Upon hearing those words, Vincent struggled desperately to process what he was hearing.
Chief of the White Tower?
Y?
Y, who had appeared out of nowhere on the Black List four years ago and had firmly occupied the number one position ever since?
Y, who had designed the central control system for their starships?
But wasn’t the person standing in front of him their commander’s employer, a second year student at Turan Academy?
Vincent felt a little dizzy.
Moreover, according to the rumors, Y was in his forties. No one even knew whether Y was a man or a woman but they said Y was a taciturn middle aged person whose eyes contained the light of wisdom and who had a crease between the brows.
How old was Qi Yan?
He had only recently become an adult!
How could he possibly be middle aged?
Then, when Vincent thought about it again, the central control system of the starships had been completed by Qi Yan…
When he was sixteen?
Vincent turned toward the completely oblivious Erich, desperately wanting to grab him and immediately pour out everything he knew!
Unfortunately, this was hardly the appropriate occasion.
He could only force himself to hold it all in, not daring to let a single word escape. The effort of keeping silent was almost unbearable.
Erich didn’t notice the looks Vincent kept throwing his way. He was simply surprised by Y’s appearance and age.
Then he noticed something else.
Lu Fenghan was still standing where he was.
He hadn’t extended his hand.
It was strange.
The military and the White Tower had always maintained an excellent cooperative relationship.
In the interstellar age, wars had long since ceased to be matters of simply filling the battlefield with human lives. More importantly, they had become contests of tactics and technology.
For example, several decades ago, the White Tower’s innovations in space communication technology had allowed the rebel army to suffer repeated instances of severe communication interference for a full ten years. Their forces had been scattered like loose sand, allowing the Expeditionary Force to keep them under relentless pressure.
Because of this, the military had always held the White Tower in high regard.
For the Expeditionary Force stationed on the front lines in particular, this understanding was even more profound.
The things sent by the White Tower were often things capable of saving thousands, even tens of thousands, of lives.
They had always treated them with the utmost seriousness.
Yet now, Lu Fenghan was completely ignoring the hand Y had extended toward him.
Just as Erich was about to discreetly remind him, Lu Fenghan finally moved.
He raised his hand and took Qi Yan’s hand in his.
His grip wasn’t particularly forceful but neither did he release it quickly.
The cold temperature of Qi Yan’s fingertips sent a faint sting through him.
Lu Fenghan lowered his voice and asked, “Why are you so cold?”
As he spoke, he released Qi Yan’s hand and took half a step forward. At the same time, he unfolded the military jacket he was holding in his left hand and carefully draped it over Qi Yan’s shoulders.
With the movement, it was almost as though he had drawn Qi Yan into his arms.
Clearly, being suddenly brought so close to someone should have caused discomfort.
Yet Qi Yan’s body seemed to have grown completely accustomed to it.
He stood there without moving an inch, showing no resistance whatsoever.
The weight settling lightly on his shoulders made Qi Yan instinctively catch hold of one side of the collar. He looked at Lu Fenghan, only to realize that in the blink of an eye, he had already been surrounded by the other’s powerful presence.
The discomfort caused by the interstellar jump unexpectedly eased at that very moment.
His hand still felt slightly itchy.
The palm that Lu Fenghan had just used to hold his hand had been scorching with warmth, rough against his skin. It seemed to be covered with countless tiny wounds, hardened scabs and thin calluses.
For some inexplicable reason, Qi Yan found himself paying attention to it.
Lu Fenghan straightened again.
He didn’t retreat to his previous position. Instead, remaining at such an extremely close distance, he asked Qi Yan, “What did you bring?”
Wrapped in Lu Fenghan’s jacket, Qi Yan answered, “I brought the source architecture for the new detection system. It’s called ‘Chasing the Wind.’ However, before it can be used in actual combat, it needs to be connected to the starship’s central control system for testing and adjustment.”
Lu Fenghan raised an eyebrow. “Chasing the Wind? Who came up with that name?”
Qi Yan answered, “I chose it from the unused names in the naming register.”
“The previous ones, ‘White Falcon,’ ‘Twilight,’ and ‘Sundial,’ were all chosen the same way?”
Qi Yan nodded. “Yes.”
