Chapter 40#
Birthday#
The cemetery at night always carried a hint of chill. The starry sky covered the earth, and wild grass swayed in the wind, exuding a forlorn sense of twilight.
Yin Beichen knelt among the chaotic graves, slowly digging with a small shovel in hand.
This was the fourth cemetery he had switched to.
The good thing was that more unidentified bodies were delivered each day, increasing the chance of finding Ning Feng; the bad thing was that the management here was terrible, and many bodies were incomplete, often stacked on top of each other in burial.
Yin Beichen dared not use a large shovel, nor could he exert too much force, so his digging speed was not fast. Coupled with the rain earlier in the day, the soil was very damp, and the smell of trees mixed with rot filled the air, suffocating him. Half the night had passed, and he had only opened a dozen or so graves.
After a long time, he finally unearthed another tomb.
Looking at the completely unfamiliar face beneath, a strong sense of disillusionment hit him again. Yin Beichen sat blankly on the grave, deep exhaustion evident in his eyes.
No, no, no…
The more graves he opened, the more desperate he became.
His blue eyes stared fixedly at the broken bodies, and a crack opened in his heart, though he couldn’t quite identify the feeling.
…Dismembered.
Would Ning Feng end up like this too?
At this thought, Yin Beichen felt as if he had fallen into an icy abyss, surrounded by a chill. He never imagined that he couldn’t even protect Ning Feng’s body. He suddenly realized that he was not omnipotent after all.
After sitting blankly for a while, Yin Beichen slowly stood up and staggered toward the next grave.
His tall figure merged into the darkness. Yin Beichen kept digging, his mind involuntarily replaying the scenes of their past interactions.
There were happy moments, moments of frustration, moments of excitement, and moments of mischief together.
He remembered the time when they were in military academy, sneaking over the wall to ride motorcycles, only to be caught by the教官 and forced to write self-criticisms together. That rascal Ning Feng even shamelessly dragged the教官 aside, trying to charm his way out with his handsome face.
To be fair, Ning Feng was tall and handsome, quite striking when he wasn’t being mischievous. Even Yin Beichen, who usually didn’t care about gossip, knew that Ning Feng had always been popular in the academy.
He excelled in his duties and often competed with Yin Beichen for first and second place in various competitions. If he hadn’t chosen to become Yin Beichen’s adjutant, he would surely have had a better development in the military. But this guy single-mindedly applied for the adjutant exam, even pushing out the popular candidate, Qu Jingshan.
Really… foolish.
Remembering how happy Ning Feng had been upon learning he became adjutant, Yin Beichen couldn’t help but crack a smile.
The next moment, his eyes stung, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
That proud, passionate person who loved looking in the mirror so much—in the end, he lay broken in some patch of muddy ground. He might be randomly piled up, or mixed with other people’s limbs, without even a complete body…
Countless chaotic memories, those long-forgotten past events, surged like a tide from the depths of his soul. Like dull knives, they kept cutting into his heart.
Yin Beichen breathed lightly, a faint voice in his heart telling him not to give up, that Ning Feng was waiting for him.
Yes, he couldn’t make him wait too long.
He clenched his fists tightly, his slender nails almost digging into his flesh, and his digging pace quickened again.
Just then, his optical computer suddenly emitted an urgent sound.
His numb nerves were pricked. Yin Beichen paused, his fingers stiffly tapping to open it, and found it was a communication request from the commander in charge of the search.
He froze, then shot up from the ground, hesitating only a moment before answering directly, not even bothering with the speakerphone.
“Speak.”
The commander was momentarily startled. Although the senior officer’s tone was restrained, there was an underlying excitement and urgency that was unmistakable. But soon, recalling the news he had just received, his voice rose half a tone.
“Sir, we found it!”
Yin Beichen’s breath caught, his fingers gripping the optical computer turning white.
“What did you find?” he asked softly.
“Brother Feng’s aircraft has been found!”
