FT DR Chapter 156: Return to the Mother Planet

Chapter 156: Return to the Mother Planet

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

The starship had been in near-Earth orbit for almost three hours.

Wu Chenghe looked out through the porthole at the vast universe outside. A blue planet was slowly rotating around a huge yellow dwarf star. The somewhat murky atmosphere was swirling with pale yellow clouds, and faint red spots could be seen on the surface.

“The probe’s back,” Jin Xuan said, appearing behind him at some point, hands resting on his shoulders. “The intel shows that the shuttle can land in about an hour.”

“Oh,” Wu Chenghe responded softly. He couldn’t quite tell whether he was feeling anticipation or nervousness. His longed-for homeworld was right outside the window, though over a thousand years had passed, it still held a fatal attraction to his wandering soul.

“What’s wrong?” Jin Xuan noticed something off in his expression and asked worriedly, “If you don’t want to go down, we can just fly around the equator. The environmental damage on Earth is severe, especially in the East Asia region. I’m afraid it might be too emotional for you.”

“Oh, no,” Wu Chenghe rallied. “I’m just… feeling a bit nervous about returning home. You know, give me some time to calm down.”

“Okay,” Jin Xuan rubbed his hair affectionately, leaving him alone in the observation cabin. “I’ll go get you something to eat. How about meeting in the dining hall in half an hour?”

“Sounds good.”

The observation cabin returned to silence. Wu Chenghe sat in the pilot’s chair, adjusting the observation instruments to find a suitable entry point through the clouds. Returning to Earth had always been his lifelong wish. To Jin Xuan, that distant, ravaged planet was just a brief mention in textbooks, but for him, it carried all the memories of his homeland, of his family.

“I’m back.”

Two hours later, the all-terrain shuttle pierced through the atmosphere and flew towards Earth. Inside the cabin, the holographic screen displayed real-time monitoring results from the probe group: the Eurasian continent remained unsuitable for human habitation, especially the East Asia region. The soil was desertified, plants were dying en masse, the surface was filled with biochemical toxins, and animal traces were scarce… After over nine hundred years, Earth still hadn’t digested all the remnants left by humans.

Jin Xuan maneuvered the shuttle to change course in the stratosphere, gradually transitioning to parallel flight with the ground. Then, with a smooth tangent, he slowly passed through the troposphere, hovering at an altitude of five kilometers above the ground.

The Northwest Desert appeared before them. Through the front window, Wu Chenghe saw vast stretches of yellow sand extending in his vision. The air was hazy and polluted, mixed with fine grains of sand, and the wind swept past, rolling the dry grasses on the sandy ground. In the distance, the silhouette of the Great Wall was visible, the towering towers of Jiayuguan resembling ancient totems, leaving a desolate silhouette in the vast expanse of the sky and earth.

“Is that the Great Wall?” Jin Xuan asked.

“Yes, it’s the starting point of the Ming Great Wall,” Wu Chenghe replied. In his memory, the magnificent pass was now in ruins, the beacon towers standing on weathered sandstone, precarious like nests on cliffs.

“It’s magnificent,” Jin Xuan praised. Unlike Wu Chenghe, he had no sense of belonging to this planet, merely appreciating the ancient relics as a traveler would. “The probe shows a large-scale city ruin in the southeast. Do you want to go take a look?”

Wu Chenghe opened the topographic map sent back by the probe and saw that the ruins Jin Xuan mentioned seemed to be built on the site of the old Jiuquan. He nodded, “Sure.”

The shuttle flew over the desert, and soon arrived over the city ruins. The place was desolate, with no traces of people or animals. Flowing yellow sand covered the once bustling streets, collapsed buildings were riddled with holes, and only the empty plaza in the city center remained intact, with a defunct fountain standing alone, looking up at the sky.

Jin Xuan controlled the shuttle to land in the empty space at the center of the plaza and said, “I’ll go take a look. You wait for me in the cabin.”

“I’ll come with you.” Wu Chenghe unbuckled his seatbelt, feeling excited about setting foot on his homeworld’s soil again.

Jin Xuan didn’t object anymore. He fastened the respirator of the protective suit onto him and equipped him with a ray gun on his belt. “Don’t stray too far from me. This place has been infected with viruses for hundreds of years. There might be mutant species around.”

“Okay, I’ll be careful.” Wu Chenghe was already accustomed to his protection. He nodded obediently and followed him out of the shuttle.

