CAT Chapter 33: Second Law of Thermodynamics (2)

Su Ting looked at Ling Yi, her emotions gradually stabilizing.

After all, Adelaide had been with her for a long time, and the professional counseling from the psychologist had helped her calm down a lot. Moreover, the fact that her teacher’s child was still alive was also a comfort to her. So, although she was still sad, she was no longer in the same breakdown state she had been in when she first heard the news.

Su Ting weakly picked up a cup of water and took a few sips of warm water, then asked Ling Yi, “You mean… it was Lin-shixiong who raised you?”

Ling Yi, “Mm.”

“I didn’t guess. Shixiong isn’t that kind of person…” Su Ting shook her head, “But Ye Selin really couldn’t have accidentally contracted the virus in the lab. Wilkins Lab has the highest level of protective measures, and they’ve been researching the Berlin virus for so long without any leakage incidents.”

Ling Yi looked at her. Her words indicated that, although she believed in Lin Si, she still had doubts about the incident. This was also something that the woman from Zone 9 had mentioned—she said the virus couldn’t have leaked by accident and must have been intentionally released. As a result, Lin Si was naturally blamed for it.

“There are many people on the spaceship who misunderstand Lin, but I believe you won’t,” Adelaide said. “We all know Lin Si very well.”

“Yes…” Su Ting seemed lost in thought. “Shixiong is a very good person, I know, and it definitely wasn’t him, but I also think it’s impossible for Wilkins Lab to have an accident.”

As a fellow student of Ye Selin, Su Ting was, of course, very familiar with the lab’s various equipment and regulations. Her use of the word “impossible” proved that the lab’s preventive measures were indeed extremely tight.

But Lin Si would absolutely not have intentionally released the virus to gain qualification for the spaceship. If the virus wasn’t something Ye Selin accidentally contracted in the lab, then how did it end up on the spaceship?

Adelaide shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not very familiar with this aspect.”

Su Ting hummed and asked, “…When will Shixiong come back?”

“He’s with Madam Chen right now,” Ling Yi told her. “He’ll be back before evening.”

Su Ting smiled faintly at Ling Yi, gathering what little strength she had. “Tell him not to worry about me too much. I’ll be able to start working on the project once I recover a bit.”

Ling Yi nodded firmly. “Thank you, Su Ting-jiejie.”

Su Ting had originally planned to wait for Lin Si to return and talk to him face to face, but her physical condition didn’t allow her to wait until then. A person who has just woken from cryogenic sleep is already extremely weak, and with the emotional blow she had suffered, it wasn’t long before she was utterly exhausted. Adelaide helped her get settled into bed.

After tucking her in, Adelaide walked to the sofa in the outer room, made a cup of instant coffee, and stirred it slowly.

The psychologist from Northern Europe always wore a somewhat cynical smile, but when he became truly quiet, there was a kind of elegant, noble aura about him.

“Baobei, I’m here keeping watch. You can go do your own thing now,” he winked at Ling Yi.

However, Ling Yi didn’t leave. Not only because he didn’t have anything urgent to do, but also because he had something he wanted to ask this elusive, hard-to-meet psychologist.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked Adelaide.

“Of course, that’s my job—to answer your questions,” Adelaide leaned closer to Ling Yi, propping his chin with one hand and lifting the corner of his lips. “At your age, you must have many cute little confusions…”

“But I don’t feel confused,” Ling Yi tilted his head.

“Then maybe you haven’t grown up yet,” Adelaide looked him up and down with an unkind smile. “Maybe it’s the problem of missing memories. You’re still a little baby, which is understandable. If you had grown up safely on Earth, maybe you’d be in your rebellious teenage years, worrying about love every day under the influence of all those hormones.”

Ling Yi didn’t quite know how to respond to questions like “if you were on Earth.” He had no memory of that planet and didn’t feel like he was missing anything—he felt that life on the spaceship was already very good.

Adelaide said, “So, what do you want to ask?”

“Sometimes Lin Si is really off…” Ling Yi said slowly. “It’s because of that… thing that happened before the Voyager took off, something really hard to accept. How can he get better?”

“He’s acting up again?” Adelaide furrowed his brows. “I guess I’ll have to prescribe him something again.”

After venting a little, Adelaide became serious. “Lin has very severe stress reactions. Psychological methods can only alleviate them, not eliminate them—unless one day he can truly forgive himself.”

“But it’s not his fault,” Ling Yi said.

