BEAUTIFUL OLD WORLD
Part One
1
The sun was about to set, its last lingering rays spilling across the garbage mountain, unexpectedly outlining it with a faint golden border. Perhaps this was the most beautiful moment this pile of trash would ever know.
"Do you know why they call us the 'Sunset Species'?" Shank turned to ask me. His clothes reeked of a sour smell, indistinguishable from the garbage itself.
I remained silent—not because I couldn't answer his question, but because I didn't want to tear open that wound yet again.
"Look—" Shank pointed at the sun that had lost its brilliance. "It's about to go down, and so are we."
Yes, we were going down too. Ever since the birth of the "AIDS-immune gene-edited" twins at the end of 2018, humanity had thrown open Pandora's box entirely. Gene modification surgery became the norm—when a person was still at the embryonic stage, they would undergo comprehensive gene editing, thoroughly excising any genes related to deformities, malformations, and disease risks, replacing them with more perfect genes. Such people were called the "New Humans." The New Humans were practically angels—stronger, more beautiful, smarter, healthier, with lifespans extended several times over, and zero risk of contracting any disease throughout their entire lives. Compared to them, we were like monkeys in a zoo.
That's right—not everyone had the qualifications to become a New Human. That was a privilege of the wealthy. They had been the world's rulers before, and they still were—only their position had become even more unshakable. Those who couldn't afford gene surgery fell to the margins of society, and because of the extreme harshness of their living conditions, their numbers dwindled rapidly. If this continued, those of us ordinary people would go extinct, just like the setting sun.
"Sunset Species"—the name was painfully apt.
"Tell me," Shank asked again, "if we really did all die out, would the New Humans feel any regret?"
"There's no reason for them to feel regret," I sighed. "Artificial intelligence can replace every labor position we hold. To the New Humans, we're nothing more than an embarrassing chapter of their past—just like how we look at monkeys in the zoo."
"Damn it!" Shank gnashed his teeth. "Remember what that great man said three hundred years ago? 'The world is yours, and it is ours, but in the end, it belongs to those grandsons!' Truer words were never spoken!"
I stood up and brushed the dirt off my behind. "I'm leaving."
"Where to?"
"The K-Luo family is hosting a banquet and wanted a Sunset Species girl to serve as a waitress. They picked Jasmine, and I need to take her there now."
" Bastards, they know how to pick them." Shank spat.
Yes, they certainly knew how to pick them. Jasmine was the most beautiful girl in our district—and my girlfriend.
I rode my beat-up motorcycle with her on the back, weaving through one squalid, mud-splattered street after another, filthy water splashing all over my pant legs. She hugged my waist, perhaps thinking this would keep me from breaking inside. It was useless—this feeling was like the commoners of the Yuan Dynasty offering their brides to Mongol nobles for the "right of first night."
But I couldn't fight back. Being hired by the New Humans was considered them looking favorably upon you. Besides, Jasmine's mother was bedridden and desperately needed money and medicine. Whatever the K-Luo family deigned to pay her would be enough to get them through the crisis.
To survive, you had to depend on the New Humans' leftovers. I bit my lip hard and drove the motorcycle as fast as it would go.
When we reached the Restricted Zone, I stopped the bike. Any farther was New Human territory—Sunset Species weren't allowed to enter freely. Jasmine clutched my clothes tightly and whispered, "Shengli..."
"Don't be afraid," I patted her shoulder. "Relax. Don't let them look down on you."
"Will you wait for me here?"
"Of course," I gently stroked her cheek. "You're the most important person in Walt Morrison's entire life. I'll be right here waiting. I won't go anywhere." As I spoke, my hand flicked and a wildflower appeared out of thin air. I tucked it gently into her hair.
Normally, these little magic tricks always made her laugh, but today her eyes were brimming with tears, like a startled fawn. The security personnel at the Restricted Zone boundary searched her from head to toe, not even sparing her socks. The wildflower was plucked out and thrown into the incinerator for destruction—in the eyes of the New Humans, the place where we lived was filthy, a hundred times worse than the slums of the old era. They absolutely would not allow any unsanitary items to enter the Restricted Zone; it would "contaminate" their world.
Jasmine passed through security smoothly. She glanced back at me one more time before walking in. I instantly felt as though we had been severed into two separate worlds—one side ablaze with lights and flowing colors, the other dead silent and shrouded in endless darkness. I watched Jasmine walk into that brilliantly lit world, terrified that she would never come back.
2
Twelve o'clock—it was already past midnight. I pulled out my cigarette pack; there was only one left. I lit it and took a deep drag, letting the nicotine chase away my drowsiness.
Then Jasmine came back, and my heart, suspended for half the night, finally settled.
Unlike when she'd left, the returning Jasmine seemed excited. In the glow of the lighter, her face was still flushed. She chattered nonstop the whole way home, telling me about everything she'd seen tonight—how luxurious the K-Luo family's villa was, how distinguished the banquet guests were, how mouthwatering the exquisite food and fine wine smelled...