“After a millennium, stepping foot on Earth again, Wu Chenghe felt a strange shiver. His protective suit displayed an external temperature of five degrees above zero, weak ultraviolet radiation, a small amount of irritating gas in the air, mild radiation, and biochemical viruses not yet completely degraded, making it unsuitable for ordinary human habitation.

“Quite a stench,” Jin Xuan sniffed, frowning deeply. He wasn’t wearing a respirator; for Sentinels like him, this atmospheric environment posed no problem, at most irritating the nasal mucosa.

“It seems like this isn’t an ordinary city; it’s a space city,” Wu Chenghe looked around and noticed sculptures and fountains on the square, all related to aerospace – planets, starships, battleships… A huge monument stood in the middle of the square, still smooth and flat despite the passage of time.

“No, this isn’t a space city; it’s the site of the Asia-Europe Space Base,” Jin Xuan said, comparing ground features scanned by probes with data stored in his personal terminal. “Nine hundred years ago, humanity built the ‘Arks’ here. Two of them were assembled and launched from here. This city was one of the three major space bases at that time.”

So Jiuquan was expanded into the Ark Base after all; indeed, the Chinese were the most reliable for such large projects… Wu Chenghe felt somewhat proud. He walked up to the monument, touched it through his gloves, and pressed a button at the bottom right. A stream of light raced across the smooth surface, and soon dense holographic text appeared.

As Jin Xuan had said, this was indeed one of the space bases nine hundred years ago. Humanity launched the ‘Arks’ belonging to Asia and Europe into space from here. Afterward, the environment here deteriorated rapidly, viruses raged more and more, and healthy citizens were transferred to the ‘Safe Zone’ in the east, leaving only the infected here to die.

This monument, rather than a memorial, seemed more like an epitaph for this city. One could imagine the despair when the ‘Arks’ departed, the outbreak of bio-chaos, and how hopeless the people here, especially the abandoned infected, must have been… Wu Chenghe’s gaze gradually moved to the bottom of the monument. Suddenly, he was attracted by a segment of text that seemed to have been added later. He called out to Jin Xuan, “Hey, come here, take a look at this.”

“What?” Jin Xuan was busy taking various narcissistic selfies with his personal terminal but strolled over upon hearing him. Wu Chenghe quickly read through the text, his shock beyond words. “It says here that besides the two Arks that launched from here, they also sent another group of people into space!”

“Impossible,” Jin Xuan was extremely surprised. “The six Arks that departed later arrived at Planet Dunkirk, forming the Federation. I haven’t heard of any more Arks following them.”

“No, it wasn’t any of those six Arks. It was a completely different group of people, some survivors of the infection!” Wu Chenghe pointed to the text at the bottom of the monument. “Look here, this is what they recorded before they left.”

After the Arks launched and survivors retreated to the ‘Safe Zone,’ this city was completely sealed off. To prevent the virus from spreading and threatening the survival of the ‘Safe Zone,’ the military decided to carry out a devastating bombing of the entire city.

The all-encompassing explosion, followed by a week-long radiation cleansing, almost turned the entire city into a wasteland. But fortune favors the bold; a small group of infected somehow survived. Some had foreseen the impending disaster before the big explosion began and, with some carriers who carried the virus but had not yet developed symptoms, hid in a secret underground shelter in the space base.

After the radiation cleansing, these survivors returned to the surface, seeking new life. Whether due to genetic changes caused by radiation or mutations in their own immune system, they did not fall ill rapidly like other infected individuals, losing their sanity and becoming zombies. Instead, they somehow survived in a half-dead state.

The city lay in ruins, and the Safe Zone couldn’t shelter them. Leaving the debris was a dead end. So, this group of people spontaneously formed a collective and elected a new mayor to lead them through their struggles.

With no food, medicine, or even clean water, the long and painful underground existence left everyone feeling life wasn’t worth living. Finally, an engineer who had participated in the “Ark Project” proposed a bold plan: to use a prototype Ark stored in the space base’s warehouse to fly out of Earth and seek a way out.

The prototype was only one-twentieth the size of a regular Ark, an early experimental model long since abandoned. Flying it out of Earth, let alone into space, was exceptionally difficult. However, people in dire situations often unleash incredible creativity. Several months later, they actually succeeded.