“Mm,” Lu Fenghan continued asking, “Going by your usual habits, what would you have named it?”
The questions themselves were insignificant but Qi Yan instinctively answered each one with meticulous seriousness.
“CE0701 New Detection System.”
The corners of Lu Fenghan’s lips curved upward slightly.
Finally, beneath that layer of ice, he caught the faintest trace of something familiar.
Looking at Qi Yan’s slender, almost too thin figure, he thought to himself that, sure enough, Qi Yan hadn’t been eating properly.
He asked again, “Are we starting the testing now?”
Qi Yan nodded. “Mm.”
Lu Fenghan said nothing more.
He simply called out, “Pojun.”
“Take Qi Yan to the equipment room for the central control system.”
“Understood.” Pojun’s voice came through the broadcast system as he greeted him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my designer.”
Beside him, Vincent sucked in another sharp breath.
Erich, too, made no attempt to hide his astonishment.
Qi Yan showed neither surprise nor excitement at Pojun’s sudden voice. He merely ordered, “Let’s go.”
After walking a few steps, he stopped again and turned around, his gaze falling on Lu Fenghan’s hand. After a moment of hesitation, he said, “Your hand, ”
Lu Fenghan asked, “What about it?”
Qi Yan lowered his eyes. “Nothing.”
With that, he followed the guidance markers Pojun had displayed at his feet and left the bridge.
Once only the three of them remained on the bridge, Erich spoke up. “Commander, you and Y, ”
Vincent interrupted him. “Commander, what happened between you and Qi Yan? Weren’t you two perfectly fine on Leto? Why does he seem…” Vincent searched for the right word to describe it. “Why does he seem like he barely has any humanity left?”
After saying that, he secretly shot Erich a meaningful look, silently indicating that he would explain everything to him later.
The relaxed expression on Lu Fenghan’s face disappeared completely. He stared in the direction Qi Yan had left, his gaze unnervingly deep, a clear restlessness still lingering in his eyes.
“Too much free time? Erich, draw up a new defense schedule for me and submit it before dinner. Vincent, go see whether Weiss has started talking.”
Seeing how cold Lu Fenghan’s eyes had become, the entire man wrapped in an aura of menace that seemed to say “stay away from the living,” Vincent and Erich immediately brought their heels together and answered crisply in unison, “Yes!”
Lu Fenghan returned to the command room.
He pulled a cigarette from the pack and held it between his teeth without lighting it. Then he remembered the coffee shop on Leto, where Qi Yan, driven by curiosity, had snatched his cigarette away, taken a tentative puff and complained that the taste was nothing special.
The pain that had been pressing heavily against Lu Fenghan’s heart finally began to spread in dense, suffocating waves. The ache was so intense that his breathing tightened, while the hand braced against the edge of the desk bulged with prominent veins.
Several minutes passed before he finally recovered enough to breathe normally. He leaned back against the wall and asked Pojun, “What is Qi Yan doing right now?”
Pojun replied, “He is in the equipment room. He is currently accessing the central control system database.”
Lu Fenghan’s entire figure was swallowed by the shadows. After several breaths, he continued asking, “Did he say anything else?”
His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible expectation yet beneath it lay a fear that he could not quite conceal.
Pojun answered, “He told me to remind him to rest six hours from now. He also asked about the injuries on your palm.”
“Injuries?” Lu Fenghan froze for a moment before lowering his gaze to his outstretched palm. Only then did he notice the numerous tiny wounds scattered across it. They had all been left behind during those six months on Chenxi Star, some old and some new. He had not felt any pain at the time and after the wounds scabbed over and hardened into calluses, he had stopped noticing them altogether.
Only that pampered little thing would consider these injuries.
Only he would take even these tiny wounds… to heart.
A faint sourness and fullness rose in Lu Fenghan’s chest. For some reason, the corners of his eyes grew slightly moist.
He closed his eyes and pictured the way Qi Yan had looked when he approached him just moments ago.
He was thinner.
The silk shirt hung loosely over his body, leaving too much empty space around him. Lu Fenghan did not know how long it had been since Qi Yan had last eaten properly. His wrists had always been slender but now they were so thin that they seemed as though they could snap with the slightest bend.
When Lu Fenghan had draped the coat over him, Qi Yan had been just as obedient as before, looking up at him with that trusting, gentle submission that had always made him seem so well behaved.
