Haiyingsen (5)

Chapter Summary: A Past Event, Caesar and Estrellan.

Theodosius finally found an opportunity to get close to the Emperor. Congratulations! It's now confirmed that he's a fan of the Emperor (even a hater is still a fan) (not really).

"This world is empty, including ourselves. We can't even be sure if we really exist at this moment."

The room, bathed in the slanting afternoon sunlight, was dimly lit, with the white walls scattering a grayish-white light; the view was hazy and indistinct.

A young man in a plaid shirt and dark blue tie drew back a corner of the curtains, letting in a sliver of light. "Really? I think this room is at least a bit too crowded," he chuckled, a potted green ivy in water sitting before him, the light dim, the leaves hazy. "This world isn't spacious at all. I wish it were more spacious, so I could at least see things more clearly."

"It's already empty. Close your eyes, what can you feel? As long as you isolate yourself from the outside world, this world doesn't exist. Just like someone who has never been to or heard of the Iliad Gate; for him, that gate never existed until he died."

"So General Ganimede came here to discuss philosophy with me?"

"I have heard that Speaker Estravan is more interested in philosophy than in politics and power."

"Only children make choices. I want both."

"Your tone just now sounded very much like a child's, Your Excellency Speaker."

"It is my honor, General. I hope you enjoy it."

As Estravan approached, Caesar smelled tobacco, metal, and alcohol. He also smelled the scent of black tea on Caesar. "Your rank is colonel, but I'll still call you colonel, even though everyone calls you general."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Colonel Caesar Garnimed. I am Estravan, the Speaker of the Alliance. In an hour, I will be awarding you the 'Order of the Free People' before the nation. I hope you are ready."

"I am ready."

Estravan tilted his head and glanced at him. Caesar remained silent, showing no desire for further conversation. The Speaker said, "If you need any assistance in Parliament later, please contact me."

"OK."

"Just like, just like we used to be."

"OK."

“Caesar,” Estravan sighed, “we don’t need to pretend anymore. Let’s let each other go, okay?”

“I’m sorry about what happened to Gratian. But it is something we must do to be his enemy and fight against his and the Galactic Empire’s invasion.”

Caesar's eyes were fixed on the speaker, whose actual age was difficult to discern; his gaze was clear. The speaker was shrouded in a somber darkness, and a dent in the brown sofa cushions sagged beneath him.

Cesare said, “You know I love Gratian, and you know how much responsibility you bear for him becoming what he is today. He and I shouldn’t be on opposite sides, enemies. You want me to forget… Estravan, why do you always make me promise things I can’t possibly do?”

A long silence followed.

“Alright,” Estravan said, pressing down on the armrest and rising from his seat, “the awarding ceremony is about to begin.”

Caesar put on his coat, placed his hand on the doorknob, and turned it.

Estravian suddenly grabbed him and said, “Caesar. I believe you now. This world is empty and worthless. If that’s what you think, then I’ll make it the way you see it.”

＊

Estravan grabbed the bewildered young man. She kissed him. Lips. Breathing softly, intertwined, warm. "Okay, I really love you, Theodosius. No matter what happens, please, please don't die."

Theodosius wore the exact same expression his father, Caesar, had when he was assaulted. How endearing, Estravan thought. He returned to the hall, entered through the main door, and greeted the guests with a smile. “This is my nephew. I’m taking him home,” he said to a security guard who had come to check his identity.

"You want the emperor dead, don't you? I guarantee the next intelligence report will be accurate."

Theodosius looked at him. "The reason?"

"I like your concise style of writing. Like your father."

"Because I also want Emperor Gratian to die."

The Speaker said nothing more. He stood in the cold wind at the entrance to the interstellar train station, watching Theodosius pass through the security checkpoint. His neck was buried in a large, seemingly very warm scarf. The scarf fluttered in the wind, embroidered with the gold initials "CG".

—"Cesare Ganymed."