**
The aircraft was discovered in an abandoned shop in the City of Wasted Goods. Its flashy sign, “Nuclear Bomb Spicy Fried Insects,” was so misleading that the search team had passed by it several times without entering.
Flying back to base at top speed, the transport ship landed steadily at the starport. As soon as it touched down, the cabin door opened quickly. Yin Beichen descended, his steps rapid. People saluted him along the way, but he ignored them all, rushing straight toward the heavy weapon factory.
The factory workshop was only a ten-minute walk from the tarmac, but it felt far too long. After turning down two small roads, he finally arrived at a special private room.
Two marines stood outside. Seeing the senior officer approaching from afar, they were first stunned, then immediately saluted and opened the door. Once Yin Beichen entered, they quickly closed it behind him.
This workshop was used to store the latest undisclosed equipment, not open to the public. Some devices, even after being developed, might never see release.
At that moment, in the center of the vast space, a damaged cockpit was displayed.
As soon as Yin Beichen entered, Big Beard and the search commander rushed over. When they saw the senior officer’s appearance, they were startled.
Yin Beichen’s hands were covered in blood and grime, his pristine white military uniform stained with mud, even his face smudged with dirt. Yet his expression remained calm, like a beautiful, lonely ice sculpture—cold and piercing.
“Sir, you—”
“First, the main matter.” Yin Beichen calmly wiped the dirt off his face, his breathing slightly more steady as his gaze fell on the cockpit. “Have you opened it?”
“No.” Big Beard quickly waved his hand.
As the designer, he knew methods to forcefully open the cockpit, but he dared not risk damaging Ning Feng. Fortunately, the cockpit had enough emergency power. So many days had passed, and the life support system was still running—otherwise…
Still, he was worried. He asked softly, “Sir, should we notify the medical team?”
Yin Beichen’s face darkened, his breathing nearly imperceptible.
“No.” He parted his lips with difficulty, a layer of sorrow in his eyes as he staggered toward the cockpit. “I’ll do it myself.”
Bright lights shone from all directions, but they couldn’t penetrate the thick radiation-proof glass, obscuring the view inside. Yet the details of the exterior were clearly visible.
The silver-white shell bore countless scratches, some deep, some shallow. One gash ran across the entire cabin, testament to the intensity of the battle. The glass surface had several web-like cracks, likely from meteorite impacts, along with countless scrapes and fissures. Each mark told a grim story of how perilous the return journey had been.
And everything before him could have been avoided.
An indescribable emotion rose in his eyes. Yin Beichen raised his stiff hand and slowly entered the command.
Ssshhh—
The thick cabin door opened with a hiss, releasing a strange, sour smell—like a pile of oranges left out for days—making anyone wrinkle their nose.
Yin Beichen seemed unaffected. He bent down and looked inside.
There sat Ning Feng, quietly in the pilot’s seat, eyes closed, complexion rosy, his neck slightly crooked to one side, as if he were asleep—if one ignored the crusted blood all over his body. Thanks to the regenerative properties of the insect venom, his body showed no signs of decay after all these days, still warm to the touch.
How ironic.
Yin Beichen’s gaze shifted to the back of the seat. He reached in and felt around, eventually retrieving a small black box, which he carefully cradled in his palm.
This was the box for storing memory chips.
Ning Feng was inside.
In an instant, that small box felt heavier than a thousand pounds.
Holding his breath, Yin Beichen gently tucked the box into his chest. After making sure it was secure, he leaned in again, unbuckled the safety harness, and lifted the man out.
Ning Feng’s tall, heavy body was difficult to handle, especially with no points of support. At first, Yin Beichen struggled a bit. Then he simply wrapped his arms around the man, shielding him from the sharp edges, and lifted him by the waist.
Ning Feng slumped softly against his shoulder. His short, stiff black hair brushed against Yin Beichen’s neck, bringing a slight tingle, but the heavy weight oddly reassured him.
He turned his head to gaze at the sleeping man, his blue eyes sparkling with scattered light, momentarily melting the ice in his gaze.
“Ning Feng, you’re home.”
