So the two of them ate breakfast together like it was the most natural thing in the world—no awkwardness, no forced politeness.
The morning buns and sides from Worker's Home tasted genuinely good… though it was also possible they were simply both hungry enough that anything warm would have tasted amazing.
"So what's the plan for today?" Ivon asked.
After swallowing a bun, she licked a bit of oil from her fingertip, then pulled a napkin over her hands and wiped them clean.
Bai Ling watched the motion and, for a moment, had only one thought:
…That's dangerous.
Not in the literal sense, but in the very human sense.
There was a lot to do today, though. He forced his eyes away from her fingertips.
Ivon caught that tiny shift of his gaze out of the corner of her eye. As if she'd just finished eating and was about to yawn, she deliberately parted her lips slightly and opened her palm, making it unreasonably hard for him to look anywhere else.
Bai Ling held back whatever impulse rose in his chest and turned his head away.
"I already delivered supplies to the Valley Fortress shelter," he said, steadying his voice. "But the outpost here still needs another round of support from the Dijiang. We don't know the exact delivery time yet."
His "temptation" didn't take. Ivon looked a little disappointed, but she didn't push it further. She stood up in front of him and began straightening her clothes as if nothing had happened.
Her movements were simple—pulling fabric smooth, tucking a corner in place—yet they made the curve of her body look almost unfair. Her skin was pale in the light, and the shape of her figure, half-hidden and half-revealed by fabric, was the kind of thing that made a person's mind run in directions it had no right to go.
Her sleeping posture really was terrible…
No wonder Bai Ling had ended up on the couch.
"…So today I'll probably be doing some manual labor," Bai Ling concluded, as if that would anchor his thoughts back to reality.
It really was thanks to the underground warehouse at the Valley Transit Station. Without it, the Valley Fortress shelter would have been facing the same shortage pressures as the outpost below the Originium Research Institute.
Over there, most materials weren't scarce, and whatever was missing could be replenished quickly.
"I see…" Ivon's voice softened, the tip of her tail drooping a little. "Then I probably can't go with you today. The research data on the hyperdomain has changed recently."
There was an apology in her tone.
Bai Ling glanced at her.
"Research comes first."
Ivon puffed out her cheeks.
"You can't even say something like 'I'll be lonely without you'?"
"…It's true people who can act cute have easier lives," Bai Ling said, standing up. "But for me, that kind of line is… a little ahead of schedule."
He picked up the empty paper bag in passing.
"I'm heading out."
Ivon blinked, then laughed.
"Be careful out there."
After taking the elevator down, Bai Ling stood at the edge of the plaza behind the Originium Research Institute and looked out.
The outpost at the foot of the mountain had expanded again since yesterday. New prefab rooms were going up. Thin trails of cooking smoke rose into the morning air.
He set off along the familiar path he'd already walked too many times to count.
It was still early, but the outpost was awake.
A breeze slid along his ear. Somewhere in the distance, children laughed—bright, fearless laughter. Closer by, workers shouted in rhythm as they hauled construction materials.
The moment he stepped into the outpost, someone noticed him.
"Mr. Bai Ling!"
A middle-aged man approached quickly, a roster in hand, smiling with open relief.
"You're here! Perfect timing—supplies arrived. We need you to confirm the shipment's from Endfield."
Bai Ling nodded and followed him to the warehouse.
At the entrance, large crates were stacked neatly: inhibitors, medical supplies, food, clothing—everything in order.
And then Bai Ling saw several crates marked differently.
He paused.
"…Toys?"
"Yes." Norman smiled. "The Dijiang said the Administrator approved them personally. Said there are plenty of children here, and they can't be made to suffer with nothing but hardship."
Bai Ling didn't say anything. He lowered his head and signed the manifest.
Then he headed toward the residential area.
Amo sat at the doorway of one of the prefab rooms, hugging a crooked little cloth rabbit. The moment she saw Bai Ling, her eyes lit up like someone had turned on a lamp inside her.
She ran over and grabbed his hand.
"Big brother!"
Bai Ling crouched to her height.
"How are you today?"
"Good!" Amo lifted the rabbit proudly. "Grandma made it a new outfit!"
Bai Ling looked closely.
The rabbit now wore a tiny red jacket, uneven and clumsily stitched—but the care was obvious in every imperfect thread.
There was a kind of beauty that only existed in things made with pure intent.
"Looks great," Bai Ling said.
Amo beamed, her eyes curving into crescents.
"Big brother, are there toys today?"
Remembering the crates, Bai Ling rose and gently took her wrist.
"There are. Come with me."