Theodosius saw Jun Yeyuan's speech at the Imperial Education Conference on the large screen at the train station exit. The speech was being broadcast live; the woman had changed into an elegant white dress, showing no trace of the recent evening banquet. Her scarlet, rose-petal-red lips parted; innovative thinking, the cultivation of talent for the new era, scientific spirit, and absolute loyalty to the imperial system and the emperor personally; her speech was composed, rhetorically exquisite, and full of philosophical thought. How could these seemingly unrelated things be described as indelible, sacred truths intertwined since the birth of the universe? Just take a look at her speech. She seemed to be speaking in a low voice, and it sounded unfamiliar to Theodosius.

"Where did you go? Why are you all soaking wet again?"

Theodosius reached out and turned the light up a bit. "Don't you think it's dark?" "Have you been reading all day? You're practically turning into a caveman."

He held the doorknob with his right hand and took off his shoes with his left. "I went for a run this morning. I went to work at the law firm this afternoon."

"A law firm?" Ye Wanzhou was taken aback. "A law firm near Central University? But it's been sunny in our area all day."

"It's in the city center. The law firm wants me to handle a case outside the city."

"Oh." Ye Wanzhou glanced at the weather forecast in the lower right corner of the monitor. The computer, which had been offline all day, was still displaying the artificial rainmaking announcement from the city center that morning. Xiao Xi was back, and he suddenly didn't want to write his thesis anymore. The book in front of him, the dense text, and the substantial knowledge had lost their appeal. He packed his bath basket and change of clothes. He stopped as he passed Theodosius's bunk.

"What are you doing?" Theodosius threw back the covers, preparing to slip into the soft blankets. He glared at her. She was rubbing her arm, looking very tired.

"Where did you put your wet clothes? Give them to me. I'll wash them later."

"It's under my table. It's in a bowl."

"OK."

"Thank you. You've worked hard." His muffled voice came from behind the covers. It sounded insincere.

Theodosius dreamed of that woman again. Yang Luo, that woman's name was Yang Luo. She walked side by side with Ye Yuanchun. Compared to the flamboyant, wine-red, curly-haired woman on her right, Yang Luo was like a serene aquatic plant, exuding the unique fragrance of plant veins and the marshland; her eyes were light, and she said, "Theodosius. Wait for me to come back, okay?"

The boy agreed. He stood in the black rain again; the woman still hadn't returned. The boy seemed to float away, becoming a free and lonely soul, drifting in mid-air. He drifted and drifted, until finally he stopped in one place and saw Yang Luo lying in the pouring rain, her thick, dark brown curls clinging to her tightly closed eyes, a crimson flower blooming on her chest. Blood seeped out, flowing and reflecting the black rainwater, rushing into the crisscrossing grid of the manhole cover.

On the ground, the man with the gun stood beside the corpse, head bowed. Suddenly, he looked up, his eyes meeting the young boy's. Deep brown eyes.

"Dad? Do you love me? Why did you kill me and Mom?" the boy heard a bewildered and confused voice ask. After a while, the boy realized that the voice was coming from his own throat.

The man with the gun didn't answer. Large tears welled up in his eyes, eventually turning red. It was blood. The man's face was mangled, collapsing before the boy's eyes. "Child, you shouldn't have come into this world." "Your very existence is a mistake."

Theodosius woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He touched his body; his skin was dry but burning hot. He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, his throat parched.

He shook Ye Wanzhou awake, who was fast asleep. "Uh...can't you sleep, Xiao Xi?"

"Ye, are you feeling any better?"

"Pretty much." "I don't feel uncomfortable anywhere, don't worry."

Theodosius then expressed his desire to kiss him.

"Huh?" Ye Wanzhou was a little shocked. He was still half asleep, but he reached out and hugged Theodosius, who got into bed. "A little hot. But still within the normal range. No fever... I told you not to get into bed all wet. Dry yourself off first!"

"No fever?" Theodosius pressed Ye Wanzhou's hand against his smooth forehead. He chuckled, "You're so experienced." He then rubbed against Ye Wanzhou.

