Su Qing nodded cooperatively. He was always very adaptable. Each time Hu Bugui’s face became stern, he would bring out his “everything the leader says is right, everything is my mistake, I’ve made trouble for the organization” expression, the expression of a nice young man who had recognized the error of his ways. Hu Bugui had tried trusting him time after time, but each time he had found that while ideals were well-rounded, reality was bony. 

Since he was little, Hu Bugui had believed that as a man, you should say what ought to be said and not say what ought not to be said; that promises couldn’t be made lightly, that words had to be turned into actions; that what you said was binding. Of course, in all his years of striving through the elements, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t encountered glib-tongued people. But they at least tried, at least had objectives. They weren’t like this person, who would make a promise to your face, then turn around and do what he was going to do anyway. 

What was he trying to do by fooling people like this? 

He had walked in keeping down his anger. When he saw this expression of Su Qing’s, he couldn’t resist letting his anger rise again—Hu Bugui thought that if this went on, that little shit Su Qing would certainly one day make him so angry he would turn into a firecracker. 

Su Qing’s eyes paused on Hu Bugui’s hands wrapped in gauze. His eyes flashed. In a feeble voice, he for once hemmed and hawed: “Captain Hu, I am really quite sorry…” 

Hu Bugui waved a hand to put a stop to his words. He looked straight into his eyes, the corners of his mouth tightening into a fierce arc. His features seemed to be carved out of stone. There seemed to be two fires burning faintly in his jet-black eyes. He often wore a long face, but Su Qing had never seen a Hu Bugui with his face pulled so taut. He weighed his expression and rather tactfully shut his mouth, waiting to be reprimanded. 

After a long moment, Hu Bugui at last took a deep breath and began to speak heavily: “Su Qing, you have demonstrated extreme mistrust towards your teammates time after time. Not only do you attach no importance to discipline, you also attach no importance to us.” 

His voice wasn’t loud, and he wasn’t being very harsh, but each word he spoke seemed to carry a certain unspeakable force, densely pressing on his listener’s head. 

Su Qing thought, This time I’ve stepped on a mine. 

He had just woken up. His face was as white as plaster, and there was an IV in his arm. The skin on his arm even seemed transparent. His soft hair fell messily on the pillow. He looked a little pitiful, so Hu Bugui didn’t look at him, only stared into his eyes—it was as if he could only harden his heart when he looked into those eyes. Su Qing’s eyes were very cool. Even if they curved in a friendly arc when he smiled, there was still that thin film over them; behind the warm-seeming film was stone.

When Hu Bugui met his eyes, he nearly felt that even his gaze was like stone. It wasn’t that it was very cold, but there was still no warmth there. Even when he put on a fake smile, there would be unspeakable stiffness and cunning hidden in his eyes. He suddenly felt a suspicion, wondering whether this person could be as lost as himself, only a walking corpse, able to eat and drink, talk and laugh, but with blood that had already chilled, unable to be warmed.

“The reason that the RZ Unit exists is that we are a whole. Comrades-in-arms are people you can trust to have your back. If you can’t trust us, then we can’t trust you.” Hu Bugui paused, then continued. The room was extremely quiet. Su Qing listened without making a sound. “You don’t acknowledge this team, so no matter how great your abilities, I still believe that it’s unsuitable for you to continue to work with the unit. Is there anything you want to say?” 

Su Qing slowly closed his eyes. There were faint dark blue circles under his eyes. He looked a little weary. He shook his head in a very small arc. 

Hu Bugui, a little irritably, wanted to put a cigarette in his mouth, but he found that he simply couldn’t work his fingers, so he frowned and had to let it go. He continued: “You don’t consider yourself a part of the RZ Unit. It’s only that you had nowhere else to go and took headquarters as a temporary stopover. Whenever you want to leave, you pick up and leave. You’re only temporarily collaborating with us. You can disregard all the unit’s orders and arrangements…” 

Hu Bugui laughed grimly. “It seems that our little shrine truly can’t contain a great deity like you.” 

Hu Bugui realized that his words had become a little heavy, but he didn’t regret it very much. He only shut his mouth, sighed, and leaned back in the chair with his head tipped back, looking at the lamp hanging tranquilly from the ceiling. 