"Did they say you were pretty?" I asked.
Jasmine suddenly fell silent. She buried her head against my back and said, "Nobody said I was pretty. I'm not pretty, either. Compared to their refined features, I look like I was sculpted from mud. They just... some of them had never seen a Sunset Species person before. They treated me like a rare toy, that's all."
I stopped the motorcycle and turned to look at her, speaking earnestly: "Jasmine, you're not a toy. You're the most important person in my life. In my eyes, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. Nobody compares to you."
She smiled, but it was forced. "In three days, the K-Luo family is hosting another banquet. They want me to serve again."
"Oh," I acknowledged, and drove the motorcycle into the darkness.
3
Shank always liked to sit on the garbage mountain watching the sunset—he thought it was romantic. I sat beside him, my legs dangling in the air, and with a flick of my wrist, a box of chocolates appeared out of nowhere.
His eyes lit up with surprise. "You can conjure these up now?"
"Nah, someone from the K-Luo family gave them to Jasmine. She couldn't bear to eat them, so she saved them for me." I broke off a piece and handed it to him.
Shank took the chocolate and reverently placed it in his mouth, closing his eyes, his face suffused with an expression of pure bliss—almost like an orgasm. After the ecstasy faded, he suddenly cursed bitterly: "These bastards are something else. They get to eat whatever they damn well please."
I laughed. "Shank, you're eating the meat and then cursing the butcher."
"Fuck that, why shouldn't I curse them? Just because their genes are better?"
"Dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes, and a mouse's offspring knows how to dig holes. You can't change that."
"What about you, then?" He turned to look at me. "Are you and Jasmine planning to have kids? What happens if you do—let them live their whole life in a garbage dump?"
I fell silent. It was a question I'd never contemplated, and one I refused to think about. When it came to things you couldn't solve, avoidance was the only way to find peace of mind.
"Maybe... there's a way to change all of this." Shank's eyes suddenly gleamed with fierce determination.
"What do you mean?"
"Come with me." Shank pulled me to my feet and led me toward the northeast corner of the district—toward his home.
We passed through filthy alleyways where stray dogs circled us incessantly, perhaps catching the scent of chocolate. Looking at their pitiful eyes, I softened the kick I'd been about to deliver.
Shank opened his door and I walked in, immediately covering my nose—the smell in here was even more suffocating than the garbage outside, like a vat of improperly fermented bean paste. Shank looked at me with disdain. "Walt Morrison, don't act all high and mighty. Which of us is really any better than the other?"
I lowered my hand. "That's not what I meant."
Shank scoffed and led me down into the basement. He flicked on a dim yellow light, and I saw a small refrigerator in the corner, humming as it ran. I could swear that aside from the light bulb, this was the only functioning electrical appliance in Shank's entire home.
Shank opened the refrigerator compartment and took out a sealed vial containing a pale blue liquid. The small vial radiated cold, yet what struck me as strange was that at this temperature, the liquid inside hadn't frozen.
"Do you know what this is?" Shank leaned in close and asked in a low voice, looking thoroughly conspiratorial.
"I have no idea." I shook my head blankly.
"Smallpox." He barely breathed the word, uttering it with the utmost caution, as though afraid of waking something up.
Smallpox? I searched my memory quickly and found a faint impression of this unfamiliar term. Wasn't that an extremely virulent infectious disease from the old era? But over three hundred years ago, under the leadership of that great man, humanity had completely eradicated this disease.
I couldn't help asking, "Where did you get this thing?"
"Traded for it on the black market. The guy drove a hard bargain—cost me a whole pack of compressed biscuits."
"What's the use of trading for this? You couldn't finish your compressed biscuits?"
"Do you know how long this thing has been officially gone? Over a hundred years! Everyone's forgotten this demon ever existed—not just us, but the New Humans too. When they undergo gene surgery, they excise every disease-prone gene and eliminate every potential threat. Yes, their genes can ward off any disease—except smallpox. Because in their gene sequences, there's simply no immune system to block it! If we Sunset Species get infected with this stuff, there's a fifty percent chance we won't die—at worst, we'll end up with a pockmarked face, because we have genetic diversity. But the New Humans' genes have all converged toward uniformity. If they catch this thing, it'll spread like wildfire through dry grass..."
I clamped my hand over his mouth. "Shank, are you out of your fucking mind?!"
Shank struggled free. "If you could get Jasmine to smuggle this into the Restricted Zone..."
"Don't even think about it! Do you have any idea how terrifying the security checks are at the Restricted Zone entrance? Forget a vial of medicine—they'd detect an extra strand of hair! I'm telling you, destroy this thing immediately. If the New Humans find out, not a single person in our district will survive!"
Shank put the vial back in the fridge and gave me a sidelong glance. "Look at you, quaking in your boots."
"I'm doing this for your own good! Don't just ruin yourself and drag the rest of us down with you!" I stormed out of Shank's place in a fury, hit the street, and felt a wave of dizziness wash over me.