"It's the middle of the night. What are you kissing for..." Ye Wanzhou was really tired. But he still agreed. Theodosius held his face, licking and biting it. "Mmm..." Ye Wanzhou tilted his head back slightly, his Adam's apple curving forward in a beautiful arc. His breathing also became slightly rapid. "Slow down."

“Okay.” Theodosius reached out to him, through the thin fabric. He and Ye Wanzhou lay on their sides, and he embraced Ye Wanzhou from behind. Their movements were slow, delicate, lingering, and gentle, like a flowing spring, slowly nourishing every corner of their bodies. Finally, they fell asleep in each other's arms, feeling warm and tired.

＊

"...Free citizens! Citizens! Hear me! Today, we have just learned that Colonel Caesar Garnimed has decisively defeated Emperor Gratian's army in the defense of the capital, achieving a major victory! The Colonel has captured the Emperor! The dawn of peace and hope is just ahead! Let us await this good news and the return of our Republic's great hero—Colonel Caesar Garnimed! This is the Colonel's 281st victory for our homeland! It is also the greatest and most important victory! Free citizens, let us cheer for Colonel Garnimed's name, crown our hero with the laurels of honor, long live Caesar Garnimed! Long live the Free Earth Republic Alliance!"

"...Citizens. In this somber and sorrowful time, the wind is cold and the sky is leaden. Our Alliance's hero, recipient of the 'Order of the Free People,' and our common friend, Colonel Caesar Ganymede, has passed away. The Galactic Empire's Emperor, Gratian, betrayed him and was brutally murdered by the Empire while the Colonel was on his way to negotiate with the Imperial flagship 'Odysseus.' He was only twenty-nine years old. Let us mourn Colonel Caesar Ganymede. He died young, but his noble character and love for his country remain an eternal spiritual symbol for our Republican Alliance..."

Ye Wanzhou laid out the fragmented materials he had collected from the library, gazing at them like a child piecing together a puzzle. These were pieces of junk hidden in a corner; the fact that they hadn't been swept away meant the cleaning staff hadn't been careful enough. They weren't entered into any imperial archives; they were unnecessary historical materials, deemed unlikely to be needed in the future. There were scorch marks on the edges, and Ye Wanzhou felt he had stumbled upon the legendary "first-hand historical material"; perhaps it was something the archaeology department needed. In high spirits, he opened his phone to share the post, but the screen remained "awaiting review." After a while, the system displayed, "Your comment contains prohibited content and has been deleted." He tried again, but he couldn't understand the coded language or jokes, nor did he know how to add separators to his comment. So the comment was deleted again. Frustrated, he turned off his phone, feeling he wasn't suited for the internet. Oh well, back to reading.

He looked at the dusty, space-age paper documents on the table. He hummed a song softly, picked up a small brush, and reached for the stained, tattered paper.

＊

"Has it snowed in Haiyingsen?" Long, golden hair curled and cascaded down to her pale ankles, bathed in moonlight, like rippling clear water. Emperor Gratian, draped in a white robe, had long legs peeking out from beneath. His fair skin was covered with needle marks of varying sizes, some bruises from duct tape. The emperor stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the sky, and asked. His cheeks were flushed; he still had a fever.

“Your Majesty. It never snows in Heysen. Have you forgotten? It is a city of perpetual sunshine,” Octavian replied. The little boy trembled for a moment at the mention of “sunshine,” and, involuntarily, like all the most ordinary people of the Empire, he feared the sun.

The emperor pressed his forehead. "Yes... I've forgotten. I've forgotten many things. Recently, things from the past keep coming back to haunt me."

"If Your Majesty is not feeling well, please rest for a while."

“I’ve already rested all day!” the emperor said, puffing out his cheeks, then quickly became dejected. “I’ve only been awake for a short while, and now my head is throbbing again.” Gratian chuckled. “If Caligula were here, he would surely tell me, ‘Your Majesty is the ruler of a nation, and the monarch’s vision must either be focused on the present or on the future; if he looks to the past, it means this country is doomed.’”

