The Overlapping of Several Morbid Emotions
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The moment her wrist was grabbed, Zhou Jiao’s heart nearly stopped beating.
She reflexively twisted the hand in return at lightning speed, raising her gun, ready to shoot.
In the darkness, a hoarse voice rang out: “Don’t shoot, it’s me.”
Zhou Jiao’s raised gun hand remained motionless as she thought to herself, Who are you?
A shadow slowly stepped into the faint light outside the floor-to-ceiling window, revealing a completely unfamiliar face.
He appeared to be around forty years old, but he looked as frail and emaciated as if he were seventy or eighty. His complexion was pale with a bluish tint, his lips were cracked, and his eyes were bloodshot with signs of nervous exhaustion, as if he could collapse at any moment from some terrible disease.
Zhou Jiao did not lower her guard just because of his frail appearance. She coldly stared at him and asked, “Who are you?”
The man coughed violently a few times and said, “My surname is Lu. My name is Lu Zehou. You can call me Professor Lu… or you can call me ‘When Will Biotech Go Bankrupt?’”
This absurd online alias sounded particularly eerie in the dimly lit environment.
Zhou Jiao still did not lower her guard. “I don’t believe you.”
“I will make you believe every word I say.” Lu Zehou glanced at the electromagnetic gun in her hand. “Just a reminder—if you don’t want your wrist bone to suffer a comminuted fracture one day, you’d better use the company-issued guns sparingly. Ordinary human bones can’t withstand their recoil.”
Zhou Jiao said, “Thanks, but this is an electromagnetic gun.”
“Even so, be careful.” Lu Zehou spoke indifferently. “Monopoly companies don’t design perfect products—that’s their way of making money. If one day, your electromagnetic gun runs out of power midway through a fight, leaving you seriously injured and hospitalized, will you go bankrupt suing a top-tier financial conglomerate, or will you grit your teeth and buy a better one?”
Zhou Jiao stared at him for a moment, then suddenly said, “You should worry more about yourself. You don’t look like you have much time left.”
Lu Zehou let out a short laugh, seemingly indifferent to life and death. He coughed heavily again and said, “Come with me.”
Zhou Jiao did not follow immediately.
She let go of Lu Zehou’s thin, bony wrist, crossed her arms, and stood to the side, coldly watching his every move.
She saw Lu Zehou walk up to a metal wall, and a few seconds later, the wall split into two, revealing a silver-white corridor bathed in scanning blue light.
“Come.” Lu Zehou said.
Zhou Jiao hesitated for a moment before following.
“After the Divine Descent Project was exposed, I was imprisoned here,” Lu Zehou said. “When the ‘god’ arrived, the devices monitoring me failed, and I was released.”
Zhou Jiao asked, “Why do you call him ‘god’?”
Lu Zehou asked in return, “Have you heard of Mercerism?”
“I haven’t.”
“More than a hundred years ago, someone wrote a science fiction novel. A group of people abandoned on Earth consoled themselves with Mercerism. Later, an android went to great lengths to expose the truth, telling humans that Mercerism was a fraud—that the so-called Elder Mercer was nothing more than a retired extra actor. But that didn’t shake people’s faith in him.” Lu Zehou said, “Whether or not a god exists has nothing to do with the god itself. People simply want a spiritual anchor.”1The science fiction novel being referenced is Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick. Mercerism is a fictional religious movement from the novel, which explores faith and the human need for belief, even in the face of contradictory evidence.
“So,” Zhou Jiao said calmly, “is Jiang Lian a god?”
Lu Zehou did not answer.
He led her through the corridor and into a place resembling a laboratory control station.
Lu Zehou stepped forward, tapped a few times on a holographic keyboard, and immediately, countless three-dimensional networks composed of ghostly blue lines leapt into the air.
Each connection point in the network was a holographic screen, playing news related to the company.
“…Bringing you an unfortunate update: At around 7:20 this morning, a suicide attack occurred on Metro Line 7 in this city. The current number of casualties has reached 37.
