The second broken mirror disappeared

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Qin Zhilu was embraced by An Yu.

He looked down at him for a moment, then softly asked in his ear, “What are you doing?”

His voice was very ethereal, as if it would be carried away by the wind at any moment.

An Yu rarely felt such direct vulnerability from the person in his arms. He remained silent, so Qin Zhilu asked again, “What did you peek at?”

“Nothing at all, sir,” An Yu replied immediately. He lied almost instinctively. “I only stumbled into your memories twice by accident. Each time, that world was pitch black, with only a cold, tall tower. That’s all.”

Qin Zhilu looked at his white hair fluttering in the wind. After a long moment, he raised a hand and pressed it on An Yu’s head, not asking more questions.

“Your gloves are covered in wax,” An Yu said, releasing him. He took hold of Qin Zhilu’s fingers, then smoothly took the shattered mirror fragment from his right hand, pulling off the old orphanage glove along with it.

Qin Zhilu frowned. “You…”

Before he finished speaking, An Yu brought Qin Zhilu’s gun-wielding right hand to his lips and lightly touched it.

Those golden eyes were clear and he was like a small animal instinctively comforting a wound with its lips and teeth.

Qin Zhilu’s body stiffened. His hand twitched, seemingly wanting to pull back immediately, but perhaps he was too weak. In the end, he couldn’t break free from An Yu’s gentle hold.

“And you said you saw nothing,” Qin Zhilu’s voice was low. “What else did you see?”

“I really saw nothing,” An Yu’s expression was calm. He naturally released Qin Zhilu. “I just thought the orphanage gloves were too thin and didn’t suit your temperament. Didn’t you promise to get me a high-polymer outfit when we get back? Let me buy you a new pair of gloves too, as thanks for your support.”

Qin Zhilu scrutinized him. “My custom-made gloves are much more expensive than an outfit.”

“It’s okay,” An Yu said immediately. “I’ll sell more bread.”

As he spoke, he threw the fourth shattered mirror fragment onto the ground and drew his dagger from his waist.

The blade gleamed brightly, reflecting the candlelight in the darkness.

Qin Zhilu grabbed him and his bare palm pressed against An Yu’s skin.

He paused, then said, “Let me do it. I told you before, you must cherish your feathers before your wings are fully grown.”

An Yu stood beside him, avoiding eye contact. “But you and Ling Qiu also said I’m more like a little wolf.”

Qin Zhilu subtly raised an eyebrow. “So?”

An Yu held the dagger and stared at the boy in the distant shattered mirror. “A wolf isn’t a bird, it doesn’t need to cherish feathers. A wolf’s claws only show their sharpness when they’re stained with blood.”

“From now on, please let me have all these opportunities to press the button.”

He also took the candle from Qin Zhilu’s hand, then advanced with the dagger and stood before the scattered mirror fragments.

The air was thick with the smell of blood. Bai Jing’s blood flowed in winding paths on the ground, bypassing each shattered mirror, painting a grotesque and mournful picture on the snow.

His eyes stared at the sky above—though it was pitch black, the mirror covering the orphanage had finally vanished. The world suddenly felt very clean, just like those years that had faded in memory.

“Chen Nian and A-Ji are both dead,” he murmured. “The ones I wanted to keep the most, I lost everyone in the end.”

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, rolling into the pool of blood on the ground.

An Yu sensed intense human emotion from this super-aberrant young man.

This seemed to contradict common perception, yet it was natural.

He held the blade aloft, above Bai Jing’s line of sight, and calmly stated, “You indeed failed to protect Chen Nian and A-Ji. However, Chen Nian successfully protected Sisi, and that was his choice. As for A-Ji…” he paused, “A-Ji always knew she had a brother in the orphanage.”

Those eyes, which were almost unfocused, suddenly focused for a moment. Bai Jing’s gaze trembled as he looked at An Yu. After a long while, he gave a desolate laugh. “The other children in the orphanage will blame me, won’t they?”

An Yu thought for a while.

He recalled Ling Qiu—In fact, Ling Qiu had actually sensed his comatose state was problematic early on, but had also helped him conceal it for so many years. Fortunately, District 53 didn’t suffer any incidents due to this cover-up. If something had happened…

“They will blame you. They hate you to death,” he said softly, then after a pause, added with conviction, “But A-Ji won’t.”

In this world, no matter how inhuman a creature, they would not blame someone who fought with all their might to protect them.

