was the one who recommended me to study with Teacher Cheng. They hadn’t fallen out yet then.” 

Su Qing stared—Zheng Qinghua’s adopted son. This Dr. Zheng, who had up to this point remained hidden behind the scenes, living only in hearsay, had raised himself a child to come out and be a sacrificial victim—what had he meant by it? 

Thoughts flew quickly through his mind, but Xu Ruchong was speaking intermittently: “I know, I know… Our ideas were all wrong. All these years, the dreams I’ve clung to, my life, they were all mistaken, even…even evil.

“Captain Hu and the others are so good to me, so good that I…

“What should I do? What the hell should I do?” 

Su Qing had a sudden acute sense of being watched. This feeling was too familiar—it was that sniper. All the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and a knife immediately appeared between his fingers. “Xu Ruchong.” 

He called, but Xu Ruchong didn’t seem to hear. Xu Ruchong squatted on the ground, his voice falling lower and lower, the look in his eyes growing more and more lost. He seemed to have sunk into his own world, his intense ideals and the drip of reality beginning to collide. 

Su Qing realized that something was wrong—he saw blood start to flow from Xu Ruchong’s nostrils, slowly dripping onto the withered grass in front of him. 11235’s gaze was still on him like a bone maggot. Su Qing yelled: “Xu Ruchong!” 

The extremely abnormal Xu Ruchong at last reacted to his voice. He sluggishly raised his head, then looked at him extremely slowly. Then he opened his mouth and gave a scream so sharp it simply didn’t seem like it could come from a human being. It was like an awl plunging into Su Qing’s oversensitive ears. Su Qing’s head buzzed, and he nearly lost his footing. 

Then a big net, glowing silver, sprang up from the ground. Su Qing reacted at lightning speed, backing away, but he was still caught inside. Su Qing’s knees went weak, and he went to one knee—he felt the same as when he had touched the bracelet on Dong Jianguo’s body, but of course, it was several times more intense than that. 

A bullet came just when he was unable to dodge.