“This vicious incident temporarily paralyzed the city’s rail transit system, leaving countless citizens unable to report to work on time. However, thanks to the precise guidance of on-site experts and the metro company’s swift repairs, Metro Line 7 officially resumed operation at 3:00 PM…”
Lu Zehou turned back to look at Zhou Jiao, revealing a meaningful smile, as if to say:
See? The deaths of your parents aren’t as important as the metro resuming service.
“…Now for some good news in the medical field. Scientists at Biotech have recently developed a blocking drug for chip-induced neurodegenerative diseases. The drug has shown significant effects in halting the progression of neurological disorders caused by implanted chips.
“At present, this drug is available only to senior employees within Biotech and is not yet for public sale.”
“…Recently, there has been a surge in shooting incidents. The police urge citizens not to go out at night. If you work late shifts, for your safety, please apply for on-site accommodation with the company.”
“Experts emphasize that the increase in shooting incidents is not significantly related to the rise in firearm advertisements. Citizens should enhance their personal safety awareness. It is recommended to keep ammunition and an emergency medical kit at home…”
The last screen displayed a talk show with the title: How Have Biochemical Chips Changed Our Lives?
Halfway through the program, a person suddenly rushed into the studio, screaming hoarsely:
“Why won’t you tell the audience the truth? Why won’t you tell them that chips can alter people’s consciousness and change their perception? Why won’t you tell them about the dangers of inhalable stimulants? Do you dare to publish the number of people who die suddenly from stimulants each year?!”
“Stop listening to the nonsense of these corporate lapdogs! Chips are a scam! The moment you implant a chip, you become the company’s data! They can run whatever experiments they want on you, and when you wake up, you won’t remember a thing—because the chip can modify your memory! You are nothing but a tool, a tool for the company to create monsters!!”
Security quickly escorted the person out.
The host, accustomed to such incidents, smiled coldly and said, “Ah, we just had a little disruption. The studio audience got a bit too excited.”
“Every year, there are always questions about the company, as if the company is God and omnipotent. I just want to say, people are giving the company too much credit. The big bosses of the company are just living, breathing humans too…”
The screen froze at the host’s perfectly stiff, almost unnatural smile.
Throughout it all, Zhou Jiao kept her gun aimed at Lu Zehou. Even when he deliberately played the news about her parents being blown to death, her arm did not waver in the slightest.
Lu Zehou, as if oblivious to the black muzzle pointed at him, chuckled and coughed:
“‘Living, breathing humans’—what an amusing phrase. In this city, living past forty is already a rarity, and yet they believe that company executives, still looking as young as twenty in their seventies or eighties, are living, breathing humans.”
Zhou Jiao said, “I’m not interested in your cynical views.”
Lu Zehou laughed. “Do you know why I’m still alive?”
Zhou Jiao paused. “Go on.”
“Around ten years ago, the company intercepted a smuggling ship of interstellar pirates near the space orbital station and discovered an unidentified organic compound onboard. Those pirates had no idea what it was, so the company brought it back to the orbital station’s laboratory.”
“Later, the company discovered that they could use this compound to cultivate an entirely new species. But the new species displayed extreme aggression and contamination potential—it could even parasitize plants. At that time, the company’s technology wasn’t advanced enough to deal with such bizarre organisms, so they forcibly put it into ‘hibernation.’”
Lu Zehou’s smile carried a trace of mockery. “By the time I joined the research, those creatures were already running rampant all over Earth. No one knows how they got from the orbital station to the planet. To this day, the company still hasn’t provided a reasonable explanation.”
Zhou Jiao asked, “So, what exactly is going on with Jiang Lian?”
“Patience is necessary when listening to a story.” Lu Zehou smiled. “At first, the company gathered us to eliminate these extraterrestrial organisms, even establishing a Special Case Management Bureau for this purpose. But they quickly realized that these creatures could not be eradicated. They possessed high aggression, high contamination potential, high defense, and an absolutely rigid hierarchical structure. Higher mutated species had absolute dominance over lower mutated species.”
“—The company was desperate to have an army like that.” Lu Zehou paused briefly. “Thus, the ‘Genesis Project’ was born.”
“If the plan succeeded, all the vagrants in the city would have a new job—but at the cost of never remembering who they once were.”
