Twenty

The scientists had been researching ways to return, but Yuchi Ankang only knew about it from hearsay. He wasn’t aware of how far the project had progressed, or whether there was any real chance of success. When Zhu Anfu mentioned that he felt they would eventually go back, Yuchi Ankang frowned. To be honest, he didn’t want to return. The disasters from a millennium ago must have been catastrophic. They weren’t saviors—could never become saviors—and going back might well mean death. He was timid, content to enjoy the comfortable life he now had. Yet, if Zhu Anfu insisted on returning, he would accompany him.

“It’s not that I want to go back,” Zhu Anfu said seriously, looking at Yuchi Ankang, “but… do you really think the people here will let us stay? To them, we’re ancients, outsiders. They have no obligation to treat us kindly. Once it’s possible for us to leave, they’ll all agree to send us away, so we don’t take up their resources. Maybe someone won’t want to leave and will try every possible method to stay, but I imagine once we’re gone, their situation will become very difficult—they might end up reviled by everyone.”

Yuchi Ankang’s expression darkened. “There’s so much we need to learn before we get the notice to return. Tomorrow morning, I’ll contact Zhao Long and Wang Fei, so they can be prepared as well. As for the others, we can’t worry about them.”

Zhu Anfu nodded. “Go to bed early. It’s going to be busy soon. I just hope those people are smart enough to realize what needs to be done.” He turned over in bed, thinking about the many tasks awaiting him tomorrow—stepping out, facing crowds—just thinking of it made his head ache.

At breakfast, Zhu Anfu ate little—not because he didn’t want more, but because the prospect of what lay ahead robbed him of his appetite. Zhu Anfu disliked crowded places—or, more precisely, places saturated with tangled, complex thoughts. Since childhood, he’d possessed a kind of sensitivity: he could sense who harbored malice, who cloaked their evil with false kindness. Perhaps that was why he often feigned ignorance.

He never believed schools were innocent places. Although the novel claimed that malicious people in schools were few, they weren’t a minority either. Students always carried envy and jealousy. At first, it might be innocent admiration, but it eventually transformed—envy became jealousy. The timid did nothing, but the bold would stop at nothing. School was a microcosm of society, children maturing early and playing the adult game of intrigue. It was hardly a place for seeking knowledge.

As a child, Zhu Anfu was very naive. When he saw someone plotting, he foolishly ran to warn the victim. The outcome was predictable. From that moment on, Zhu Anfu seemed to have become “stupid.” He always trusted those who showed him kindness, believing whatever they said. So, when Jin She spoke of the apocalypse, Zhu Anfu believed it without hesitation and even tried using his blood to test the space, actually managing to create one.

He had no fondness for school. Attending university had been his parents’ wish—back then, they were still alive. He could sense their envy toward other children. Zhu Anfu was smart, but deliberately kept his grades low. He studied earnestly, genuinely learning, hoping university would be different. Yet, once he entered, he slowly realized—it was the same everywhere. Now, summoning the courage to return to university, he kept reminding himself that he’d matured; even if he sensed malice, just treat those people as piles of refuse.

Upon entering campus, Zhu Anfu could feel many people watching him, but with no emotion—just observing. Yuchi Ankang escorted him to the History Department, intending to take him inside, but Zhu Anfu refused. Yuchi Ankang didn’t insist, watched him go in, then hurried off to his own department—the Mecha Division. He had to make it to class. They could meet again at lunch and talk more then.

During the morning classes, Yuchi Ankang found it impossible to concentrate, constantly worrying about Zhu Anfu—would he be bullied, would he pretend to be “stupid” like before? When the lunch break bell rang, Yuchi Ankang closed his laptop, stuffed it in his bag, and hurried out, anxious to see Zhu Anfu and feel reassured. His worries proved unfounded. At the entrance of the department, he saw Zhu Anfu standing there, holding a notebook emblazoned with the History Department’s emblem, smiling.

“Have you decided to study history?” Yuchi Ankang walked up to him in a few quick steps. “Are you tired?”

“It’s fine. There are many courses in the History Department. I checked the curriculum—seems pretty simple. I can handle it. Once I earn enough credits, I can graduate. No thesis, no defense—it’s much easier than my old university.” Zhu Anfu followed behind Yuchi Ankang. “Where are we going? Lunch? I’m a bit hungry. I ate too little this morning.”

“There are six cafeterias here. The fifth one is closest to the History and Mecha Departments—I eat there every day.” Yuchi Ankang took Zhu Anfu’s hand and led him toward Cafeteria Five. On campus, many pairs walked hand in hand—male-male, female-female, male-female. No one paid undue attention to two men holding hands. Zhu Anfu felt no odd stares and relaxed considerably.

While eating, Yuchi Ankang asked about the History Department—class times, majors, arrangements. Zhu Anfu answered some questions, ignored others. Yuchi Ankang didn’t mind; conversation was just a way to talk more. After lunch, the school provided rest rooms for students, as well as activity rooms for sports, without forcing anyone to join clubs. Zhu Anfu wasn’t interested in the activity room and followed Yuchi Ankang to the rest area.

The rest room wasn’t crowded. Most students enjoyed youthful vigor; the activity room was busier at midday. The rest room was thoughtfully designed: married couples had adjacent seats. If a married couple wasn’t in the same school, the lone spouse’s seat would not be assigned a neighbor. Yuchi Ankang had puzzled over this for a long time before figuring it out. Zhu Anfu looked at the two adjacent seats with a face full of confusion. Yuchi Ankang explained briefly, and Zhu Anfu nodded, “The school is really humane.”

“I heard someone once sued the school over a divorce, and after that, they made these humane changes,” Yuchi Ankang said, sharing a bit of gossip whose truth he couldn’t verify.

“People are getting smarter,” Zhu Anfu laughed, “I hope the school didn’t have to pay too much compensation!”

“Apparently, yes. The laws are very thorough now. Destroying someone’s family is a serious crime.” Yuchi Ankang tapped the electronic screen on the chair and ordered two drinks. “Sit down and rest for a while.”