Chapter 2
Seven or eight military vehicles pulled up to the orphanage’s front gates. The director, trailed by a flock of supervisors, hurried forward to welcome them, escorting the group inside with faces plastered in ingratiating smiles.
People from Cloud Peak had visited the orphanage before. Usually, everyone simply stood in the courtyard to be inspected, waiting for an officer to pick out one or two lucky ones to take away before the rest slunk back to their dorms in dejection.
This time, however, was different. Not only had the orphanage spent half a month rehearsing, but so many cars and distinguished visitors had arrived. Convinced that a large number of them would be chosen, the children poured every ounce of their energy into their performance.
“Director Liu, quite a lively scene you have here.” Walking on the far right was a young military officer in his early thirties, who turned to Director Liu with a genial smile.
Director Liu hastened to reply, “Colonel Gu, the children have long looked forward to the arrival of Council Speaker Wu, Councilor Wang, Councilor Chen, Colonel Gu, and Young Master Chu. Though conditions at our orphanage are harsh, it cannot dampen their passion for welcoming our honored guests.”
“Yes, not bad. Wonderfully organized, full of vitality,” Council Speaker Wu, walking in the center of the group, nodded with approval.
While the adults bantered and laughed, the youth walking beside Council Speaker Wu remained dead silent, his gaze fixed on a small patch of ground directly before him.
The youth possessed strikingly handsome features and an innate aristocratic air. Over a navy-blue suit, he wore a tailored woolen overcoat that accentuated his tall, upright posture, making him resemble a shoot of green bamboo stretching toward the sky. He carried a compact black leather bag and seemed entirely uninterested in his surroundings. His face was devoid of expression, radiating a chilly aloofness that kept everyone at arm’s length.
“…So when planning this inspection to the Abyss, we agreed that looking at the mines wasn’t enough; we had to stop by the Angel Orphanage as well,” Council Speaker Wu remarked, glancing at the youth beside him before addressing the others. “Chu Ya may be young, but he is remarkably steady. President Chu had urgent matters to attend to, so Chu Ya came to conduct the inspection in his father’s stead. He’s leagues ahead of that useless brat of mine who knows only how to play around.”
“I’ve long heard that Young Master Chu is a dragon among men, possessing extraordinary bearing. Seeing him in person truly confirms the rumors.”
“Young Master Chu has already entered his differentiation period. Before long, he will awaken as either a Sentinel or a Guide.”
“No wonder he’s already this tall at only twelve years old. I’m 170 centimeters, and look, he’s nearly eye to eye with me.”
“Entering differentiation already? That’s tremendous news! No wonder President Chu has been in such high spirits lately.”
…
Bathed in the cascade of flattery, the youth showed not a flicker of pleasure. Still, he finally acknowledged the scene before him.
Tipping his chin slightly, his voice came cool and polite: “Thank you for the high praise, Uncles.”
“Alright, that’s enough flattering him. My younger cousin is shy and dislikes hearing this sort of thing the most.” Colonel Gu strolled over with a grin and reached out to clap Chu Ya on the shoulder. “Am I right, Little Ya?”
Chu Ya’s body shifted slightly, as if instinctively wanting to dodge the hand on his shoulder. In the end, he held back, merely knitting his brows in an imperceptible frown.
The honor guard had already retreated to the rear of the ranks. Approaching the front, Council Speaker Wu and his party lined up where the band had stood, looking on with smiles at the singing children.
“…How blessed and joyful our lives are,
How bright and clear our voices soar,
Here the little angels gather,
Sowing seeds of hope forevermore…
La-la-la, my warm home,
La-la-la, the place where I grow…”
Every single child was singing with all their might, even the toddlers from the youngest class. They wanted to make the best possible impression so they could be selected for Cloud Peak.
Shen Quanquan wanted to go to Cloud Peak, too.
Standing in the front row, he poured his entire soul into the performance. His eyes were squeezed shut, his little head tilted straight up, his features scrunching and head trembling from sheer effort. Before every verse, he would suck in a huge gulp of air and bellow with all his might, making sure every syllable rang loud and clear.
“La-la-la, my warm ho—”
Snapping his eyes open, the bellowing Shen Quanquan choked mid-cry.
Somehow, an adult had materialized right in front of him—no, not an adult, an older boy.
An older boy he had never seen before, so handsome it left him utterly stunned, stood right before him. The boy was looking down at him with hooded eyes, completely expressionless.
Who is this?
He’s so tall… and so pretty…
Why is he here? Did he come from Cloud Peak?
Shen Quanquan completely forgot to sing. He merely tipped his cold-reddened little face up, mouth slightly agape, staring blankly back at Chu Ya.
A few seconds later, two clear, glistening streams of snot slowly trickled from his nostrils.
Chu Ya’s pupils constricted violently. His hands, hanging by his sides, curled into tight fists. Then, with a sudden snap of his neck, he averted his face.
