Chapter 113, Section 113: The investigation focuses on short-lived species, without a destiny...
And so, Chen Mi returned home dejectedly.
The door lock clicked softly. She pressed her head against the door and used her body weight to push it open. Without even taking off her shoes, she leaned against the entryway wall and slowly slid down to sit. The house was brightly lit by candlelight, and the setting sun streamed in through the windows. The kitchen echoed with the clanging of pots and pans.
Shen Mi simply couldn't muster any energy. She felt utterly useless and insignificant.
She didn't know how many times she had experienced such dramatic ups and downs. Hope, once held dear, was mercilessly crushed by fate. It was as if someone was gently coaxing her, "Look, the light is coming." — But the next second, the curtain of heaven was lifted, and the light was a scorching fire, illuminating her wretched state and burning away her last illusions.
And now, her time is running out. In another half month, on the day of the celebration, perhaps everything will be gone.
Shen Mi looked up at the sky, a bitter smile appearing on his lips: "God, I will never call you 'Grandpa' again."
After saying that, she herself was amused by the bitterness in her tone, but the laugh was fleeting and was quickly replaced by a deeper emptiness.
The disparity in strength was immense; she was just an ordinary person. Her efforts seemed laughable in the face of that overwhelming power, like a moth drawn to a flame in vain—foolish, weak, and destined to turn to ashes.
Not only in the face of fate, but also before Huanlong, she was probably less than a moth to a flame. Perhaps more like a pathetic clown, struggling desperately on a self-directed and self-acted stage, believing she could change the ending, yet unable to even attract the other's attention. Huanlong probably had no idea that she had an enemy lurking in the shadows. His name? It didn't matter. A force "to ensure the ending unfolds smoothly" would naturally cover for her.
For the first time, Shen Mi had the thought of giving up.
Maybe... she's simply not capable.
The system's selection of her might have been a misjudgment from the very beginning. She was neither a savior nor a "variable" capable of changing fate. She was simply someone who craved ordinariness, someone who longed for companionship, someone who craved warmth and dependence; she would hesitate, waver, and forget her reason because of a single gentle word from them.
She was easily swayed by lust, fickle, timid, and lacked ambition.
—With her like this, who do you think you can save?
Shen Mi looked down at her hands and suddenly felt like a stranger to herself. She had failed so badly; she didn't even have the courage to grasp her destiny.
The motion-sensor light in the entryway turned on at that moment, its warm glow slowly spreading and gradually dispelling the chill in the room. The phone screen shone in that soft light, tinged with a slightly cool blue.
That familiar name lay quietly on the lock screen, like a thin thread tugging at the faint ache in her chest.
Shen Mi's fingertip hovered above the screen, but he hesitated to tap it.
What can I say? What is there to say?
"I'm sorry, Jingyuan"? Or "I'm sorry, please let me explain"?
Then you react to each move, finding new excuses time and time again. Okay, now you can't even keep your excuses anymore.
Chen Mi, stop using such a lame excuse about needing to complete the final mission to fob them off. They're human too, and they can't withstand your repeated emotional drain.
A gust of wind blew in from outside the window, stirring the curtains and bringing with it the chirping of unknown insects. She stared at the ceiling, her mind a complete blank, feeling as if she were endlessly spinning in a cycle—hope, fall, hope again, fall again.
She was a little tired.
But in that silence, her phone beeped softly. The sound was so faint it was almost negligible, yet it felt like a fine needle piercing her heart.
Shen Mi paused for a moment, then slowly turned his head to look.
A message popped up on the screen—
【How are you? 】
Shen Mi's heart suddenly tightened.
Those five short words seemed to be carried by the wind from afar, light and airy, yet they landed very deep.
Her fingertips trembled, and before she could reply, a second message popped up—
I saw you sitting there on the security camera in the entryway.
[And he sighed.]
What's wrong? What happened?
Shen Mi held her breath for a moment. She looked up and instinctively glanced towards the entrance. The motion-sensor light was still on, its warm yellow light quietly spilling onto the floor. In the corner, in the bird's nest made of twigs, a sparrow watched her intently, motionless.
At that moment, she suddenly realized that the bird had never been an ornament.
Jing Yuan... had been watching her silently the whole time.
It turns out that he hadn't completely left during this time; he had simply changed his approach, quietly staying where she couldn't see him.
A sudden surge of bitterness welled up in her chest and she almost cried out with a smile. It was a bittersweet feeling mixed with guilt and heartache, creeping up her throat like swallowing fifty lemons in one go, making her eyes burn and tears flow uncontrollably.
She bit her lip tightly, her fingers hovering above the keyboard, the light from the screen making her eyes slightly red.
What should I say? "I'm fine"? That's a lie.
"I'm so tired"? That's too much of a burden.
After a long while, she slowly typed out a few words.
It's nothing, I'm just a little confused.
She thought the message would disappear without a trace, but to her surprise, the screen lit up again almost the next second—
If you don't mind, you can tell me.