“Three years ago…” Hu Bugui felt his throat tighten a little, so he cleared it forcefully and continued: “I was in the wrong. I overestimated your endurance. I should never have let you return. Later, when you were crushed under the ruins, I wronged you again.” 

Su Qing hadn’t expected him to bring this up, so he opened his eyes and looked at his hands, which looked just like two big zongzi¹. He thought that Captain Hu’s appearance was a little ridiculous, but he couldn’t laugh at it. There were some words, some things, that were like “you have a spinach leaf stuck between your teeth”—even though everyone knew, you couldn’t bring them out into the open and say them. 

It would mean there would be nowhere to hide. 

“All these years, I’ve always wanted to make it up to you, but you don’t appreciate the gesture,” Hu Bugui said. “I’ve been perplexed for a long time, because I didn’t know what benefit this could have for you. Why weren’t you willing to accept others being good to you?” 

He didn’t wait for Su Qing to answer. He went on himself: “Now I understand. It’s because you don’t accept my apology. You’re never planning to forgive me. This way, until the day I die, I’ll always remember this, and when I do die, I won’t be able to close my eyes.

“But that’s nothing,” Hu Bugui said. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter very much whether I can close my eyes or not—but have I overestimated you again? I thought that you could separate your personal feelings from work. I thought that you were like General Xiong said, not like some…like some offended lady in a huff, hung up every day about petty remarks!

“Su Qing, a person lives so many years. He needs to have something to look forward to. He can’t keep going it alone relying on anger and hatred. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Su Qing was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. He paused for a while, then opened his mouth as though to say something. But he was stopped by Hu Bugui’s raised hand. Hu Bugui said, “It’s enough that you know how things stand. You don’t need to say anything to me. Making up lies tires the brain.” 

Su Qing readily accepted this and closed his mouth. He suddenly found that while Hu Bugui was honest and kind, he was a person who kept accounts. He had very quickly figured out how to deal with Su Qing. 

Hu Bugui gave him a profound look, then stood up and said, “You rest up. In the evening, the medical treatment center is preparing to deal with…Xu Ruchong’s body. If you’re feeling up to it, you can come have a look.” 

“Captain Hu,” Su Qing suddenly called to stop him, “your hands…” 

“Flesh wounds.” Hu Bugui’s steps paused. He looked down on him from on high. “Actually, if you just say the word, dying for you would be nothing serious, either.” 

Su Qing’s heart skipped. He suddenly couldn’t figure out what these words meant. He raised his head and met Hu Bugui’s eyes, but before he could distinguish his expression, Hu Bugui turned around and softly said, “But I’m afraid that you…” 

Afraid that he what, Hu Bugui didn’t finish saying. His words became a sigh. He closed the door and walked out. 

Su Qing’s energy was actually insufficient. His physical condition was very average. He relied entirely on the double core energy crystal as an external plug-in. When that plug-in suddenly failed him, he became befuddled. One wild dream followed another. He felt as though something was pressing on his chest a little painfully. 

In his daze, he seemed to hear a voice speaking into his ear, scathingly criticizing him: “You were disappointed a few times, so now you won’t trust anyone again—are you a stupid cunt? Who the fuck hasn’t been disappointed a few times? What makes you so valuable, Young Master Su?” 

He couldn’t tell whose voice was speaking, but for some reason, he felt a little like he wanted to smile. 

Only after night had fallen did Su Qing wake again. The IV in his arm had been removed, and medicine seemed to have been reapplied to the wound on his leg. It still hurt a little, but it wasn’t very serious anymore. Someone had left a glass of water at the head of the bed for him, and also a crutch. 

When Su Qing came downstairs with the crutch under his arm, he was in time to see many people crowding around outside the treatment center. Even Cheng Weizhi had come out. Finally, the door to the treatment center was aggressively kicked open from inside. Lu Qingbai walked out with a hostile look on his face. His eyes glanced around. “What are you all crowding around here for? You think this is a movie theater?” 

