CDJMM – Volume 4 -Chapter 59 Filming in the Interstellar Era (59)

“Your IQ is too low. I’m not interested.”

Sevier’s face, already lacking in expression, stiffened even more.

He had never expected this answer from Shi Jing!

This was completely different from what he had predicted!

In his previous expectations, when facing help from the Zerg, even if Shi Jing wasn’t trembling with gratitude, he should at least be excited to accept it.

But Shi Jing rejected his proposal outright.

Once again, Sevier felt that familiar sense of helplessness—of things slipping out of his control.

He had felt it once already when he learned Shi Jing had narrowly escaped the assassination attempt.

Now, history seemed to be repeating itself.

He frowned slightly, forcing down the irritation rising in his heart as he spoke in a calm, rational tone: “Of course, it’s normal for you to doubt us. But we’ve already shown our sincerity—you know, the order the European Federation president received back then was to kill you. We saved you. It was also thanks to us that the truth about the president being controlled came to light.”

Le Jing raised his right eyebrow. Just as he thought.

He had felt from the beginning that there were many suspicious points in the assassination incident. Now that he knew it was the handiwork of the Brainworms, he wasn’t surprised at all.

The other continued, “And you should thank us for boosting your morale and firming your resolve to fight.”

“How so?”

“If not for the Zerg puppet in the Americas committing that indiscriminate massacre, humanity wouldn’t be united against a common enemy like this.”

Le Jing’s expression turned completely cold. “So it was you.”

“In special times, one must use certain… methods,” the Brainworm said. “In terms of results, we helped you.”

“And we also saved you. Don’t you humans have a saying? ‘A drop of kindness should be repaid with a spring.’ It’s time for you to repay us.”

Le Jing asked calmly, “What do you want me to do?”

“We already have a complete plan, and the chances of success are high! As long as you behave and listen, this war can end sooner.”

“What plan?”

“No comment,” Sevier said, then added, “When the time comes, you will naturally know.”

He unconsciously held his breath, waiting for the other’s response.

He wasn’t lying.

He did have a plan. And Shi Jing was an indispensable part of it.

After a few seconds of silence, a lazy voice sounded: “I think you’ve misunderstood something. I have no intention of working with you.”

Sevier was startled. Then he lowered his voice, threatening, “You know the battlefield better than I do. If you reject our cooperation now, are you trying to doom humanity to extinction?”

The other laughed lightly, a magnetic sound like an electric current. Sevier’s antennae inexplicably felt itchy; he twitched them, his calm voice tinged with irritation. “What are you laughing at?”

“If two wild dogs are locked in the same cage—one starving and one fat and well-fed—what do you think will happen next?”

What kind of strange question was that?

Sevier replied without thinking, “Of course the starving dog will eat the other one and take all its food.”

The other laughed again. “That’s why I’m laughing.”

Sevier froze. “…What?”

Le Jing sighed, sounding weary, and complained softly, “That’s why I said your intelligence is low. I’m not sure if you’re particularly stupid or if this is the average IQ of Brainworms.”

“…I just didn’t react at first! I understand what you mean now!” For once, the other’s voice carried a hint of flustered indignation. “You mean we will kill each other, and you humans only need to sit back and reap the benefits!”

A starving wild dog and a well-fed wild dog.

For the first time in his life, Sevier felt an urge to burst out laughing.

Such a brilliant metaphor.

Such a hateful metaphor.

But he had to admit—Shi Jing’s analysis was correct.

Shi Jing’s voice was lazy, tinged with nonchalance: “It’s not that humans need you. It’s that you need humans.”

“A war takes a long time to decide victory. But you don’t have that time.”

“When you figure it out, call me again.”

The call was hung up unilaterally.

Sevier sat stiffly in his chair, like a rigid stone statue.

He suddenly regretted contacting Shi Jing so rashly.

This call was a signal.

A signal that the Zerg weren’t as united as they seemed.

He had underestimated Shi Jing.

This man was even more cunning than he had imagined—sharp-minded and meticulous.

By making this call, Sevier had actually lost their advantage and put themselves in a passive position.

Sevier irritably tugged at his tendrils, rose from his chair, and paced back and forth in the room, agitated and restless.

What should he do?

The humans’ defeats on the front lines had instead freed up the Queen’s hands, allowing her to intensify internal purges.

In the past two months alone, there had already been two rounds of inspections within the Propaganda Department. Many of his colleagues had been thrown into prison by the guards and sentenced to death by the Queen for the crime of treason.

Sevier had a premonition that it wouldn’t be long before the secret agencies came knocking on his door.

That was exactly why he lost his composure and, in desperation, had rashly reached out to Shi Jing proposing cooperation.

But unexpectedly, it had backfired, putting him in a passive position instead. Now, Shi Jing was the one holding all the cards.

Just as Shi Jing said—they were the ones who couldn’t afford to wait.

So, should he contact Shi Jing again?

Sevier felt that he needed to think very carefully. When dealing with this man, he absolutely could not let his guard down.

