Limited Ambiguity Chapter 60 Part 2

Chapter 60.2

Xia Zhiyang stepped down from the sleek hover car and strode into the house. His mother was sitting on the sofa, watching the news.

As he sat down on the sofa, Xia Zhiyang reached for a red mist fruit, tossed it in his hand, and glanced at the news on the screen. “These news reports are so boring. They only dare to talk about where it’s raining, where the weather is nice, and won’t mention anything else.”

After saying that, he fell silent.

Not only were they cautious about mentioning anything else in the news, but even in casual conversations, people avoided many topics because they couldn’t be sure if there were eyes and ears monitoring them.

It was like when the rebel army had sent teachers to Turan Academy to teach everyone Theology and added a new regulation stipulating that anyone scoring below a B in Theology would be expelled from Turan.

All the students found it unreasonable. Politics shouldn’t interfere with academics. But the rule was still enforced.

And those students who had once openly opposed the introduction of this course had been unheard from for a long time.

Xia Zhiyang took a bite of the mist fruit but couldn’t taste much flavor, except for a faint bitterness.

On the Foundation Day, he had convinced his parents to leave Leto. But on the way, his father reasoned that if the rebel army did indeed occupy Leto, leaving would ensure their safety, but the people who worked for the Xia family’s industry would face difficulties.

Eventually, the family reached a consensus and decided to stay in Leto.

As it turned out, his father’s decision was the right one. Although life now felt like being deprived of the five senses, stagnant like dead water, with his father as the backbone, even with the rebel army in power, the Xia family’s businesses remained intact. Those who worked for the Xia family also received stable wages to support their daily needs.

Mrs. Xia, noticing Xia Zhiyang’s absent-mindedness, whispered, “There’s some news.”

Xia Zhiyang snapped back to attention, gripping the mist fruit he had only taken a bite of, feeling a hint of nervousness. “Is it good news or bad news?”

His parents had a discreet source of information. Despite the rebel army’s comprehensive blockade, they were occasionally able to obtain some outside news.

It was like cracking open a crevice in the sky-obscuring boulder, allowing a breath of air in the suffocation.

Mrs. Xia handed two papers to Xia Zhiyang.

Xia Zhiyang took them and realized they were printed copies of the Leto Daily. He had only ever read the electronic version before, so reading the printed version felt a bit unfamiliar.

But as soon as he read the headlines, Xia Zhiyang forgot about the strangeness.

He quickly scanned the contents, his fingers tightening around the paper, then meticulously read each word again from the beginning.

“Victory?”

Mrs. Xia’s eyes were slightly red as she replied in a soft voice, “We won. We’ve won two battles in a row, and the front line has been pushed to Lisbon star.”

The fact that his mother would speak these words without any hesitation clearly meant that the house had tuned into a frequency that temporarily disrupted surveillance, allowing them a bit of freedom to speak for a short time.

Xia Zhiyang opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. The long period of suppression had made him much quieter than before. But at this moment, he felt compelled to say something. After much internal debate, he managed only four words. “Winning is good news.”

Mrs. Xia nodded. “Your father received word that the Commander of the Expeditionary Force has come back from the dead. With him there, the front lines can hold. General Nie is on Odin star, facing off against Hodgkin.”

With her emotions tangling, she added, “Things will always get better and more hopeful.”

Xia Zhiyang also nodded. “Yes.”

Mrs. Xia continued, “At school, focus on certain courses, attend them diligently. As for the ones that teach you about religion, you can just get by with the basics.”

Xia Zhiyang’s mood lifted considerably after hearing the news of the victories. His tone regained some of its former lightness. “I know, don’t worry. I’m not easily swayed. My idol is Y!”

Light-years away, mountain-like starships floated silently in the vastness of space.

After finishing breakfast, Ye Pei and Mondrian hurriedly left. Qi Yan took his medication and retraced his steps back to his room.

When he reached his door, he hesitated for a few seconds before changing direction and standing in front of the door to the next room.

Pojun reminded him, “The General is still in the command room. He hasn’t returned.”

Qi Yan looked at the tightly closed door and recalled the time Lu Fenghan had given him access permissions.