"The Minister of State is an obnoxious person. He never shows any consideration for His Majesty!"

"Caligula is a responsible man. He will take good care of you after I'm gone. Don't keep provoking him."

The angle of the moonlight shifted. It wasn't real moonlight, but rather the light of an artificial celestial body above Zeus, its light a cold, white, devoid of warmth. The emperor, head bowed, let out a restrained cough. Octavian brought the emperor a chair. Gratian, propping his head up, muttered to himself, "I want to go to Heysen."

“To inspect the old territories of the former Alliance? No, it should be ‘inspecting the provinces of the Galactic Empire’!” Octavian dashed out like a whirlwind. “Your Majesty, I’ll go and summon the Minister of State; you can speak to him about this!”

"Your Majesty summoned me late at night. What is the matter?"

Caligula's breathing remained even, though a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. He stood upright. Since entering, he had been observing the emperor and his palace without making a sound. It was safe. The emperor showed no signs of being coerced or harmed. The anticipated bloodshed and kidnapping had not occurred.

The emperor glanced at Octavian, who was looking at him excitedly, and said, "I wish to make a tour to Haiyingsen."

"The former capital of the old alliance? That's not a suitable place for a political visit. Considering the current financial strain on the Empire, the first cities to have their budgets cut and taxes increased are the old alliance cities, led by Haiyingsen. The old alliance lacks a sense of national identity with the Empire, and their citizens were once a group of anti-empire liberals. Although the alliance's textbooks have been systematically revised by our education department, and the young people in the former alliance areas are now generally loyal to the Empire; those harmful ideas that emphasize freedom and democracy and are not conducive to national governance have been eliminated, the Emperor's personal visit to Haiyingsen will still pose a huge challenge to the Empire's security system."

"You mean, the allies actually want me dead, right?"

"Yes."

"Even if I am their emperor."

“Legally speaking, you are indeed their emperor now. Ever since the Alliance Council signed the ‘Iliad Peace Treaty’ with the Empire and handed over the golden sculpture of ‘Scales and Sword’ that symbolized their national sovereignty and was displayed in the center of their council.”

"Do the people of the Alliance hate the Empire?"

"No. But under imperial rule, whenever they encounter something to criticize or feel frustrated about, even if it's just because they ate too much last night and have a bloated stomach today, they will start to miss the era when the old alliance's parliament governed the country. Even though they have no idea about that country that has long been erased from the imperial history books."

"Then I am safe. I am going to Haiyingsen."

"You are the emperor. Your Majesty, the emperor is not safe. Your body can no longer withstand long-distance interstellar travel."

“I am going to Haiyingsen,” Gratian emphasized again.

"Your subject must fulfill his duty and oppose your willful and reckless actions."

The Emperor pushed his wheeled chair slowly to the desk with the electric bell attached, and slammed it down. He looked up and gave Caligula, whose brows were furrowed, an apologetic smile. The smile was fleeting, like ripples on water. Speaking into the pager beside the bell, he said, "Summon the Privy Council ministers. Yes, tonight, everyone. I have important matters to announce."

Gratian finally realized his dream trip to Heysen. This dream, like the tentacles of an octopus, tightly wrapped around him, bound his spirit, compelled his senses, and made his body restless, shifting, and moving, little by little.

At a genetic technology exchange conference between the Empire and the Old Alliance, the Emperor of the Galactic Empire delivered a brief address. His golden figure appeared on the stage and waved to the crowd. He then walked to the viewing platform, where Alliance officials took their seats in order of precedence, from closest to furthest from the Emperor. Many young scientists, who usually fawned over Alliance politicians, approached the Emperor to introduce themselves, their academic achievements, and their research directions. Gratian listened patiently and gently to each of their reports, saying, "Don't you have any more meaningful research? I mean, anything with a slightly longer-term perspective."

