coobybook Chapter 460 [Empire] Bian 54's sudden departure
Chapter 460 [Empire] Bian 54's sudden departure
That evening, I went to Wen Ya's house. He was dressed in beige home clothes, his demeanor as gentle as jade, as if he was born to be like that, naturally endowed with this tranquility and gentleness. He stood in the kitchen, head bowed, busy, his slender fingers and skillful movements exuding an air of calmness and ease. The air was filled with a familiar scent, as if everything was as peaceful and comfortable as before.
The dinner dishes were his usual specialties, and I recognized several familiar dishes immediately—pan-fried sea bass, steamed egg custard, and his special garlic-fried baby greens. Each dish seemed imbued with a touch of gentle thought and care, simple in flavor, yet evoking an incomparable warmth and intimacy.
I stood at the kitchen door, watching his busy back, and suddenly lost in thought. Perhaps this was Wen Ya's charm; he didn't need to do anything special; just standing there made people feel at ease. Every time I came to his house, I always felt inexplicably relaxed, as if all the complexity around me could be swallowed up by the calmness in that moment.
"You're here." Wen Ya finally noticed me. He turned around with a gentle smile on his face. His eyes were like water, calm yet sincere. "Dinner is almost ready. Wash your hands first."
I chuckled, nodded, and went over to wash my hands briefly. Wen Ya was always like this, attentive and considerate, making people unconsciously let down their guard. Every time I was with him, it was like facing a kind of calmness I had never experienced before, and this calmness seemed to be his innate temperament.
"Do you like these dishes?" he asked in a gentle tone, as if he was confirming whether they were carefully prepared for me.
I nodded and sat down at the table, feeling a hint of fatigue in my heart that seemed to be silently dispelled by him. "Yes, a familiar smell," I said, my voice a little low, but I could no longer hide the comfort and relaxation in my heart.
Wen Ya gently placed a plate of food in front of me and sat down across from me. He didn't rush to speak, but simply looked at me quietly, his eyes gentle, as if he could see through all my unspoken thoughts. "How have you been lately?" he asked, his tone low but full of concern.
I paused, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside me. Wen Ya always seemed to be able to touch my heart so easily, as if a single glance from him could read all my emotions without me having to say much. But I didn't want to pour out all my heavy thoughts to him at a moment like this. After all, this moment of peace seemed like the only time I could truly enjoy.
"It's nothing, I'm fine." I tried to make my tone more relaxed and tried to make myself look less serious.
Wen Ya smiled faintly, clearly unconvinced by my response. He didn't press the issue further, instead quietly picking up a piece of food and gently placing it in my bowl. "Don't be so restrained," he said, his tone still gentle, yet with a hint of insistence that couldn't be ignored. "You don't have to shoulder everything alone. At least, this meal can help me share some of the burden."
I looked at him silently, the nameless pain and confusion in my heart seemingly softened by his words. Wen Ya was never one to force others to share their secrets, but he always used the most gentle way to make you want to trust and rely on him. This feeling sometimes made people feel both dependent and afraid.
"Thank you, Wen Ya." I whispered, my tone was a little weak, but the gratitude was real.
He smiled, a warm glint in his eyes, as if I didn't need to say anything more. His presence alone was enough to make me feel at peace.
The dinner was simple yet warm. We didn't exchange many words, but simply enjoyed the quiet and company.
"Wen Ya, have you ever thought about starting a family?" I asked, my voice filled with a hint of tentativeness and inexplicable curiosity.
He paused for a moment, his food in hand pausing as his gaze drifted to the table, as if pondering the meaning of my words. The air suddenly fell silent, leaving only the gentle sounds of the table and the rhythm of my heartbeat. I waited for his response, but he didn't speak immediately. Time seemed to freeze in that moment, even the warm light of the restaurant becoming a blur.
He finally looked up, a hint of gentle hesitation in his eyes, as if he was trying to form his words. "Start a family?" He repeated the word, as if digesting the question. "You mean, like a normal person—have a wife, have children, and live a simple life?"
I nodded, looking him straight in the eye, but for some reason, I felt a little nervous. This was a question I'd never actually asked him. Although Wen Ya was always gentle and kind, seemingly taking a mild approach to everything, he always felt distant. Perhaps it was because he wasn't like those who were eager to start a family, but rather, he was more independent and didn't seem to actively pursue those "human norms."
He put down his chopsticks, his eyes slightly lowered, as if lost in thought. "I've always felt that family is a very complex thing," he began slowly, his tone even gentler than usual, as if sharing a long-held thought. "It's not like some tasks or goals that can be achieved step by step. Family involves too much responsibility, emotion, and even sacrifice." He paused, as if reviewing something. "These responsibilities sometimes make me feel unbearable."
I couldn't help but be stunned, feeling inexplicably heavy inside. Wen Ya had never before expressed his thoughts so directly, especially on the subject of "family," which he actually expressed with a hint of resistance and hesitation.
"So, you don't want a family?" I couldn't help but ask, with a hint of curiosity and a little confusion in my voice.
He smiled faintly, his eyes a bit complicated. "It's not that I don't want to, but I feel that responsibility might not belong to me," he whispered. "I'd rather spend my time and energy on my own world, doing things I can control. At least, I can be freer."
These words were spoken plainly, but I sensed his yearning for freedom. Perhaps his life was already rich enough that he didn't need a traditional family to find a sense of belonging. His world seemed a more personal one, free from any constraints.