“They flew off Earth in the prototype, gathering hydrogen and supplies from Jupiter, then flew out of the solar system,” murmured Wu Chenghe as he looked at the monument. “It’s incredible. Over thirty-four thousand infected individuals, relying on a discarded prototype, managed to leave this dead city!”

“But we’ve never received any information from them,” Jin Xuan frowned. “Where did they fly to? Why haven’t they reached our star system? Did they set a different destination from what the United Nations initially determined?”

“Maybe they never made it out of the solar system, or they perished somewhere else—after all, they were aboard a prototype, and the plan was rushed,” Wu Chenghe analyzed. “And even if they succeeded in setting off safely, they couldn’t have flown toward the Arks. They were infected. When they were on Earth, they faced abandonment and extinction. If they were to meet the Arks, they would likely face another round of devastating blows.”

“You make sense,” Jin Xuan nodded in agreement. After a pause, Wu Chenghe affirmed, “The prototype was their only chance. They couldn’t have flown toward the destination humanity originally set; that would’ve been suicide.”

“So, somewhere out in the cosmos, there’s likely still a group of human descendants?” Jin Xuan mused.

“I think so,” Wu Chenghe sighed. “Human potential is too vast, even beyond human prediction.”

“Yeah… maybe we’ll meet them in the future, or perhaps they’ll find the Dunkirk Federation. This information is crucial; we need to report it to the federal government when we return,” Jin Xuan said, pressing a button on the monument. The text disappeared, leaving the surface smooth and blank. He glanced at the scan map on his probe and said, “There are no humans left in this city, only some mutated sand rats and lower animals… Do you want to see the underground shelter where they survived?”

“Let’s forget it,” Wu Chenghe felt psychologically uncomfortable about this desolate ruin for some reason. Although it was the birthplace of humanity’s journey into space, it was also a place of massacre among its own kind.

Understanding his sentiment, Jin Xuan comforted him by patting his head and said, “It’s getting dark. Do you want to visit other continents or go back to the starship?”

Standing in the vast square, Wu Chenghe sighed silently. Although he had mentally prepared himself before coming, knowing what kind of Earth he would face, experiencing it firsthand was still somewhat unacceptable.

Is this how we leave it? Wu Chenghe looked up at the thick clouds and dim sunlight. Feeling somewhat incomplete, he said, “Can we search a bit more? Perhaps there are other places suitable for human habitation. After all these years, some places might have completely degraded the viruses.”

Understanding his feelings, Jin Xuan said, “The situation might be better in colder regions. I’ve deployed probes to the North and South Poles. It’ll take some time for the information to come back. Let’s wait in the shuttle. The environment outside is too harsh.”

The two returned to the shuttle. Wu Chenghe felt low-spirited, sitting silently in his seat. Jin Xuan, feeling sorry for him, instructed his lion to come over and be cute, rubbing its big head against Wu Chenghe’s leg. He also summoned the Icarus butterfly to cheer him up.

The big golden retriever annoyed Wu Chenghe. He glared at Jin Xuan, “Can’t you control it?”

“They’re both yours to handle now,” Jin Xuan grinned, pulling his chair next to Wu Chenghe’s and putting his arm around his shoulder. He patted his head and said, “Don’t be sad. It’s all hundreds of years ago. Why worry about ancient history?”

“I’m ancient too.”

“You’re mine,” Jin Xuan couldn’t get enough, so he just pulled him onto his lap, holding him close and sniffing him, “Why do you smell so good? Did you spill milk on your clothes earlier?”

Unable to tolerate his dog-like behavior, Wu Chenghe grabbed his hair and pulled him away, “Get off me! Who’s your ‘mine’? I’m your ‘husband’, okay… Stop sniffing me; I didn’t even drink milk. General, show some respect!”

“It’s private time now; I don’t need your respect,” Jin Xuan shook his head, pushing away the hands of “husband” and said, “Aren’t we on our honeymoon? Isn’t it supposed to be all hands and love wherever and whenever?”

“We’ve been married for twenty years; who goes on a honeymoon with you?” Wu Chenghe pushed his arms away, attempting to sit back in his seat. Jin Xuan, quick as lightning, didn’t wait for him to land on the chair; he grabbed him again, “Why are you running? We finally got rid of the son and the subordinate dogs. Is it necessary to keep it so tense in our alone time? How old are you, acting all high and mighty, even older than my uncle?”

