Chapter 58 2/2

“Some benefits should not be compromised,” Cen Lang reminded. “Last time, it seemed like you were lending a helping hand.”

Today, with tweezers in one hand and the other itching to be in the pocket, there’s no thorough disinfection. Jiang Li, irritated, says, “I know!” and so on… Cen Lang remembers? Cen Lang mutters, “As far as I think, memory syncs.”

No second round for a while. Cen Lang says, “I’ll count down from three, and if you’re not ready, we’re done.”

Jiang Li: “No!”

Cen Lang: “Then continue.”

“Oh.”

The one who wants to continue, however, blushes and hesitates, thinking about something. Cen Lang, about to stand up, is anxiously held back by Jiang Li.

Cen Lang softens, not wanting to trouble Jiang Li or himself, raises his hand, and says, “I concede, we’ll do it next time. Let me go to the bathroom.”

Jiang Li lets go, and Cen Lang, in a blink, enters the bathroom, followed by the sound of water covering the movement. Although Cen Lang concedes, he’s the one who lost.

Would there be no disinfection next time? Jiang Li looks at his hands, contemplating.

After coming out, it’s Jiang Li’s turn to shower. He suspects that if he watched Cen Lang, Cen Lang would want to watch him too. “No peeking today.”

“Not watching today.”

Jiang Li breathes a sigh of relief.

Cen Lang: “Tomorrow then.”

Jiang Li: “…”

Cen Lang: “I dried everything inside; take your time.”

“Okay.”

Early the next day, Cen Lang received two holographic helmets. Jiang Li, standing besides him, also received a package.

“What’s this? Anything missing at home?”

Jiang Li: “Nothing, just replenishing the medical kit.”

Cen Lang scoffs potassium permanganate effervescent tablets—does he need to replenish both?

“Today, let’s try simulating a holographic battlefield commander.”

Cen Lang logs into his account, casually saying, “Your dad can log in too. If I’m not around, you can play with him.”

Jiang Li: “Okay.”

Cen Lang finds a comfortable sofa, puts a helmet on Jiang Li, wears one himself, connects their accounts, and stands side by side after entering the holographic battlefield.

“Watch me command first.”

“One cannot exhaust three armies; being a commander is much higher than giving a speech on stage. If you’re not afraid to command, you’re not afraid to speak on stage.”

Cen Lang just selected a battlefield, suddenly closed it, and explained, “Change it; it’s a bit bloody.”

Jiang Li calmly asks, “Is it from eight years ago when my dad’s finger was severed?”

Cen Lang: “Who  talked about his most dangerous frontline experience in front of his wife?

“Listen to my explanation.”

Jiang Li: “No need to explain; I know it’s the best arrangement.”

Cen Lang: “It may sound like an afterthought, but I won’t let any soldiers die for nothing.”

Jiang Li frowns. “Did you go alone?”

Cen Lang: “I can’t die.”

Jiang Li purses his lips, thinking he should tell Cen Lang not to do this in the future. The holographic battlefield has already started; he stands next to Cen Lang, watching him strategize and make decisions with cold, almost emotionless, rationality.

Forgetting personal interests and life and death, Federal Supreme Commander—Cen Lang.

Jiang Li feels a surge of desire to fight side by side with Cen Lang. If Cen Lang joins the space forces in the future, could he, as a military doctor, go with him?

War is long; as a short segment ends, Cen Lang pauses, takes off Jiang Li’s helmet, and says, “Let’s stop here for today; don’t get dizzy.”

Jiang Li: “I’m fine.”

Cen Lang feels there are still modifications needed for this holographic battlefield. He opens his computer and sends a few commands to relevant personnel, intending to make it more suitable for Jiang Li, with added doubts and pressures from various sides, using virtual avatars.

As he is about to close the computer, he receives a nearly forgotten message box with a signal from a light-year away. His blood freezes for a moment before he opens it and reads it.

It’s about his parents’ spaceship.

He released many signal ships, roaming endlessly outside the human activity area, hoping to pick up any signals. Just now, signal ship #987 and signal ship #875 both sent back the same signal.

These two signals define a very large area, indicating that his parents’ spaceship appeared here—maybe wreckage, maybe a miracle, but the same thing is—it’s far, very far, so far that it can’t be observed. Even with months of travel, he might not reach it even if he leaves immediately.

It has to be Cen Lang personally piloting the White Flame battleship to go and see.

The White Flame battleship and his parents’ spaceship are mother-son vessels with devices for signal communication and docking. Finding them but being unable to bring them back would be in vain.

Cen Lang looks at Jiang Li, who is studying the helmet on the sofa.

The signal is fleeting; signal ships and spaceships are constantly moving. The next encounter might not happen for who knows how long. He needs to depart as soon as possible; otherwise, the location marker will become ineffective. Even if he leaves immediately, he might not catch up.

A child looking for parents should be the same as a parent looking for a child. Do what you can.

Cen Lang has always thought this way until faced with the common human dilemma of having elderly parents and young children. “What’s wrong?” Jiang Li sensitively perceives Cen Lang’s slightly subdued mood, walks over, and smoothes his brow. “You frowned.”

Cen Lang blinks and recalls that in the underground city, Jiang Li always judged his pain by touching his forehead. The touch had a coolness, like a breeze passing over hills, sweeping through a heated heart.

Cen Lang complains, “Someone rejected my project for a precise landing of a time machine at the Red Leaves Orphanage twenty-four years ago. Don’t they want to earn two hundred billion in research funds? Even if they use it for personal enjoyment, it’s fine.”

Jiang Li: “Is your money falling from the sky?”

In a sense, it does fall from the sky.

“No need; I think it’s fine as it is now. What if something changes, causing a butterfly effect? Can we still be like this now?” Jiang Li earnestly dispels his thoughts. “Now is good enough.”

Cen Lang: “You make sense. I just have too much money to spend idly.”

Jiang Li: “Idle? How about telling me about the details of the battle eight years ago?” He was intrigued by the simulated battlefield just now. In the past twenty years on Hunting Deer Star, online information about General Lu has been overwhelming, and apart from promotion announcements, almost nothing could be found. He wanted to learn more about his dad.

Cen Lang: “…”

Could they still be considered a family after saying it all?