CAT Chapter 45: Endless Cycle (7)

Ling Yi ran into Su Ting on his way back to his room, and now they were chatting together in a common area.

Entertainment options on the spaceship were quite limited, and chatting was one of the few available pastimes.

“We students, more or less, are a bit like Ye Selin—she’s the kind of person who easily draws people in,” Su Ting gazed out at the starry sky through the porthole, her eyes sparkling with light. “Although we’re safe and peaceful now, with many incredible accomplishments, I still wish I could go back to those days on Earth, when I was with Ye Selin.”

“I dreamt of Ye Selin before,” Ling Yi said as he sat beside Su Ting, recalling the long-forgotten dream where that woman had urged him to live on. “She was taking me somewhere, a round…”

“That was the safe zone,” Su Ting interjected. “At that time, the virus was spreading through the cities, and secret safe zones were set up in each city. Only people who passed strict checks and confirmed not to be carrying the virus were allowed in… But the Berlin virus spread too easily. We all knew that creating a safe zone was just a temporary measure. Real hope was always in the vaccine.”

Ling Yi didn’t speak further.

He couldn’t remember anything from Earth, but he knew that the disaster was an unforgettable, painful memory for everyone, and almost no one would speak of it openly. He only learned about the virus because the Colonel had casually mentioned it.

“You might not understand yet,” Su Ting sighed softly. “Sometimes, I feel like it was too selfish of the Voyager to forcibly take all the personnel and research results from the Wilkins Laboratory and leave.”

Ling Yi thought for a moment before replying, “But right now, we only have the Voyager.”

“Yeah,” Su Ting nodded, her tone becoming a little livelier. “Even though I’m not fond of this spaceship, we still have to work hard and do more for it.”

They shifted the conversation to other topics—like the new hypothesis the Zone 2 had proposed regarding the black hole’s structure, or how Lucia had been in deep sleep for three hours and seemed to have completed a new round of maintenance and upgrades.

Time was gradually approaching the usual bedtime. Ling Yi stood up and poured Su Ting a cup of hot water. “You should go to sleep.”

Su Ting propped her chin on her hand and smiled at him. “Is my little sweetheart this considerate?”

“I still have to wait a while, not sure until when…” Ling Yi glanced at his communication wristband. Lin Si still hadn’t replied to his message.

“Mm,” Su Ting didn’t ask any more questions and nodded. “You should rest too.”

Ling Yi gave a small nod.

After Su Ting left, the vast silver-white platform was left with only Ling Yi. The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only the faint, distant hum of the spaceship’s operations.

This sound was everywhere, but often overlooked, becoming part of the silence. Only Ling Yi, having lived on Voyager for so long, was sensitive to it.

Sometimes, he could even tell which part of the spaceship had activated high-power equipment.

It was like a ripple in the electrical network of the entire ship, gently spreading before balancing with the surroundings, disappearing into the stillness.

He sat at the table for a while, resting his chin in his hand, staring absent-mindedly at the distant starry sky.

Lin Si had gone to deliver documents to the Marshal and hadn’t returned since. Now, he still hadn’t replied to his message, which made Ling Yi feel uneasy.

It seemed that many times, he was like this—waiting for Lin Si to return.

He sometimes wished he could grow up a little, to be with Lin Si, instead of spending his time like this—either alone, working on something, or having nothing to do.

If he were the Marshal, he certainly wouldn’t let Lin Si be bogged down by so many pointless tasks.

Ling Yi gazed out at the vast ocean ahead, lost in a distant, hazy thought.

Adelaide walked past from the end of the corridor, unable to resist glancing over at him.

The gentle light of the star illuminated the silver-white platform. The figure seated in the center was so beautiful it almost seemed unreal. If there were butterflies aboard the spaceship, they would surely flutter over in flocks, as though flying toward the most fragrant flower of the spring.

Too bad the spaceship had no creatures other than humans. But the passing psychologist believed that his ability to appreciate beauty was not inferior to that of butterflies.

He watched from afar for a while, his eyes sharp and discerning, and concluded that this beautiful young thing was currently immersed in melancholy.

This melancholy was concerning because a child growing up would encounter many problems—and the spaceship was not an ideal environment for a young one.

Whether here or on Earth, time flowed in liquid form, and life was simple, repetitive, unchanging. He would grow accustomed to this near-static life, and his mental development would be very slow—maybe in a few years, he would still be a child.

Tang Ning’s situation was like that. The current Tang Ning wasn’t much different from the Tang Ning of his youth. His life revolved around keyboards and Zheng Shu, with a rigid routine. He had little concept of anything outside of that.

The psychologist pondered for a while before deciding that he should find an opportunity to remind Lin Si.

He thought again of the ever-changing Earth—how as a person grew older, the things they would face constantly changed, and the world they could see gradually expanded, like an endless journey where many unexpected things could be encountered.

A sudden wave of longing for the past washed over the psychologist. He turned to gaze at the vast starry sky, and for a moment, he too felt a bit melancholic.