“I’m actually four years older than you. Leave me alone with your age play!” Wu Chenghe struggled but couldn’t break free, flopping around like a stranded fish. Jin Xuan held onto his waist and easily subdued him, “Physically, I’m seven years older than you… Okay, even if you’re older, being younger is cute, right?”

“Younger my foot!” Wu Chenghe couldn’t stand it and cursed, “Your foot’s cute!”

“Do you know, I have an ancestor who loved swearing, especially during sex. I’ve always admired his husband,” Jin Xuan squinted with longing, “Keep it up, preferably until tonight. I’ll definitely be in the mood for a thousand miles…”

Wu Chenghe stopped struggling, feeling exasperated, and looked at the unreliable general, “Do you have some kind of mental illness from recent stress? Do you know that being a sadist is a disease?”

“Are you going to report me to the military? Are you going to send me to a non-standard Sentinel research center?” Jin Xuan shamelessly grinned, “You’re my full-time military doctor, responsible for my psychological adjustment. You have an obligation to satisfy me and comfort me when I’m frustrated. You can’t just collect your salary without doing your job, Major General!”

Pausing for a moment, he continued, “While the probe hasn’t returned yet, want to have some fun in the car?”

“…” Wu Chenghe stared at him for a moment, feeling defeated, “You’re hopeless.”

Jin Xuan loved it when he gave up struggling and resigned himself to fate. He couldn’t help but laugh and ruffle his hair. Wu Chenghe retaliated by messing up his hair like a bird’s nest, and they both burst into laughter. Laughing, Wu Chenghe felt the previous heaviness in his heart dissipate. Looking at the blood-red sunset outside the window and the vast expanse of yellow sand, he suddenly felt enlightened—humanity had flown out of the solar system nine hundred years ago. Today, excessively mourning the mother star served no purpose. Everything should be looked at with a forward-thinking perspective.

“That’s the right attitude,” Jin Xuan conveyed through their shared consciousness, blinking proudly. Wu Chenghe knew that his earlier antics were all to cheer him up. He returned a brief kiss, “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, the probes sent to the poles returned with their findings. As Jin Xuan had expected, some areas in the colder regions had recovered, especially above fifty degrees north latitude and near the Arctic Circle. 

“How about going to Alaska? It looks good there.” Jin Xuan randomly flipped through the holographic map, “The Aleutian Islands, the Pacific Ring of Fire… Oh, what about Fairbanks? The City of Northern Lights. The probe shows that the viruses there have completely degraded, and the atmospheric conditions are excellent.”

“Alaska?!” Wu Chenghe followed his finger on the map across North America, thinking about the hot springs, snow-capped mountains, and glaciers there… Gradually, he became interested, “Sure, it’s early winter now. Fairbanks has short days and long nights. We might even see the Northern Lights.”

“That’s settled then!” Jin Xuan closed the map and started the engine, “Buckle up; we’re off!”

The shuttle flew eastward against the strong wind, crossing the Pacific Ocean and entering the Bering Strait, soon arriving at the North American continent. Jin Xuan slowed down, looking for a suitable landing spot, while Wu Chenghe served as co-pilot, navigating for him.

“That’s Fairbanks ahead,” Wu Chenghe pointed out according to the map, “The probe shows severe damage to the city. We can find a flat area along the Chena River to land. There was a heavy snowfall here during the day, and the ground temperature is below minus twenty degrees Celsius.”

“Wow, it’s really cold,” Jin Xuan piloted the shuttle, flying over the Fairbanks urban area and landing on a wide riverbank. The headlights illuminated the entire river valley, and the engine’s airflow kicked up snow, swirling and dancing in the air. After the snow settled, an endless river valley appeared before them, the river frozen, with ice over thirty centimeters thick, covered with a thick layer of snow.

“Want to explore?” Jin Xuan inexplicably liked this icy place, eager to go, rubbing his hands, “The map shows a mountain a few kilometers up the river valley. The snow-covered plateau on the mountaintop is an excellent place to observe the aurora.”

Wu Chenghe checked the outside temperature, minus twenty-three degrees Celsius. Although they were in a temperature-controlled cabin, he couldn’t help but shiver, “It’s so cold. Can’t we just fly the shuttle up there?”

“But aren’t we here for our anniversary trip? Just flying the shuttle all the time doesn’t seem right,” Jin Xuan tried to persuade his husband, “We finally made a trip to the mother planet; we should enjoy nature. Besides, finding a suitable outdoor activity spot isn’t easy.”