“Everyone’s character is different, and they pursue different things,” Adelaide spoke slowly. “Lin has always seen himself as a doctor. Imagine a critically ill patient lying on the operating table, and the surgeon has used every method possible but still can’t save them. Is that the doctor’s fault?”

Ling Yi shook his head.

“No one is qualified to blame the doctor, but he can’t help but blame himself—if he could have done just a little bit better, could he have prevented a life from being lost?” Adelaide smiled. “You have Asian blood, and ancient China had a saying, ‘A doctor’s heart is like a parent’s,’ referring to this feeling. Lin Si was truly able to save everyone at that time, but the Voyager, in order to ensure its own successful launch, forcibly took the entire lab, abandoning the lives of billions on Earth.”

“So, whenever he looks at the tail of the spaceship, at that starry sea, he sees the enormous blood debt created by the lives of billions—who can he blame? The Voyager? But the Voyager occupies the moral high ground of ‘guarding human civilization.’ Who can blame its cold decision back then?”

Adelaide shrugged helplessly. “No one did anything wrong, but that’s how tragedies happen. Our billions of fellow countrymen struggled and died on that hopeless planet. No one could accept this. After the third-generation virus treatment was developed, almost all the lab personnel involved chose to enter indefinite cryogenic sleep—which is to say, unless the spaceship urgently needs them, they will remain frozen. It’s almost like suicide—but it’s understandable. If it were me, I could never come to terms with it either.”

“So, how can he get better?” Ling Yi asked.

Adelaide’s voice softened. “Sometimes, some things stay with a person for life.”

“Does that mean he has to live in pain forever?” Ling Yi lowered his gaze.

Adelaide smiled and took Ling Yi’s hand, unfolding it.

Ling Yi looked at the faint lines on his palm.

“But life always moves forward,” Adelaide’s fingertip brushed over Ling Yi’s palm, sliding along the lifelines. “The past gradually fades, and we always have a future to look forward to.”

“Lin Si is not a fragile person. On the contrary, his ability to endure is stronger than most people’s. You don’t need to worry,” Adelaide aligned his fingers with Ling Yi’s, one by one. His voice had an ancient, mysterious quality, yet was filled with tenderness, like a priest’s blessing. “So, those unresolved pains, we leave them to eternal time.”

“Does that mean I don’t need to do anything?” After a brief silence, Ling Yi asked.

“Actually, your existence is enough,” Adelaide released his hand and winked. “If I had a little treasure like you, what pain in the world could defeat me?”

Ling Yi pouted.

Adelaide laughed.

When Lin Si returned to the room, he saw Ling Yi flipping through an e-book.

Ling Yi wasn’t sure when he developed this hobby—especially leaning toward classical, literary poetry and novels.

Lin Si, someone whose life was filled with professional literature, couldn’t really appreciate such things.

However, when he sat beside Ling Yi, Ling Yi immediately put down the reading interface, melting against him, his body like a boneless mass, arms tightly wrapping around his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Si asked. “Are you feeling down?”

“No…” Ling Yi’s voice, still soft and sweet, hadn’t yet deepened. “Did you solve the material issue?”

“Not yet. Madam called me to discuss something else,” he told Ling Yi. “Do you know Africa?”

Ling Yi nodded. “On Earth.”

“Before the Age of Exploration, almost every continent had developed a mature civilization, but Africa never did.”

Ling Yi nodded again.

“Because its natural environment and climate limited the development of civilization. There was no land suitable for farming, no animals that could be domesticated. Although it had abundant resources, it lacked the conditions for civilization to arise—whether agricultural or nomadic. So, no matter how rich the resources were, they remained in the most primitive tribal form, surviving by foraging.”

Ling Yi listened quietly.

“Madam thinks that we are now in a similar situation to Africa, but in a different sense.”

Ling Yi furrowed his beautiful brow. “So, what should we do?”

“We may have to split into two groups in the future,” Lin Si continued. “One group stays on the base to reproduce and preserve our civilization’s achievements, while the other group sets out again to find new planets more suitable for our survival, just like the Age of Exploration.”

Ling Yi nodded. “Does that mean we can travel the universe again?”

Lin Si asked, “Do you prefer staying on the ground, or do you want to go on a voyage?”

Ling Yi hesitated for a moment, then tightened his embrace around Lin Si’s arm. “As long as Lin Si is with me…”

A faint smile appeared in Lin Si’s eyes as he returned the embrace.

The ground was a monotonous life day after day, while the voyage was an endless lonely wandering. But it seemed that as long as this little one was with him, the unknown future could spring to life from the dead silence.