…

Le Jing lowered his gaze to the terminal screen that had gone completely dark, a faint, barely perceptible smile tugging at his lips.

His suspicions had been confirmed.

The brain-bugs truly had inherited the human gene for internal strife.

To be precise—any intelligent being who had awakened a sense of self would never willingly accept enslavement. Without exception, all of them would pursue freedom.

Although humanity was currently suffering defeat after defeat on the front lines, and the Zerg seemed unstoppable, internally, the currents must be turbulent—contradictions running deep.

Right now, the brain-bugs were likely in an extremely dangerous state, which was why this call had come.

This war of attrition was something the brain-bugs could not afford.

Le Jing stretched lazily and decided to take a nap to recharge.

That brain-bug would call him again.

He had a feeling—he himself was a necessary piece in this plan.

…

Mo Mingrui stepped out of the cinema with swollen, reddened eyes. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face, as though all the frustration, depression, sorrow, fear, and despair he had been bottling up these days were finally being flushed out.

Ever since that incident, he had forgotten how to cry.

Now, because of The Five-Starred Red Flag Beneath the Planks, he finally cried his heart out.

Among all of Shi Jing’s films, this was the first one that resonated with him so deeply.

This movie… was practically a mirror of his current situation!

Most of the fighters in the Zhazidong prison had been slaughtered.

Most of the soldiers and staff in the military fortress had been massacred by the Zerg.

A dozen or so people escaped from Zhazidong.

The survivors from the fortress—together with him—numbered twenty-four.

The survivors of Zhazidong inherited the wishes of the fallen and devoted their youth and blood to building a new China.

As a survivor himself, living muddle-headed like this was simply wrong! He should live well on behalf of those who died—help them fulfill their unfinished ideals!

Only then would their deaths not be in vain. Only then would his life carry greater meaning.

…

The editor-in-chief of People’s Daily stared in shock at the frontline-assignment request on his terminal. For once, he lost his composure and raised his voice at Mo Mingrui, who stood rigidly at his desk.

“You still want to go to the front line?!”

Mo Mingrui replied with resolute determination, “Yes.”

“Are you insane? You just came out of the recovery center!” the editor-in-chief shouted. “In your current psychological state, there is absolutely no way I can send you to the front!”

Mo Mingrui’s lips twitched into a bitter smile, his gaze firm. “I can only live in peace if I return to the front line.” He closed his eyes, shadows cast over his expression. “Otherwise… someday, I will end up taking my own life.”

The editor-in-chief fell silent.

After a long moment, he sighed deeply and waved his hand. “If you can convince your family, then I won’t stop you.”

Mo Mingrui bowed deeply. “Thank you, Chief Editor.”

As he watched the young man’s unwavering back fade into the corridor, the editor-in-chief couldn’t help asking:

“If you go, and never return?”

Mo Mingrui did not look back. His voice was firm as steel.

“Then I won’t return!”

The editor-in-chief let out a long, melancholy sigh. He understood the young man’s resolve and said nothing more.

He only hoped that the fire of youth could warm this cold world.

He did not want a silent dawn.

He prayed that the young would live to witness the rising sun of tomorrow.

…

When Liu Yinxiu left the library, night had already fallen completely. If his stomach hadn’t been growling loudly, he wouldn’t have been willing to leave at all.

After graduating from university, he changed fields entirely—taking the entrance exam for a master’s in History at the same school, studying under Professor Hua Xiasheng.

It was a huge leap from finance to history, and his career prospects suddenly became extremely limited—but he had no regrets.

Because history was too fascinating—too much fun.

Because someone needed to record this turbulent era.

…

Three days later, Le Jing finally received the call he had been waiting for.

Leaning against the headboard, one leg casually bent, he asked unhurriedly, “Looks like you’ve made up your mind.”

The other party’s reply was dry and strained: “Please cooperate with us.”

“The plan?”

“Very simple.” The next sentence sounded like the rambling of a lunatic. “You kill the Queen, and the war ends.”

Le Jing: “…”

He snorted lightly. “Are you insulting my intelligence?”

“I’m not joking—this plan has a high chance of success!” the voice on the other end hurried to say. “Listen—the Queen hates you to the bone. If you are captured, she will personally interrogate you to extract information. When that happens, that will be your chance to assassinate her!”

“…Even without me saying it, you must know just how many assumptions and flaws this plan has, right?”

“But it’s still the plan with the highest feasibility! As for the flaws, we can patch them slowly!”

Le Jing chuckled softly, speaking lazily, “I might agree… but you need to show sincerity. You don’t think creating a bloody incident among humans counts as sincerity, do you?”

“…What do you want us to do?”

“Simple—significantly weaken the Zerg forces on the front line. That shouldn’t be difficult for you, right?”

“…I can’t decide this alone. I need to request approval from my superiors.”

Le Jing smiled, voice warm yet sharp as a blade. “I’ll wait. After all… I’m not in a hurry.”

You’re the ones desperate.