Wu Chenghe thought about it. Indeed, this might be his only trip back to Earth in his lifetime. With a sigh, he reluctantly wrapped himself in the fur coat and headed towards the shuttle door, “I swear, one day I’ll strangle you with my own hands.”

Jin Xuan laughed heartily, putting on a matching fur coat and following him out of the shuttle.

Outside was bitterly cold, with the north wind blowing in their faces. Wu Chenghe suddenly felt that the flamboyant fur coat wasn’t so bad after all—although the temperature-controlled suit kept him warm, the thick fur coat provided a psychological sense of security in this low-temperature environment.

In the pitch-black night, only a warm yellow floating light illuminated the way ahead. Wu Chenghe and Jin Xuan walked side by side on the snow-covered river surface, the biting wind carrying fine ice shards, and their boots crunching in the snow, making a crisp sound.

“Now we’re a pair of Eskimo whale hunters,” Jin Xuan, being bored, started to mess around again, walking and using his professionally trained, deep, magnetic baritone to narrate a documentary to his husband, “Winter is coming, and to feed our three hungry sons, we must stock up enough food and meat before the polar night arrives… Fatherhood is like a mountain; being a dad isn’t easy.”

Shaking his head with emotion, he looked at Wu Chenghe, “Come on, let’s play a storytelling game, okay?”

Feeling it was a bit ridiculous, Wu Chenghe couldn’t resist rolling his eyes but decided to humor him, “Fine.” After thinking for a moment, he continued, “It wasn’t even dawn yet when we set out today. Today, we’re going to hunt a mature whale. These giant mammals roam the warm North Atlantic Ocean all summer, absorbing the power of seawater and sunlight, accumulating thick blubber for the winter. Now, it’s about to become a free gift from heaven, providing us and our sons with delicious meat and oil for the whole winter, as well as joyful family time.”

“Haha! Nicely done, beautifully written. Were those dry quarterly reports with not even a single adjective yours?” Jin Xuan gave him a thumbs up. “So, what should we call this story?”

“‘Eskimos on the Tip of the Tongue’,” Wu Chenghe said expressionlessly.

“Hmm, not bad,” Jin Xuan raised an eyebrow, about to continue when his pupils suddenly contracted. Swift as lightning, a Barbary lion dashed away across the icy plain.

“Oh, what an unexpected surprise. It seems we’ve gained a few fans,” Jin Xuan said, seeing several shadowy figures through the lion’s eyes. They were probably some large animals, polar bears or wolves. “They must be starving, following the scent of your sweet blood.”

“I told you I didn’t drink any milk, there’s no smell on me!” Wu Chenghe rolled his eyes at him, grabbing the ray gun from his belt. But Jin Xuan immediately held his hand down. “Don’t shoot. Don’t hurt them. It’s not easy to find followers in the middle of nowhere like this.”

Alright, Wu Chenghe figured he probably didn’t need weapons to deal with a few large animals with his beast-like combat prowess. He holstered the ray gun. “Whatever you’re up to, be careful.”

Before he could finish, Jin Xuan’s tall figure had disappeared, leaving only a shadow in the dim light. Almost at the same moment, a frightened howl came from three or four hundred meters away, followed by a chorus of wolf howls.

Now Wu Chenghe was pretty sure it was a pack of hungry inland wolves. He could feel their desire for fresh meat and warm blood, their cruel aura, and the fear and awe in their hearts when faced with a stronger individual—whether enemy or beast, Jin Xuan possessed an inherent and powerful deterrent force.

Submitting to such a sentinel made one feel safe and proud. Wu Chenghe let out a sharp whistle, like a hunter praising his own capable hound. After the whistle, Jin Xuan returned like a true Eskimo with the lion, leading ten or so massive inland wolves behind him. Their black-brown fur was covered in dirty snow, and their ice-green eyes cautiously followed the conqueror’s figure, too afraid to look directly at him.

“What are you up to?” Wu Chenghe asked loudly. “Why did you bring the wolf pack here?”

“Just borrowing a few followers for now,” Jin Xuan replied with a smile. “It’s a long way to the aurora observation point, and we still have to climb a mountain. I’m afraid you won’t make it there, so I decided to get you some transportation.”