He tried to swipe his personal terminal, and with a click, the door opened.

Qi Yan didn’t enter rashly. Instead, he asked Pojun, “Will the General be angry if I enter without him here?”

The absence of emotions sometimes made it difficult for Qi Yan to gauge boundaries. He wasn’t sure what kind of behavior would please or annoy others.

Pojun replied, “The General won’t be angry. According to human social norms, entering and leaving someone else’s room without permission can provoke irritation. But the General allows you to enter anytime, and you’re different to him.”

Perhaps due to the reduced medication, Qi Yan felt a faint longing stirring within him, prompting him forward.

He gently pushed the door open, and the lights in the room flickered to life.

Lu Fenghan’s room was sparsely furnished. Qi Yan had already memorized everything from his previous visit, but he still observed carefully.

The wardrobe doors were semi-transparent, revealing several military uniforms and jackets hanging inside. Next to it was a bathroom with a shower, a laundry basket sitting in the corner. The virtual screen floating above the desk was different from last time, and was currently in sleep mode.

Very tidy.

Just like when he lived in the house in Leto, Lu Fenghan’s bedroom was always tidied up neatly.

The pillows at the head of the bed were neatly arranged, with a shirt draped over the edge. Qi Yan sat on the gray bedsheets, following the position from his memory.

Perhaps because this was Lu Fenghan’s private space, filled with traces of his life, Qi Yan slowly felt a hazy drowsiness just from sitting there.

Lu Fenghan received Lorenz’s feedback around eight in the morning, then held a meeting with several captains. By the time he finished with his tasks and returned to his room, it was already nine in the morning.

Upon entering, he glanced down and approved two documents handed to him by the Logistics Department. He also received a message from Vincent, saying the Dingyuan had been recalled.

As he closed the door behind him, Lu Fenghan noticed that the lights in the room didn’t automatically turn on as usual. It was still pitch black, and the room temperature seemed higher than usual.

He manually flicked the switch.

In the instant the lights came on, Lu Fenghan saw someone curled up on his bed, legs tucked in, hugging one of his uniform shirts tightly while sleeping soundly.

Without a blanket, the slender figure was revealed, and due to the position, a cold white ankle protruded, stark against the darkness.

Pojun displayed a line of text in the air using a dim light.

Lu Fenghan read it—

Qi Yan couldn’t fall asleep in his room, but he managed to doze off once he entered mine?

Asking Pojun to dim the lights, Lu Fenghan walked to the bedside, knelt on the floor, and gently touched Qi Yan’s cheek with his fingers.

The neatly pressed military pants creased at the knees.

Unexpectedly, Qi Yan’s eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes, his gaze still groggy. “You’re back?”

“Did I wake you up?” Lu Fenghan’s voice was extremely gentle. “Hmm, I’m back.”

Qi Yan remembered he was sleeping on Lu Fenghan’s bed. He wanted to explain but he was unsure of how to.

Lu Fenghan could tell and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Just fell asleep?”

Qi Yan responded with a muffled “Hmm,” his voice still carrying traces of just waking up.

Because they were so close, he found himself once again enveloped in the familiar scent of the person before him, stirring a deep feeling of reassurance and quiet peace within.

His thin eyelids drooped again, his drowsiness deepening.

“I won’t be upset. Whenever you want to come to my room to sleep or anything else, it’s all fine,” Lu Fenghan said, looking at the shirt in his arms that belonged to him, suddenly feeling a twinge of jealousy.

“Okay.” Qi Yan’s mind was unusually fuzzy. Overwhelmed by sleepiness, he unconsciously grabbed Lu Fenghan’s sleeve placed beside the bed.

A certain string of control, suppressed in his heart, was stirred. Lu Fenghan had always been quite confident in his patience, believing he could wait until Qi Yan regained his emotions.

A hidden string of control, buried deep within his heart, began to unravel.

With the rustling of fabric filling the soft air of the room, Lu Fenghan reached back, pressing Qi Yan’s hand under his palm, then leaned in, gently placing an extremely light kiss on the corner of Qi Yan’s lips.

Like a dragonfly skimming the surface of a spring on a summer night.

The primal urge to seize everything faded away, replaced by gentleness and restraint.

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