Story Reader / Interlude / Blue Bird / Story

The gust soon grows into a gale that catches the attention of every living thing, from crouching humans to fighting Constructs, even the creatures who were bred from the Red Tide have paused their slaughter. They all look at the light.

From the light, she descends.

She first sees with her eyes, then feels the Punishing Virus with her frame. The virus is floating in the air, and also present in the M.I.N.D. of Constructs and the data within the Red Tide.

The virus is entangled with infinite, noisy data. When she feels it, she also feels the agony and scream of thousands of souls.

She waves the scepter, letting the Punishing Virus rush into her M.I.N.D. along with all her painful emotions.

Her M.I.N.D. is immediately overwhelmed by the data torrent, but also infinitely extended. She floats in the space. Every satellite, every strain of the virus serves as her eyes. She is everywhere.

Her actions are no longer guided by her mind and memory, but by a duty-like instinct instead. With her specialized frame running at an extremely high frequency, her body becomes more brilliant each time she waves her scepter.

If the Punishing Virus is visualized, one may witness millions of the viruses form a tide in the air, rushing toward her like moths to a flame. She stands in the sky like a goddess of the sea, while the tide of Punishing surrounds her, engulfs her, then eventually disappears in her light.

The crimson virus sweeps across her M.I.N.D.

They turn into thorns that spread across her M.I.N.D., piercing into her heart like stakes.

Vital fluid surges from her chest. As her artificial heart continues to beat, more fluid comes out of her mouth and nose. She cannot tell whether it is vital fluid or the Red Tide.

Her vision starts to fade, but her consciousness is well awake. Unable to move, she can only wait for an ending like an angel crucified on rusty thorns.

She takes in all the information too hastily and feels like she has drowned in the river of eternity. Every thorn spike carries multiple memories. All are transmitted to her within an instant.

Countless lives are displayed in front of her. Memory data that belongs to different souls, related or unrelated to the Punishing Virus, has occupied her M.I.N.D.

The chest of a Construct is penetrated by a Corrupted that was once her friend. A wandering Scavenger jumps into the Red Tide to respond to his love. Inside a smoking forest, a lost child hugs a Hetero-Sapien who keeps calling him while piercing his body with its arm.

Every second is split into a thousand milliseconds, every millisecond is split into a thousand microseconds. She witnesses multiple lives within every unit of time. She stays with every soul on Earth.

Liv looks up. As her vision blurs, she sees a color other than the red that devours the sky. A gray bird flutters and stops on a branch nearby.

It tilts its head. Unlike other distorted data in her M.I.N.D., this bird feels like a living creature from the real world that accidentally ended up here.

She cannot tell the breed of the bird. Suddenly, it chirps and flaps its wings, pulling her into a data stream.

I bend down to pick up a hairband left on the grass. I let out a sigh, then shout out loud.

I squat down and take out my handkerchief to wipe out the mud on her cheeks.

Somehow, I feel like my life is similar to this old sheep's.

My grandmother was a believer. She disregarded the advanced technologies in bionic machines and believed a devoted heart would prevail. Over time, our family fell behind the world, but she held on to the pride of the family until the very end.

Still, piety alone could not save a large family on the brink of collapse. After losing our home, we began wandering. I could not even find a job in a world full of amazing machines that I could hardly imagine. Nobody wanted to hire a person with zero knowledge about modern technologies.

"Machines may replace human labor, but they will never replace our beautiful souls." My mother used to say this to me a lot.

I think I have met one with a beautiful soul.

Despite not using cutting-edge technologies, the mansion is well decorated like a well-preserved time capsule from many years ago. Sometimes I even have the feeling that my religious grandmother would come out of a room all of a sudden, calling me by my nickname.

I realize that spring has come.

I rush over and realize Bell is chewing her hair. Her face turns red from the pain, but she stays still as the sheep mistakes her hair for hay.

But Bell has not eaten anything for two days... Will she get better if she eats my hair...?

I don't know what to say.

Bell is too long in the tooth. Most animals lose appetite in hot summer, why would an old sheep be any different? She has been very worried and keeping it company over the past few days.

But how can I explain life and death to a kid of her age? All I can do is wipe her tears in silence.

Without a word, I take her hands, but deep in my heart, I am praying. Dear God, I devote my life to serving you, please treat these kind people nicely. How I wish the world can be restored to its former shape before the summer ends.

Mistress was a fighter. She stayed with us for several summers, but nobody thought she would be taken by an accident instead of the sickness.

I know what happened when I see his face and his tears. I feel dizzy as pain grips my heart.

Struggling to hold my grief, I stagger inside the ward.

But another more excruciating pain strikes me the moment I see the Young Mistress' face.

I have never seen her so helpless. She tightens her grip on her mother's hand for one instant, then gives up as if she wants to wake her up, but does not want to interrupt her sleep.

She opens her mouth slightly, pale lips trembling. I see dried tear stains under her eyes. This child has lost her soul and does not know what to do for the rest of her life.

I only find out later that the Mistress lost her life in an accident on the way to the hospital when she tried to protect her daughter.

I cannot imagine what impact it could have on this kind, innocent child who loves her mother so deeply. Just thinking about it kills me inside.