“Haha! You want me to ride a wolf up the mountain?” Wu Chenghe couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why would I do that? Have a little imagination, okay?” Jin Xuan approached, shrugging. “I said ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ I’ll get you a dog sled, much more romantic.”

Riding a wolf sled was beyond ridiculous… Wu Chenghe had to admit that his imagination was nowhere near Jin Xuan’s. Meanwhile, Jin Xuan had already greeted his new followers and bowed to the leader—his low, majestic voice forcing the poor pack of inland wolves to lie prostrate at Wu Chenghe’s feet, their front paws on the ground, tails erect, and they shook like dogs.

“Enough,” Wu Chenghe stepped back, waving his hand. “You’re scaring them.”

Jin Xuan roared low like a lion, and the wolf pack immediately marched in formation, standing at attention and saluting.

Fifteen minutes later, the makeshift wolf sled was on its way. Wu Chenghe sat cross-legged on the wide plank made of rough branches, with Jin Xuan standing behind him, hands on his shoulders, emitting primal, beast-like howls, urging a dozen giant inland wolves to gallop across the frozen Chena River.

“Ahoo, ahoo, ahoo—” Jin Xuan shouted loudly, and the wolf pack naturally emitted long howls in response, “Awooo—”

The floating light ahead emitted a gentle warm glow, the huge moon hung in the sky like a silver plate, the starlight twinkled, and echoes of the snow-capped mountains echoed continuously around. Wu Chenghe felt the fierce wind blowing past his ears, his face almost numb from the cold, but he couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride. With a loud crack of the whip in his hand, he shouted, “Drive!”

“Hahaha!” Jin Xuan laughed loudly, almost scaring the wolf pack.

Inland wolves had excellent endurance, and they didn’t rest for a whole hour, yet their speed didn’t decrease. At dawn, they finally pulled their two temporary masters to the mountaintop.

It was early winter, and Fairbanks was approaching polar night. The sun only rose for three to five hours a day. At five in the morning, it was still as dark as midnight. Jin Xuan halted the wolf pack, unfastened the makeshift sled, but didn’t untie the ropes from their bodies, only commanding them to rest in place.

Wu Chenghe’s legs were a bit numb from sitting. He stamped his feet on the snowy ground and rubbed his face. “It’s so cold… The weather seems fine, but I wonder if we’ll be able to see the aurora.”

“We should be able to. This is the city of auroras. They say you can see the auroras for over 260 days a year here. We won’t be so unlucky to miss the few days we’re here,” Jin Xuan said, looking up at the sky, taking a deep breath. “The air is really good here. We’ve found the right place. Come, let’s enjoy the last habitable place on our mother planet.”

“It will get better,” Wu Chenghe sighed. “Nature will gradually digest everything left by humans, clean the air, purify the soil… Maybe in a few thousand years, there will be new humans, or maybe not humans, but some other intelligent beings.”

“At least it won’t be inland wolves,” Jin Xuan laughed, whistling. The wolf pack immediately trotted over, crawling beside him in a row.

Wu Chenghe gave the animal trainer a thumbs-up, praising his skills.

“Come here, you look a bit cold. Warm up in my arms. We might have to wait a while,” Jin Xuan opened his fur coat, enveloping Wu Chenghe in his warmth, using his palm to warm his face and rubbing his cold nose with his warm one. Wu Chenghe was wearing a thermal suit and fur coat, but his face had been exposed the whole time, cheeks and nose turning red from the cold, and his earlobes tinged with pink.

“Are you cold?” Jin Xuan whispered, not waiting for an answer before kissing his lips, slipping his tongue in to lick his teeth, moistening his cold tongue with warm saliva. “Is that better?”

“Mmm…” Wu Chenghe responded in a daze, his eyes glazed from the kiss. “More.”

“Alright.” Jin Xuan held his chin, kissing him deeply, providing more heat to his slightly cold mouth, sending his continuous warmth into his throat, soothing his body in need of warmth.

Wu Chenghe emitted a soft hum, wrapping his body around Jin Xuan’s in the fur coat, his hands wandering between fur and thermal suit, seeking more warmth, then pressing his body closer, chest against chest, embracing him tightly.

Under the starry sky of their mother planet, they embraced closely, tall snow-capped trees rustling in the gentle breeze, shedding tiny flakes of snow that scattered on their bodies, the snowy ground, and the fur of the wolf pack… White vapor swirled between their lips and teeth, thickening with their surging emotions. Wu Chenghe’s dark pupils changed slightly, becoming irregular ovals, but unlike in attack mode, they were misty, as if veiled in mist. It was the prelude to their awakened desire, and within minutes, he would emit a strong scent of pheromones.