An Yu gazed into those lost eyes. “Your human will doesn’t seem to have completely vanished, but the mistake here was made by you. So, I apologize, but I still have to execute you on behalf of humanity.”

“Hmm. My disappearance might help the orphanage dispel its last bit of darkness. This is all the atonement I can offer,” Bai Jing turned his head back and continued to stare at the pitch-black sky, before murmuring, “The frozen time seems to be recovering rapidly. I wonder who has such an ability… If you can meet that person, please thank them for me.”

The [Order] Dagger slit the young man’s throat. To ensure his death, An Yu neatly cut open his chest and stabbed his heart again.

As he did all this, his movements were clean and precise, showing no trace of mercy, and he softly said to the fading life on the ground, “Sorry, I can’t use a gun. This is all I can do.”

Qin Zhilu said from behind him, “You truly are a natural-born weapon.”

An Yu pulled up a corner of his clothing, wiped the blood off the blade, and softly said, “I’m just following your words. You taught me not to dwell on others’ pasts—”

“Mercy should be reserved for those worth saving,” Qin Zhilu completed the sentence. A faint smile finally appeared in those quiet, dark eyes. He reached out to An Yu, re-sheathed the dagger at his waist, and said calmly, “It seems you’ve not only learned about bread, but you also understood mercy long ago.”

After Bai Jing’s death, the pitch-black darkness shrouding the orphanage indeed receded. The world returned to daylight and the snowstorm that had lasted for ten years finally ceased. Ten years passed in the blink of an eye, as if nothing had ever happened.

Qin Zhilu sat on the ground and slowly chewed on the compressed biscuit An Yu had given him—according to An Yu, he had originally saved two energy bars as “protection food” for the Commander, but he had given them to Fengjian and Jiang Xiao earlier without thinking, so all that was left was a compressed biscuit he’d “borrowed” from the cafeteria.

Even this biscuit, he only shared half with Qin Zhilu, while chewing on the other half himself.

Qin Zhilu offered no comment, idly fiddling with the dandelions surrounding him in the air, while using An Yu’s terminal to connect with the Black Tower channel.

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“Yes, there are still a large number of aberrants in the orphanage that need to be cleared up. My team suffered heavy casualties. Send reinforcements.”

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The other end of the phone suddenly erupted with a noisy voice. Billy, like a startled bird, shrieked, “You call this ‘fine’?! How many years has it been since I’ve seen you look like this?! Where’s An Yu? An Yu isn’t dead, is he?!”

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“It’s because I saw it that I can’t believe it… Who knows how crazy you two will get? I always feel like you’re not teaching him, but he’s corrupting you…” Billy breathed a sigh of relief, grumbling for a long time, then added, “Uh, the Black Tower is preparing to arrange some healing support to pick you up and help you recover on the plane. You’ll fly directly to the Equality Zone?”

Qin Zhilu’s tone deepened. “What’s wrong with the Equality Zone?”

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Billy quickly said, “Not dead, not insane. Don’t worry. He just suddenly… Ugh, suddenly got a bit stubborn, can’t be swayed, and clashed with the Black Tower. Even Tang Feng can’t talk sense into him. You two should go see.”

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“Understood. Reinforcements have already departed and will arrive soon,” Billy said seriously. “Thank you for your hard work.”

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When time-space repair reached a certain point, the first shattered mirror fragment also disappeared.

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An Yu, a bit bored, stared blankly at it for a while. His gaze inadvertently caught sight of the unconscious Jiang Xiao beside him, and he suddenly got an idea.

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Slade snapped his fingers. “Finally.”

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“The first mirror disappeared slowly,” Fengjian was explaining when the third shattered mirror fragment also vanished with his words. He pointed there and said, “See? Both of these gradually became transparent until they disappeared. But the second one just disappeared instantly, like an invisible hand swooped in and grabbed it. Is it because the corresponding protected person on the second level didn’t die?”

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An Yu immediately turned his head away expressionlessly, looking at the Commander beside him.

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Qin Zhilu remained still for a moment, then finally ate the last bite of biscuit. “That gust of wind just now… It felt like a very familiar smell passed by.”

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Due to the large number of aberrants, the Spire had once again dispatched Bo’s team, allowing the Wing Group to launch concentrated attacks on the aberrants.

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“Yes, he’s back. The Commander’s mission went smoothly, but he’s a bit down, so he didn’t come personally,” Bo reported efficiently. “Are you okay? An and Ning are on standby in the plane. They’ll accompany you to find Grape.”