The scientists replied, "We strive to keep up with current trends. Your Majesty, research what meets real needs, not those vague and unrealistic things."

“The things you’re researching can be done by any technician with basic training. There always have to be some people in this world who are responsible for dreaming about those ‘ethereal things.’ What the Empire needs now is not technicians, but geniuses.”

The emperor ended the conversation and turned his gaze to the stage where the latest research findings in human bioengineering would be showcased.

This is a commercial exhibition. The basic technology still uses parts that matured half a century ago during the Old Alliance era. Now, tycoons and nobles are turning this scientific achievement into civilian use. Anyone, regardless of birth, race, gender, or talent, can use it as long as they pay enough.

"Do you desire the beauty of Aphrodite, the strength of Apollo, the wisdom of Athena, or the talent of Dionysus? Or do you yearn for the leadership, insight into human nature, and understanding of reality that Zeus possesses? If you are unfortunately a young person lacking in intelligence, physical strength, and perseverance, that's alright. You can choose a service suitable for you from all the biotechnologies on display. The ancient Greeks on Earth once imagined that the Olympian gods possessed the ability to control thunder, wind, rain, and the sea, capable of destroying cities and slaughtering crowds in an instant with powerful weapons. And just two thousand years later, humanity has essentially realized the ancient ancestors' fantasies of legend and power. High-voltage electricity is Zeus's spear, computers are Athena's helmet of wisdom, airplanes and spaceships are Apollo's solar chariot. The boundaries of human technological progress depend on the boundaries of their imagination. Ancient prophecies have been fulfilled one by one. Now, we are realizing yet another, perhaps the last, ancient and great goal: to evolve humanity from 'Homo sapiens' to 'Homo deities'!"

The announcer's voice was soft, but the amplification was excellent. The audience could hear a slight tremor in his voice. Gratian listened intently. After a while, Octavian handed him a glass of water, which he sipped lightly. Octavian took the glass back, straightened the pin buckle hanging on the emperor's body, and took the opportunity to quickly apply a layer of lip gloss to Gratian's lips. "His Majesty must be feeling unwell again; his lips are too pale," he thought with a pained expression.

But Gratian turned back to the boy, smiled, winked, and mouthed, "I'm fine."

Caligula called the leading scientist aside. Judging from the respectful way the other scientists treated him, he was probably their teacher. The Minister of State said, "His Majesty's intention was just to have you train more talented people."

"Oh yes, yes. We certainly understand."

"It's not those who fantasize about 'vague and unreal things' who are talented."

"Huh? But His Majesty's meaning just now seemed to be..."

"The Empire doesn't need geniuses. Don't misunderstand His Majesty." The Minister of State looked sharply at the old scientist. "I personally doubt whether you still have the ability to cultivate geniuses. Clearly, you scholars no longer have the soil for it. The former Earth Republic Alliance was a magical land where trash, mad dogs, and geniuses gathered together, but it's not anymore. Isn't it? At this exhibition, you're still living off the old alliance from half a century ago."

He glanced at the group of smiling, submissive young scientists following behind the old scientist. The old scientist opened his mouth to retort, but the Minister of State interrupted him again, "I've actually reviewed most of the research grants you apply for from the Imperial Treasury every year. His Majesty and I are different, but we both believe those projects are almost entirely worthless. If you want to persuade the Empire to continue investing in those obviously rubbish projects, you should at least show some sincerity in cooperating with us, or rather, with the Galactic Empire authorities."

The old scientist wiped his sweat. "I, and all intellectuals in academia, are absolutely loyal to the emperor and patriotic..."

"Of course I know you love your country and are loyal to His Majesty the Emperor. However, that's not what I'm talking about. At this biotechnology exhibition, tycoons and celebrities have all invested money in it. Shouldn't you pay some taxes to the Imperial Government and contribute some key technologies?"