But what had these past six months been like for Qi Yan?
What had happened to him for him to turn himself into this figure carved from ice and built from snow?
What had he gone through to stand before Lu Fenghan now, distant and cold and address him with a single, detached word,
“General”?
With his back pressed against the cold metal wall, the chill slowly seeping into his bones, Lu Fenghan was silent for a long time before finally asking hoarsely, “Can you connect me to Elisa at the White Tower?”
There were only two names he had ever heard Qi Yan mention: Elisa and August. Both of them should be people who were very close to Qi Yan.
Pojun answered promptly, “Yes.”
Lu Fenghan gave a quiet hum. “Connect the communication.”
A few seconds later, the connection was established. Because of the enormous distance between them, there was a faint layer of barely noticeable static in the signal.
Lu Fenghan spoke first. “Hello, I’m Lu Fenghan. I’m sorry for contacting you so suddenly.”
Elisa was not surprised. Her tone remained gentle. “I guessed you would contact me soon. You’ve seen Qi Yan, haven’t you?”
“Yes. He’s lost even more weight.” There was a restless, unsettled emptiness hanging inside Lu Fenghan but remembering that Elisa was Qi Yan’s elder, he made an effort to keep his voice as calm as possible. “I want to know what happened to Qi Yan.”
“How much do you know about Qi Yan’s memory confusion?”
Lu Fenghan’s brows drew together slightly. “He often remembers things incorrectly. He gets confused very easily.”
“And what about his mother, Lin Zhi?”
Lu Fenghan did not understand why she was connecting those two questions. The feeling left him suspended high above a bottomless abyss, unable to find even the slightest solid ground beneath his feet.
“I know about that. He told me himself.”
Several seconds passed before Elisa’s voice sounded again.
“When Qi Yan was eleven, his mother, Lin Zhi, quietly left the White Tower and returned to the house where she had lived with her parents when she was a child. There, she ended her own life. Without any of us knowing, Qi Yan stayed beside Lin Zhi all by himself, remaining there for a very long time. No one knows what he was feeling or thinking at the time. It was only after he took the initiative to contact the outside world that someone came to bring him back to the White Tower.”
Hearing this account, a strange sense of familiarity suddenly surfaced within Lu Fenghan yet when he tried to grasp where that familiarity came from, it dispersed again like smoke, impossible to catch.
Elisa continued, “You know that Qi Yan has an excellent memory.”
“Yes,” Lu Fenghan replied. “As long as he has seen something, he will never forget it.”
That was why, when he had ejected the escape pod, Lu Fenghan had told Qi Yan that, if possible, he should forget that memory.
He did not want that scene to become another nightmare for Qi Yan.
“That’s right. He doesn’t forget. So after he returned to the White Tower, we were all extremely worried about him but it didn’t take long for us to discover that things were much more serious than we had imagined. Something had gone wrong with Qi Yan’s memories.”
Elisa drew in a deep breath as she recalled that period of time.
“In his memories, Lin Zhi had never died. Qi Yan would tell us that his mother was in the laboratory, in the garden, in a meeting, or that she had only said good morning to him five minutes earlier. He could describe in detail what Lin Zhi had been wearing and the expression on her face at the time. In his eyes, Lin Zhi had always remained in the White Tower. She had never left.”
Without giving Lu Fenghan any time to process what he had just heard, Elisa gave her conclusion. “This is because, relying on his extraordinarily powerful memory, Qi Yan deconstructed and reconstructed the fragments of memories in his mind concerning his mother, forming new memories and then used those new, false memories to replace the real ones.”
A certain conjecture flashed abruptly through Lu Fenghan’s mind, striking him with a sudden, brutal clarity.
In the past ten years, no matter what kind of situation he had faced, Lu Fenghan had never known fear yet at this very moment, he did not dare to confront the possibility that had just surfaced in his mind.
His voice felt as though it were suspended beneath a thousand jin boulder. He wanted to ask what happened “after that,” but not a single sound would come from his throat.
