BEAUTIFUL OLD WORLD
Part Two
3
Three days later, I was waiting at the Restricted Zone boundary as usual for Jasmine to come back.
The last time she'd served at the banquet, the K-Luo family had given her a tip, and with that money, Jasmine's mother had managed to get through the crisis—her condition had finally improved. So this time, Jasmine wasn't so resistant anymore. She didn't cry this time; she even seemed a little happy, saying she'd bring me back some chocolate.
I said, "If it's not ours, we shouldn't take it. Don't let them look down on us."
"I know." Jasmine kissed me. "Be good. Wait for me right here."
I waited from six o'clock until midnight, smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes. Jasmine didn't appear.
I grew anxious. From midnight, I waited until two in the morning. Jasmine still hadn't come.
It wasn't until the clock struck the hour—dawn's first light—that she appeared. But she was inside a body bag, carried by two men, thrown at my feet.
I unzipped the bag, my hands passing over her blood-caked face. Her skin was as cold as the air itself.
She was like that wildflower—tossed casually on the ground, then trampled underfoot.
I knelt there, feeling the very earth collapsing beneath me.
She had been beaten to death. One of the guests at the banquet had gotten drunk and wanted to sample the Sunset Species "exotic delicacy"—to see how a woman like this was different from the ordinary kind. He had pinned her to the bed. Jasmine fought back desperately, grabbing a vase from the nightstand and smashing it against his head. For a Sunset Species person to dare resist a New Human was an unforgivable offense. The man had flown into a rage, stripped her naked, bound her, and tortured her for hours before finally stopping. By dawn, Jasmine's body, covered in wounds, had already stopped breathing.
At the burial, her mother grabbed my clothes and kept pounding my chest with her fists, weeping and asking me: "Why didn't you protect her? Why didn't you protect her..."
I couldn't say a word.
Jasmine never brought me back chocolate. The only thing she left me was an address—the address of the K-Luo family. I recorded a video of myself performing magic tricks, burned it onto a disc, then took out all my savings and stuffed them into the hands of the security personnel at the Restricted Zone boundary, begging him to mail the disc to that address.
The security man took the money, inspected the disc thoroughly, confirmed it posed no danger or had any suspicious marks, and then dismissed me: "Alright, got it. Now hurry up and leave—this isn't a place for you."
After I left, I locked myself in my room, and from then on, aside from eating and sleeping, I practiced my magic tricks relentlessly. I had to make sure my technique was flawless, spectacular, captivating from the very first glance.
Shank came looking for me once, bringing compressed biscuits to console me. I didn't even open the door for him.
Half a month later, I finally received word: the K-Luo family was hosting another banquet. They'd seen my magic performance on the video and thought it was quite interesting—they wanted me to perform live for their entertainment.
I got myself ready, washed my hair, put on fresh clothes, and stepped out with renewed vigor. The moment I walked out the door, I ran into Shank, who was staring at me with fury. His voice squeezed from his throat like it was being strangled: "Going to serve the New Humans again? You lowlife?"
I said, "Shank, we still have to live."
He punched me in the face. Stars burst before my eyes. He grabbed my collar and said, "Have you forgotten how Jasmine died?!"
I gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and said, "Everyone dies. You will, I will. Can you change this world? No. Then all you can do is submit."
Shank looked at me in disbelief, as if he'd never known me. Finally, he slowly released his grip, backed away, buried his face in his hands, and cried like a child.
I didn't pay him any more attention, striding past him. The Restricted Zone gate was open. The New World was summoning me.
4
This was my first time entering the Restricted Zone, my first time seeing so many New Humans in person.
They really were like angels—the men were all tall and handsome, with well-proportioned bodies and confident, composed smiles on their faces; the women were gentle and beautiful, with exquisite features, any one of them a vision of loveliness. Standing there, I immediately felt inadequate, like an incompletely evolved Peking Man. I instantly understood how Jasmine must have felt the first time she stood here.
The K-Luo family was just an ordinary household in the New Human world, but even their luxury left me breathless. Dazzling crystal chandeliers, clean and soft suede carpets, world-famous paintings on the walls... every single item made me want to gasp. They wore gorgeous, proper clothing, enjoyed exquisite food and drink, and watched me with polite smiles. My palms were slick with sweat as I silently repeated to myself: Don't make a mistake. Don't make a mistake. You have to nail the opening.
I couldn't bring anything in with me. All the props had been prepared in advance—they felt slightly unfamiliar in my hands. I familiarized myself with them, took a deep breath, removed my top hat, and bowed to the audience. Several pigeons burst out of the hat with a flutter.
