coobybook Chapter 518 [Empire] Dull
Chapter 518 [Empire] Dull
Chapter 518 [Empire] Dull
The next morning, the light streamed into the dormitory through the window. The chill was overwhelming, the air piercing my bones. I opened my eyes and saw Qianmo already up, standing by the window, sorting his gear. He didn't look back, as if he was used to mornings like this.
I stretched, realizing that last night's fatigue was still weighing heavily on my body. That numbness had sunk deep into my bones, like a standard condition bestowed upon us by this planet, inescapable. It was as if we were being pushed along by fate, doing the work assigned to us, fighting other people's battles.
Breakfast was still a simple meal, and although it tasted bad, no one had too many complaints on their faces. The busy life had already squeezed people's emotions to the point where there was almost no room for them to express themselves, and even the slightest complaint seemed unnecessary.
"What is today's task?" I asked Qianmo in a low voice, my voice a little hoarse.
"Going to take care of some remaining logistics." He replied calmly, his tone flat and focused on his equipment, not even glancing at me.
I nodded, but inside I felt a little silent. Cleanup logistics seemed to be an unavoidable topic on this planet—whether it was repairing ruins or moving damaged supplies, it seemed like there was always someone to clean up, and we, whether we liked it or not, became part of the cleanup effort.
After a quick packing, we donned our gear and prepared to head to our mission location. This time, we didn't wait in the ruins as before, but headed to a supply warehouse outside the city. There was a massive pile of post-war supplies there: damaged machinery, broken supply routes, discarded ordnance, and even some long-expended combat plant specimens.
Along the way, I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. The scenery of this planet was truly disorienting. The traces of war were everywhere, every corner, as if telling us that this was nothing more than a never-ending battle.
The atmosphere around the warehouse was oppressive. The chill in the air hadn't eased after a long day's work; instead, it was intensified, making it difficult to adapt. Following instructions, we began sorting supplies, removing damaged ordnance, and clearing the piles of debris. Even with this tedious cleanup, no one seemed bored; everyone went about their tasks like machines, methodically completing them.
Qianmo remained silent, his focus focused on each task, his movements smooth and precise. Occasionally, I'd catch a glimpse of his cold profile, his eyes still calm, as if the ups and downs of the world had nothing to do with him.
I didn't bother him any further, but quietly worked alongside him. There was almost no communication, yet there was a tacit understanding. That silent collaboration seemed to have become the most natural state between us. Without words, we were able to find a quiet understanding amidst the busyness.
Time passed by, the sun gradually set, and the light in the warehouse grew dim. We finally finished most of the work, but our tired bodies began to protest, and the pain in our shoulders and arms was almost unbearable.
"Take a break." I put down the tools in my hands, rubbed my shoulders, and whispered to Qianmo.
He stopped what he was doing and finally raised his head, looking me in the eye. He nodded slightly, and although he didn't say anything, at that moment, I seemed to sense the faint fatigue in his eyes.
We found a corner to sit down, leaning against the wall of the warehouse, and staring at the sky in silence. In the distance, tiny stars were already twinkling in the sky, and the night was getting colder, but at this moment, none of us got up again.
"When will this kind of life end?" I suddenly asked, my voice a little low. The oppressive feeling spread unconsciously, unable to escape.
Qianmo didn't answer immediately, but just looked at me quietly, as if thinking about my question. After a while, he sighed softly and said calmly, "Perhaps, it's not life that ends, but ourselves." His words were quiet and profound, with a hint of imperceptible sadness.
I was stunned for a moment, not expecting such an answer. The cold wind blew through me late at night, bringing a biting chill to my bones, yet I felt nothing. Instead, a strange warmth filled my heart. Perhaps this is the power that keeps us on this planet—each other's companionship, even in silence, provides a kind of silent support.
"You're right," I whispered. The scene before me gradually blurred, but a sense of peace welled up in my heart. Perhaps, these days of silent progress weren't completely meaningless after all.
As the night deepened, we didn't say anything more. We just sat there and spent the long time in silence.