It took several more seconds for Shen Quanquan to come back to his senses. With a wet shluck, he snorted the snot back in, kept his wide eyes locked on the person before him, and resumed bellowing at the top of his lungs.
“La-la-la, my warm home!”
As Shen Quanquan let out that roar, Chu Ya, his face still turned away, squeezed his eyes shut.
“La-la-la—cough, cough, cough!” From shouting at full blast, Shen Quanquan’s throat suddenly flared with an unbearable tickle, sending him into an uncontrollable coughing fit: “La—cough!—where I grow—cough, cough!”
Once the coughs started, there was no stopping them. After forcing out a couple more ragged syllables, he finally gave up, wheezing breathlessly with tears welling in his eyes.
The others stood too far away to notice, but Chu Ya heard every sound. He turned his head back, staring at him with cold detachment.
Tears brimming in his eyes, Shen Quanquan stared right back at Chu Ya. But his throat wasn’t just itchy now; it was parched and sticky, the walls feeling glued together. Unable to help himself, he let out a dry, gagging cough: “Bleh—”
Chu Ya, still staring down at Shen Quanquan, froze instantly. A visible fracture cracked through his cool, unflappable composure.
Fortunately, Shen Quanquan managed to catch his breath. He panted softly, coughing no more, just as the grand chorus came to an end.
“Next, let us warmly welcome Council Speaker Wu to deliver a speech!”
“Next, let us warmly welcome Councilor Wang to deliver a speech!”
…
Through the endless stream of speeches, the ambient light slowly brightened, but the bitter chill remained unrelenting. The children puffed white mist into the air, vigorously clapping their freezing-red hands while trembling faintly.
Shen Quanquan kept scrutinizing Chu Ya, making no attempt to conceal his curiosity.
This guy is so pretty. Prettier than Dung Beetle Wang Zhusheng’s older brother, prettier than even the prettiest kid in the orphanage.
He’s so tall. He must be awesome at fighting, and definitely awesome at snatching food.
He tied a piece of cloth around his neck just like an adult. It looks so nice. If I had a cloth strip like that, I’d tie it just like him.
“…The children live so happily here, and seeing it brings us immense joy. Through everyone’s joint efforts, the Abyss will surely be built into a better place…”
Though Chu Ya stood in silence, he could barely suppress the mounting irritation clawing at his chest. Recognizing it as the emotional turbulence of his differentiation period, he glanced over at Colonel Gu on the other side.
Meeting his gaze, Colonel Gu gave an understanding smile, leaned over, and murmured a few words to a supervisor. The supervisor nodded repeatedly and scurried toward Chu Ya.
“Young Master Chu, this way please. You can rest inside the lounge for a while.”
Chu Ya followed the supervisor toward the lounge without hesitation. Just as he stepped onto the stairs, thunderous applause erupted behind him. Instinctively glancing back, he saw the speaker beaming broadly while the officials around him nodded in agreement.
Losing interest, he pulled his gaze away, only to catch sight of the little kid still staring at him unblinkingly, two long trails of snot dangling under his nose.
Chu Ya’s eyes lingered on the child for a mere half-second before the boy abruptly raised his arm, wiping the back of his hand horizontally across his nose. The action smeared a glistening glaze over his entire left cheek.
Chu Ya stumbled over his own feet. The supervisor blurted out, “Careful, Young Master Chu!”
Snapping his head back forward, Chu Ya drew in a deep breath and quickened his pace.
The orphanage lounge was thoroughly heated, furnished with plush sofas, oil paintings on the walls, and fresh flowers imported from Cloud Peak arranged on the coffee table. Evidently, the orphanage had pulled out all the stops to receive this delegation.
Once the supervisor left, Chu Ya hung his overcoat on the rack. He fished a small medicine bottle from his leather bag, shook out a pill, and swallowed it dry. Then, producing a small clothes brush, he proceeded to brush away nonexistent specks of dust from his coat.
He was a clean freak who loathed being touched by others.
Especially by that filthy child. Screeching directly into his face—he could practically see the little uvula vibrating in the back of the kid’s throat. Coughing like a machine gun, spraying who-knew-how-many flecks of spit. Chu Ya had no doubt that if he had stood an inch closer, the kid would have wiped that snot straight onto his coat.
At the thought, Chu Ya brushed his coat once more with painstaking thoroughness. Next, he retrieved a small spray bottle of sanitizer, rubbing his hands together before thoroughly misting his jacket and himself. Only then did he loosen his necktie, fold it neatly into his coat pocket, and walk slowly over to the window.
Outside lay the sports ground. Through the thick glass pane, the applause and speeches sounded faint and distant. He could only see the children standing obediently in the biting wind, raising their hands in unison to clap every now and then.
Chu Ya looked toward the murky horizon, then tilted his head back.
His vision remained clouded by the murky, leaden sky, but in the highest reaches, the faint outline of a massive black silhouette could be seen, hovering like a miniature celestial body.
That was the city suspended above the Abyss, the place where he lived—Cloud Peak.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door was pushed open, and Colonel Gu walked in.
“These people drone on endlessly. Forget you, even I can’t stomach it.” Colonel Gu shut the door behind him, striding toward the coffee table with a thermos in hand. “Cold and damp. Ghastly weather.”
He lifted a kettle, poured hot water into the thermos, and asked, “Taken your medicine?”
“Yes.”
“That’s how the differentiation period goes—wild mood swings. In the six months before I differentiated into a Sentinel, I punched through five heavy bags. Not even medicine helped.”
Colonel Gu walked over to Chu Ya, extending the thermos toward him. “Here, have some warm water.”
Chu Ya didn’t respond. Colonel Gu added, “I know you’re particular about cleanliness. I haven’t used this cup today, and it was washed beforehand.”
Chu Ya glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, then looked away. “I’m not thirsty.”
The smile on Colonel Gu’s face stiffened for an instant, a dark shadow flickering across his eyes. His features were naturally somewhat feminine, and in that fleeting moment, he looked distinctly sinister.
Yet his warm demeanor returned almost instantly. Taking a sip from the thermos himself, he remarked in a teasing tone, “You, Young Master Chu, were raised with such delicate care. Naturally, your older cousin gets looked down on. You won’t even touch a clean thermos of mine—I’ll remember this one… By the way, what were you looking at just now?”
Chu Ya replied, “Cloud Peak.”
Colonel Gu looked up toward the sky as well. “I know you despise this place, but hang in there a little longer and we can head back.”
Chu Ya remained silent. His reflection was cast upon the windowpane, the budding sharpness of his features softened by the glass, making him appear remarkably clean and handsome.
Clap, clap, clap! The sports ground erupted into applause once more.
“…Under Cloud Peak’s benevolent governance, the children of the Abyss can thrive, well-fed and well-clothed…”
Chu Ya looked down to see that Director Liu had taken the microphone, signaling that the speeches were drawing to a close. His gaze fell naturally onto the front row, seeking out that filthy child.
The gray cotton jacket on the dirty kid was far too large. A scrawny neck poked out of the collar, and the hem fell nearly to his calves, exposing short legs clad in gray corduroy trousers. He wore a drab, dusty padded cap with ear flaps hanging down over both ears, giving him an endearing, silly look.
Chu Ya noticed that although the boy was standing at attention, his hands were secretly busy behind his back. Two upright index fingers tapped alternately up and down, as though keeping rhythm to something. The child behind him, though keeping his hands glued to his sides, was also drumming his thighs in a steady left-right rhythm.
Chu Ya found himself guessing what they were mimicking. Beside him, Colonel Gu turned the thermos in his hands and spoke casually: “Who wouldn’t despise this place? This is the Abyss, a cesspool of cold, filth, despair, and rot.”
Tearing his thoughts away from the dirty kid, Chu Ya steadied himself and answered with quiet earnestness, “Actually, I’ve always wondered what the Abyss was like. I didn’t know, and none of my military academy classmates knew either. Yesterday, Father suddenly called me into his study and said I ought to come see the Abyss for myself, so I came. I imagined the Abyss many times, and I knew life here couldn’t compare to Cloud Peak, but still…”
“Still beyond your imagination?” Colonel Gu asked.
Chu Ya frowned. “We visited the mines in the middle of the night. The Hushi ore those miners dig up is the very energy the levitation engines need to keep Cloud Peak floating in the sky. Yet they can’t even get enough to eat—”
“And what can be done about that?” Colonel Gu raised a hand, cutting Chu Ya off. “Due to soil degradation, the Abyss cannot sustain agriculture. Every scrap of food right now relies on Cloud Peak’s production. But how much land does Cloud Peak even have? Being able to feed this many people with our output is already a miracle.”
Chu Ya’s face cooled. “Yet no one on Cloud Peak ever goes hungry or freezes.”
Colonel Gu fixed his pale eyes on Chu Ya. “Survival of the fittest is the law of this world. The strong rise to Cloud Peak; the weak remain in the Abyss. Don’t go thinking it’s unfair. Look at the people down here—give them a bowl of food, give them a sliver of hope, and they become docile and content. They live in total ignorance, yet they are quite happy.”
Chu Ya pressed his lips into a tight line, offering no retort as he stared out the window.
Colonel Gu continued, “Conditions in the Abyss are indeed poor, and a vast gap exists between here and Cloud Peak, but we are working hard to change that. Otherwise, why would we come inspect it? You are President Chu’s son, born noble. You don’t need to concern yourself with matters of the bottom rungs—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Chu Ya turned on his heel without warning and strode toward the door.
Colonel Gu’s voice faltered. “Where are you going?”
Chu Ya pulled his overcoat off the rack, put it on, picked up his leather bag, opened the door, and walked out without a single word.
His footsteps faded down the stairwell, leaving the room empty once more. Colonel Gu raised his thermos, gently blowing away the rising steam, and turned his gaze back out the window.
Pale lamplight spilled over his head, casting shifting shadows across his face and lending him an inexplicable, icy chill.
