CAT Chapter 25: Anchored Without Meaning (1)

Lin Si went back to his room.

Ling Yi lay on the bed alone, staring at the ceiling in silence.

When Lin Si lay down beside him, he reached out to hold one of Ling Yi’s arms.

Lin Si placed his hand over Ling Yi’s and patted it gently.

Ling Yi lowered his eyes.

Lin Si knew that his earlier behavior had frightened Ling Yi again, and he needed to offer some comfort.

After thinking for a moment, he said, “Your mother’s name was Ye Selin. She was my mentor.”

Ling Yi froze for a moment, then looked up at him.

“Ye Selin was a very gentle person. I studied under her for seven years and never saw her lose her temper even once. She was somewhat like Madam Chen, but softer,” Lin Si said, reaching out to lightly tap Ling Yi’s nose. “Unlike you.”

When Lin Si spoke of Ye Selin, his gaze softened, carrying a trace of fondness. His usual cold, indifferent demeanor melted away—he now resembled the person seen in that old video.

Ling Yi let out a hum.

Lin Si continued, “I’ve also met your father. His work was similar to Tang Ning’s, but he was in the military and a close friend of the Marshal. You’ve probably heard his name already… But Mr. Ling’s work had a high level of confidentiality, so he rarely lived with Yeselin. You spent most of your time with him.”

Ling Yi had already heard about his father’s deeds and character from Tang Ning.

He also knew that both of them had remained on Earth, along with thousands of other humans. They were no longer alive.

Strangely, at this moment, he didn’t feel any particular emotion—neither sadness nor joy. It was as though he had simply learned an established fact. He nodded slightly.

After some thought, he asked, “Then why am I on the spaceship? Is there something special about me?”

Having grown up here, he had naturally picked up bits and pieces of information. For example, when the Voyager set sail, those who held tickets were either elite soldiers from special forces, top-tier researchers—geniuses among geniuses or revered authorities—or political and economic magnates who had funded the construction of the Voyager with colossal sums, resources, and technical support.

If someone didn’t fit into these categories, they had to be a major power player in politics or the economy, capable of tipping the scales.

Ling Yi felt that he clearly didn’t belong to any of these categories.

He looked at Lin Si and tilted his head slightly. “Did my dad give me his ticket?”

Lin Si stared at the ceiling for a long moment before speaking. “In principle, tickets can’t be transferred. When I designed the system to screen test subjects, I never expected to find a child like you among the frozen bodies. The reason for this is something only the Marshal might know.”

What Lin Si said made sense. Ling Yi knew Lin Si’s personality—he was nearly incapable of making mistakes. If he’d known there were minors among the frozen passengers, he wouldn’t have forgotten to set an age restriction.

He asked, “Did we know each other before?”

“Ye Selin mentioned you to me often, and she likely spoke about me to you as well. So, we knew of each other but never met in person.”

Ling Yi let out an “Ah,” as if regretting it, but then brightened and said, “Well, now we’ve met!”

Lin Si smiled lightly. “Actually…”

Ling Yi perked up his ears but didn’t hear the rest.

“Lin Si!” he called out, a bit annoyed.

Lin Si reached out to pull him close. “Sleep.”

Ling Yi had just enough time to glance at him before Lin Si pressed his head to his chest.

In that fleeting moment, Lin Si’s smile etched itself into Ling Yi’s memory, an indelible silhouette.

He had never seen Lin Si smile like that before.

Though tinged with sadness, it was incomparably gentle, like the faint starlight outside the porthole spilling into his eyes.

Pressing close to Lin Si’s chest, he could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The faint, lingering scent of wood on Lin Si’s body filled his senses, and for a moment, Ling Yi’s heart thudded heavily in his chest.

“Lin Si…” he murmured the name almost involuntarily.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing…” His voice trailed off.

A long while later, just when Lin Si thought he had fallen asleep, Ling Yi suddenly spoke again.

“Lin Si, what was Ye Selin like?”

“She was beautiful.”

“More beautiful than both Bethy and Svenya combined?”

“She was different,” Lin Si replied. “Ye Selin was gentler, softer, yet steadfast.”

Lin Si paused, searching for words. Though Ling Yi couldn’t see his expression, he knew Lin Si must have been smiling faintly.

“I don’t know how to describe her. She was like the Madonna in the paintings hanging in churches. You couldn’t help but follow her. We all loved her—the way a child loves their mother,” Lin Si said softly. “Once, she cut her hand on a shard of glass. My junior, Su Ting, saw the wound and even burst into tears.”

Ling Yi continued asking about her appearance—her hair color, her eyes…

As Lin Si answered, the image of that woman emerged in his mind, growing clearer.

A serene beauty radiated from her soul, untouched by the passage of time.

Ye Selin exuded a charm as vast as the ocean, calling travelers home, much like the blue planet they once called home.

In the lab next door, someone had once joked, “You could practically form a religion around Dr. Ye Selin.”

Of course, Ye Selin’s academic achievements were as impeccable as her character. Even the one making the joke deeply respected her, with no hint of ridicule.

Lin Si described Ling Yi’s mother to him until the young man fell into a deep sleep.

Although nearly an adult, Ling Yi still loved sleeping like a child, curling up like a kitten.

This indicated his body was still growing, requiring plenty of rest to meet its needs.

Lin Si frowned slightly, reminded of a serious issue.

…Almost an adult. Over the past three years, hasn’t he had any physiological questions to ask?

The next morning, when Ling Yi woke up, he found Lin Si already dressed, sitting in a chair pulled to the bedside, gazing down at him.

Ling Yi, “…”

When Lin Si saw he was awake, he pulled the blanket away, leaned down, and pressed one hand on Ling Yi’s shoulder.

Ling Yi didn’t know what he intended to do, so he gave up resisting and lay flat on the bed like a trussed-up lab rat awaiting dissection.

Lin Si, expressionless, moved his free hand upward, running his fingers through Ling Yi’s hair in slow circles. Then, he shifted to his ear, lightly grazing the outer edge.

It was an incredibly technical touch, barely there, like the tip of a feather.

Ling Yi squirmed a little, feeling ticklish, but Lin Si held him firmly in place.

Then Lin Si moved to his cheek, his jaw… Finally, his fingers rested on one side of Ling Yi’s neck and stopped moving.

Ling Yi widened his eyes and stared at him.

Then he watched as Lin Si leaned down, drawing closer and closer.

Finally, Lin Si blew softly against his ear.

It was like flipping a switch. Every part of Ling Yi’s body that had been touched seemed to ignite, nerves buzzing as a surge of sensation exploded in his brain. Ling Yi shuddered, breathing heavily, momentarily blanking out.

But Lin Si clearly wasn’t aiming for that reaction. He pulled the blanket off completely, scanning Ling Yi from head to toe.

After confirming there were no expected physiological responses, Lin Si frowned slightly.

“Get ready. Come to the lab with me.”

In this context, “Come to the lab with me” clearly didn’t mean assisting with experiments. It meant Lin Si was planning to stick needles into him again.

Ling Yi grabbed the blanket back and quickly buried himself in it to put some distance between them. “What are you trying to do now?!”

“I’m going to test your hormone levels. After that, we’ll head to Zone 9. I need to find a suitable replacement for Bethy.” Lin Si stepped back onto the floor and replied without expression.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door, and Lin Si left the room.

Only then did Ling Yi shift, poking his head out from under the blanket.

He saw his reflection in the dressing mirror opposite the bed—his entire face was flushed, and his breathing was still uneven.

Thinking of how Lin Si had leaned in just now, Ling Yi’s usually sharp hearing suddenly seemed to fail him. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat, growing faster and faster.