EDEH Chapter 47.2

“They must be very sad.”

 

“More serious than sad.” Shiwei said, “Living in such dark, sunless places year-round, deeply discriminated against, and in such times when you could lose your life at any moment, their psychology gradually becomes twisted.”

 

“So we need to be careful.” Old He said hoarsely, “Conservatives hunt low-level deviants, while low-level deviants equally hate everyone, regardless of whether you’re conservative or not.”

 

This was like an inescapable cycle.

 

In ordinary people’s eyes, low-level deviants represented terror and danger, while low-level deviants began doing terrifying and dangerous things because of this discrimination. The relationship between the two would only get worse and worse, irreconcilable.

 

“Even after Huo Yanji became the highest executive officer, he couldn’t solve this problem, because the most uncontrollable thing is the human heart.” Shiwei said, “But what makes Huo Yanji amazing is that the first thing he did upon taking office was to overcome all opposition and establish the curfew system, which greatly reduced conflicts and casualties between both sides.”

 

Most conflicts happened at night, and once people couldn’t go out at night, it was like a bucket of cold water extinguishing the flames of hatred.

 

Although the curfew restricted freedom, it greatly improved security and reduced urban unrest and resident mortality rates.

 

But Old He said: “The curfew system can only treat symptoms, not the root cause. Once hatred and conflict are suppressed for too long, big problems tend to arise.”

 

“But you were…” Shiwei glanced at Sang Jue and pulled back her words, “Don’t you know better than anyone that the conflicts between them can’t be resolved.”

 

“Yes.” Old He was in good physical condition, climbing stairs for so long without getting out of breath, “But that’s how people are—they can never unite no matter what, and internal conflicts never cease.”

 

They successfully reached the fifth floor. Looking around, the endless corridor on both sides was lined with densely packed apartment doors. At least hundreds of people lived on this floor alone, extremely crowded.

 

The walls were gray and dilapidated, covered with messy advertisements, naturally including the most common lock-picking and adult service ads.

 

Yu Ren’s home was the third unit at the very end, and only his doorway was clean and tidy.

 

Sang Jue asked: “Without keys, how do we get in?”

 

“Wait.”

 

Shiwei skillfully took out wire, inserted it directly into the lock, turned it gently a few times, and heard a click. She turned back with a smile: “Lock picking is a required skill for everyone in our department.”

 

Sang Jue was a bit curious. He had only seen this technique in movies.

 

Pushing open the door, the entire room’s layout was visible at a glance. The room plus bathroom was only twelve square meters total. The only window was at the head of the bed, too small for even Sang Jue to squeeze through, only letting in a bit of pale, dim daylight.

 

He had thought old Karl’s house was simple enough, but he hadn’t expected there to be something even poorer.

 

However, the room had no strange odors, and all items were arranged neatly, showing that the owner was very clean.

 

With a “click,” the light turned on.

 

Old He checked the time, looked ahead, and pressed the watch on his wrist, which seemed to be a recorder.

 

He spoke solemnly and seriously, his hoarse voice like a rusty bellows being pulled: “December 19th, Year 325 of the Collapse, 10:43 AM. As a relic organizer, I came to Lower District 13th Alley 12-501 to conclude Mr. Yu Ren’s life.”

 

For low-level deviants, the only time they would be respectfully called “Mr.” was probably this moment.

 

After Old He finished speaking, he put down his backpack and said: “Let’s begin.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “What should I do?”

 

Shiwei threw him a lollipop and tore one open for herself: “Little sweetheart, since this is your first time doing this work, you can watch from the side first.”

 

Sang Jue tore open the lollipop wrapper, sniffed it, and put it in his mouth, saying vaguely: “Do all these things need to be taken away?”

 

Shiwei shook her head: “He probably didn’t expect to die in the city, so he didn’t make any advance arrangements. We just need to sort out useful things. Everything else goes into the recycling bin downstairs, then we decontaminate the entire room, and that’s it.”

 

“What will happen to his belongings in the end?”

 

“Things residents can’t use will be confiscated. Usable items will appear at the monthly charity square, distributed to people who need them.”

 

Yu Ren didn’t have many things, so they were easy to organize. Shoes, clothes, and such were all considered relics that could be left for people who really couldn’t afford daily necessities.

 

Shiwei took down a sticky note from the wall and read its contents aloud: “Today an ordinary person complimented my neck scales, saying they were beautiful. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh for a moment, but I was indeed a bit happy. He seemed to really want one. If I have the chance to see him again next time, I’ll give him the scales that fell off at home before—dried ones that won’t feel sticky to touch. I hope he’ll like them…”

 

The date was December 1st.

 

Shiwei handed it to Sang Jue: “It wasn’t you, was it?”

 

After all, most ordinary people would either show disgust when seeing fish scales growing on someone’s body, or stay far away, let alone compliment them as beautiful.

 

Sang Jue took the lollipop out of his mouth and pursed his lips: “They really were beautiful.”

 

Shiwei’s lips curved up, her red lips holding the end of the lollipop, her teeth making crunching sounds: “If everyone had the same aesthetic as you, maybe he wouldn’t have died.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t respond. Shiwei believed that extreme conservatives had killed Yu Ren. But Huo Yanji had said before that without evidence, you shouldn’t randomly speculate about anyone.

 

There were quite a few sticky notes on the wall, and he looked at them one by one. Some were old, some were new, scattered across the wall.

 

[This is truly ridiculous. Maybe the higher-ups just want to drive us to desperation, making an extreme conservative the highest executive officer of supervisors. Are they crazy? I even used to consider him an idol.]

 

Was this about Huo Yanji?

 

Sang Jue pursed his lips. It seemed that whether deviants or ordinary people, they all had deep misunderstandings about Huo Yanji.

 

Clearly Huo Yanji was good and not extreme—he was just trying hard to maintain order.

 

But back then, why did Huo Yanji say those words that caused misunderstandings?

 

[I told them that Huo Yanji appeared at the lighthouse to deliver a deviant’s medal, and they all didn’t believe me, or thought Huo Yanji was putting on a show… I secretly thought so too.]

 

[This is really enough! Today I was spat on by a disgusting fat man! This kind of greasy, slovenly person who speaks filth can get respect, so why can’t I?]

 

[Another day of wanting to just die. Only when working can I peacefully bathe in sunlight… when will we be able to leave the lower district and walk normally on the streets?]

 

[They say those so-called high-level deviants are also guilty… These people’s strength and success only highlight our wretchedness and ugliness.]

 

…

 

[They say they want to change the highest executive officer… I’m somewhat uneasy? How to change?]

 

[I want to report them. If we change to a different highest executive officer, will we get the best treatment? It seems we can’t.]

 

The content of these last few notes was a bit strange. Sang Jue, while Shiwei and Old He behind him weren’t paying attention, took these two down and secretly stuffed them into his pocket, planning to take them back to show Huo Yanji.

 

Yu Ren’s house where he had lived for thirty years was cleaned up by them in twenty minutes—one large and one small cardboard box.

 

The large box contained Yu Ren’s clothes, shoes, and a roll of bedding. The small box was only the size of two adult fists, containing Yu Ren’s personal belongings—all bottle caps he had collected over the years.

 

This was Yu Ren’s life.

 

Finally came decontamination treatment. Contaminated genes didn’t survive long in the air, but just to be safe, comprehensive disinfection was still needed.

 

When leaving, Old He and Shiwei bowed slightly toward the inside, expressing final condolences.

 

The moment the door closed, Yu Ren’s name would be completely sealed in the resident database, never to be remembered by anyone again.

 

Shiwei handed over something wrapped in tissues: “Here, take this.”

 

Sang Jue opened it to find a package of hard scales that, despite having fallen off long ago, still maintained perfect luster.

 

“Since he said he wanted to give them to you, you can handle them as you wish—throw them away if you want.” Shiwei threw away the lollipop stick. “But if you want to keep them, be careful not to get cut and contaminated.”

 

“Okay, I’ll keep them carefully.”

 

Sang Jue accepted this gift and helped Old He carry the large box downstairs.

 

This kind of relic collection continued for a day. If there were few things, they would visit several houses, collect everything together, then send it to the Relics Management Office. If there were many things, they had to go to the Relics Management Office after each house.

 

But most deceased people’s belongings were like Yu Ren’s—fitting into one or two small cardboard boxes.

 

At six in the evening, Sang Jue finally reached the end of his workday.

 

When parting, Shiwei gave Sang Jue a work badge: “If you think this job is okay, bring this tomorrow to report to District A No. 1 Supervision Bureau, and we’ll set off together.”

 

“What’s my salary?” Sang Jue was most concerned about this.

 

“Monthly salary of 250.” Shiwei waved her hand, put her fingers together and blew a kiss, “See you tomorrow, little sweetheart—it would be even better if you could tell Officer Huo that a beautiful lady very much wants to invite him to spend a night together.”

 

“…” Sang Jue blinked. “He wouldn’t be interested.”

 

Shiwei didn’t seem to hear this and disappeared into the crowd following Old He.

 

The familiar curfew broadcast sounded again, with a three-hour countdown.

 

Sang Jue stood in place for a while, feeling like he had done many things today, yet also like he had done nothing. He hadn’t collected old Karl’s alcohol either, and even if he had, he wouldn’t know where to put it.

 

He had no home.

 

…

 

In the study, Huo Yanji, who was reviewing documents, looked at the time for the third time—it was already eight o’clock. There was no sound of the door opening, nor any messages.

 

He stood by the window, watching the hurried people on the street, and made a call.

“Is Sang Jue still with you?”

 

“Not anymore, the Relics Management Office ends work at six.” Old He’s low, hoarse voice came from the other end. “That kid has something weird about him that’s hard to describe. You need to be careful.”

 

Huo Yanji hummed: “I know what I’m doing, don’t worry.”

 

After hanging up, Huo Yanji directly called Sang Jue, but no one answered for a long time.

 

Just as he picked up his jacket to go out, a tentative voice came from the communicator: “Is this Officer Huo?”

 

“…It’s me.”

 

Ten minutes later, Huo Yanji appeared in the tavern that old Karl used to run.

 

The place was a mess, with people lying everywhere, all somewhat injured with bruised and swollen faces, and broken glass bottles scattered about.

 

Sang Jue stood by the bar, restrained by patrol officers.

 

He caught the familiar scent but unhappily looked away.

 

Huo Yanji walked over, pinched Sang Jue’s chin to examine him, and asked flatly: “You’ve been drinking?”

 

Sang Jue said glumly: “Mm…”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Why did you fight?”

 

Sang Jue said: “They touched me inappropriately and said they wanted to take me to experience group activities—”

 

“Enough.” Huo Yanji’s face darkened, not letting Sang Jue finish.

 

He turned to the patrol captain who didn’t dare breathe loudly: “Article 42 of the Supervision Code—when the other party provokes trouble and harasses first, what does the subsequent counterattack count as?”

 

“Self-defense…”

 

Huo Yanji said coldly: “Doesn’t the shop have surveillance? Check carefully what exactly happened. Those who should be detained will be detained, and fines won’t be reduced by a penny.”

 

“Yes!”

 

He looked at the trembling new tavern owner: “Estimate the loss of tables, chairs, and alcohol.”

 

The owner really wanted to say “please just leave,” but thinking about the messy shop made his heart ache, so he hesitantly reported a number: “About 600 coins.”

 

Huo Yanji transferred this money to him, then led Sang Jue away under everyone’s watchful eyes.

 

The patrol team was speechless—normally in this situation, both parties should be taken back to the Supervision Bureau for interrogation…

 

Sang Jue was like a child who had caused trouble outside and was being taken home by his parents. On the way back, he remained silent, with a strong smell of alcohol on him, clearly having drunk quite a bit.

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Do you know what time it is now?”

 

Sang Jue was still conscious: “Past eight…”

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “Curfew is at nine. Why were you still drinking at eight?”

 

Sang Jue pursed his lips, looking sulky: “Because I didn’t know where to go.”

 

Huo Yanji stopped and turned to face Sang Jue: “Why do you say that?”

 

Although drunk, the little evil dragon’s logic was still clear: “You organized the backpack for me this morning and introduced me to work. I know you don’t want me to keep bothering you, and you don’t like sleeping with me—”

 

Huo Yanji frowned, and before he could speak, Sang Jue hiccupped and continued: “But I really don’t want to sleep alone in a strange place… it’s very lonely.”

 

“I didn’t tell you not to stay.” Huo Yanji straightened Sang Jue’s collar that had gotten messy from fighting. “I introduced you to work so you could better understand life in the safe zone and have the ability to support yourself. If I die someday—”

 

Sang Jue interrupted unhappily: “You won’t die.”

 

Huo Yanji looked down and stroked Sang Jue’s hair: “Everyone dies, Sang Jue.”

 

Sang Jue muttered: “But I won’t…”

 

Huo Yanji didn’t hear clearly: “What?”

 

Sang Jue suddenly threw himself into Huo Yanji’s arms, hugging his waist tightly, saying nothing.

 

Everyone would die—the doctor would die, Huo Yanji would die too. So what should he do?

 

He took back what he had said to the doctor before departure: “I’m not afraid of loneliness.”

 

He was afraid now.

 

 

**

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