Of course, this kind of faint melancholy cannot be compared to the dark clouds looming over the Marshal’s heart.

In such a dire situation, he could only propose this simple yet effective solution—put Lin Si to sleep.

If Lin Si was the mastermind, this move would prevent him from causing further trouble. If not, it would expose the real mastermind who had been using Lin Si as a shield. Even if the mastermind couldn’t be caught right away, it would buy enough time for the Marshal to conduct a thorough investigation of the entire spaceship.

He watched Lin Si, waiting for his response.

Lin Si’s silhouette was illuminated by the faint white glow of his wristband, his expression one the Marshal was familiar with.

For a long time, Lin Si had been like this—indifferent and composed, yet you knew his calculations were precise and harsh. When this ability was applied to weighing pros and cons and calculating gains and losses, any ruler would see him as a thorn in their side—even if he might be harmless.

Naturally, Lin Si wasn’t weighing pros and cons as the Marshal had expected. He was thinking about the little cat he kept.

He asked, “After I go to sleep, who will take over my position?”

“We’re still considering…” The Marshal furrowed his brows and thought for a moment. “This will be decided by Madam Chen.”

“Among these biologists, I’m already considered a conservative,” Lin Si replied calmly. “Many of them are much more radical in their approach to science than I am. I hope you’ll think this through carefully.”

The Marshal said, “All activities of the Limitless project will be suspended during your sleep.”

This was a weighty promise, indicating that the control over human genetic modification, both now and in the future, would belong to Lin Si alone, with no interference from anyone else.

So, it could be said that the Marshal was inclined to trust himself… He didn’t particularly care whether Lin Si went to sleep or not, but he couldn’t help but be concerned about Ling Yi’s fate.

“I’m not entirely at ease… with Ling Yi,” he lowered his gaze slightly. “My original idea was to explore with him on the ‘Expeditioner’.”

“He can still go with the ‘Expeditioner.” the Marshal replied.

“I don’t mean that,” Lin Si said. “First, he’s a special mutated body, and selfishly, I don’t want him staying aboard the spaceship to be researched by others. Secondly, if I’m not on the Expeditioner, I feel like this journey is too dangerous, and I don’t want Ling Yi to take the risk… The only solution I can trust is for him to sleep with me.”

“I understand you,” the Marshal’s slightly furrowed brow relaxed. “I had a son.”

The Marshal’s normally stern voice softened slightly, but still retained its strength. “For a son who’s about to grow up, I would let him choose his own path.”

Lin Si replied, “He’s still very young.”

“The reason a child doesn’t grow up is always because of their guardian,” the Marshal said.

Lin Si countered, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my method of education.”

Their conversation would never end on a pleasant note of “agreement,” as this had happened many times before. After leaving the storage room, which harbored great danger, Lin Si recorded everything and raised the security level of the room to the highest.

He then took out his wristband and checked Ling Yi’s location before heading toward the platform.

When he arrived, Ling Yi was resting his head on his hand, gazing out the window. He seemed to be getting sleepy.

Sitting beside him, Ling Yi naturally leaned over, resting his head on Lin Si’s shoulder.

Lin Si reached out and ruffled his hair. Ling Yi rolled into his arms, finally resting his head on Lin Si’s lap.

Although Lin Si always felt like Ling Yi was still a child, in reality, he wasn’t so small anymore, and his height was almost that of an adult. Lin Si pinched Ling Yi’s arm and examined his proportions, feeling quite satisfied.

The bone structure was good, no issues there, and he could still grow taller. His proportions were fine too.

Ling Yi suddenly felt as though he was being X-rayed. His body stiffened a little.

Lin Si asked, “How was your day?”

“I did my homework, then played with Su Ting…” Ling Yi replied. “Then that’s it.”

Lin Si didn’t ask anything else, and Ling Yi didn’t speak either. They both just sat there, Ling Yi staring absent-mindedly at Lin Si.

Seeing the dazed look in his eyes, Lin Si smiled. “Are you sleepy?”

Ling Yi nodded slightly.

He always waited until Lin Si came back before he’d sleep—Lin Si knew this little habit of his very well.

… So it was hard for him to accept that such a small guy, deeply connected to him, would have to grow up alone on the other side of the starry sea.

He wanted to tell Ling Yi about the Marshal’s plan, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. The words that came to his lips turned into, “Let’s go back.”

Once back in the room, Ling Yi fell asleep quickly, curled up in front of Lin Si. The sleeves of his plush pajamas revealed half a hand, clutching the edge of Lin Si’s sleeve, with his fingertips glowing with a faint pink, like a little fluffy animal.

Lin Si watched his sleeping face. After a long time, he finally turned off the lighting system.

When the room plunged into darkness, he felt Ling Yi stir slightly and move closer to him.

The warmth and steady breathing was amplified in the dark. The spaceship quietly floated in deep space, and the vast starry sea embraced the porthole. This overwhelming, silent, and lonely beauty sometimes made one feel a sense of fear. Like every night before, at this moment, he had an illusion—he and the warm little one in his arms were all that mattered in this vast emptiness.