“I want you,” Jin Xuan whispered against his cheek, nibbling on his earlobe, his chin, his rough taste buds rubbing against his lips, glistening with moisture.

“But aren’t we waiting to see the aurora?” 

“We can do both. Keep going until it appears. Maybe my sincerity will move the heavens, and the aurora will appear soon,” Jin Xuan teased, seducing him. 

“Is ‘keep going’ considered sincere?” 

“Engaging in physical activity is always more effort than reciting prayers or chanting mantras. The big guy up there probably knows how sincere I am,” Jin Xuan said seriously, continuing to tease him with his tongue and fingers. “Today is our twentieth wedding anniversary, after all. Do you remember? Twenty years ago today, in the gravity gym on Gabriel Ring, you said to me, ‘Jin Xuan, let’s be together.’ I still shiver when I think of that moment.” With that, he took Wu Chenghe’s hand and slipped it under his fur coat, letting him feel the tiny shivers on his body, then moved it down… “Do you feel it? It wants you too.”

Wu Chenghe felt the tiny dots on Jin Xuan’s taut skin, the rough texture rubbing against a sensitive spot deep within him, sending shivers through his body. Twenty years, a full twenty years, and even now, when he heard Jin Xuan’s voice and touched his body, he felt the same excitement, the same greed, the same satisfaction as the first time…

“It’s minus twenty-seven degrees,” Wu Chenghe touched Jin Xuan’s heated area, inhaling slightly, his voice low and teasing. “Are you sure you can… um?”

“Are you questioning my stamina as a husband?” Jin Xuan nibbled at his lip, teasingly. “You can try and see, try all night long.”

“Fairbanks is nearing polar night now,” Wu Chenghe provocatively pinched him. “The night will last for twenty hours. Are you sure you can last all night?”

“Hmm, authentic goods, no deception.” Jin Xuan straightened up. “I can’t wait to prove it to you.”

“Good thing we’re not in the Arctic Circle, or you’d have to stay hard all winter,” Wu Chenghe mocked in a low voice, a rare hint of mischief in his slightly drooping eyes. “Then all that whale meat you eat would be useless, Mr. Whaler.”

The shyer and more serious he appeared usually, the more enticing he was in moments like this. Jin Xuan smelled the faint scent of pheromones emanating from him, unable to contain himself. He peeled off his fur coat and casually tossed it aside near the wolf pack, then abruptly lifted Wu Chenghe and threw him onto it. “Enough about eating. What about me?”

As the thermal suit was opened, skin exposed to the cold air, Wu Chenghe immediately shivered. Minus twenty-seven degrees was colder than he had imagined. Luckily, Jin Xuan covered him right away, his hot skin pressing against his, giving him warmth. “Cold?”

“Very cold,” Wu Chenghe saw the hot breath he exhaled lingered near his mouth, not dispersing for a long time, and his nose tingled with moisture. “I believe you can last all night now. Frozen stiff, aren’t you?”

Jin Xuan burst out laughing, “As if! You’re spreading rumors and slandering the reputation of this lord!”

He pulled Wu Chenghe’s hand down, “Stiff? Try it. Feel it. Even at minus one hundred and twenty-seven degrees, I’d still be fine!”

Wu Chenghe chuckled softly, his chest emitting muffled sounds. Jin Xuan paused, then laughed along, “Okay, maybe I was frozen stiff back then.”

They looked at each other and burst into laughter. The wolf pack was startled by their laughter, looking up at them, the sharp ears of the alpha wolf twitching, confusion in their ice-green eyes, emitting a soft rumble in their throats. Jin Xuan was reminded by this sound, and his heart stirred. He let out a low, long “howl,” the wolf pack receiving the command reluctantly, standing up and gathering around them, gradually forming a circle around the fur-coated “bed” in the middle.

“This is much better,” Jin Xuan brushed aside Wu Chenghe’s short hair on his forehead, kissing his brow, his eyes, “Very warm.”

“Mmm,” Wu Chenghe responded, “You wild canids are all very warm.”

“…I’m a felid.”

“…Nice to meet you. I’m a butterfly.”

“Hello, Mr. God Butterfly.”