When they reached the warehouse, a crowd of children had already surrounded the doors so tightly that it looked like the place might burst.
Amo stared at the boxes, mouth falling open.
"These… are all for us?"
"Yes."
Bai Ling opened one crate. Inside were all kinds of toys—plush dolls, building blocks, small toy cars, and several brightly colored balls.
Amo reached in cautiously and picked up a palm-sized teddy bear.
"Can I… take this?"
"You can."
Amo hugged the bear to her chest and squinted with happiness, as if she could hardly hold it all inside her.
Other children gathered around, eyes wide, hopeful and trembling.
Bai Ling stepped back and looked at Norman.
"Distribute them."
Norman nodded and began calling for the children to line up.
They cheered and swarmed into a noisy, excited queue. Amo stood among them clutching her teddy bear, turning back every few seconds to look at Bai Ling, her smile refusing to fade.
Bai Ling stood still, watching.
When some of the children received their toys, the smiles that bloomed across their faces were so bright and clean that Bai Ling couldn't help smiling too.
Once the children were settled, Bai Ling shifted his attention elsewhere.
At the clinic entrance, Dr. Lin was checking blood pressure and symptoms for several patients. When she saw Bai Ling, she looked up.
"Mr. Bai Ling—good. I needed to speak with you."
"What is it?"
"We have new arrivals who need registration." Dr. Lin handed him a list. "They came from the ore-vein source zone. Their condition isn't great. They'll need closer monitoring."
The words closer monitoring made Bai Ling take the list at once.
The entries were detailed: names, ages, place of origin, health status.
His eyes paused on one name.
"This elderly man…"
Dr. Lin spoke quietly. "Seventy-three. Came alone. He said his son didn't survive the anchor-point incident, and his daughter-in-law as well… He's the only one left."
Bai Ling was silent for a moment before speaking again.
"Where is he?"
"Over there—third prefab room."
"Understood. I'll go now."
Disaster left pain everywhere. Like dust from history, it settled on ordinary people—and each speck became a mountain.
Bai Ling found the third prefab room quickly.
An old man sat at the doorway, a long smoking pipe in hand. It wasn't lit. He simply held it, eyes narrowed, staring into the distance as if his gaze could pin something down before it drifted away.
Bai Ling walked over and crouched beside him.
"Sir?"
The old man turned, his cloudy eyes studying Bai Ling for a while.
"You are…?"
"I'm an Endfield operative currently assisting here," Bai Ling said gently. "How are you feeling? Are you adjusting?"
The old man waved a hand dismissively.
"I'm fine. Being alive is enough… This place is good… It has hope…"
After that, he stared at Bai Ling and asked, almost abruptly:
"They say you're here to help?"
"Yes."
"Then can you do me a favor?"
"Tell me."
The old man thought for a long time. Then he slowly pulled a small cloth bundle from inside his coat and offered it.
"Take this. Keep it for me."
Bai Ling accepted it and opened the bundle.
Inside was a photograph—black and white, edges yellowed with age.
A young woman smiled into the camera, holding a tiny baby.
"My wife," the old man said, voice slow and worn. "And my son. When he was little he looked like her. Then he grew up… and he didn't."
Bai Ling looked at the photograph without speaking.
"I'm old," the man said. "I might go any day. If I keep this with me, I'm afraid I'll lose it. You hold it for me."
His throat tightened slightly, as if the next words were heavy enough to change the air.
"And when I… when I'm gone, burn it for me."
Bai Ling folded the photograph back into the cloth bundle carefully, then slipped it into his pocket.
Only then did he answer.
"Alright."
The old man stared at him a moment longer, then turned away again, eyes returning to the distance. That was all.
Bai Ling didn't linger. He stood and left quietly.
He made another round through the residential area.
Amo was playing with other children in the open space, running with her teddy bear and laughing so brightly the sound seemed to lift the dust from the ground.
When she saw Bai Ling, she ran over and caught his hand.
"Big brother! Look!"
She lifted the teddy bear.
It now wore that same crooked little red jacket—the one her grandmother had stitched, transferred from rabbit to bear like a promotion.
"Does it look good?"
"It does," Bai Ling said.
Amo smiled so hard her eyes turned into crescent moons again.
"Big brother, will you still be here this afternoon?"
Bai Ling considered.
"I will."
"Then I'm going to come play with you!"
Bai Ling nodded.
Amo darted off again, laughter trailing behind her like wind chimes.
At noon, Bai Ling ate in the outpost's temporary canteen.
The meal was simple—stew and rice—but it was hot, and the warmth sat comfortably in his stomach against the day's faint chill.