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Fengjian and the others had already boarded the plane returning to the Spire. An Yu followed Qin Zhilu to another plane. As Qin Zhilu passed Bo, An Yu heard him ask in a low voice, “When you came, did you see any strange people in the air?”

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He opened his hand to show him. “Here, the Commander told me to bring these. He thought you’d be in a terrible state like last time, but he didn’t expect Law to be the one seriously injured.”

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Bo was stunned for a moment, then closed his hand and put the energy drink back into his pocket, a faint smile on his lips. “You too.”

The plane took off. The scarred orphanage on the ground rapidly shrunk in their view and was soon replaced by clouds.

Inside the cabin, countless white and blue Morpho butterflies gently vibrated their wings. An and Ning were each treating Qin Zhilu. Qin Zhilu, in his trench coat, leaned against the wall, eyes closed and rested.

An Yu opened his terminal. Inquiries from High Peak and messages from the Spire Forum were almost bursting his device, but he ignored them, first quickly checking the bakery group chat for recent business reports and investment returns. Only then did he contentedly tap the Spire Forum icon.

His teammates’ drones had automatically uploaded the mission footage to the Spire, and relevant archives had been published.

Because An Yu had used space folding and time acceleration abilities without any concealment in several important battles, the moment it reached those parts, the screen automatically became pixelated. The several-hour-long video was full of pixelation, it was truly unwatchable.

The bystander Protectors were collectively speechless.

-Rushed here. Heard this mission almost killed Law?

-Theoretically, yes, but… uh…

-I’m gradually getting confused. What am I even watching…?

-Someone who doesn’t know would really think we’re watching some…

-This… is this some kind of erotic, ahem, mission??

-Aberrant appears, pixelated, aberrant dies. Slade in danger, pixelated, Slade out of danger.

-About this video, I only have six points to make: …

-The pixelation seems to be from Corner awakening a new ability, you know.

-I’d guess so too. For the higher-ups to cover it, it must be Corner pulling off some god-tier move again.

-Heard Corner works like crazy. Are the higher-ups afraid we’ll learn?

-Lol, as if we could actually learn.

-Just fast-forward the progress bar. Am I blind or something? Law seems to be acting as a healer?

-Huh?? Why would you say that?

-Not sure, I just saw that the candle seems to be a self-consuming ability, and the poppies probably came from Jiang Xiao’s genes.

-But whose healer is he?

-That I don’t know. The one standing in front of him is a pixelated blob.

-…

-…

An Yu only briefly glanced at the discussions before closing his terminal.

Actually, the orphanage mission was one he had been coaxed into by the Commander. But in this mission, by accident, he uncovered many things that had been buried for over a decade.

Ling Qiu had never discussed his views on “coincidence” with him; after all, in the commoners’ world, there were no coincidences, only endless worries about hunger and fullness. Yet, in a trance, he felt that these accidental occurrences might have already been destined. Just like before they departed, the third golden gear had already subtly appeared on the Poet’s painting.

He was destined to board the shuttle bus to the Main City on the day of the winter solstice. District 53 was destined to have an incident. He was also destined to come to the orphanage, unravel its sealed secrets, awaken time abilities…

And was also destined to witness the Commander’s past.

In the faint white noise of the cabin, he looked at Qin Zhilu, who was resting with his eyes closed.

Although Ling Qiu had said that being too curious about bigshots’ privacy would kill him, he was particularly concerned about what had happened behind the second-to-last door, which had been tightly locked by Qin Zhilu’s last shred of will.

Qin Zhilu suddenly opened his eyes. Those dark eyes had regained their usual cold sharpness.

“Look at your terminal,” Qin Zhilu said.

An Yu spaced out for a moment. “What?”

“Look at my survival value.”

As he spoke, An, who had been lowering his gaze and controlling the large white Morpho butterflies with his will, also looked up, his expression a mix of disbelief and self-doubt.

An Yu opened the Commander’s metrics on his terminal, then he too froze.

Qin Zhilu’s survival value was 99%.

The large white Morpho butterflies were still working hard. According to An’s ability, he should have been at full health long ago.

In the blink of an eye, An Yu’s heart suddenly sank. “Oh no.”

The second shattered mirror fragment, while slicing him, had also sliced the Commander.

Although it was only a tiny piece.

But it was indeed 1% of Qin Zhilu that had been sealed within that shattered mirror fragment and had vanished forever with it.

Author’s Note: