Chapter 53

Accessing the control tower itself required high-level authorization, and no one had ever shut down the control tower signals or the electromagnetic net. To prevent emergencies, each control tower could overclock and temporarily set up its own electromagnetic net, but this consumed the internal electronic components of the control tower tremendously and was only an emergency measure.

Han Ya closed the terminal, frowned, and said, “What does that mean? That Matthew deliberately framed Horne? But the alien invasion wasn’t up to him either, right? There’s no such coincidence—just happened that this brat ran out in the middle of the night, just happened that some kind people chased after him, just happened they picked Matthew to take over, and just happened the aliens came?” He clapped his hands once, then quickly spread them apart in a shrug. After speaking, he glanced toward the dining room.

The boy was standing at the boundary between the dining room and the living room, as if he had something to say. With so many people around, he didn’t dare approach and could only stand there.

Han Ya glared at him, and he shrank back.

Horne closed his eyes briefly, stared at the floor, recalled for a moment, and said, “Don’t speculate wildly without evidence. It was his second time on the Main Control Tower. He hadn’t encountered an alien invasion during a shift before, so he probably panicked while trying to send a warning and pressed the wrong button.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Wen Yu sighed. “But have you considered that his first time on the control tower also got you and Ben Yian injured? And his test passed.”

So last night’s situation shouldn’t have been possible. Although Matthew had just gained access to the control tower, he had already passed the control tower operation test beforehand.

“He has no motive against me, and he’s stopped working now, confined,” Horne said. But after thinking through the sequence of events, he added, “I’ll check again.”

“You have issues too, and I don’t get it.” Han Ya wanted to reprimand him but held back. He flopped straight onto the sofa. “Forget it. Anyway, Matthew’s in there now too, so you should obediently stay confined as well. I think it’s good that you’re confined. I told you you’d be held accountable… Hiss…”

As he spoke, he sensed something off. His eyebrows immediately furrowed. “That’s weird. I felt it during the meeting earlier—didn’t Old Man You have a good relationship with your family? Why was he so angry today? He scolded everyone one by one and directly ordered you to stop working. Is he dissatisfied with you? But the general only confined you for a week? And confined at home?”

“Who said confined at home?” Horne gave a helpless laugh. “Report to the prison myself by the end of today.”

Ben Yian looked thoughtful, pondered for a moment, and teased, “Lieutenant, I didn’t know you had such connections in both the government and the military? You can even choose the time to report to prison? Or did the general see your shining qualities and start to value talent?”

General Leon had been pulled out by the government to temporarily replace General Al and General Yaro after their deaths. Without going through strict procedures, they had privately joked many times that this general might be the government’s paperweight to control the military.

Wen Yu listened silently to their conversation, piecing together some information from it. She glanced at the somewhat dejected Horne, then at Han Ya sprawled on the sofa like mud, and her gaze fell on Ben Yian. She noticed that Ben Yian had been watching Horne.

She turned her head and finally glanced at the kid standing a few meters away.

The kid took a step back.

She withdrew her gaze and said slowly, “Think it over. The deputy leader has always taken good care of us. The scolding in the meeting might not have come from dissatisfaction. As for confinement, Horne, I suggest you go sooner.”

“I know,” Horne said.

“Hey!” Han Ya flopped down flat, staring at the ceiling. “I’m serious—send this brat to the Warfallen Asylum quick. And you really need to fix this habit of yours: undisciplined and disorganized, good intentions leading to bad outcomes. It was the same last time.”

Horne didn’t want to discuss the topic. He only replied calmly, “But precisely because I was undisciplined and disorganized last time, helping those two people—they saved me in the bombardment. Otherwise, I would’ve died long ago.”

Mentioning this made Han Ya flare up. He jolted upright and said loudly, “Just tell me, before—was it because you saved Mao Mao that…”

He stopped midway through.

The other two fell silent immediately.

Han Ya opened his mouth, then closed it, realizing he had said the wrong thing.

Horne felt a stone pressing on his chest, so heavy he couldn’t breathe.

As a child, he had kindly saved a very small alien—at that time, he didn’t know aliens could self-repair with particles and didn’t actually need his kindness. Mao Mao had been very cute back then, understood human speech, and accompanied him through his entire childhood and adolescence. Later, as a hope for peaceful coexistence between humans and aliens, he had wanted Mao Mao to serve as strong evidence in negotiations between the two races.

In the end, during that negotiation, Mao Mao killed his mother. His father died in battle at the city gate because the other side suddenly reneged and launched a fierce attack—the electromagnetic net wasn’t as comprehensive back then and didn’t cover the city gate.

He remembered it all.

He also remembered that, on the eve of the negotiation, he had kindly helped two strangers without resident chips. Due to the aliens’ fierce attack, Loch City activated full-scale laser bombardment, but he couldn’t pull himself away from his mother’s death and couldn’t escape the snowfield.

The people he had kindly helped the night before saved his life, accompanied him, and gave him the will to live on.