After eating, he went back to the warehouse and checked the supplies again.
There were enough inhibitors. Food was stable. Clothing was still short.
He wrote a few notes on his board, planning to contact the Dijiang the next day.
By the time he left the warehouse, the sun had started to tilt west.
He stood in the open space, looking at the people working and moving through the site.
Norman came up beside him.
"Mr. Bai Ling, thank you for today."
Bai Ling shook his head.
"It's nothing."
Norman was quiet for a while, then said:
"To be honest, before you arrived, we could keep things running… but everyone was anxious. We didn't know what tomorrow would look like. We didn't know if supplies would last. We didn't know if we could hold on."
He swallowed, then continued:
"But once you came… people started to calm down."
Bai Ling didn't respond.
Norman went on anyway, voice steady but sincere.
"You may not feel it yourself, but when you're here, people believe the hard problems can be solved."
Bai Ling turned to look at him.
"I only did what needed doing."
Norman smiled.
"That's enough."
At dusk, Bai Ling returned to the Originium Research Institute.
The moment he opened the door, the smell of food rushed out to meet him.
Ivon stood by a homemade stove. Something sizzled in the pan. Tata crouched in the corner, its screen expression shifting from "-v-" to "^_^" as its tiny camera pointed directly at the cooking.
Hearing the door, Ivon turned and smiled.
"You're back. Perfect timing—the last dish is almost done."
Bai Ling walked to the table and looked down at the plates already set out.
He couldn't identify everything, but it all looked good—and smelled even better.
He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of meat, and ate.
It was tender, rich, and deeply savory.
Ivon brought the last dish over. When she saw him eating, her tail swayed lightly.
"Well?"
"Good," Bai Ling said.
Ivon set the dish down and sat across from him.
"Obviously."
They ate.
The room was quiet except for the soft clink of chopsticks. Tata's screen eventually drifted back from "^_^" to "-v-," like it had decided to rest.
Halfway through the meal, Ivon spoke.
"Bai Ling."
"Mm?"
"How was the old man today?"
Bai Ling paused.
"How did you know?"
"Dr. Lin messaged me," Ivon said. "Said you went to see an elderly man this afternoon."
Bai Ling was quiet for two seconds, then said:
"He gave me a photograph."
"A photograph?"
"Of his wife and son." Bai Ling's gaze lowered. "He said he was afraid of losing it, so he asked me to keep it."
Ivon looked at him without speaking.
Bai Ling continued, voice calm but faintly heavy.
"He said when he dies, he wants me to burn it."
Ivon was silent for a long time before she finally asked:
"…And you agreed?"
"Yes."
She didn't comment. She simply reached out with her chopsticks and placed a piece of meat into Bai Ling's bowl.
Bai Ling ate it.
Later, Bai Ling sat on the sofa with a bottle of soda in his hand.
Ivon sat beside him with her own, watching the bubbles climb the glass.
"Bai Ling."
"Mm?"
"Why do you think he gave it to you?"
Bai Ling didn't look at her. He stared out the window.
"Maybe… because he thinks I can remember."
Ivon turned her head slightly.
Bai Ling's voice stayed low.
"Remember that he existed. Remember he had a family. Remember he lived."
Ivon leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Bai Ling… you're going to remember more and more things, aren't you?"
"…Not necessarily." Bai Ling exhaled softly. "Maybe I've forgotten plenty too."
"Or maybe you didn't forget," Ivon murmured. "Maybe you just hid them."
Bai Ling didn't answer at first.
"…If I hid them," he said finally, "then that means I shouldn't forget them."
Night deepened.
Bai Ling lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
The photograph in his pocket pressed against him, uncomfortable—yet he didn't take it out.
He let it stay there.
Not far away, Ivon's breathing was steady from the bed.
In the faint light, her face looked peaceful—completely lacking the awkward tension of sharing a room with a man.
And between the choice of being a beast or being less than a beast…
Bai Ling chose to be less than a beast.
He watched her delicate, sleeping face for a moment, then closed his eyes.
His breathing evened out as sleep took him.
A while later, Ivon opened her eyes.
Carefully, she pushed back the blanket and sat up. She looked at Bai Ling, asleep on the couch, then slid out of bed.
She moved quietly—almost crawling—until she reached the side of the couch, close enough to study his face in detail.
Only when he was asleep could she look at him like this.
He always seemed calm, composed, like nothing could shake him…
But somehow, it felt like there were countless things he'd lived through—things she didn't know.
Even if she didn't know them yet…
Someday, she would.
Leaning gently against the couch's edge, Ivon stayed there in silence, thinking.
....
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