Lu Zehou’s sneer grew even more pronounced, and in the dim, ghostly laboratory lighting, it gave him an eerie look:
“You might think I’m a good person, caring about those pitiful, homeless people—but no, I’m only concerned about myself.”
“There’s always this notion that trades involving the human body only exploit the poor. But the rich aren’t fools—if they can buy fresh, high-IQ scholars’ organs, why would they settle for those of the poor?”
Lu Zehou spoke in a light yet hoarse voice, “Likewise, who’s to say the company’s claws won’t eventually reach me? I’m not worrying about them—I’m worrying about myself.”
Zhou Jiao’s expression shifted slightly, as if she were affected by his words.
She turned her head, scanning the surroundings, as though recalling the earlier news reports—however, just as a faint smile appeared at the corner of Lu Zehou’s mouth, she suddenly lunged behind him, wrapped an arm around his neck, and pressed the gun barrel against his temple.
“Brilliant speech.” She said coldly. “I believe everything you’ve said is true. But you still haven’t given me the key information—what exactly is Jiang Lian?”
“…I truly hate how calm you are.” Lu Zehou murmured. “The company recovered many things from that smuggling ship, including a mysterious book without words, capable of communicating with people on a conscious level… As a scientist, I really don’t want to believe in the existence of supernatural forces. But no matter how much I refuse to believe it, I must admit that God exists.”
The moment he mentioned ‘God,’ his expression became extremely bizarre—his facial muscles twitched unnaturally, revealing a hysteria bordering on madness.
“He is omniscient, omnipresent—once the ruler of the entire world… His body can infinitely reproduce, manipulating all living beings. The company’s Genesis Project is nothing more than a crude imitation of Him!”
As he spoke, Lu Zehou’s emotions suddenly surged—his eyes darted wildly, as though he had fallen into some kind of eerie, frenzied state.
“My plan was so perfect, so perfect! This world needs His salvation… Can’t you see it? The entire world is decaying into a rotting, ashen hue—everyone has been corrupted by the company…”
His throat trembled violently as he gasped, “I tried to save those who had been corrupted—I told those idiots online not to trust the company’s big data! I helped those idle punks find jobs! I sent those damn addicts to rehab—”
“But the netizens called me a lunatic, the punks only wanted to scam me for money, and the addicts—well, they were happy to listen to me… but they were only sober for less than five minutes a day! This world is finished, finished, finished… As long as humanity exists, this system will never change! Only by wiping out humanity can the world be saved! My plan was so perfect, so perfect!”
Lu Zehou panted heavily, his chest rising and falling in violent waves.
“My plan was so perfect… If not for you, He would have already wiped everyone out… This should have been the moment humanity came closest to true equality! This world is so unfair—even senior employees and regular employees aren’t allowed to use the same stimulants, let alone the even more expensive neural-blocking drugs!”
At that moment, his head suddenly twisted 180 degrees within the crook of her arm, revealing a cold, eerie grin.
“When God descends, everything will come to an end—this was supposed to be the glorious moment when everyone became equal, but you ruined it, ruined it, ruined it, ruined it, ruined it, ruined it! YOU DESERVE TO DIE!!”
Zhou Jiao’s heart clenched.
She had wondered why Lu Zehou had not been corrupted.
Now she understood—he was corrupted. It had happened before Jiang Lian’s descent.
She watched as his breathing grew more ragged, his pale face contorting more grotesquely, and his violently heaving chest visibly collapsed inward.
A terrible premonition surged in Zhou Jiao’s mind—she immediately kicked him away!
—Bang!
Lu Zehou crashed heavily against the metal control panel, spitting out a mouthful of blood foam, accidentally shutting off the holographic three-dimensional network.
The ghostly blue light vanished, leaving only the bleak, pale white illumination in the room.
Lu Zehou’s complexion looked even more sickly.
He stared intently at Zhou Jiao, the veins at his temples pulsing violently. “You don’t actually think it’s a good thing that He has taken a liking to you, do you…? Hahahaha!”
