Can Ci Pin/Imperfections(残次品)BL by Priest

C hapter 87

There was a command post inside the central area of the military base that the Anti-Utopia Group left, and Jingheng Lin was temporarily resided in the lounge of its fifth floor, next to the meeting room. Located in the mech station, the command post was originally not designed for long-term accommodation. Without noise cancelling, one might be deafened by the mechs taking-off and landing. In fact, the AUG had planned a special residential area, with a good landscape and distant from the noise. But Jingheng Lin felt it was too far to travel there.

Bixing Lu did not take the elevator; he did not want to meet other people. Throwing a kiss towards the smart monitor at the corner, he slipped into the emergency stairwell.

Carrying a heavy 'Eighth Galaxy', he ran briskly up the stairs. His attention was just distracted by President Edward, who was solemnly concerned about the galaxy and the people. He had never been so anxious to return. While at this time, in the empty stairwell, all his considerations ebbed like the tide, and thoughts of wanting to meet Jingheng Lin emerged from the water, being unprecedentedly strong. Gravity of the Morning Star seemed to temporarily lose its effect on him; he seemed to be able to fly on his every step, and soon became crossing two flights per step from one. He could not remember how many steps he took when arrived at the junction of the fourth and fifth floor. It was as if he had just stamped his foot, and he had flown to the fifth floor riding on clouds.

His happiness was like a balloon continuously being blown up, swelling to its peak when he walked out the stairwell -- and then deflating as he faced the empty corridor.

Since there were always people bustling around when Jingheng was here, it was absolutely impossible to be this quiet.

Bixing's fast beating heart dropped down vertically, hitting a dent in his chest.

"He's not here." He exhaled a warm breath, stood in his place disappointedly for several seconds. Laughing at himself, he came to the door of Jingheng's lounge. He first put down the heavy 'Eighth Galaxy', then raised his wrist to contact Jingheng Lin. He sighed, "I was thinking to give you a surprise."

At this time, his inadvertently raised elbow rubbed at the door. As soon as it touched the door, he noticed a ray scanned by, and a mechanical voice came to his ears: "Scanning for identity -- "

Bixing was amazed, and thought: "Is it a visitor recorder?"

The visitor recorder was a small device installed on the door lock. It could scan and identify the visitor's identity when someone comes and send the visitor's information to the host's personal terminal at the same time.

Bixing hurriedly adjusted his expression and posture, leaning his shoulder against the door, and greeted to the scanner in a rakish style: "Hi, Commodore, it's me, are you..."

He wanted to say "surprised", but before he could finish, he heard that smart door said, "Entry granted."

Bixing Lu: "... Ah?"

After a click the door of the lounge opened. Bixing, who was posing against the door without preparation, was almost plunged into the room.

Subconsciously, he reached out his hand to the wall to support himself and happened to hold on to the sliding door of the wardrobe. The door slid about 20 centimeters forward, revealing a row of identical shirts. Bixing and the shirts faced against each other for a moment. Until then, he came to realize he already intruded Lin's lounge.

He looked back to the door lock unbelievingly: "You just let me in? You... Are you broken?"

The door lock -- not intelligent enough to talk to him -- remained silent.

Bixing felt like he just opened someone else's diary by accident -- being so distressed by his curiosity one hand, but being inexplicably flustered and daring not to look around on the other. He hesitated for a moment at a loss, and suddenly realized that Lin had set his permission to enter the lounge on the door, which was equivalent to giving him a key...although without telling him.

His own surprise had not been sent out, yet he already received one.

Bixing held his breath involuntarily. With a thin layer of sweat on his back, he carefully scooped up his 'Eighth Galaxy', and tiptoed into this small lounge belonging to Lin.

The room was very small and furnished simply. Except for the wardrobe and bathroom at the door, there was only a fridge less than one meter high and a single bed. The bed sheet was so flat, as if made of iron, and spotlessly white. Bixing was embarrassed to sit on his bed, but walked around in the room for three times, he just could not find any a place to sit.

Luckily the floor was spotless as well. He simply placed the 'Eighth Galaxy' on the fridge, lifted his trousers and sat on the floor. Taking the fridge as a backrest, he looked around the small but orderly space, and remembered his own den in such a mess. When the initial feeling of being flattered passed, he began to randomly worry, thinking: "It's almost becoming a neat freak, isn't it? Can he tolerate me if I will be with him?"

There were countless stories in books that told it was easy to get in love, but difficult to get along; countless affections were buried in the details of everyday life.

The more he considered, the more serious he felt the problem was. Carefully thinking about the details of his daily life, he turned on the personal terminal, and projected the screen to the opposite white wall. He wrote and drew on it with an electronic pen, trying to design an automatic household cleaning system creatively. Whenever it would detect Jingheng Lin would be arriving at home in ten minutes, it would clean up the entire house in one touch: dust removing, noise reducing, disinfecting, sonic cleaning of clothes, and then putting everything back...