The two behind him had never seen the senior officer wear such an expression—almost tender. Before they could recover, they then noticed the state of the man in his arms, and their faces changed instantly. “That is—”
Even though the stains had dried and blackened, that distinctive purple-blue blood was only found in those infected with insect venom.
They had thought Ning Feng was merely unconscious from ordinary injuries. They didn’t expect he had been poisoned by insect venom, and judging by the bloodstains, it had likely already activated. Could it be…
“By the way.” Suddenly, Yin Beichen stopped. He turned his handsome face to the side, his eyes glancing at the two with a coldness like ice.
“This matter, I don’t want a fourth person to know.”
His voice was flat, reaching their ears without any warmth. The two felt a chill run down their necks. Immediately, they snapped to attention and saluted. “Understood, sir!”
Satisfied with their response, Yin Beichen averted his gaze, looked at the quiet Ning Feng, and shifted the weight in his arms slightly, murmuring,
“Let’s go back.”
With that, he carried the man slowly into the night.
**
The night was like a giant net, pulling the entire sky in from all directions.
Ning Feng sat by the window, staring at the stars, unmoving, for some time.
After a long while, he withdrew his gaze and looked around the room.
It was a nearly empty room. A single small bulb swayed forlornly overhead. Besides a cold iron bed in the corner, the whole room was bare—no furniture at all. This place used to be Shamu’s workshop, then vacated for him to live in. A pile of unorganized parts still sat in the corner.
Suddenly, Ning Feng remembered last year’s birthday.
That day, he had just come back from a mission, arriving very late. The mess hall was already closed, but neither he nor Yin Beichen had eaten, their stomachs growling with hunger.
Looking at the expressionless face beside him, he tentatively suggested going into the kitchen to make some food. He thought for sure he’d be refused, but surprisingly, the other agreed. Ning Feng cheerfully planned to show off his cooking skills, hoping to impress Yin Beichen while also making himself a longevity noodle for his birthday. But just as they entered the mess hall, streamers exploded, bright lights flashed, and suddenly, many people rushed up, shouting.
The mess hall had been elaborately decorated. The table was filled with a huge spread of dishes. Qu Yan wheeled out a garish big cake, covered with colorful candles. Everyone grinned broadly and sang happy birthday to him.
A birthday party couldn’t lack alcohol. As the main character, Ning Feng had mentally prepared to be drunk that night. But Yin Beichen stayed by his side the whole evening, causing many troublemakers to hold back.
Later, everyone got wild, collapsing in a heap, and Ning Feng teased them mercilessly.
Suddenly, a bowl was pushed toward him from the side.
He looked down. It was a steaming bowl of noodles.
“Longevity noodles.” Yin Beichen turned his face away, not looking at him. After a pause, he pushed the bowl again and muttered, “Might be a bit salty.”
Ning Feng couldn’t remember what he had said then. He only remembered that bowl of plain, watery noodles, with the simplest seasoning, yet it tasted wonderful.
And a bit salty.
Ning Feng’s lips twitched. He raised a hand and scratched his decorative mouth.
Now, even if he wanted to eat that, he couldn’t.
He looked around the empty room, then down at his broken body. Due to insufficient battery life, most of his time was spent in the room, plugged in. To prevent falling apart, some parts were welded with iron sheets, feeling bumpy. He touched his hard chest, feeling an emptiness inside.
Suddenly, Ning Feng found it a bit funny.
What sentimental emptiness? There was nothing inside anymore.
No one knew him, no one cared about him.
For a moment, he felt as if he had been abandoned by the whole world.
After a blank moment, Ning Feng touched his face. There was nothing there.
Bang!!
At that moment, the door was flung open forcefully. Harsh light from outside flooded the room. By the door appeared Wen Qianyong’s big head, followed by Shamu’s smiling face and an impatient-looking Mad Rat.
Ning Feng: ?
Wen Qianyong bounced over cheerfully, holding a milky-white little cake in his hands.
“Carrot, happy birthday!” He grinned.