His pale cheeks flushed with two terrifying patches of blood-red. “If He had descended upon an ordinary person, that might have been a good thing… But He descended upon Jiang Lian.”
The moment Lu Zehou was flung away, Zhou Jiao had already adjusted her aim, keeping the gun steadily pointed at his head.
She was unnervingly calm—so calm that it could make an opponent grit their teeth in frustration.
“So?”
“Let me guess what happened between you two that made you so desperate to escape from Him…” Lu Zehou coughed violently. “These past few days, you discovered that He had developed feelings for you, so you thought you could control Him—only to find that not only was He beyond your control, but He became even crueler toward you?”
Lu Zehou chuckled. “—Because the original Jiang Lian, the one I painstakingly selected to be the vessel, was an anomaly in human society. He was the most like Him.”
“He would not develop a morbid infatuation with humans, but Jiang Lian would,” Lu Zehou’s lips were continuously seeping blood, his laughter growing more and more twisted. “He would not feel a deranged sense of possession toward humans, but Jiang Lian would. He would not have a terrifying obsession with control, but Jiang Lian would…”
Lu Zehou coughed up several mouthfuls of blood. “Likewise, Jiang Lian would not infinitely replicate—but He would. Jiang Lian would not be omnipresent—but He would. Jiang Lian would not constantly watch you, nor would he infect everyone around you with that sick, twisted affection… but He would.”
At this point, Lu Zehou seemed to have reached his limit. His face was so pale it was almost ghastly, blood seeping through his clenched teeth, his eyeballs nearly bulging out of their sockets.
The corners of his lips stretched wider and wider, forming an unnatural, almost inhuman grin.
“One body. Two aberrations. Several layers of pathological emotions stacked together. And the terrifying ability to infinitely replicate and influence those around Him… Are you sure you can withstand God’s love?” His voice trembled with eerie satisfaction. “This is the price for ruining my plan… He will play you to death.”
Zhou Jiao gazed at him for a long moment, then suddenly laughed.
“Of course, I can’t withstand it. That’s why I plan to leave.” She said lightly. “If I remember correctly, after the mutant leak incident, every Biotech lab was required to have a secret escape route leading straight to the sea. Thanks, you’ve been a huge help. I was wondering how to get out of here.”
Lu Zehou was momentarily stunned. Then, he burst into a fit of coughing laughter, rasping between gasps, “You… you won’t escape…”
Before he could finish his last word, it seemed he could no longer resist Jiang Lian’s mental invasion. His gaze grew vacant, and his nostrils flared as he took frantic, deep breaths, his expression turning grotesquely obsessed.
“So fragrant… so fragrant… so fragrant!” He moaned deliriously. “You smell so good… Do you know? This place was supposed to be the one location He couldn’t invade… The company kept me alive so I could continue researching Him here… We made so many preparations to prevent Him from getting in… And yet, I was still affected.”
His breathing grew more erratic. His lips quivered. His gaze locked onto her in a feverish, almost worshipful daze.
“Your influence on Him… may have exceeded even His own expectations…”
“…You won’t escape. He will find you.”
With those final words, his body slumped, his head drooping at an unnatural angle—as if a wick had burned through its last bit of oil. He was dead.
Zhou Jiao stood there, absorbing the weight of what had just transpired.
She had listened to endless complaints about the company. She had personally witnessed the death of the man she had been chasing for so long. Her emotions were impossibly complex.
To be fair, Lu Zehou was a respectable rebel.
In this corrupt and chaotic world, he had remained true to himself, determined to awaken the masses blinded by deception.
Perhaps, when he first summoned ‘God,’ his intentions had been pure. But he had overestimated his own mind. As he came into contact with that unknown force, he descended further and further into madness—until, in the end, destruction was the only thought left in his mind.
Zhou Jiao thought for a moment, then fired a shot into his corpse—just in case.
Then, she walked to the control panel, pulled up the lab’s map, and activated the escape tunnel.
The metallic floor opened, revealing a passageway bathed in emergency green light.
No matter how terrifying Jiang Lian’s obsession with her was, no matter whether she could endure it or not, the image of a new world was already unfolding before her eyes.
And once she escaped—she would never look back.