Can Ci Pin/Imperfections(残次品)BL by Priest

Chapter 77

How the face of Old Persian Cat turned pale on the spot when talking about Nuwa Project, not to mention Bixing's uncanny body gene, Jingheng actually had come up with a general speculation. He sometimes insinuated but had not been very dedicated to questioning closely – because Bixing now looked alright, was alive and kicking every day like a teenager with excess energy. He thought that no matter what happened in the past, whether it was sadness or joy, they had all passed.

He thought ...

For a moment, Jingheng suddenly recalled that time when they were still on planet Beijing and he took Penny to Starry Sea Academy to send the mech to Bixing. By chance, he passed by the back window of the lecture hall, and heard Bixing's words about artificial creatures —

"Have you seen anything like a snakemaid?"

"Someone else sent her to my father, I slipped into the basement and found her, a girl ..."

"Then I shot and killed her."

Fifteen years, the treatment must have not been something that could be completed overnight. It had probably gone through countless failures, countless break-ins, and countless crashes.

How tenacious and fragile should human life be?

A little boy, whose biggest expectation every day was that it would snow on planet Cayley, then he would get permitted to go out and play for a while, when he broke into the Monoeye Hawk's basement by accident and saw a human body laboratory like Primalien's, what was he thinking about?

Monoeye Hawk might not have concocted artificial creatures by himself, but since he paid for it, of course, there would be more mad people to do it for him.

Weren't business transactions conniving in disguise?

One by one, those monsters with human heads looked at him indifferently through the weak nutritional cabin, sharing the same suffering as he, and they all came here because of him.

When he first found out - when a teenager raised his gun impulsively and killed the girl that lingered on in a steadily worsening condition ...

Who was the one he was trying to kill?

Bixing seemed really good at enjoying life, and he was good at creating happiness. He could even raise normal daily routines to aesthetics, sometimes overdone, almost like a childe who was ignorant of worldly affairs.

Had such a person ever felt that survival was inherently difficult?

However, no matter how difficult it was, no matter how unbearable, he would probably be like an arrow released from a drawn bow, flying forward through life without looking back. Otherwise, how would a cowardly escapist face Monoeye Hawk who did not hesitate to hide the virus strain, how would he face more than 300 million faces who have disappeared in the ashes... And how would he deal with the humanoid monsters who were deprived of everything in the cold basement?

They were silent for a long time.

"You see," Bixing forcibly broke the silence, boldly patted Jingheng's stiff shoulder across the isolation suit, "This is not pleasant, and it has nothing to contribute with the problem we are currently trying to solve, why do you have to ask? Let's agree on this first, granted that you've heard of this, there's no need to comfort nor pity me, otherwise, I will turn against you, and I can be hostile."

Jingheng suddenly felt that it was difficult to breathe as if his heart was crushed under the pressure of a stone heavier than life; there was a lump on his throat and he lost all his words for a moment. He felt a little queasy. Perhaps due to being choked by something he could not identify, perhaps due to the heaviness of the isolation suit on his body, he had held himself in one position for too long. It was as if a litre of acidic water had been pumped into his back and shoulder blades, and any movement could make it squeak.

The next moment, Jingheng realized that this was no ordinary muscle stiffness.

He quietly pressed on the wrist part on the isolation suit, heard the waiting sounds from the headset for three times, followed by a mechanical voice: "The current axillary temperature is 37.9 ℃."

Low fever.

Jingheng slowly breathed out the air stuck in his chest, and the knife hanging over his head finally fell to one side. It was not bitter, but with a memory that accompanied Bixing for thirty years. It had a long, dull, penetrating sensation of pain.

Jingheng did not say a word, banned Zhanlu from the mental network, and then stood up calmly. With the excuse of looking at the route map, he left Bixing, and calculated how long it would take to get to where Hope said.

When Xin Lu brought the antibodies of the RV to the Eighth Galaxy, he certainly did not expect that his son would struggle with this kind of thing for life. Similarly, Jingheng did not expect that though he did not die by the conspiracy of the MC, nor by the pirate assassination at the Heart of Rose, though he planned very carefully with every conceivable possibility taken into account to live until now, he might actually die of an unexpected virus variant. Such an unexpected ending could make a comedy.