“We soon discovered that Qi Yan’s confusion between reality and his memories was accompanied by signs that he was becoming immersed in those false memories. During that period, he would remain completely motionless in one place, like a puppet, while his mind continuously fabricated one memory after another. We tried countless methods before he finally managed to wake up but when it came to the problem of his inability to distinguish reality from his memories, we were still helpless. Even the medication he had been taking all along could only provide an auxiliary effect.”
Elisa continued, “Later, that is, last year, because Qi Yan’s confusion between reality and memory became increasingly severe, I suggested sending him to Leto. On the one hand, it was to protect him. On the other, we hoped that placing him in an unfamiliar environment and allowing him to meet different people might perhaps alleviate his condition to some extent.”
Lu Fenghan closed his eyes.
It felt as though a blade were suspended directly above his head, poised to fall straight down and pierce clean through his chest and back.
In the end, he heard Elisa say the words he had been dreading.
“After you died, Qi Yan was brought back to the White Tower but he fabricated new memories. He said that you were always by his side and had never left, that you would remind him to put on his slippers and to eat.
“Even in order to strengthen the reality of those false memories, he would make a cut on his arm every day until it bled, then bandage it himself and tie the bandage into a little bow. Afterward, he would tell us that Lu Fenghan had seen that he was injured, applied healing gel to the wound and wrapped it in a bandage and that it would be fine very soon.”
Every single word felt like a sharp, elongated nail, driven brutally into Lu Fenghan’s flesh.
Lu Fenghan did not even dare to breathe too deeply, afraid that the slightest movement would tug at his internal organs and make everything hurt.
His little pampered one.
His little pampered one who would frown in pain even when a blade of grass merely pricked his ear.
In a daze, it felt as though something had been torn open across his chest. A pain as raw as flesh ripped apart spread through his entire body like a web.
“Later, Qi Yan admitted that you were already dead but his rationality and emotions came into conflict and he fell into complete chaos. For a long time, he was unable to sleep or eat and could only rely on a treatment pod to barely sustain his life. His entire being was like a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit, ready to snap at any moment. August and I had no other choice, so we gave him medication.”
“What medication?” Lu Fenghan only realized after speaking that his throat had already begun to ache with a dull, heavy pain.
Elisa’s voice softened slightly. “A drug that eliminates emotions. Once it takes effect, he will no longer experience pain or sorrow but he will also no longer experience happiness, satisfaction, or… love.”
Lu Fenghan remembered the hand Qi Yan had reached toward him.
It had been cold, as though he were holding snow.
“My thought, together with August’s, was to first use the medication to maintain ‘absolute rationality’ for a period of time. Then, we would gradually reduce the dosage, trying to preserve as much of Qi Yan’s rationality as possible while preventing him from being completely crushed by negative emotions all at once.” Guilt seeped into Elisa’s voice. “But even after resorting to such a… cruel method, the risk was still extremely high. I still had only a twenty percent chance of keeping Qi Yan in this world.”
What kind of hopeless situation had Qi Yan been in at that time for Elisa to have no choice but to use such medication, desperately grasping at that faint glimmer of hope?
His Qi Yan…
At this moment, Lu Fenghan’s self loathing reached its absolute peak.
A scorching pain surged over him with overwhelming force. The light of the escort ship passing outside the porthole swept across his features, revealing an expression of suffocating anguish.
Amid the extreme silence surrounding him, Lu Fenghan heard his own voice.
“What can I do?”
In the equipment room, Qi Yan was connecting the new detection system to the central control system while simultaneously chatting with Pojun, dividing his attention between the two tasks.
Back on the barren star, Lu Fenghan had once expressed his hope that Pojun would talk a little more, so Qi Yan had configured him accordingly.
Now Qi Yan had discovered that once the restrictions were removed, Pojun really was a chatterbox.
Thanks to Pojun, he already knew the origin of every tiny wound on Lu Fenghan’s palm.
“The General has rather peculiar preferences. On Chenxi Star, he particularly enjoys sitting for long periods in the deepest part of a cavern. It seems humans really do possess some unusual proclivities.”
Pojun had followed Qi Yan’s example and adopted “General” as his way of addressing Lu Fenghan.
When he noticed that Qi Yan had not responded and that the central control system had already opened its database and was connecting to the data stream of “Chasing Wind,” Pojun tactfully fell silent.