Ning Feng was stunned. “How did you know…?”
“Brother Mu told us.” Wen Qianyong was very excited, then added with a bit of reproach, “You really should have mentioned such a big thing as your birthday earlier. Now I had to quickly make a small cake in a hurry, and no gift either.”
“Do you have money?” Mad Rat fiddled with the gel in his hair, looking disdainful. “Don’t think just because you won some prize money you can splurge. We have many more matches ahead, and our mecha maintenance is a big expense! Don’t expect me to subsidize with my gambling money.”
“Stupid rat, why so many complaints?” Wen Qianyong shot him a glare, quickly stuck a candle on the cake, then held it out to the robot. “Carrot, ignore him. Come, make a wish first!”
Ning Feng looked down at the little cake.
Inexpensive beige cream covered the entire surface, topped with a few canned fruit slices. A small robot was drawn with red food coloring—its mouth crooked in a grin, holding a gun. It looked kinda ugly.
Ning Feng smirked. “Alright.”
He put his hands together in the standard wish-making pose. Without eyelids, he couldn’t close his eyes. The flickering candlelight danced in the dimness. The temperature around them rose slightly, reflecting in his round camera lens as bright spots of light.
“What did you wish for?” Wen Qianyong leaned in nosily.
“Get rich, get filthy rich, and succeed in losing weight to get in shape.” Ning Feng said seriously.
“Rich, huh… You’re already rolling in it from that bet.” Mad Rat scoffed.
“Wishes don’t come true if you say them out loud.” Shamu smiled and rubbed Wen Qianyong’s head. “But shaping up—I can help you with that. Just need to buy some materials, so it’ll take some time.”
When it came time to blow out the candle, Ning Feng couldn’t do it, so Wen Qianyong volunteered, only to be mocked by Mad Rat. Watching the two squabble, the man sat silently beside them.
Then Shamu handed over a bottle of oil, filled to the brim.
“Here, this is for you.”
“What is it?”
“Apple-flavored machine oil.” Shamu tapped his optical computer, sending the ingredients to the robot. “I heard from Qu Yan that you like durian. I didn’t have the right materials on hand, so I could only make a different flavor for now. When conditions allow later, I’ll make it up to you.”
As a robot, Ning Feng couldn’t actually enjoy any real food. This little cake was more an excuse for Wen Qianyong to have some fun than a real birthday celebration for Ning Feng. The oil was more practical.
He unscrewed the cap and took a sip. Indeed, it had a hint of apple, but mixed with the cheap oil taste, the flavor wasn’t great. Still, Ning Feng found it pleasantly sweet and couldn’t help but take another big gulp.
This was the best-tasting thing Ning Feng had had since waking up. He smacked his lips contentedly. “You’re so considerate, no wonder Ayong is so attached to you.”
At the mention of Wen Qianyong, Shamu’s eyes shone with an especially warm light. But then, as if remembering something, his expression turned troubled.
“What’s wrong?” Ning Feng asked.
“The cockpit was taken by them.” Shamu hesitated.
The robot’s movements paused. The camera’s focus shifted. “Oh, is that so?”
He bowed his head slightly, unconsciously rubbing the scratches on his body with rough fingers.
Without needing to be told, Ning Feng knew who “them” referred to. But he hadn’t expected that after so many days, those people would still be so persistent. Perhaps they knew he carried the royal insect venom and thought him more worthy of study?
Actually, it might not be a bad thing. If this body could help accelerate the development of an antidote, then it would be a contribution to science.
As for Yin Beichen…
His thick black lips twitched. He tilted his square head back slightly.
He had been busy these past few days and realized he hadn’t thought about that person in several days. Besides that brief reminiscing just now, most of his time was occupied by the matches.
Thinking it over, letting go didn’t seem so hard.
“Isn’t that good? Now I can focus on staying here.” He crossed his hands behind his head. Suddenly, Ning Feng felt as if something had been severed from him, making him feel much lighter.
They cut the cake and messed around for a while, until Wen Qianyong suddenly remembered a very important question.
“Carrot, by the way, how old are you this year?”
“One year old.” Ning Feng pointed at the candle. “Didn’t you light the candle?”
“Being evasive…” Wen Qianyong pouted, then was silenced by a mouthful of cake shoved in by Shamu and dragged away.
Ning Feng propped his leg up, leaning lazily against the window, looking up at the endless starry sky. Stars twinkled. The colorful nebulas tangled and churned, stretching endlessly, surging toward unknown directions.
He raised the oil bottle to the sky and smiled.
“Cheers to my first birthday.”
**
Carrying Ning Feng, Yin Beichen took a special express passage back to his office and opened the innermost door.
This was a restroom attached to the office, equipped with a bed, a washroom, and some simple furniture. When busy, Yin Beichen often took a brief rest here before plunging back into military affairs.
Gently laying the man on the bed, Yin Beichen quickly filled a basin of water, rolled up his sleeves to test the temperature, then slowly unbuttoned the stained combat suit and carefully wiped him clean with a clean towel.
He cleaned meticulously, not missing a single spot. Soon, the clear water turned dark blue, soaking his sleeves up to his arms. He didn’t mind and went to get another basin to continue wiping.
Under the steam, the room filled with the sweet-sour smell of insect venom. As he wiped, Yin Beichen closely examined the man’s body and its scars.
Across the honey-colored skin lay intersecting scars.
Some new, some old. Some deep, some shallow. Some scars were from when they did missions together. Some hadn’t fully healed yet. Several were extremely deep, hinting at the danger of the situation.
Yin Beichen’s eyes softened, and his wiping became gentler.
When he turned the body over and touched the back of the neck, he stopped.
This scar. He remembered it vividly.
It was from four years ago, when he led troops against the royal insect. Ning Feng had gotten it saving him. It was also at that time that the royal insect venom…
Caressing the uneven skin, Yin Beichen’s face darkened like a thin mist had settled on it. He let out a long sigh, as if trying to expel the depression in his chest, and began wiping again attentively.
But when he wiped the palm, he noticed something unusual.
Ning Feng’s hand was clenched into a tight fist, like an iron ball. Yin Beichen tried for a long time before carefully using leverage to pry it open. Then he saw, lying still in the palm, a small amulet.
It was a yellow talisman, folded into a curved shape, now frayed. Though the surface was blurred by sweat, two characters could still be made out: “Love Fate.”
Staring intently at the amulet, Yin Beichen took it with trembling fingers.
[So according to procedure, I should give you a love talisman as a token of love, then offer myself to you?]
At that time, the man’s black eyes shone like stars.
Yin Beichen’s breath tightened. His chest heaved violently.
Heartache, guilt, sorrow, and endless longing… Too many emotions threatened to swallow him whole. The long-suppressed grief and indignation suddenly erupted.
He knelt beside the bed, holding the small black box with one hand, tightly gripping Ning Feng’s hand with the other, his forehead pressed against the back of his hand, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to restrain himself.
“Ning Feng, I will find a way to clear the insect venom.”
He would surely find a way. It wasn’t too late yet.
Yes, not too late.
Forcing down the surging emotions, Yin Beichen carefully put away the amulet, finished cleaning the body, dressed the man properly, and covered him with a thin blanket. He sat by the bed, gazing for a long time, then glanced at the time and got up to go wash himself.
Just before leaving, Yin Beichen seemed to think of something. He hesitated, then turned back to look.
“Ning Feng, today is December 10, 1648 in the stardate. It’s the tenth year… ten months and twenty-one days since we met. Forty-two days before my 28th birthday, and before your 28th birthday…”
Yin Beichen paused, then suddenly smiled.
“Today is your 28th birthday.” He stared at the man, his eyes shining with an especially warm light, tinged with deep sorrow.
“Ning Feng, happy birthday.”
At that moment, on the side Yin Beichen couldn’t see, a single tear slowly rolled down from the corner of Ning Feng’s eye.