Bixing had traveled around the Eighth Galaxy with the president for a week; days and nights counterchanged; they flew in the mech continuously for more than ten hours. After the excitement brought by hormones subsided, tiredness quickly swept over him. Furnitures jumped up and down in his mind, scuffling together in a mess. He fell asleep leaning against the mini fridge, with the scribbled projection remaining on the white wall.




The identification system on the door was indeed not intelligent enough. Only when it detected a visitor would it send a message to Jingheng's terminal; people who had permission would be automatically recognized as a host, therefore keeping silent.

It was nearing evening when Jingheng came back.

Tulane finished interrogating the prisoners, and not surprisingly, gained almost nothing. She walked along and reported: "These men work for money, not knowing who their superior is. They are quite organized. A man who seemed to be their team leader said he used to transport 'opium' in the Seventh Galaxy and had just been sent to the Eighth Galaxy for trial. And there should be ten to twenty small mechs teams with him. Working for them pays well, and they can change the chips for free."

Jingheng: "Change the chips for free? They've all been injected with this chip."

"Yes, otherwise how can these hooligans have such a high man-mech compatibility -- above 80% on average! I haven't seen the figure of eight for so long after being dragged down by the kids of the Self-Defense Force. Fortunately, they can't operate well, and we have more people," said Tulane, "Didn't you have to remove the chips before interrogating? Tut, miserable... anesthetics didn't work at all. Those who passed out could even be woken up by pain, howling hysterically. No need to extort by torture at all, they just lost their minds by themselves. The pleasure and power brought by the chips are unimaginable, much more effective than the Eden."

After all, the Eden was supervised. Whether the adjustment of hormone level, or the stimulation of senses, they needed to go through a strict medical assessment to ensure safety and health. Back then, when Yevgenia publicly expressed her love for Jingheng Lin, a tiny amount of hormonal stimulation was carried. Later, Yevgenia, the marketing company, and the regional supervision department of the Eden each paid a penalty of fifty million as it was reported that the stimulation slightly exceeded the specified amount of the Governing Council,... Apparently, as they were all together, it was hard to say whether the penalty had been implemented or not.

However, the public's dependence on the Eden was essentially psychological.

Jingheng asked: "Do you mean the chip will destroy the brain structure and cause irreversible dependence?"

Tulane answered resolutely: "Absolutely. Didn't old Mr. Lu invite a medical team when we were dealing with that variant of the Rainbow Virus? I asked them to take a look. They just replied to me that specific situation needs further research though, we're afraid this chip is more dangerous than any existing drugs on the market. Among our prisoners, the shortest user of the biochip had only injected it for a week, but already has a very serious withdrawal reaction. Commodore, if it goes on, those who are infected with the 'opium' chip won't be able to get rid of it even if the Eden will be restored in the future."

Jingheng frowned. It suddenly came to his mind that Bixing didn't have too much reaction when he removed the chip. It could be seen that there was a little unwillingness at the first time, but no actual resistance. All the injuries on his body were due to the external forces he suffered during using the chip, and his mood was to say stable as well. After that, he was put in the medical cabin for a general check-up, and the medical cabin did not give the addiction warning either.

He remembered that Monoeye Hawk had told him, Bixing had shown a certain degree of vacucerebral syndrome symptoms in his childhood...

"In the Eighth Galaxy, they promote this kind of thing using the name of the Eden. Anyway, people of the Eighth Galaxy have never seen what the real Eden is like." Tulane continued, "The first time, the chip is implanted free, but it needs to be renewed about once a month. And in regard to pricing, they said they haven't been informed yet and are waiting to see the promoting effects in the Eighth Galaxy."

Jingheng pondered for a moment: "The medical system of Eden is able to detect the harm of this biochip. Once the Eden is restored, those who haven't touched it will return to the 'protection shell'. How much profit its manipulator can gain depends on how long the Eden will be absent... So, could this person be someone who's able to affect the restoration process of the Eden? -- For example, having a voice in the GC."

Tulane said promptly: "Got it. The seven directors and their close relatives."

She said it unintentionally, but a shadow suddenly swept over Jingheng's heart. He thought of Jingshu Lin, who was said to be sent to the Angel City Fortress as one of the first group.

As this time, they had arrived at the entrance of the lounge. Jingheng reached out his hand to push the door absentmindedly. The door lock immediately passed the identity of the host and sprang open automatically. Then a ray of light shed out from the room.

The two people at the door halted at the same time in astonishment.

Inside the room which was supposed to be dim, a beam of light was projected on the stark white wall, making it vivid and warm. Messy lines and figures were hung on the wall crookedly; a few lines of notes of nonsense were below. It was hard to recognize what was written, but it unexpectedly decorated the empty wall, and softened the color tone of the whole room.

And on the small refrigerator, someone had put there a crystal glass ball of about one meter in diameter. Glittering and translucent starry sky was on its top, encompassing the carved landscape and buildings like a dome. Under the light of the projector, the stars and the tiny stone carvings in the crystal ball began sparkling together. Shadows were slanted on the snow-white bed sheet; light spots and color patches dazzled and flowed brilliantly.

