“Classmate Jiang Ming,” Lillian’s voice drifted from nearby, her warm breath almost brushing against his ear.
“Don’t you think the word ‘city’ is born with the paradox of madness and romance?”
She had leaned forward from the backseat at some point. Although the seat separated them, her unique presence — a blend of cold fragrance and invisible pressure — had silently washed over the gap, saturating the space around Jiang Ming.
“Gluttony, Greed, Envy, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Wrath…” she recited. Each word felt like a heavy, black prayer bead being slowly rolled between her fingers in that cool, pleasant voice.
“A city is a gluttonous beast that never knows satiety, swallowing the fresh weight of every soul day and night. And human greed is its most loyal feeder, continuously offering up everything they hold most precious.”
“Some sink into this abyss, allowing Sloth to corrode their bones like moss as they wait for Death’s gentle harvest. Others ignite the flames of Wrath, attempting to drag the entire behemoth into the same abyss where they burn.”
“Envy makes people turn their blades toward one another, yet Lust entices them to point those same blades at their own throats, all for a moment of illusory pleasure.”
“And even so, people arrogantly believe they are the masters of the city.”
“What are you trying to say?” Jiang Ming asked.
“Do you think they are really worth saving?” Lillian questioned.
She had asked this question once 100 years ago, and today, she wanted to ask it again.
Jiang Ming did not answer immediately.
His gaze remained fixed on a worker unloading cargo outside the window. The man was stacking heavy boxes, his movements stumbling slightly from exhaustion, yet the back beneath his anti-pollution mask remained taut with a stubborn strength.
In the distance, the smokestacks continued to spew an untiring, murky yellow, painting the sky in a sickly shade of gray.
Silence stretched within the car for a few seconds, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the faint background noise from the radio.
Finally, Jiang Ming spoke. His voice was calm, yet it carried a certain weight.
“Classmate Lillian, look at that street corner.”
Lillian’s gaze shifted accordingly. At the corner, an old woman wrapped in a tattered apron was taking several pots of withered yellow plants from a cart, stubbornly arranging them on the oil-stained curb.
“They breathe in foul air and wear masks like shackles, trading their health and even their lifespan for the right to survive. This city is indeed devouring them, greedily squeezing out every bit of value, and the sins you mentioned… they are indeed everywhere.”
Jiang Ming spoke slowly, every word carrying a heavy measure. “Sloth, sinking, Envy, being twisted by desire — all of these exist. I have never denied that.”
He paused, his gaze moving from the old woman to the dense rows of windows further away, where dim, yellow lights flickered as people stayed up late to make a living.
“But Lillian, the judgment of whether something is worth saving should never be based on whether it is perfect.”
A faint spark, something that seemed tempered by fire, suddenly entered his voice.
“Look at them. They know they are inhaling poison, yet they still walk toward the factories for their family’s bread tomorrow. They know hope is slim, yet they still struggle in the mud, trying to stand tall. They know this city looks down on them with Pride, yet they still use their own flesh and blood to raise the foundation of what we call civilization, inch by inch.”
“They carry all the sins you spoke of, but they also possess a foolish tenacity and a lingering spark that refuses to be completely extinguished — things you haven’t looked at closely.”
Jiang Ming finally turned his head, his gaze meeting those crimson eyes so close to him.
His eyes did not hold the burning light of idealism from 100 years ago; instead, they were settled with something colder and more resolute.
“If they were perfect, they would be saints. And saints do not need saving, Lillian.”
“What I see is just a group of people struggling to breathe in a quagmire, still trying to live like human beings under their shackles… people.”
“They may be greedy, lazy, blinded by Pride, or twisted by Wrath. But that only proves they are still feeling, still struggling, and have not yet completely turned into cold, silent gears in the city’s machinery.”
“And as long as that struggle remains…” Jiang Ming’s voice lowered, yet every word remained clear, “as long as there are still people unwilling to be swallowed, assimilated, and ground down into silent fuel — “
“Then, they have the value of being saved.”
“It is not because they are perfect,” he said finally. “It is precisely because they are imperfect, yet still trying to live, rather than just existing.”
Silence fell over the car once more.
Every word of the conversation reached Elvira’s ears with perfect clarity.
When Jiang Ming’s answer finally landed, her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel for a split second.
She had never expected the answer to be like this.
In the mental image she had gradually built of Jiang Ming, he might have been a companion with incredible combat talent or a quick-witted, reliable partner, but ultimately, his core should have belonged to that of a Noble.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen approachable Nobles before, but no matter how approachable or kind they were, certain perspectives rooted in birth and education should have been impossible to strip away completely.
Yet his answer had completely crossed that invisible line.
She stared at the ruined streets shrouded in smog ahead, a hint of confusion and shock flashing deep within her red eyes.
Just then, she caught a glimpse of the rearview mirror. The smile on Lillian’s face had suddenly deepened.
The Centennial Cycle turned, and the world had been overturned.
Yet some essential things seemed to have never been erased.
Jiang Ming was still Jiang Ming, after all.
“Then,” Lillian’s voice rang out again, “will you choose to become their… savior?”
“No.” Jiang Ming answered without the slightest hesitation. He shook his head, his gaze returning to the hazy, hardworking figures outside the window. “I will not be anyone’s savior.”
“Oh?” The curve of Lillian’s lips did not diminish as she pressed further. “Then what will you be?”
Jiang Ming fell silent for a moment.
Then, he spoke in an utterly flat tone.
“I will be one of them.”
“That is all.”
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.