"Of course, there's no problem with that." The old scientist breathed a sigh of relief: taxes had already been paid, and as for technology, any company or research institution, and any academic achievement, should have been fully registered with the Imperial Science and Culture Administration. However, to protect the commercial interests of the tycoons investing in new technologies, the Imperial government was obligated to keep the collected data and information confidential and not disclose it to the public.

"Furthermore, from today onwards, the security and confidentiality of your organization will be entirely the responsibility of the Imperial government. Our personnel have the right to freely enter and exit your research institutes and companies, and have the right to access any data and files required by the Empire."

"Is this going a bit too far?" the old scientist hesitated. The Minister of State added, "His Majesty is an idealist, kind-hearted, but certainly not foolish, much less sentimental. He especially dislikes others offending his authority."

So it was His Majesty the Emperor's will. The old scientist was taken aback, thinking he should agree first and then compromise and discuss it later, and endure it for now. So he endured the discomfort of his experimental equipment and technical data being pointed at and criticized by imperial government officials, and said, "Very well. We will definitely fully support the national policy. His Majesty the Emperor's decree is our true intention."

Caligula lifted the crimson curtain and silently stood behind the emperor, hiding in the shadows. Gratian turned his head from the front of the black and gold-backed armchair and said, "I once thought I was a shepherd, but now, without realizing it, I've become a pig farmer."

"What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

What were you talking about with those people just now?

“Some academics. They asked the imperial government for research funding.”

Octavian peeled an orange and offered it to the emperor. The orange was peeled perfectly, only half the skin removed, his fingernails digging into the orange-red flesh, juice overflowing. Gratian observed the glistening line the juice traced on his fingertips. The emperor plucked a segment and said, "Are they short of money?"

Caligula didn't answer. He knew the question didn't require his reply. The emperor had his own judgment, and even if he didn't, he would gather information to complete it. The emperor sat in a small box on the highest viewing platform, overlooking an exhibition stand where the host introduced strangely colored potions; these colors had probably never been seen before, only confirmed by someone standing there and seeing them with their own eyes. The host injected volunteers with various potions. Some people's eyes became noticeably brighter, sharper, and more alert; some people's faces became more alluring; some, the moment the needle was removed, burst into song, their voices like heavenly music. Some people became more composed; when tested on how they would react in a certain scenario, compared to their impulsiveness and dullness before the injection, they calmly analyzed and answered, speaking eloquently before the audience and the host. One person, after being injected, defeated an intelligent computer in a game of chess.

The emperor pressed the pager button. He asked, "How is this technology different from the human genetic modification technology currently widely used within the empire?"

Someone immediately replied, “Yes! Your Majesty! Gene editing technology involves editing the genes of a fetus shortly after conception. It's a surgical procedure performed on the fertilized egg. Because of the uncontrollable nature of artificial womb cultivation and the postnatal growth environment, even a genetically perfect baby may later become prone to illness, become dull-witted, and gradually degenerate into a defective product…”

“Just like me.” Gratian paused, then suddenly muttered to himself.

"No, no! Your Majesty's genes are the most perfect human model in history. Of course Your Majesty could not possibly degenerate. Your Majesty is just... just that we are incompetent and unable to make Your Majesty feel, feel comfortable." The voice on the pager desperately searched for the right words.

Gratian chuckled. He let the other person continue.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Our potions can not only correct acquired human defects but also enhance existing superior genes. For example, if a child is born carrying a disease-causing gene and gradually develops the related disease, or if a genetically perfect child develops various defects due to mutation, this potion can alleviate their abnormal symptoms for a certain period, allowing their biological traits to return to their optimal state. Furthermore, if someone whose genes have been edited and who possesses extraordinary mathematical abilities desires not only to be mathematically gifted but also to have literary and artistic talents, our potions can similarly help them achieve this transformation in a short time. This change differs from gene editing, which is irreversible; even if the surgery fails, the recipient can only endure their imperfections. The potions, however, allow a mathematical genius who, after gaining artistic talent, may feel it is superfluous. They can choose not to take the potion at any time, discarding this talent, or continuously take new potions to acquire other talents in a new era."

