CDJMM – Volume 4 -Chapter 61 Filming in the Interstellar Era (61)

When Le Jing got home, it was already deep into the night.

He opened the door of the aircraft, and what greeted him first was a velvet-dark night sky studded with diamond-like stars.

The night hung low; starlight spilled down in shimmering streams. A few distant dog barks rang out, then fell back into silence. A faint floral fragrance drifted through the air as if carried on a dream.

How much this resembled a peaceful night from when Earth still existed.

The smoke of war that had lingered so long now felt like nothing more than an illusion.

Le Jing stepped off the aircraft, lifted his eyes, and studied the stars carefully. Comrade Liu Gang, the special forces king standing beside him, said softly, “Rest well after you go in.”

The young man remained focused on the starry sky, then suddenly spoke: “Many of the stars we can see now have already exploded and ceased to exist.”

Though Special Forces King Liu Gang didn’t fully understand, he still picked up the topic: “Yeah… what we’re seeing could very well be the light emitted thousands or even billions of years ago.”

“Light travels for thousands, millions, billions of years before reaching us. In that immeasurable span of time, the worlds that emitted that light have already disappeared. For light, it’s a journey that has a path forward but no way back.”

The young man sighed, so softly it almost felt like an illusion. “How sad.”

Liu Gang: “…”

He twitched the corner of his mouth and cursed inwardly. What is wrong with these artsy types? Can’t they speak like normal people? Talking in riddles is exhausting, okay?

He had no idea what Shi Jing and the people from National Security had talked about today. Liu Gang saw himself as a blade—nothing more, nothing less—following only the wielder’s command.

His mission was to protect Shi Jing’s life. Nothing beyond that. Whatever went on in Shi Jing’s mind had nothing to do with him.

He also looked up at the sky and lazily replied, “What’s there to be sad about? Life itself is a one-way journey.”

Le Jing chuckled. His eyes lowered slightly, his smile tinged with wistfulness. “That’s true…”

His thoughts drifted back to the conversation three hours earlier with the comrades from National Security.

It wasn’t surprising that National Security had sought him out.

After all, he had maintained contact with the Zerg for so long—eventually, of course they would come looking.

So the moment they met, when the National Security officer asked about his recent interactions with the Zerg, Le Jing calmly replied, “He claims to be my fan. After watching my movie, he was deeply shaken, decided to abandon darkness for the light, rebel against the Queen’s tyranny, and dedicate his life to the liberation of brain-worms!”

The officer clapped his hands and sighed in admiration. “That’s exactly why the higher-ups said we must vigorously develop cultural entertainment. Cultural works are ideological weapons—able to subdue the enemy without a single battle. You’re a perfect example!”

What surprised Le Jing was that the matter was brushed aside just like that. The National Security officer showed no intention of digging deeper.

…Which meant they were here for a much bigger issue.

And Le Jing had guessed correctly.

Soon, the amiable, smiling tiger shifted tone. In an almost casual, chatty voice, he said:

“Recently, we’ve also made contact with some brain-worms who’ve defected. We found they have very high ideological clarity—perfect candidates to develop into friends of humanity. After all, we share common ideals!”

Le Jing’s heart tightened. He knew this was the real start.

As for brain-worms contacting the human government, Le Jing wasn’t surprised.

There’s an old saying: Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

It made sense for the brain-worms to hedge their bets.

Le Jing could see humanity’s advantage clearly; there was no reason the clever people within the human government couldn’t. From the officer’s phrasing alone, it was obvious that humans currently held the upper hand in these interactions.

At this stage, human and brain-worm interests aligned, creating a rare honeymoon period.

But… this honeymoon was destined to be short. Brain-worms wouldn’t be content being controlled forever. Push them too far, and they might cut cooperation altogether and unite again with the Queen, which would be disastrous. So handling this delicate balance was a true diplomatic art.

After a long preamble, the smiling tiger finally revealed his hidden blade—the true purpose of this meeting: a cooperation proposal from the brain-worms.

Specifically, the assassination plan they had previously proposed to Le Jing.

“They explicitly named you to join the assassination team.” The National Security officer regarded Le Jing with probing eyes. “They said it’s because you have a special attraction to the Queen. With you, the chances of success are much higher.”

Le Jing looked completely baffled. “Assassinate the Queen? Me? Because I’m… attractive to the Queen?”

The comrade from the National Security Bureau looked at Le Jing gently and patiently guided him: “Right, think carefully—what is it about you that could attract the Zerg Queen?”

Le Jing lowered his head, cooperatively putting on a thoughtful expression. After a long silence, he lifted his head and asked hesitantly, “Could it be because…” Meeting the comrade’s expectant gaze, the young man tried, “Because… my meat tastes especially good?”