It was not until Pojun reminded him that his designated rest time had arrived that Qi Yan finally withdrew his thoughts from the vast stream of data.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. As he faintly sensed something, he turned his head and saw Lu Fenghan standing by the doorway, leaning against the wall in a standard issue shirt, his gaze fixed on him.
Qi Yan did not know how long he had been standing there.
But Qi Yan did not know how he was supposed to react now, or what reaction would be appropriate.
He possessed every memory of the time he had spent with Lu Fenghan in the past yet he did not know what he should do now, or what he should say.
Lu Fenghan approached first.
He gently took hold of Qi Yan’s wrist, his grip loose and careful. His gaze traveled slowly over the cold white skin, inspecting it for a long time before he finally asked, “Does it still hurt?”
Qi Yan blinked.
Two beats passed before he answered, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Although he still remembered what that pain had felt like, when he recalled it now, the suffering that had accompanied it was already missing.
That sense of absence made him feel somewhat cold.
But because his wrist was held in Lu Fenghan’s hand, the chill had only just begun to creep over him before it was quickly dispelled.
After hearing his answer, Lu Fenghan remained silent for two seconds before speaking again.
“On Founding Day, after we were attacked by the medium sized ship, I shouldn’t have acted on my own.”
He was apologizing.
Qi Yan became even more at a loss as to what he should do. After hesitating, he answered tentatively, “It’s okay.”
After saying that, under Lu Fenghan’s intensely possessive gaze, one part of Qi Yan wanted to move closer, while another part felt helpless and wanted to retreat farther away.
Lu Fenghan noticed Qi Yan’s helpless uncertainty.
He released Qi Yan’s wrist and watched as the other man moved his hand behind his back. Then he softened his voice and asked, “What time are you planning to keep working until?”
When it came to Lu Fenghan, Qi Yan instinctively answered every question he was asked. “Eleven tonight.”
Lu Fenghan nodded. “All right.” As he said that, he casually reached out and pinched Qi Yan’s cheek.
After Lu Fenghan left, Qi Yan stood where he was for a long time. He felt a little cold and, without realizing it, gathered the military jacket belonging to Lu Fenghan more tightly around himself.
There was no distinction between day and night aboard the starship, nor was there any reference point by which the passage of time could be measured. By the time Qi Yan had finished sorting through the data streams generated when “Chasing Wind” was connected to the central control system, he felt a dull ache in his neck. He guessed that quite a considerable amount of time had already passed.
He asked Pojun, “What time is it?”
Before Pojun could answer, a voice came from the doorway.
“It’s eleven.”
Qi Yan looked toward the sound and saw Lu Fenghan standing at the entrance, watching him.
“Why are you here?”
Lu Fenghan’s reason was perfectly logical. “I came to pick you up after work. It’s your first time aboard the command ship and I was worried you might get lost.”
Qi Yan wanted to say that with Pojun there, it was impossible for him to get lost but his body had already reacted before his mind could catch up, stepping forward until he stood directly in front of Lu Fenghan.
The two walked side by side, with Lu Fenghan leading the way.
“Outside of wartime, the ship simulates day and night. Just like now, everyone except those on duty is resting in their rooms and the lights throughout the ship are dimmed to their lowest setting.” Lu Fenghan laid the groundwork before continuing, “Tomorrow night, I’ll come pick you up on time as well. It’ll be very dark everywhere and you’re likely to trip or get lost.”
Qi Yan felt that there were logical flaws everywhere in what Lu Fenghan was saying but instinct still acted faster than reason. He nodded before he could think too much about it.
“All right.”
That completely unhesitating “all right” made Lu Fenghan’s heart ache and soften at the same time.
When they reached the door to Qi Yan’s room, Lu Fenghan told him, “You can use your personal terminal to unlock the door. If anything happens, call me immediately. I’m right next door. No matter what it is, you can call me.”
Qi Yan obediently agreed again.
With a soft beep, Qi Yan scanned his terminal and opened the door. When Lu Fenghan saw that he was about to walk inside, he remained standing there for three seconds. Then, at the very last moment before the door closed, he reached out and stopped it from shutting.
Qi Yan stood inside the room without applying any more force. He looked at him in confusion.
“Is there something else?”
Lu Fenghan held out his hand. “My hand is injured.”