"I understand. And what is the price of these medicines?"

"Well... since we're dealing with the elite of human society, the price is about 50,000 yuan per vial. That's a one-day supply."

Emperor Gratian thanked him for his explanation. He turned it off and said to Caligula, "You see. They're not short of money."

"At this price point, the market supply of medicines will probably be insufficient for those people."

The exchange lasted from morning until night. The next day, Emperor Gratian emerged from his box to address the crowd. However, the earth's sunlight made him uncomfortable; he had expected to greet the long-lost light, wind, and rain from his former homeland, his birthplace, with joy and satisfaction. His eyes stung, the air was damp, and it clung to him as if it could never be washed away. He composed himself and delivered his well-prepared speech admirably. This opportunity was something he had negotiated with Caligula on the condition that he would not leave the imperial capital, Zeus, for the next three years (Gratian suspected he wouldn't even live that long). The emperor asked the listless, flat-smiling officials of Heysen, with anticipation, "And the children?"

"Oh, Your Majesty, may I ask which child you are referring to?"

"I would like to see the students of Haiyingsen Central University." He remembered that Caesar and Yang Luo's child studied there. Caesar was also a graduate of this school.

The officials' faces lit up with sudden realization. "Oh, right. It was our oversight. His Majesty used to study at the Central University."

“Yes. Thank you for your help.” Gratian didn’t remember much about his time at Heyson University. His clearest memory of Earth was Caesar’s embrace; and the faint scent of black tea on his neck and collarbone.

Therefore, the final day's exchange meeting and trade fair, attended by the emperor, was scheduled to be held in the auditorium of Haiyingsen Central University. When Theodosius learned of this arrangement, he was so overjoyed that he couldn't speak, although his expression was still that of someone who had just seen a celebrity gossip on the webpage, and his tone was somewhat bored and annoyed.

"So, our school's talent show has been canceled? What a pity, I even prepared a piece to play at the show," he said.

“There’s nothing we can do,” said the student council president who organized the party. “The emperor is coming to our school.” His tone was filled with admiration.

"so what?"

"That's the Emperor! The supreme leader of our Galactic Empire!"

“Oh.” Theodosius turned a page of the school newspaper. “Is there hot water? I’d like to make a cup of coffee, thank you.”

"Actually, I'm more concerned about my piece. Also, midterms are next week. Have you all finished reviewing?"

The president pursed her lips. "You're starting to sound more and more like your boyfriend."

"That's my wife. Thank you."

"Don't let Ye Wanzhou hear you say that."

"If you don't tell him, he won't know. He's the kind of person who's always meditating in the deep mountains and forests."

"...You've gone too far. To say such things about someone. To be honest, we're starting to suspect that you're bullying them all the time."

Theodosius laughed loudly.

He chatted with a few students from the student union for a while, then said, "I'm going back to my dorm."

He felt a headache coming on, his heart was racing, and he was desperately trying to hold his breath so that his classmates passing by wouldn't notice anything amiss; his blood pressure was probably rising, and his excitement was mixed with fear. He was going to sneak into the Great Hall and kill the Emperor.

Will he die? His blood will splatter very close to the emperor.

Instead of returning to his dormitory, he went to the biology building, where some volunteers were signing up to provide services for an exhibition to be held when the emperor visited the school. Regular positions were already filled, and officials and dignitaries were eager to squeeze their children into the volunteer team, hoping for a close encounter with the emperor.

They're still recruiting volunteers for drug trials—the kind of people who demonstrate the miraculous effects of those expensive potions to the emperor. The biological lab administrators repeatedly emphasized that the potions were safe, explaining, "There might be some discomfort immediately after the injection. For example, if you're naturally a person with strong mental arithmetic and logical thinking skills, and you often suffer from unstoppable mental 'calculation,' then after receiving the 'logic calculation enhancement injection, you might experience headaches, dizziness, and brain information overload. But please rest assured. If this happens, please contact staff immediately..."

