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The old man cried until he had no voice left, his tears seemingly dried up. He stared blankly at the vast ceiling above him, sometimes imagining that it was the sky. He envisioned himself lying on the grass with his granddaughter, rather than sitting in this empty base, guarding a worn-out, rigid computer, staring at piles of symbols and numbers.
In the end, he smiled—a bitter smile. Laughter turned into tears and tears into laughter; perhaps only he could understand the flavor of it all. The girl, Xiaocao, rustled as she put on her clothes. She remained expressionless as she quickly dressed and stood beside the old man until he was fully clothed. Only then did she speak: “Wang Chao has unified Huaxia. You said that only the Huaxia People are worthy of matching with the young lady. Although this crisis is global, our goal has always been in Huaxia. The previous subject 13209 was killed by another person—Zhang Fusheng.”
“Zhang Fusheng!” The old man repeated the name over and over, eventually shaking his head heavily, as if speaking to Xiaocao or perhaps to himself. “The Zhang Family name has echoed in my ears for nearly seventy years. From the moment I was born, I knew of this family. However, this has nothing to do with us. Zhang Fusheng is formidable because he has the Zhang Family's century-old support, while Wang Chao is different.”
The old man continued, “This subject 618 has felt this power of mutation from the very beginning. While everyone else remained oblivious, he was the first!” As he spoke, he gazed at the single red dot flashing on the large screen. Five years ago, this red dot had exceeded a hundred million, almost covering the entire screen and overwhelming viewers. Four years ago, it sharply decreased to ten million; three years ago, it dwindled to just ten thousand; two years ago, there were only a few thousand red dots left; and a year later, there were merely hundreds.
Now, there was only one red dot remaining.
Xiaocao understood that after four and a half years of effort, the old man's lifelong work on the Zombie crisis was finally coming to an end at this moment because the most suitable person had been found—none other than Wang Chao. Since twenty years ago, from the day the young lady fell ill, the old man had tried various methods but failed each time. Xiaocao was one of his attempts but also ended in failure.
Strictly speaking, Xiaocao had only been in this world for seven years; yet she inherited all of the young lady's memories—her appearance and every detail of her body. However, what the old man could not achieve was to give Xiaocao emotions. But with emotions, even if Xiaocao possessed the young lady's memories, would she truly become his granddaughter?
This question puzzled both Xiaocao and the old man. Would this experiment succeed?
The old man stared at the blinking red dot, his hands gripping tightly on the computer desk as he said, “I am already over seventy years old. Although I can barely sustain my life, even if I survive, I can no longer continue scientific research. What difference does it make to live like this compared to not living at all? All I want is to hold Huahua's hand in my final moments and look at the sky together!”
These words deeply moved Xiaocao. She looked at him—familiar yet strange. Familiar because he held all of Huahua's memories; she remembered when she was little how her grandfather held her hand as they walked on a green lawn under a sunny sky with butterflies fluttering around them. Huahua picked a flower and quietly tucked it into her grandfather's hair while he pretended not to notice, making her laugh as she lay down on the grass. Then her grandfather lay down beside her as they watched the drifting white clouds above.
“What’s beyond the clouds?” Huahua asked.
“It’s the universe!” her grandfather replied.
The flower shook its head and said, "No, behind the clouds is also grass. There are people lying on the grass just like us, looking at the clouds in the sky!"
This scene had appeared in Little Grass's dreams more than once, but she didn't understand. Grandpa was right; behind the clouds was the universe, so how could it be grass? Little Grass didn't know that this scene, which often appeared in her dreams, was the origin of her name and the only wish of the old man’s life. He wanted to hold hands with the flower again and lie on the grass, watching the grass behind the clouds.
For this seemingly simple dream, the old man sacrificed two-thirds of the world's population, all to find one person among billions who was most compatible and suitable. This person must not reject this mutated virus; many could do that. This person had to be strong enough to survive without dying for various reasons during the final process; only a small number could achieve that.
This person's cells had to be powerful enough to survive outside their own body, and only Wang Chao could do that. Among billions, only Wang Chao succeeded. The old man felt both fortunate and disappointed. He was fortunate because, in the end, there was finally someone who could participate in his last surgery. He was disappointed because there was only this one person; he could not fail. If he failed again, he would never have the ability to realize that wish.
"Bring him back." The old man's words were devoid of any emotion, as if he had become a person without feelings.
Little Grass knew what the old man intended to do and understood that if Wang Chao was brought back, he would never return. For the first time, Little Grass questioned the old man's words; for the first time, she felt reluctant to follow his orders. "What are you still doing here?" the old man said. "Hurry up! Your strength is enough to bring him back. I give you two months—understand?"
"Understood!" After a brief hesitation, her body's functions answered for her. Little Grass was created by the old man; she had no way to refuse any of his demands. It became her instinct. Turning around, Little Grass left this place.
The old man continued deeper into the corridor where there was a door that even Little Grass had never entered. He pushed open the door and walked inside. In a large glass container floated a girl who looked exactly like Little Grass. Without asking, it was clear this was Little Grass's true form—the flower—floating in this container for eighteen years.
Eighteen years might seem fleeting compared to this planet's timeline, but for the old man, it felt like an eternity.
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