National Security comrade: “…”

…

“I’m a straightforward man—not much for romantic nonsense. To me, who cares whether there’s no return? As long as I don’t regret it, that’s enough.” Liu Gang’s words cut through Le Jing’s drifting thoughts. Le Jing lowered his gaze from the starry sky and looked at the burly man beside him. The man’s expression was calm, his eyes bright, giving his ordinary face a trace of handsomeness. “Just like the stars above us. At the very least, before they exploded, they worked hard to shine. Maybe humanity will only see that light many years later, but it’s already enough.”

“Yeah… it’s already enough.” The young man put away the trace of melancholy at the corner of his lips and stared intently into the sky. The amber eyes clearly reflected the corpses of countless stars. “I came. I lived. And that’s enough.”

For most ordinary people, death means the end—everything turning to dust.

The fact that he had lived four lives in four different worlds was luck one in billions.

But no matter how long the journey, one eventually reaches its final stop.

Where would his final stop be?

Just moments ago, during his conversation with the National Security Bureau, Le Jing had—like fate whispering—sensed a faint breath of the end drawing near.

It was a strange feeling, unprovoked. He simply knew this bizarre journey without origin was nearing its last station.

If this journey really was some god’s prank, then now, that god was telling him: This is the end.

Le Jing had once wondered what he would feel when the end arrived.

He thought he could face it calmly.

And he did accept it calmly.

But even so, there was a bit of regret—regret over the many things he hadn’t done in time, regret that he hadn’t seen more of the world.

This vast and magnificent world had just shown him the tip of its iceberg, only to raise high walls and forbid him from going deeper. How could he be willing?

But still… it was enough.

From the beginning to the end, he had never betrayed his own heart. Everything he did was exactly what he wanted to do.

Back on Earth, there had been a popular saying: “May you walk through half your life and return still as a youth.”

But what he had walked through wasn’t just half a life.

Today, under a foreign sky, on a foreign planet in a foreign time, he examined his heart carefully— and proudly found that he was still himself, worldly yet untainted.

Deep inside him still lived a young boy.

…

The National Security comrade’s expression was complicated: “You’re part of the cooperation. The brainworms agreed to coordinate with us only on the condition that you join the assassination plan.”

Le Jing was puzzled. “I’m surprised. I didn’t expect I held such an important place in the brainworms’ minds.”

The comrade spoke righteously: “You’re a national talent. Losing you would be a loss for all humanity! That’s why the state didn’t want to agree to this absurd plan. After all, you’ve received no special training—you’re just an ordinary person. Even if you joined the plan, it wouldn’t significantly increase the success rate.”

Le Jing laughed softly and shook his head. “If you truly didn’t intend to agree, why come to me at all? Why say any of this?”

“…”

Le Jing burst into cheerful laughter. “Hahaha, no need to be nervous. If I were in your shoes, I would’ve agreed too. Sacrificing one person to save millions? No matter how you look at it, it’s a bargain, isn’t it?”

He paused, suppressing a sigh at his lips, and added slowly, “Life is equal and shouldn’t be measured in numbers… but once you start thinking with mathematics, everything becomes simple.”

The comrade’s voice was dry, his expression a bit embarrassed. “…Thank you for understanding.”

“This is my own choice—it has nothing to do with you.” Le Jing shrugged. “It’s for the greater good. I think it’s worth it. A very profitable deal.”

The comrade said nothing. He stood and bowed deeply to Le Jing, speaking hoarsely: “You are a hero of humanity.”

Le Jing sat smiling, accepting the bow. After the man sat down again, he asked, “When does the assassination plan begin?”

“Higher-ups believe… the later, the better…”

Le Jing nodded in complete agreement. “Of course the later, the better. The Zerg haven’t suffered enough yet. Killing the Queen now would only help the brainworms.”

“That’s exactly what we think.”

“If we’re optimistic, I can probably live another four or five years?” Le Jing grinned. “That’s enough. Enough for me to make another seven or eight films.”

The comrade held back a choke, forcing his voice to remain steady. But a faint shimmer still passed through his eyes. “…During that time, anything you need—we’ll do our best to fulfill.”

“A request, huh…” Le Jing pondered for a moment. “I do have one.”

“What is it? Please tell me.”

Le Jing answered solemnly: “I want to join the Party.”

The comrade hadn’t expected that answer at all.

Not money.

Not fame.

Not power.

He just wanted… to join the Party?

Le Jing revealed a subtle smile. “It’s best to finish what you start.”

He wanted that identity carved into his epitaph. A final punctuation mark on his long journey.

…

Le Jing took one last look at the starry sky, then turned toward his residence.

The Little Prince, after a long wandering, had met death bravely—and finally returned to his star.

He, too, should return to his own star.

In his life, he no longer had any regrets.