The phone rang three times. It was an unfamiliar number. Su Chengde didn’t pick up. After three rings, the caller hung up. 

So Su Chengde could relax for today. This was the secret signal Su Qing had arranged. No matter where Su Qing was, no matter what means of contact he had, he would dial this number at 7 AM every day and hang up after three rings. Su Chengde would know that the call came from him; it amounted to reporting that he was safe and sound. 

In the end, Su Chengde hadn’t been able to entirely work out what it was his wastrel son did. Su Qing had sworn two things up and down. First, that he wasn’t doing anything bad. Second, that he would come back alive. 

Behind him came the sound of kicking and clattering. Su Chengde turned his head and saw Tu Tutu hugging a big Garfield pillow nearly taller than he was. He ran over wearing pajamas. “Grandpa, grandpa, was that my Imperial Uncle calling?” 

The call of “grandpa” made Su Chengde’s heart go soft. He opened his arms and picked Tu Tutu up, putting the pudgy child on his knees. Tu Tutu rubbed his head against Su Chengde’s shoulder. “When will my Imperial Uncle come back?” 

Su Chengde slapped his chubby butt. “What, do you miss him? You don’t like living with Grandpa?” 

Tu Tutu was much more astute than Su Qing had been at his age. He knew very well how to flatter. He had cut a swath through the RZ Unit headquarters before, taking everyone down. He immediately blinked his big, shining, dark eyes. “Grandpa is good. Yeah…it’s much better living with Grandpa than with my Imperial Uncle. Grandpa has a good temper and never gets angry or spanks me, and he buys me tasty snacks. Grandpa is the best.” 

Su Chengde was over the moon. He immediately thought that compared to Tu Tutu, his own home-abandoning son was nothing. 

Tu Tutu observed his expression and continued, “But, still, even though my Imperial Uncle has no patience, and he’s a dictator, it’s been days since I last saw him, so I miss him.” 

Moved, Su Chengde thought, Such a young child, and he has so much conscience. Truly a rare treasure. He said, “Tutu, you can be my very own grandson.” 

Tu Tutu immediately beamed with joy. “All right, so I’ll have an uncle and a grandpa!” 

Su Chengde was getting on in years and was susceptible to melancholy. Seeing the kid’s joyful look, his heart began to sting—the first time Tu Tutu had seen Su Chengde and been asked “Where are your parents?”, he had surreptitiously pinched himself on the thigh, forcing out two tears. Howling, he had begun to cry, “Bad guys killed my mom and dad!”—so Su Chengde had taken him for an unloved little cabbage, doting on him to no end. 

Tu Tutu continued to exert himself. He climbed out of Su Chengde’s lap and very properly said, “Grandpa, I’ll go read! My Imperial Uncle stipulates that every day I have to read for two hours, do math problems for two hours, draw for one hour, memorize words for one hour, then…” 

As soon as Su Chengde heard this, his eyebrows went up—what? A child barely ten years old, just at the age when he wants to play, and he isn’t even allowed to rest for a moment? What’s the meaning of making him study this and study that? Trying to work the child to death? Why didn’t I push you like that when you were little, brat? 

So he pulled Tu Tutu back. “We won’t listen to him. It’s Sunday today. Why should you read first thing in the morning? Grandpa doesn’t need you to study so hard. Come on, we’ll go out and play.” 

Tu Tutu raised his head pitifully. “But my Imperial Uncle will thrash me…” 

“Would he dare? If he dares to thrash you, I’ll thrash him.” This was how Su Qing, out risking life and limb, got shot lying down. 

Tu Tutu tearfully said, “Grandpa, you’re so nice.” 

Inwardly he thought, Oh, yeah! After all these years, I’ve finally found a solid backer. Our Imperial Presence has made it this far. It’s time to sing the song of the emancipated serfs! 

Thousands of miles away, Su Qing and Hu Bugui were just finishing breakfast. A small listening device’s terminal lay on the dining table. The two of them were listening attentively to Tu Tutu and Su Chengde’s dialogue as if it were the morning news. Su Qing, his face turning all colors, gnawed on his chopsticks, making crunching sounds. 

A trace of a smile crossed Hu Bugui’s face. He didn’t want to be too obvious, worried about provoking him. So he lowered his head slightly, pulled open the outside of a jianbing, carefully picked out the green onions that had accidentally gotten mixed in, then pushed it in front of Su Qing. “Eat up. Don’t chew your chopsticks.” 

Su Qing bit off a quarter of the jianbing in one bite and resentfully said, “The little ingrate. When I get back, if I don’t beat his ass black and blue, I’ll change my surname to his.” 

Get back—wonderful words. 

There were so many things to do after “getting back.” He had to go eat Hu Bugui’s mom’s meat pies, he had to thrash Tu Tutu, he had to figure out how to talk around Hu Bugui’s simple and honest parents and his own old-fashioned dad. 

Hu Bugui’s gaze fell on a morning paper. His eyes flashed. The man on the front page was in his fifties, but he didn’t look elderly at all. His eyes were bright. Facing the camera, he had a natural composed ease. Three whole pages were dedicated to praising this Dr. Zheng. 