A simple sentence, yet it was like a thin rope, gently pulling her back from the abyss to the warm sunshine.
Shen Mi stared blankly at the line of words, his fingers trembling slightly.
She suddenly felt that perhaps fate wasn't entirely cruel.
At least, after countless falls, it still left her with a voice that could catch her.
Chen Mi concealed the beginning and the end, shortening the problem that troubled him into a single sentence—
I've encountered a difficult problem, and I'm unsure if I can solve it.
Shen Mi revised and rewrote the sentence several times before finally clicking send.
The moment she sent the message, she felt as if something had been ripped out of her heart, and her whole body went limp. She sat on the ground, feeling like a headless fly, bumping around aimlessly. A "thump-thump-thump" sound seemed to be the echo of her heartbeat.
A few seconds later, the screen lit up again—
[Actually, there are only two answers: do it or don't. Is the cost of not doing it high?]
Shen Mi stared blankly at the last few words, feeling as if her heart had been hollowed out. She put down her phone and covered her face with her hands.
Tears seeped slowly into my palm.
—It's huge.
She answered in her heart.
The cost was enormous, so enormous that it made her afraid to gamble, afraid to even consider what "not doing" would mean.
She was afraid.
She fears that one day she will wake up to find that Danheng, Jingyuan, and Ren are no longer there; she fears that all her efforts will be erased by time, leaving her alone to remember those names that should not be forgotten.
She feared that world would restart, that even the "tragedy" would be altered into a "preordained perfection," and that in that so-called perfection, they would no longer be part of it.
She didn't want them to leave.
I don't want them to be crushed in the gears of fate.
They didn't want everyone to forget their existence after they returned to the world—as if they had never existed.
That kind of future is more terrifying than death.
She didn't know if this could be considered an obsession, but that obsession had already gripped her heart tightly, like a thread wrapped around her veins, impossible to pull out or cut. Every breath she took aggravated it, and every moment of hesitation tightened the thread even further.
Just then, the phone screen lit up again. The cold white light shone on her face, reflecting the faint glow of her tear tracks.
[Actually, when you asked the question, you already had the answer in your heart, didn't you? What you're afraid of isn't "whether or not to do it," but "whether or not you can do it."]
Those few words seemed to strike the most vulnerable spot in her heart. She stared at the sentence, her breathing becoming increasingly erratic.
Yes, she already knew the answer. She just didn't dare admit it. Because admitting it meant facing that almost impossible choice.
If it's truly difficult, if you've tried your best and still can't do it, then no one will blame you, whatever the outcome.
The words lay quietly on the screen, like a gentle yet firm beam of light, slowly shining on her cracked heart.
Don't let yourself regret it.
Chen Mi's breath hitched, and tears finally spilled uncontrollably down her cheeks.
In that instant, she finally understood that the so-called "salvation" might not only be about saving them—but also about saving herself, who had been repeatedly battered and bruised by fate, yet still persevered like an unkillable cockroach.
She looked up and gazed out the window. The night was deep, and the wind rustled the edges of the curtains, like a cold mockery of fate.
But she knew—
As long as she can move, as long as she wants to and is willing to do it, the things she fears can be stopped.
Hearing the sounds of stir-frying in the kitchen gradually subside, Chen Mi quickly wiped away her tears and ran upstairs.
She needs to compose herself and greet tomorrow with a fresh perspective.
From this moment on, she will no longer let worries and fears disturb her mind.
If she truly cares, if she truly is afraid, then she should stop doubting herself and questioning herself. Regardless of whether there are more suitable candidates, regardless of whether she is the perfect "variable," she should start now and give it her all.
Jingyuan reluctantly looked away from the surveillance screen.
A strategist from the Jade Palace Immortal Ship, carrying a document stamped with "Confidential," quickly stepped forward and reported in a low voice:
"General Shence, the matter you entrusted me to investigate has yielded results."
Jing Yuan regained his composure, nodded slightly, and gestured for him to continue.
The strategist respectfully unfolded the document and reported according to its contents:
"Subject of Investigation: CM. First appeared on Planet 111,700 of the City Builders Alliance. Due to its unique geological composition, this planet was discovered and forcibly incorporated by the Interstellar Peace Corporation 180 years ago. The key figure, DH, arrived on this planet 60 years ago and only came into contact with the subject of investigation five months ago. Based on information provided by the local inhabitants and our comparative analysis, it can be confirmed that the subject of investigation has no direct connection with the Interstellar Peace Corporation, and this does not match your suspicions. Aside from the anomaly of 'no prior record,' everything else is normal. The conclusion is as follows—"
He paused, deliberately glancing up at the general to make sure his expression remained unchanged, before slowly speaking:
"The subject of the investigation is a short-lived species, with no apparent fate and no potential threat assessment level, and is registered as: not posing a threat."
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Author's Note: I feel like I'm about to be proven wrong! The more I write, the more it seems to go on, and I might not even finish it at 20,000 words! Thanks to reader: God, I'll never call you "Grandpa" again for the inspiration! [Let me see][Let me see][Let me see]
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