“Did you just blush?” Chen Mo asked.
“No,” Starlight’s answer was faster than a bullet.
“It was the searchlight.” “The searchlight is white, not red.” “Then your eyes are playing tricks on you,” Starlight’s voice grew a little louder.
Chen Mo did not press the issue.
If he kept pushing, she would become even more embarrassed, and that embarrassment would eventually turn into anger, and that anger would eventually lead to her actually burning his eyes—he didn’t want to get his eyes burned right now.
“Then what about you?
What is your dream?” Starlight spoke suddenly, her voice scattered by the sea breeze, yet it clearly struck Chen Mo’s ears.
She turned her head, no longer looking at the shimmering sea in the distance, but instead re-examining the man before her.
At this moment, Chen Mo was no longer the politician inciting the whole of America on stage, nor the sycophant groveling in the office, and certainly not the disgusting, sleazy man she remembered.
“Since you said we are all products, and that Vought Tower is a prison…
then are you staying here just to put on a show for them?” Starlight pressed, a hint of curiosity in her eyes that she herself hadn’t noticed.
Chen Mo froze for a moment.
He was used to calculating Homelander’s moods, used to deciphering Madelyn Stillwell’s words, and used to grinding for “survival points” in this fucked-up world.
Dreams?
To him, those two words were like a bad joke from the last century.
“Me?” Chen Mo laughed self-deprecatingly.
He wanted to pull a cigarette from his pocket, but he didn’t have any pockets.
“My dream is stupidly simple.” He walked to the edge of the freighter, resting his hands casually on the railing, looking down at the dizzying height of the sea below.
“I want to survive.
In this world where you could be headshot by an unstable ‘Superhuman’ at any moment, or disposed of like trash by some cold-blooded executive, I want to live—soberly and freely.” “That’s it?” Starlight frowned.
“You have such powerful superpowers, you can even manipulate public opinion…” “Annie, there’s a difference between just surviving and actually living.” Chen Mo turned his head, looking at the night sky in the distance, his eyes appearing somewhat deep in the residual light of the searchlight: “In this world where the script has already been written, I want to be the one who tears it up.
Vought Tower wants me to be a product, so I’ll be the one who buys it; Homelander wants me to be a dog, so I’ll be the one holding the leash.
My dream…” “That’s your goal, isn’t it?
Isn’t a dream what you most want to do?” Starlight interrupted Chen Mo.
Chen Mo was choked up for a moment, then laughed dumbly.
He had forgotten that Annie January was still a girl who believed in pure words like “dream.” “What I most want to do?” Chen Mo turned his head, the sea breeze blowing his hair into a mess.
He was silent for a long time, so long that Starlight thought he wouldn’t answer, before he spoke slowly, his tone no longer that cynical banter, but a calm that was almost solemn.
“If there really is such a thing…
I hope that one day, the word ‘Superhuman’ no longer exists in this world.” Starlight was stunned.
She had thought Chen Mo might say he wanted to rule Vought Tower, or become a global idol, but she had never considered this.
“You want to strip everyone of their superpowers?” “No, quite the opposite.” Chen Mo turned around, leaning his back against the railing, his gaze fixed deeply on Starlight.
“Annie, what do you think is the root of this world’s suffering?
Is it Homelander’s brutality?
Is it the greed of Madelyn Stillwell and the 82nd floor?
No, it’s monopoly.” He extended a finger, pointing toward the direction of Vought Tower in the night sky.
“Vought Tower has monopolized the ladder of evolution.
They treat Compound V as divine right, carefully selecting a few ‘products,’ letting them look down on mortals from high above.” “This man-made genetic chasm is the breeding ground for all evil.
Because when one group possesses absolute power, and the other can only pray that the former is in a good mood today, there is no such thing as equality in this world.” Chen Mo’s voice sounded exceptionally powerful amidst the sound of the waves.
“I’m not trying to destroy this power; I’m trying to completely deconstruct it.
I want to study every molecular arrangement in that laboratory thoroughly and dig out all the core data that Vought Tower has locked in their safe.” He opened his arms, as if to embrace the wind blowing across the entire sea.
“I want to completely deconstruct Compound V.” “I want Compound V to no longer be the ink Vought Tower uses to create ‘gods,’ but to become something universal, cheap, and as accessible as cold medicine or even tap water.” “I want it to appear in every pharmacy in the slums, on the dining table of every ordinary family.” Starlight’s breathing became a bit rapid; she was left somewhat dazed by this unprecedented, grandiose blueprint.
“Popularize it to the masses?
The Deep, do you know what that means?
That means the complete collapse of order…” “No, it means the collapse of the old order, and the establishment of true equality.” Chen Mo turned his head, looking straight into Starlight’s eyes, his tone carrying a kind of near-compassionate determination.
“In this world right now, all ordinary people have to watch the moods of Superhumans.
Why?
Because Superhumans possess absolute power.
If this power is no longer a monopoly, if every single person, every underdog stepped on at the bottom, possessed the power to fight back, to protect themselves…” “I want to create a world where everyone is equal, to return power to the masses.
When ‘superpowers’ are no longer the privilege of a few, but a daily commodity that anyone can buy at a pharmacy, the word itself will lose its meaning.” Chen Mo’s words rang out forcefully, echoing across the vast, empty sea.
Starlight was completely dumbfounded.
She had never imagined that in this Vought Tower, filled with lies and the stench of money, such a subversive soul could be hidden.
If Vought Tower wanted to be the creator of the Earth, then Chen Mo wanted to saw off this ladder that symbolized divine right and pave it into a flat road that everyone could walk on.
“You…
you’re crazy,” Starlight said, her voice trembling, taking half a step back involuntarily.
This was beyond her scope of understanding.
She had once thought justice was about fighting criminals, saving hostages, and taking oaths under the spotlight.
But what Chen Mo was talking about was upending the very foundation of the world.
“Crazy?
Maybe.” Chen Mo did not deny it; instead, he stood straight in the sea breeze, his usual devil-may-care attitude completely gone.
He turned his head, his gaze locked deeply into Starlight’s eyes, his tone carrying an unprecedented sense of oppression, yet also revealing extreme sincerity: “Then what about you, Annie January?” He took a small step forward, shortening the distance between them, his voice low as if telling a secret capable of destroying the world: “Are you willing to continue wearing this ridiculous sequined uniform, playing the role of a ‘hero’ in Vought Tower’s script who can’t even save herself, lying to the camera every day, and weeping in the dead of night for the tragedies you are powerless to change…” Chen Mo paused, a sharp light shining in his eyes: “…or are you willing to tear off this mask and, like me, become a warrior lurking in the shadows?
Not for Vought Tower’s stock, not for the applause of the masses, but for that ethereal yet truly existing ideal, for the common people, to fight, to take back the power that should have belonged to all of humanity?” Starlight opened her mouth, but found her throat too dry to make a sound.
Coming from a capitalist background, she had never encountered such thoughts.
She felt like she couldn’t think at all, as if her brain had been contaminated.
“With great power comes great responsibility.” “This is the truth I have always believed in.” “If that’s the case, please, let me follow you!” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Noct_Veyr Enjoying the story?