“There are a few things we have to do now,” Hu Bugui said. “First of all we have to work out what this ‘sleeping sickness’ is, find an effective means of blocking the explosions, and get materials from Utopia. If we act rashly without knowing what cards they have in their hands, I’m afraid that the first to come for us won’t be Zheng Qinghua, it’ll be…” 

His words paused. He didn’t continue. Su Qing nodded, indicating that he understood. 

“That’s our primary goal. The corresponding secondary goal is to get a trustworthy technological and medical staff.”

“And the tertiary goal is to work out who it was who showed Cheng Ge that drawing and used me to get rid of Xu Ruchong.” Su Qing finished off breakfast in a few bites and wiped his mouth. 

Hu Bugui pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I really can’t think of who it could be…” 

“I’m afraid there’s no good in thinking.” Su Qing paused. “I also can’t think of who it could be. Whenever I think of anyone, I can’t resist moving on, as if it would be wronging them to keep considering it. It would be for the best if we could…make this person show themselves.” 

“So we first need a big enough lure,” Hu Bugui picked up. “How much longer do you think we have?” 

Su Qing shook his head. “Zheng Qinghua and the person behind him aren’t idiots. They can stand firm now because they’ve hijacked all of humanity with the sole bargaining chip of the ‘sleeping sickness.’ That’s too weak. Anyone with a brain knows that even if we’re a step behind, it isn’t as though we don’t have technicians and medical experts. So they’re sure to find a more…” 

His speech paused. He frowned as though annoyed with himself for coming to a loose end. He continued, “…indiscriminate means of consolidating their own legitimate position—or else to turn themselves into the law.” 

Even across the narrow table, at an extremely close distance, Su Qing’s features were still flawless. Hu Bugui suddenly thought that his frown was very offensive to the eye, so he couldn’t resist reaching out his finger to tap the center of his brow, gently smoothing. “Don’t frown.” 

Su Qing grabbed his finger, brought it to his lips, and licked it. The fingers are linked to the heart. Hu Bugui instantly felt that his heart had been electrocuted. He shuddered faintly. Su Qing provokingly asked, “Got goosebumps?” 

Hu Bugui nodded silently. 

“Then could I ask you not to be so romantic? I’ve also got goosebumps.” Su Qing, having used sex to respond to romance, let go of his hand, stood up, picked up his coat, and draped it over himself. “I’ll go pick up the car.” 

Hu Bugui watched his retreating figure and silently thought, My goosebumps didn’t come from being sickened. They’re obviously of a different sort. 

Two hours later, Su Qing brought the car back. Hu Bugui had already settled the account and packed up their stuff. They hopped on to the next place at once. Su Qing cut up the used fake IDs and got rid of them, then got two new ones from somewhere. Hu Bugui glanced into the backseat and found that the space under the seat was crammed full of weapons. He couldn’t resist asking, “Where did you get that?” 

“Smuggling,” Su Qing said, not turning a hair. Seeing that the expression on Hu Bugui’s face was peculiar, he added, “Time is tight, I couldn’t get anything very high-grade. First we’ll use these things to get by for a while. When everyone’s assembled, I’ll scare up some more proper things for you all.” 

Hu Bugui silently turned his head away and thought that when he had used General Xiong’s momentum to force Su Qing to stay at the RZ Unit, it had really been a waste of his talents. 

Ten hours later, the two of them arrived at the first stop on their path in exile—General Xiong had noted it on the map as the former location of the Utopia Project. 

At a certain distance from the former Utopia location, Su Qing picked up a pair of binoculars and looked for a while, then passed them to Hu Bugui. “Zheng Qinghua moves pretty fast. There are already people there.” 

“As expected.” Hu Bugui looked for a while. “We’ll go according to plan. Be careful.” 

Su Qing laughed. “You’re the one who should be careful.” 

The former Utopia location currently still had sentry posts. The outermost sentry saw what seemed to be a freight-hauling truck driving towards them. He wasn’t very vigilant. Though this place was out of the way, there were still some trucks passing by every day. 

But as this truck drove closer, the sentry couldn’t resist getting a little nervous. He raised his gun slightly, making a gesture of preparing to aim. Just then, a car suddenly came out of nowhere and crashed right into the truck. Neither vehicle was moving slowly. The scene of the crash instantly became a tragedy. 

The sentry couldn’t resist opening his mouth, looking blankly at the truck’s front windshield shattered all over the ground. He didn’t know whether the person inside had been flattened. 

He reached out a hand to feel for his communicator. “0152 at Gate 1, reporting…” Right now, his eyes were still glued to the crash site. For some reason, his vision suddenly went dark, and he fell straight down. 

A hand quickly caught him and pulled him aside without anyone being the wiser. 

Someone answered from the communicator: “0152, please continue. What’s wrong?” 

A man with his cap brim pulled very low changed into the sentry’s clothes. Meanwhile, he pinched the communicator, opened his mouth, and spoke in a voice exactly the same as the sentry’s. In a slightly urgent tone, he said, “There’s been an accident fifty to a hundred meters from Gate 1. Requesting support.”