He didn’t know what consequences his acts of kindness would bring—good or bad.

Horne took a deep breath, stared blankly at the ceiling, his voice somewhat hoarse. “But I—I don’t want my kindness to be completely extinguished because of one blow. I don’t care if the kindness brings personal reward or betrayal to me. I just did it.”

After speaking, he forcefully tilted his head back, disguising his reddening eyes as a result of the glaring light. Everything around him blurred and wavered. The thumping in his chest was so obvious, so heavy.

Han Ya felt at a loss. After receiving white-eyed stares from two directions, he quickly scooted next to Horne and hugged him. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, Horne. Sorry.”

Horne buried his head, feeling very powerless and tired.

“I’m really sorry. Don’t be mad at me.” Han Ya patted his back, his heart aching. The Horne from back then had only wanted no more war and death, yet he hadn’t foreseen the outcome.

Ben Yian sighed and sat over too, pulling both of them into his arms. He murmured, “It’s okay. You’re good—you’re the best person in the world. But no matter how good, you’re just a living person who’s experienced much joy and pain. Sometimes you’re right, sometimes you make mistakes; sometimes people like you, sometimes they’re dissatisfied. It’s all okay.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Han Ya chimed in. He wrapped an arm around Ben Yian’s waist, forming a triangle. “Screw it, you’re the best.”

Wen Yu stood up too, walked to the black single-seater sofa, patted Horne’s shoulder, and said softly, “Everyone’s here. Of course, if you think Han Ya is disposable, I’ll snipe him off for you tomorrow—guaranteed to take his head from a thousand miles away.”

“What? What do you mean?” Han Ya lifted his head and grumbled. “Why just snipe me? Snipe Ben Yian too—yeah, and Horne. Then suicide yourself. Even in heaven, the bandit squad legend has to live on.”

Horne suddenly laughed out loud. He was surrounded in the middle, somewhat out of breath. Through the gaps in the overlapping crowd, he saw the kid who had always stood far away from them. He reached out a hand toward the kid.

The small, skinny figure swayed twice. His legs lifted, then lowered. After hesitating for a long time and seeing Horne still extending his hand, he took a step forward but stopped, only watching them from afar.

The other three didn’t notice Horne’s action.

Wen Yu laughed. “Forget heaven. The four of us have to live well, guard our hearts, and support each other.”

Ben Yian nodded. “I’m not strong enough to go out and kill aliens with you yet, but I’ll work hard. I want to protect you all, protect humanity.”

“You? Protect your little sister first.” Han Ya rolled his eyes. “You’re transferring to the outer city district—don’t turn around and shit yourself in fear at the sight of aliens.”

Ben Yian released Horne and swung a fist at Han Ya. “I see what you are—you’re fine in every way except that mouth of yours.”

Ben Yian grabbed Han Ya’s collar and shook him back and forth. Han Ya tilted his head and let drool flow.

“That’s disgusting.” Wen Yu’s face twitched as she distastefully backed away from the two.

“Alright, you two go get busy. I need to head out soon.” Horne stopped their horseplay, quickly composed himself, and looked at Ben Yian again. Remembering his transfer to the outer city district, he asked, “Next invasion, want to try commanding?”

Ben Yian released Han Ya, paused for a moment, and nodded lightly. “As you arrange.” His hand clenched tight, sweating inside, a bit excited. Finally, he could fight side by side, with a chance to do something impressive.

Ben Yian and Han Ya left. With one big mouth gone, the air in the whole house felt fresher.

Wen Yu walked last. As she neared the door, she stopped Horne and said softly to him, “Horne, I didn’t want to discourage you earlier.”

Horne looked at her, stunned.

Wen Yu continued, “Among the four of us, you’re the youngest, yet you hold the most power. But in reality, I joined the military and started training earlier than you all, and I’m older too. I think I see a bit further. What I want to remind you is that for you, doing the right thing might be more important than following rules—especially since you’ve been through things most people can’t imagine.”

She sighed and went on, “I know what you stick to. Precisely because you’re different, you need to consider more consequences. Kindness is right, but kindness conflicts with this snowfield era itself. You need to work harder to balance it. A little slack, and you’ll plant more hidden dangers… Do I make myself clear?”

Horne lowered his eyes slightly and nodded after a moment.

He knew what Wen Yu meant—except for one point he didn’t agree with. He felt kindness didn’t conflict with any era; it was just how one defined “kindness.”

The house soon quieted down. The gentle bubbling of water on the coffee table continued—a humidifier and aromatherapy machine, emitting a woody scent that blended with the home’s atmosphere.

When Horne went to tidy the dining room and kitchen, he was somewhat surprised to find it already cleaned.

He turned and met the boy’s eyes.

The boy stood silently between the dining room and living room. He just watched him, hands unnaturally clasped behind his back—as if he had been like that from the start. Horne couldn’t read what emotion was in those eyes.

Horne had the boy sit in the living room and pointed next to himself. He asked again, “Can I sit next to you?”