The Young Mistress hears the noise I made. She turns around and sees me. She looks lost.

She finally manages to ask me a question after a short pause. I hear her voice trembling.

I cry so hard that I cannot talk properly, but she seems to learn the truth anyway. She lowers her head, her hands clenching the white bedsheet hard.

In the name of God, I will never leave you... I want to make a thousand promises. I want to walk up and hug her, so she can let down her guard and cry it all out. But somehow I see Mistress in her miserable smile through my vision blurred by tears.

I don't know if it is an illusion, or if God really has heard my prayer. I see Mistress again. This great, beautiful lady descends into the ward, as kind and brilliant as when I first met her.

Smiling, she puts her arms around the Young Mistress and kisses her on the forehead. She then disappears in the air, as if she had never been here.

The Master has a family business to pass down. The Mistress, who used to kindly preserve her naive dreams, is no longer around.

She starts to read books in her room all day and night. I have a vague feeling that the death of Mistress has given her a new direction.

The Master, on the other hand, becomes more depressed after losing his wife and locks himself in the study immediately after work. In the beginning, the three of us were still eating at the same table together, but such occasions become increasingly rare as he is "busy with work".

The Young Mistress seems to be troubled by guilt. She asks me to teach her some common dishes, and she would try her best to cook them and awkwardly take them to her father's study. But the response she gets is no different from what I always had—"Just leave it there."

I want to tell her that none of this is her fault. She should never blame herself.

But when I see her beautiful and loving eyes, they remind me of her mother. I know I cannot change anything.

I can only do my best to make her life more comfortable. I suggest her to write letters to the Mistress. It does make her happier, and I'm glad it works.

But as time goes by, things are not getting better. When winter falls, the chill seems to also have impacted the mansion.

It starts snowing early in the morning. The Young Mistress has not seen snow for a while, so I wake up early and take her to the garden. I finally see her innocent smile once again.

I understand what he is trying to say.

Bell was buried right there. The Mistress and Young Mistress made her tombstone. I guess it's my time to embark on a new journey.

I return to the winter that I came from.

Life is never easy for ordinary people. Another season has passed when I have finally settled in.

One spring morning, I find the honeysuckles along the street blossoming on my way to work. The memory of the Young Mistress hits me so hard that I put down all the tools and rush through the entire neighborhood, heading toward her home.

I just want to see her from afar. I wonder how she is doing? Has her winter passed?

The sun is high in the sky when I finally arrive outside the mansion. I wait anxiously, hoping to see her through the fences of the garden.

She no longer skips around. Her hairband is tied up properly. It has been only a few months, but I feel like she has grown so much. The innocent child is gone.

I gaze at the Young Mistress, trying to remember everything about her at this very moment. But I must not let her see me, for she would blame herself again after seeing me in dire straits—I told her I received a better job offer when I left.

She squats down next to the garden bed and starts digging with the same old mini shovel. I realize the garden has been renovated. All the flowers that she once grew are now gone, replaced by neat green foliage and automatic robot gardeners.

She continues to dig the soil. Her face looks as serious as before, but there is no longer mud on it.

I watch her move honeysuckle from a pot to the garden bed.

I am beyond shocked. There are so many questions I want to ask. Why does Young Mistress have to make breakfast? Who is that girl?

She lowers her head and continues planting the seedling. She looks lonely and saddened.

Unable to do anything, I feel suffocated by the sense of guilt. I spend hours wandering outside the fence, but I could not gather the courage to step into the mansion. Ever since that day, I have never stopped regretting that I did not talk to the Young Mistress.

Every time I see her lonely look in my dream, I feel the urge to see her in person. But I never get to meet her again.

The letters I sent to the Master were never given replies.

I never hear anything from the Young Mistress. Still haunted by the guilt and uncertainty, I rarely go back to look for her again. Maybe she has already found her new family and friends. Maybe it was all just my misunderstanding.

Still, I put many of her favorite flowers in the window on the day my shop opens, hoping that one day she may come by.

I believe the Master will protect the Young Mistress. I can only think that way.

From a distance, I see a military vehicle driving past the gate. Are they here to protect her? She will be fine.

I gaze at the now desolated garden. It is nothing like what I remember. Finally, I find the honeysuckle that Young Mistress planted many years ago.

It has completely dried up on the gray soil and looks more like a piece of a specimen. A white dove lands next to it, then chirps and flies away.

When I was a human, I could endure the pain. But in a world of the Punishing Virus, we are no longer humans, but animals that would do anything just to live another day.

Can I really see my loved ones here? That's the first thing that comes to my mind when the Red Tide devours my camp.

When other Scavengers scream and run, I only close my eyes, waiting for miracles to happen.

...I don't know if it is my illusion, or if God has actually descended.

I feel like I have seen the Mistress... I cannot see her face, but she gently puts her arms around me like an angel.

I open my arms to embrace her. This is my final relief. But when I see the angel's face, I know it must be a miracle, for she is not the Mistress, but a grown-up Young Mistress.

I know somewhere in the world, she must have become the person she always wants to be. I shed happy tears at the last moment of my life.