“Dr. Lu, we wanted to…say goodbye to…” 

“Say goodbye?” Lu Qingbai gave a cold laugh. “When you’re the one lying on the slab, you’ll know whether you can hear others saying goodbye to you or not…” 

He seemed not to be in a very good mood and therefore rampantly venting his anger on others. Hu Bugui walked out from behind him, patted Lu Qingbai on the shoulder, and quietly said, “Everyone go ahead and disperse. We’re going to give everyone an outcome concerning this. When all of this has been thoroughly investigated we’ll…hold a proper funeral. I guarantee it.” 

Only then, after a moment, did everyone’s frozen steps begin to move away. Lu Qingbai saw Su Qing and beckoned to him as though to a dog: “That cripple over there, come here.” 

Su Qing: “…” He felt that Dr. Lu seemed to have some objection to him. 

When he had just taken a step inside, Lu Qingbai pulled the door heavily shut behind him. Xue Xiaolu, Qin Luo, and Fang Xiu were all there. Xue Xiaolu and Qin Luo were red-eyed. They nodded to him. Fang Xiu didn’t seem to have seen him come in. He only stood there with his arms crossed and his head lowered, staring blankly at Xu Ruchong’s quiet, pale face. 

Lu Qingbai took a deep breath, put on gloves, and quietly spoke into a recorder: “Xu Ruchong of the RZ Unit’s technological department. Died in the line of duty. Time of death…time of death 12 PM, November 15, 2034. Autopsy performed by Lu Qingbai of the medical treatment center.” 

There seemed to be a layer of mist reflected in Lu Qingbai’s thin lenses, hiding his eyes. He leaned down, holding a scalpel, and made the first cut on Xu Ruchong’s body. Apart from Su Qing, everyone simultaneously averted their gazes at that moment. 

Lu Qingbai had no assistant. Alone, he silently sliced, tested, examined, and recorded. He was expressionless and precise, as though lying on the autopsy table wasn’t his former colleague and comrade-in-arms, only the body of a stranger. 

It was extremely tranquil inside the room. Qin Luo didn’t dare to sob aloud, only silently wept. Xue Xiaolu furtively held her wrist. Fang Xiu looked at the two of them and ferreted out a bag of tissues and passed it over. He seemed a little stupefied, and a little weary. Su Qing stood his crutch aside, held his injured leg slightly off the ground, and leaned against the wall. He suddenly thought, When I die, will there be someone to cry for me? 

They stayed with Lu Qingbai as he worked through the night. When day had already broken, Lu Qingbai finally sewed Xu Ruchong’s body back up, peeled off his gloves, then took off his glasses and fiercely rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He signed his name on the autopsy report and gave it to Hu Bugui. “He was killed by an unknown poison. There’s no relevant information in the database. At the moment, I can only make a preliminary assessment of the poison’s function.” 

“What is it?” 

“It operates on the nervous system, amplifying a person’s emotions countless times.” Lu Qingbai picked up a metal basin. There were two small, bloody microchips in it. “I also found these in his body. Preliminary analysis shows that one monitors the strength and category of emotions, and the other is an energy output device. The latter needs to be given to the tech department. I think it may be related to that net tying Su Qing in the end.” 

Fang Xiu then quietly asked, “Why would there be an emotional monitor in his…in his body? What was it for?” 

Lu Qingbai said, “Those bodies we found also had these things in them. Xu Ruchong told me then that he believed they were an experiment.” 

Fang Xiu quickly raised his head to look at him. His lips were a little white. 

Lu Qingbai continued: “His own words were, ‘You see that it can’t self-destruct or influence people’s thoughts. Its only function is to transmit a signal out, and the signal is only in the form of data. In other words, the person who receives the signal will only receive data about the general category, intensity, and wave frequency of the experimental target’s emotions. They won’t really be able to know the specific contents of the experimental subject’s thoughts. The only explanation is that this thing is like the monitors on the white mice and rabbits in a lab, for monitoring some index of the experimental target…’” 

Fang Xiu didn’t wait for him to finish speaking. He ran out in large strides. Xue Xiaolu looked from one to the next in confusion. Hu Bugui nodded to her, and she quickly followed. 

Su Qing looked at Xu Ruchong, lying on the dissection table covered by a white sheet with only his face, which had long ceased to say anything, revealed. He thought that this mysterious Dr. Zheng’s adopted son, a planted agent who had made it into the core department, had after all turned out to be…only an experiment. 

He thought that autumn had come. Otherwise, how could it be so cold?