Jingheng took two steps forward and discovered the light source -- the wrist that Bixing rested on his knee. And he had already curled up his legs, having fallen asleep in this position. Part of the reflected lights from the crystal ball also flowed past his side face. His hair had not been trimmed for a long time, hanging by his ear, and seemed to be decorated by a cluster of stars.

Tulane covered her mouth with her hand and shouted in heart that she was fooled. She actually thought this guy was an innocent geek, and generously wanted to share her experience of picking up men!

No wonder he refused her like a gentleman at the time. It turned out that he was a hidden expert! Tulane glanced at Jingheng's expression, sighing in her heart: "Underestimating the enemy made you defeated, Commodore."

She turned around and ran away without saying a word, and even did not forget to close the door for them on her way out. She was still frightened after running far away, feeling that her anti-fixed-spouse outlook on life had even been shaken. She had to stay away from them.

After hearing the sound of the door, Jingheng returned to his senses and found that Tulane had already run away. He was like a fool lost in a strange place, dazed for a while, then walked over lightly, and slowly knelt down on one knee. His raised hand hung in the air hesitantly; fingers stretched out and curled back for several times. He didn't know what to do.

He thought of his tenth birthday – his and Jingshu's birthday was a little special. For some reason, their actual birthday was half a month earlier than the date registered on the Eden. Therefore, every year on the wrong birthday he would be bothered by the noises by the Eden and the people around all day. But on the actual birthday, he could only exchange an e-card with his sister. He was used to it.

But on that year, when he just separated with his sister, he lost the contact with Jingshu on her personal terminal for unknown reason. The electronic greeting card could not be sent as usual either. Thinking of the home he could never go back again, and the girl who chased after him, he felt at loss and uneasy. But in other people's house, he had to endure it, do what he should do, and pretend nothing had happened. So, he was listless all day and refused the Eden's requests to regulate his mood for four times... Until he went back to his room at the evening. He opened the door and headed on an imitation mech -- a little taller than an adult and had the same ratio as the real interstellar mech, and children could lie in it. There was even an imitated safety mental network that could play games after one connected to it.

Jingheng remembered, at the time, he stood at the door frozen, forgotting which leg he should take, and thought unbelievably: "Is this a gift for me?"

If there wasn't that mech-shaped game machine in his tenth birthday, Jingheng Lin might not have entered the BOA, and be entangled with the mechs for his whole life. He might have become a scholar, an ordinary functionary in a government department... or might have left Wotto earlier and strayed to any desolate star.

Nearly 40 years had passed, Jingheng looked at the young man in front of him, something inexpressible arose in his heart.

He thought: Is this a gift for me?

At this time, probably because of the uncomfortable position, Bixing suddenly moved a little. His head leaning against the fridge tilted aside and lost balance. Seeing he was about to fall, Jingheng quickly reached his hand and propped him. Being cupped by the cold fingers on his cheek, Bixing shuddered and woke up.

He was a little dulled with sleep and forgot where he was. Looking at Jingheng in front of him, his mind was blank: "Well, I..."

Jingheng moved his hand away from his face. The temperature lingering on his palm seemed to be sticky, sticking to him and making him unwilling to let go: "Uh?"

Bixing became nervous not knowing why. He wetted his lips unconsciously, and explained incoherently: "I'm here to send something, um... then, the door was pushed open, you... "

All of a sudden, he choked on his breath, because Jingheng put the hand which left his cheek on the fridge behind him, and suddenly approached. While looking from a distance, Jingheng's eyes were deep and decent; but they became unexpectedly compelling while coming close. The everlasting grey mist on those irises seemed to whip up a storm that were going to devour him. Bixing heard him say in a very deep, but rarely not icy voice: "I've set your permission to enter."

Bixing's fingers on his side tightened.

Jingheng's eyes dropped slightly, down on his lips, and then slipped away. This man asked in a quite disappointing way: "I'm not easy to get along with, neither am I very nice to you. Why did you choose me?"

" ... "

You're spoiling the atmosphere, boss. Do I need to hand in a paper on this?

So Bixing asked in return: "First giving the permission, and then interviewing -- Commodore, isn't there something wrong with the personnel appointment procedures of your Silver Fortress? If you want to kiss me, why do you have to hold back?"

Jingheng Lin fell silent for a moment. His tightly fitted shirt and military boots were always stiff and binding, strictly confining him in a certain area. Even when he was dressing strangely on the Beijing-β, the gloves and the military uniform which clamped on his throat were likewise chaining him vaguely, making him always have to think twice, always have to hold back.

Why do you have to hold back?

He repeated the words unconsciously in his heart, and suddenly leaned forward, covering Bixing's lips with his. Closing his eyes, it was as if he slipped from a wire rope between skyscrapers — he kept falling down, kept losing control, passing through the center of the planet, and sinking into a wider universe.

His soul floated up weightlessly. Chaotic colors torrentially poured into his black-and-white years, so brilliant that it was dazzling.