EDEH Chapter 80

Sang Jue obviously didn’t think this was any different from nibbling his Adam’s apple – perhaps the only difference was not using teeth.

 

The palm pressed against Sang Jue’s lower back ground its fingertips.

 

Even though his fingertips had felt it before, actual lip contact was a completely different sensation.

 

Warm breath scattered between Huo Yanji’s lips. The soft touch on his lips wasn’t like the dry, peeling skin of this era’s constant wandering, nor was it overly moist – slightly soft, bouncy.

 

He grasped Sang Jue’s nape and pulled back slightly: “Do you know what you’re doing?”

 

Sang Jue didn’t understand the question, making a sound from his nasal cavity: “Hmm?”

 

Maybe it was subconscious behavior, maybe he just thought it was fun – pressed together it felt tingly and very comfortable.

 

Sang Jue moved his head and rubbed a few more times.

 

The person beneath him suddenly darkened his eyes, another large hand appeared on his buttocks, pressing down forcefully so their bodies were pressed together without any gap, then the hand on his nape suddenly pressed down—

 

Sang Jue was startled, instinctively pursing his lips tightly, obediently following the force to press up.

 

About ten seconds, or maybe ten minutes… anyway, it was fast and also slow.

 

Sang Jue thought randomly – no matter how fierce a person was, their lips were always soft. Just a bit dry, he should drink more water.

 

Though Huo Yanji’s lips were pressed tightly, Sang Jue still had the feeling he wanted to devour him.

 

Humans couldn’t eat humans, but they could eat monsters.

 

Hmph.

 

After a long while, Huo Yanji finally let go: “In human behavior, this is called a kiss.”

 

This was a kiss.

 

A private kiss between a human survivor general and a little monster.

 

Sang Jue made an “oh” sound, reached out to pick at the dry skin on Huo Yanji’s lip corner, looking into his eyes: “But you’re going so far away. If you need to explode I won’t be able to help you. Will you find other people?”

 

Huo Yanji asked back: “Who would I find?”

 

Sang Jue frowned, thought about it, and said fiercely: “No one is allowed.”

 

“You’re mine, your thing is also… mmph…”

 

Sang Jue was flipped onto the sand, his head cushioned by one hand, his mouth covered by another, staring at Huo Yanji without blinking.

 

Ji Ji was so amazing, always able to quickly switch their positions before he could react.

 

Huo Yanji said: “Some things are private matters, not convenient to discuss in public.”

 

Sang Jue’s eyes rolled around, looking at the surroundings: “There’s no one here… oh, if you count too.”

 

“…What about the elevator this afternoon?”

 

Sang Jue blinked: “Liao Te?”

 

Huo Yanji raised an eyebrow slightly: “You even remember his name.”

 

Sang Jue was oblivious: “I have a good memory.”

 

“My memory’s not bad either.” Huo Yanji asked: “I don’t remember calling his name in front of you. How did you know?”

 

“…”

 

The reason Sang Jue had followed into the elevator was purely because 007 told him Liao Te was one of the previous observation subjects, and he was curious.

 

“You definitely called it, you just forgot.” Sang Jue raised his hand to cover Huo Yanji’s mouth, not letting him argue.

 

Huo Yanji grabbed Sang Jue’s wrist and moved it away. He didn’t pursue the question – he never did. He just called out flatly: “Little rascal.”

 

Sang Jue: “I’m not.”

 

The training ground was very quiet. Huo Yanji couldn’t press on Sang Jue the way Sang Jue had pressed on him.

 

He propped himself up with one hand beside Sang Jue’s ear, his exposed arm lines fully displayed, neck veins bulging, sweat flowing down his sharp jawline and dripping into the sand beside Sang Jue’s neck. The wildness beneath his usual calm restraint was roaring.

 

The little evil dragon licked his lips.

 

Huo Yanji leaned down and whispered in his ear: “Little lustful dragon.”

 

…

 

When Sang Jue came out of the training ground, his face was still flushed, obediently following behind Huo Yanji.

 

He had just asked, “If you’re not here and I need to explode, what do I do?”

 

So Huo Yanji taught him what to do.

 

He taught very carefully, systematically, covering every detail.

 

The sky had already darkened. Sang Jue thought they would go home to sleep, but unexpectedly Huo Yanji stopped and looked at him: “I have to go.”

 

Sang Jue was stunned: “But… it’s nighttime.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “The situation is urgent. We need to get there quickly to clarify the situation.”

 

Sang Jue pursed his lips, unhappy: “You’re not sleeping again.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “I’ll sleep in the car.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

Sang Jue felt slightly better. He accompanied Huo Yanji to the military entrance at the city gate, where soldiers had already assembled and were mobilizing vehicles.

 

Several main military officers from the city were there, including Liao Te, whom he’d seen briefly before.

 

Huo Yanji stepped forward: “Is everything ready?”

 

A deputy officer Sang Jue hadn’t seen before reported: “Roll call complete! The councilors have also been loaded into the vehicle.”

 

Ling Gen took a deep breath: “The underground city is of great importance. If there are any problems or need for support, be sure to communicate immediately.”

 

“Mm.” Huo Yanji glanced at the others and said coldly, “We have to pacify the city first before dealing with external threats. That rule never changes—keep the home front calm.”

 

Tang Bai and the others nodded at once. “Yes, sir!”

 

Everyone here had come up from the underground city. In their childhood memories it was peaceful and safe, untouched by outside threats. After years of skirting life-and-death on the surface, the underground city felt like something that existed only in dreams—so unreal it made those pre-teen memories seem fake.

 

Just then the main city’s only other ordinary general, an elderly man on the verge of retirement, arrived late. He strode over, back ramrod-straight, glanced at Sang Jue, then said to Huo Yanji, “Nonsense.”

 

Huo Yanji neither agreed nor argued.

 

“But maybe it’s a good thing.” The old general sighed. “You’ve lived under too much pressure these years. Still—you must act with care.”

 

Huo Jiangmian gave a soft laugh off to the side.

 

The old general drew a long breath; there was nothing he could do. Back then everyone bore some blame. He hadn’t taken part, but he hadn’t stopped it either—he’d tacitly allowed everything to happen. If a decision could keep the safe zones stable, anyone could be sacrificed.

 

He reached to straighten Huo Yanji’s collar, but Huo Yanji stepped back imperceptibly and changed the subject. “The city will still need you to keep an eye on things.”

 

The old general paused, lowered his hand. Looking at everyone, he said sternly, “We must prepare for the worst. If something really has gone wrong in the underground city, then humanity is at the final brink. Stay on full alert!”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

Only Huo Jiangmian gave no reply.

 

The old general turned back to Huo Yanji. “You’ve worked hard. Did you rest up this afternoon?”

 

They should have left earlier, but everyone was exhausted; a long journey then would have been unwise, so Huo Yanji had given the troops half a day to recover.

 

“Pretty well,” he answered curtly.

 

Huo Jiangmian looked at Sang Jue, smiling as he undercut him. “Resting in the training yard, huh? Must’ve been nice.”

 

Spent the whole “rest” period with his little lover.

 

…

 

Huo Yanji moved to Sang Jue’s side. His voice was calm, not loud yet carrying several layers of meaning—farewell words with something hidden beneath. “If you’re in danger, any measure counts as self-defense. If something happens you can’t handle, you know who to find. Everything else can wait till I’m back.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Sang Jue made no affectionate gesture, but his gaze clung to Huo Yanji like caramel, refusing to blink.

 

Huo Yanji hesitated, then ruffled his hair. “I’m going.”

 

He climbed into the vehicle. Through the window he looked once more—Sang Jue, as an ordinary “resident,” couldn’t come closer, could only watch from afar.

 

Huo Jiangmian stepped to the window and chuckled. “Look at those eyes. You can bear to leave him here all alone?”

 

Huo Yanji faced forward again. “Some duties outrank personal matters.”

 

Huo Jiangmian clicked his tongue. “‘Personal… matters.’”

 

Soldiers boarded. Engines roared, a long convoy rumbled off, throwing up dust.

 

People at the gate dispersed. Countless glances lingered on Sang Jue, tasting Huo Yanji’s final words: if Sang Jue met danger Huo Yanji would cover for him, and if trouble arose that Sang Jue could not solve, Huo Yanji would never let it slide. Those harboring schemes slowly quenched their thoughts.

 

Soon only Sang Jue stood by the gate, staring blankly after the column.

 

From a distance Huo Jiangmian watched. After ten minutes—with Sang Jue still motionless—he strolled over. “Don’t tell me you’re crying?”

 

Sang Jue turned, gave him a puzzled look. “Only kids cry.”

 

He’d never cried, even as a child—he simply didn’t know how. He could imitate smiles and anger, but not tears. That, for him, was the hardest part of learning to be human.

 

Inside he was hollow—holding only one person: Huo Yanji. Once, the doctor had been there too.

 

Pointing at Huo Jiangmian’s car, he asked, “Could you give me a lift? Home’s a bit far.”

 

Huo Jiangmian laughed. “Call me ‘big brother’ and I’ll drive you.”

 

Sang Jue turned away at once.

 

“Not even going to think about it?”

 

“I’m not stupid: Ji Ji won’t call you big brother, so you want me to.”

 

Unfazed, Huo Jiangmian half-joked, half-serious: “He’s gone now; I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. Hearing him call me brother was my last wish—given your relationship, it’s the same if you say it.”

 

Sang Jue tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t you see him again—are you going to die?”

 

“…If anyone dies, it’s the ones who just left, isn’t it?” After a pause he said quietly, “Anyway, it’s about the same. Once I take off this uniform and rank, Huo Jiangmian might as well be dead.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t quite get it.

 

Nor did Huo Jiangmian expect him to. “I’m formally stripped of rank in three days. Walk the city with me till then?”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, Sang Jue grudgingly agreed. “Okay.”

 

With curfew lifted, the main city’s night grew noisy again. People bustled; deviants still drank in the streets, listless, waiting for an uncertain death that might come any time.

 

Sang Jue suddenly recalled a saying—they were alive, yet already dead.

 

The two family members wandered the city, both expressionless.

 

One couldn’t see any scenery with his eyes, thinking about the lamp-bearer who lived in the present and walked at the very front of the long dark road; the other gazed at this city he’d guarded for over ten years, thinking about the dead man who lived in memories and had lost himself in the endless long night.

 

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