Su Ming'an carried the frail boy, as weak as a stalk, and flew into the air. The cross light of space carried the two forward.
They soared over mountains and fields, over endless deserts and beaches, over the crumbling firmament, over a land full of wounds, and over the sun and stars...
The heartbeat behind him grew fainter.
Warm blood flowed onto Su Ming'an's shoulder; the boy was bleeding. Su Ming'an knew the terrifying state of death from genetic collapse: organ failure, cell death, systemic collapse, the whole body turning to sludge, leaving nothing that resembled a human.
His back grew increasingly warm and damp, like a small furnace burning behind him.
It seemed like fate's final touch of mercy or a carelessly cruel joke after intense suffering. Su Ming'an looked up.
— Above the firmament, a morning sun, with sunlight shining brilliantly, so magnificent.