"But discomfort is still discomfort. Pain is still pain. Even if you try to make amends afterward, the damage has already been done."

The administrator looked up at Theodosius. "Young man, if you don't want to register, please let the next person have a turn."

Theodosius signed the "Biopharmaceutical Disclaimer." A payment of three thousand yuan immediately arrived in his account.

When he arrived as a volunteer, or rather as a vessel for the commodity being traded (i.e., the potion), he saw the emperor, dressed in his finest attire, from afar in the stands. The emperor never participated, merely watching with benevolent silence. The host was introducing the miraculous effects of the grand finale potion. He didn't hear a word; the emperor's shadow floated high above his vision, like a god, a demon, the ruler of the masses on and below the stage.

The Overlord spoke, thanking the citizens of Hynesen for their enthusiasm, the scientists for their hard work, and the people of the Old Alliance for their loyalty and love for the Emperor and the Galactic Empire.

After being injected with the drug, Theodosius performed as instructed by the organizers, though he was still a little dizzy and his ears were ringing.

A thin, gray figure approached. His vision, damaged by the drugs, refocused; it was Estravan, dressed in civilian clothes.

"Awake?" The man held up a finger and waved it in front of Theodosius's eyes. "Yes. I'm awake."

“Yahara Jun wants me to do it here,” Theodosius said, taking the caffeine tablets Estravan handed him.

“She might prefer you to die here,” Estravan said sincerely.

"There's no time left. No, who knows when the next opportunity will come."

Would you like to hear my advice?

"What?" Theodosius quickly changed his clothes. Volunteers, who were students of similar age from his school, were coming and going in the logistics room.

"Theodosius, do you have any water? My throat hurts."

One student exclaimed that he had been injected with what he thought was "singing talent."

"Yes, it's in my bag. Take it yourself."

Theodosius responded.

He lowered his voice and said, “Could you please stop bothering me? I feel like you have ulterior motives towards me. You could betray Colonel Caesar Garnier once, so you can certainly betray me too.”

“I have never betrayed Caesar,” he said. “Did Jun Hahara say something to you, child?”

Theodosius zipped up his black tennis bag and slung it securely over his shoulder; he put on a white baseball cap and wore a blue and white tracksuit; he looked like a student who had just finished class and was about to go to the stadium to exercise.

"Give me your bag." The man in the gray shirt stopped him.

Theodosius glared at Estravan. He thought the man was either too nosy, though he didn't seem like that kind of person at all, or he was really sick.

The man said, "Even a ceramic knife, even one that's only as long as a little finger, will be easily detected by a security scanner if the blade is too thin."

Some students noticed them. "Theodosius, who is that person?"

“One of my relatives.”

Another classmate called out to this classmate, seemingly wanting to talk to him about something. "I'm leaving now. You two can chat."

“Okay,” Theodosius said immediately.

He sighed deeply and handed the bag to Estravan, whose eyes were gleaming. The man's gaze softened as he inspected the tennis bag. Inside, a neat set of rackets and dozens of tennis balls were crammed in, filling the bag to the brim. From a hidden compartment at the very bottom of the black bag, the man pulled out a ceramic rabbit-shaped doll; prying open the rabbit's lips, he found a delicate alloy needle. There was only one, but it was extremely sharp; the tip was white-gray. Estravan imagined it sinking completely into the emperor's throat.

“Very clever. But are you planning to use it face-to-face with Gratian? To stab it with your finger?”

Theodosius was slightly embarrassed. "Well, it's not entirely not worth trying, uh."

The possibility of him getting close to Emperor Gratian was extremely slim. In fact, practically nonexistent. This needle was purely psychological.

The man couldn't help but laugh. It was very light, like the wind brushing against a heavy bronze harp. "Hmm. You have a lot of ideas."

"However, your method of selling yourself as a biological test subject to get close to the emperor has indeed inspired me."

——tbc——