I understand a little bit, but I also feel that behind what he said is an unbearable loneliness. He has never been one to easily rely on others. Perhaps this independent lifestyle has become a habit for him, or even a way to protect his soul.
"Don't you feel lonely?" I asked softly, with a hint of unconscious worry in my heart.
He lowered his head, a faint smile curling up at the corner of his mouth. "Loneliness is part of freedom." He was silent for a moment, as if trying to balance his emotions. "But sometimes, I also think that if life could be less lonely, it might not be bad."
This sentence left me speechless. Wen Ya was truly a special person, a man brimming with complex thoughts and emotions that defied simple interpretation. His choice might have been an attempt to avoid the heavy responsibilities of "family," but perhaps, deep down, he still longed for some kind of warm companionship, a determination he couldn't easily relinquish.
"Maybe." I responded softly, not knowing what to say, but not wanting to break the tranquility of the moment.
Wen Ya looked at me with a gentle smile in her eyes, "Maybe."
Silence permeated the air, and this silence seemed to have become a special tacit understanding between us. We did not continue to delve into this topic, but were immersed in our own thoughts and continued to enjoy this simple yet extraordinary dinner.
As time passed, my green seedling grew, its branches and leaves growing more lush, its green growing more intense, even emitting a mysterious glow, like a star hidden in the dark night. Initially, it was like an insignificant seed in my backpack, but now, it has demonstrated a vitality far beyond my expectations. This is not just an expansion in size, but more importantly, a powerful vitality, as if it is undergoing some kind of metamorphosis.
I've begun to notice that the energy provided by the battle plant cores I've used to recharge the plant seems increasingly insufficient to meet the needs of the cyan seedling. Those cores once provided stable support, but as it grows, its energy needs become increasingly greater, and the energy output of the cores has gradually become insignificant. I once believed that these cores could carry it further, but now it seems that they are just a temporary stopgap.
Every time I observed the extension of its branches and the subtle changes in its leaves, I could sense a subtle shift. It was becoming less and less a simple plant, less and less a mere combat plant. It was becoming increasingly sensitive to its surroundings, even capable of regulating the flow of energy with the outside world, gradually developing an ability to interact with its environment. The growth of the cyan seedling was, to some extent, beyond my comprehension.
I tried to stuff more crystal cores into its roots, but it only briefly absorbed some, then trembled slightly, as if no longer interested in the energy. It was clearly evolving, breaking through the limitations of its original energy source and beginning to crave greater power.
"Looks like it's time to consider a new energy source," I muttered to myself, a vague sense of unease building within me. The cyan seedling was no longer the fragile being I'd initially encountered. It had become more menacing, even giving me a sense of dominance.
It seemed to have established some kind of strange connection with me, not just a physical dependence, but also a spiritual influence on me. Sometimes, I could sense its mood swings, as if it was craving something more, some deeper energy or driving force of life.
And I know it will become even more powerful in the future. Perhaps it will surpass any combat plant I've ever seen, even gaining control over even more energy fields. This change will also mean I'll have to face even more unforeseen challenges.
The green seedling's growth rate has already surpassed my original plan. I'm beginning to realize that the upcoming mission may become more complicated than expected. Perhaps I should prepare for more unpredictable changes. It's no longer a harmless seedling in my backpack, but is gradually becoming a powerful force.
Anyway, it was never harmless from the beginning.
When the system notification reached me again, I didn't feel the same excitement or nervousness I'd felt the first time I'd received the "mission" notification. There wasn't 72 hours to prepare, and there wasn't any room for maneuver. Everything seemed to suddenly become urgent. The border star field, the 54th planet, where Ye Qing was—this wasn't just a new place, it was a new stage in my life.
The moment the soldier handed me my ID, I barely had time to react. Within minutes, everything had been arranged, as if I had been thrust from another world into this unforgiving reality. I knew this wasn't a mission, but a system-planned life. Ye Qing, my other caregiver, the one who always made me feel a little distant, would become a part of my life. It was no longer a mission, nor the "task-based" relationship of the past, but a completely new identity. Being brought by my caregiver, even to the battlefield. A soldier?
I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye to anyone; even the most basic moment of saying "goodbye" was compressed to almost nothing. And so, alone, I was taken aboard a spacecraft bound for Planet 54. There were no goodbyes, no special emotions; I simply mechanically completed all the preparations, as if it were all predetermined.
The voyage was long, practically crossing the entire star field. As the ship accelerated, my thoughts began to wander. What kind of person was Ye Qing? He was a military commander, but as a foster parent, how would he approach me, a "new man"? The system didn't provide much information about him, and I even wondered if he, like Shan Qi, would leave me perplexed and lost in some ways. After all, the role of foster parent was a completely different existence, potentially more complex than I'd imagined.
Inside the spaceship, I leaned against the window, my gaze fixed on the distant starry sky. Nebulae and points of light intertwined into a vast canvas, and I felt like an insignificant speck of dust, vulnerable to being swept into a larger vortex at any moment. While I felt a sense of unease, I felt an indescribable sense of emptiness. I didn't fully understand Ye Qing, or even knew him at all, but I knew he was about to become a part of my life.
The cabin of the spaceship was eerily quiet, the occasional mechanical humming intertwined with the roar of the engines. The changes in the starry sky outside had no effect on me in the slightest, but I knew that in that distant star region, perhaps a completely different landscape, a completely different world. And my life would begin to change from here on out.