Qi Yan’s gaze fell upon Lu Fenghan’s palm. The tiny wounds had not been treated at all. Some had already healed, while others were still red, their surfaces not yet covered by scabs.
Something deep within his heart was faintly pulled taut with pain.
Qi Yan took a step backward and spoke.
“Come in.”
Qi Yan was unfamiliar with the arrangement of the room, so Lu Fenghan simply took the initiative to find the medical kit and rummaged through it until he found the healing gel.
Only then did Qi Yan realize something.
There had to be healing gel in Lu Fenghan’s own room as well.
As though he had noticed Qi Yan’s doubt, Lu Fenghan casually made up an excuse. “I used up the one in my room, so I came here to find some.”
Qi Yan accepted the explanation.
Lu Fenghan’s palm was broad, his fingers long and his joints well defined, with a thin layer of calluses covering various places. Qi Yan was extremely patient as he carefully and evenly spread the healing gel over each wound.
Qi Yan was focused entirely on the injuries and failed to notice that Lu Fenghan had been watching him the entire time.
After he finished applying the gel, Qi Yan thought for a moment, then picked up a length of bandage. He wrapped it twice around Lu Fenghan’s palm before finally tying it into a neat, perfectly formed bow.
“All done.”
Lu Fenghan flexed his fingers and stared at the bow tied from the bandage for a long time.
Something in the softest part of his heart twisted violently and for a moment, he nearly lost control of his expression.
Qi Yan found it strange that Lu Fenghan still had not left. At the same time, somewhere deep inside, he vaguely wanted him to stay for a few more minutes.
Because of this strange state of mind, he did not say anything. Instead, he returned the medical kit to its original place, poured himself a glass of water, then took out a transparent medicine bottle and prepared to take his medication.
But strangely enough, he felt somewhat resistant to taking the medicine in front of Lu Fenghan.
So he held the medicine bottle in his hand and once again stood in front of Lu Fenghan, carefully considering how to phrase his words.
“It’s getting late. Do you want to go back and rest?”
Lu Fenghan looked intently at the person standing before him. His eyes held a complexity that Qi Yan could not understand.
Qi Yan felt as though he had been pinned in place by that gaze.
It was as if the entire timeline had been deliberately slowed down, with every frame of the scene becoming unhurried and crystal clear.
Qi Yan watched Lu Fenghan walk toward him.
He watched as Lu Fenghan bent down and rested his head beside his neck.
The back of the hand hanging at Qi Yan’s side was covered by a familiar, warm palm.
The medicine bottle was held between both their hands.
Under the dim light, the collar beside Qi Yan’s neck had grown slightly damp. He heard Lu Fenghan whisper beside his ear, his voice hoarse, carrying a grief too immense to be measured yet unbearably gentle.
“Qi Yan.”
“Hmm?”
“From now on, whenever you cannot be certain of something, I’ll be the one to determine it for you. Whenever you cannot distinguish something, I’ll be the one to distinguish it for you.”
“I’ll be your medicine.”
✦ ✧ ✦
Vynellia
[Translator]
☕ A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR THE TRANSLATOR
Coffee: useful. Translator: useful. You: potentially useful.
☕ BUY THEM A COFFEE →
✧ (づ｡•ㅅ•｡)づ ☕ ✧
✦ thank you for reading ✦
← PreviousNext →
ChaptersChapter 50 · I am Pojun.Chapter 51 · Unable to deceive oneselfChapter 52 · Resurrected from the deadChapter 53 · Hello, General!Chapter 54 · My hand is injured.Chapter 55 · Come to my place.Chapter 56 · First VictoryChapter 57 · Self-introductionChapter 58 · Never changedChapter 59 · One reasonChapter 60 · Gentle and restrainedChapter 61 · Only you are allowed.Chapter 62 · To the Souls of the FallenChapter 63 · His reliefChapter 64 · His ambitionChapter 65 · Date TimeChapter 66 Part 1 · Abducting PlanetsChapter 66 Part 2 · Abducting PlanetsChapter 67 · Did not leaveChapter 68 · Perceiving EmotionsChapter 69 · My own effortsChapter 70 · Bright FlameChapter 71 · Dress codeChapter 72 · Take me with you!Chapter 73 · MirageChapter 74 · I’m used to it.