“Hello, Your Highness Big Yellow Cat.”

Amidst the warm wolf den came low, ambiguous laughter, followed by suppressed moans and erratic breathing. In the misty warmth, a certain large feline creature walked out with a certain butterfly insect on top, wandering aimlessly across the snowy plain, its nostrils twitching as if detecting a different scent.

【It’s the hot springs!】The Barbary lion wagged its tail happily. The orange butterfly flapped its wings on its head, issuing the queen’s command, 【Let’s go to the hot springs!】

【Should we bring the masters?】The considerate lion glanced back at the wolf den. 【The hot springs are much warmer than the den.】

【They don’t care. For a stud like them, minus one hundred and twenty-seven degrees isn’t a problem, especially when they have a new pet.】

【Oh, right…】The lion said gloomily, feeling slightly annoyed that the most intimate spot had been occupied by the earth wolves.

【Come on, stop acting like a sissy!】The butterfly urged impatiently. The lion shook its ears and obediently carried its spirited mate towards the sulfur-scented valley… Wait, why do I feel like our attributes are a bit mismatched? Please tell me I’m not the only one…

Oh, right, I’m not a human. I’m a high-dimensional feline… The lion self-deprecatingly mused.

…

Dim green lights suddenly flickered from the northern horizon, growing wider and brighter. Gradually, more bands of light appeared from the sky, yellow-green, yellow, orange, and then a bright red like the morning sun. Each color spread smoothly across the sky like watercolors on fine paper, blending seamlessly and naturally, without any stiffness, as if crafted by divine hands.

“Look, it’s the aurora!” Wu Chenghe lay in Jin Xuan’s arms, a corner of fur draped over his chest, while his feet were nestled under the soft belly of the alpha wolf.

“Oh, it’s really the aurora.” Jin Xuan curled his arm around him, a look of lingering joy on his face, his large hand caressing his slightly damp temples. “It’s so beautiful…”

“Yes, truly beautiful.” Wu Chenghe lazily squinted his eyes, watching the aurora bands stretch and twist across the vast sky, the transparent black pupils reflecting the shifting light and shadow. Jin Xuan kissed his forehead, his deep eyes gazing at the sky, his thoughts seeming to penetrate through the aurora, seeing an unknown distant place.

“What are you thinking?” Wu Chenghe’s mind was still in the dizziness of climax, too weak to delve into his thoughts, and he asked casually.

“I’m thinking about home, about our children.” Jin Xuan said softly, his fingers unconsciously twirling his earlobes. “I’m thinking about the Zhaifurlian Nebula, and the Star Tomb… It looks so alike, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does.” Wu Chenghe said, “It is said that the design of the Star Tomb was inspired by the aurora.”

Jin Xuan silently watched the changing and twisting aurora bands in the northern sky, his eyes shining with deep light. “I always thought I belonged to the Dunkirk Federation, but now I feel like I still belong here—no matter how far we go, no matter which time, which universe, the mother planet will always be the mother planet. The Tianchuan Fleet, the Zhaifurlian Nebula, the Star Tomb… All of this originated from Earth.”

“Yes, our culture, our thoughts, our genes… Everything, all marked by the imprint of the mother planet.” Wu Chenghe interlocked his fingers with his, whispering softly, “Whether it’s the Dunkirk Federation, the universe, the Voyager Army, or even the batch of infected individuals who escaped, ultimately, we are all the same.”

“The same.”

The magnificent aurora danced over the sky of Fairbanks, the two in the wolf den silently embracing, enjoying the natural wonder of the mother planet’s craftsmanship. The inland wolves lay obediently beside them, their warm fur shielding them from the cold, their emerald eyes gazing up at the sky with primitive reverence.

The Dunkirk Federation, the universe, the Voyager Army, the Ark of the Infected… They are all children of the mother planet, flying to different futures by chance, but still belonging to the same source.

Perhaps one day, they will meet again in some universe. Hopefully, they will remember their origins and face their kind with friendship.

The wind from the Arctic Ocean crossed the mountains, swept across Fairbanks, and blew towards the vast North American continent. The Pacific Ocean surged, warm currents carrying humid air to Alaska. On the snowy plains by the Chena River, descendants of the Dunkirk Federation embraced tightly among the wolf pack, marveling at the greatness and mercy of the mother planet.

Humans, nature, the universe… Everything is cyclical, nothing more than this.

 

 

 

 

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