Scattered, politely appreciative applause filled the room.
I scanned the crowd and noticed a woman of lingering beauty watching me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. She was one of the K-Luo family's ladies of the house, named Roman. Born in the perfect Restricted Zone, this was surely her first time seeing such a rustic, amusing trick. I gave her a slight smile.
The performance went well—my magic was spectacular, everything proceeding exactly as I'd imagined. At first, these people were refined and proper, but as the wine flowed, they gradually changed—faces flushed red, men and women flirting shamelessly, eyes glazed over, the room filling with licentious sounds and an ambiguous atmosphere. It seemed that even the most perfect gene editing couldn't edit human nature.
After finishing my performance, I wandered around the hall. A painting on the wall caught my attention. It was an abstract oil painting: two infants intertwined with each other, nestled in what looked like a womb. Roman walked over to my side and said, "This is Eden."
"What?"
"These two infants—" she pointed at the painting, "are the first pair of New Humans born into the world over two hundred years ago. One was named Lulu, the other Nana. They opened the gates to a new world, creating a perfect paradise. That's why this painting is called 'Eden.'"
I murmured in admiration, "Ancestors of angels."
"Didn't expect a Sunset Species person to be quite interesting." Roman turned to look at me, her face flushed, her eyes hazy. "You're different from them."
"From whom?"
"The people at the banquet. They're all too refined, too perfect, like they came out of the same mold. But you... how should I put it—you radiate the fragrance of the earth."
I smiled. "I'm made of earth, after all."
"Earth can have its own flavor sometimes." She slipped a wad of bills into my shirt and breathed into my ear, "I hope I'll see your magic at the next banquet too."
5
My magic skills improved day by day, and I'd now performed at six consecutive K-Luo family banquets. Who would have thought that a Sunset Species person would become a regular guest in the New Human world?
The entire district considered me a running dog. Shank had outright severed ties with me, threatening to break my legs if I ever appeared before him again.
But that didn't stop me from thriving in the K-Luo family's world. I grew increasingly familiar with them; sometimes they'd even pour me a fine glass of wine and listen to me tell a few bawdy jokes, laughing uproariously and slapping their thighs.
Roman's relationship with me also grew more intimate. This elegant woman of lingering beauty would find excuses to make casual physical contact with me, while I maintained my humble earth-born nature, treating her with respectful propriety, never overstepping by even a fraction.
This only heightened her curiosity. One day after a performance, she called me to her bedroom, changed into a silk nightgown so sheer it was nearly see-through, and lay back on the bed, saying, "I haven't been sleeping well lately. Rub my lower back for me."
I hesitated. "I don't know massage."
"That's fine. Just use your magic hands." She turned her head, her eyes like autumn pools.
I had no choice but to roll up my sleeves and press my hands against her supple waist, kneading carefully. I moved lower and lower. She writhed restlessly and let out a few soft moans. Then I suddenly stood up and said, "It's getting late. I think I should go home."
She knelt on the bed, draped herself over my shoulder, and blew into my ear: "Come back tomorrow night. Make sure you take a shower first. I'll give you a surprise."
The next day, following her instructions, I washed myself thoroughly, and then, just before sunset, I went to find Shank.
Shank came out of his house gripping a club, pointing it at my nose: "Didn't I tell you—if I see you one more time, I'll break your legs?"
I said, "You did."
"Then you still dare to come? Don't want your legs anymore?"
"You can have them anytime. But right now, I need your smallpox."
Shank froze.
He took the vial out of the refrigerator. It had been a long time, and the pale blue liquid inside had dimmed somewhat.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
I nodded. I'd been sure from the start.
"But the security checks at the Restricted Zone boundary are so strict—how are you going to get it in?"
"Draw it out." I produced a syringe. "Inject it into my body."
"You're going to infect yourself with smallpox?" He was horrified.
"There's no other way."
"But... after sitting for so long, the efficacy of the viral solution has degraded. If you want to spread it to others, you'd need intimate contact, like..."
"I know that." I cut him off. "I have a plan."
Shank stared at me for a long moment. Finally, he picked up the syringe, drew the pale blue liquid into it, and was about to inject it into my vein when he stopped and asked: "Walt Morrison, do you regret this?"
I closed my eyes. "The only thing I regret is not stopping Jasmine from going to the New World."
Two hours later, I stood before Roman. She was wearing the same sheer nightgown as before—any movement was seductive. I felt my forehead—I had a slight fever. The viral solution was already taking effect.
She pushed me onto the bed, stripped off my clothes, and ran her hands over my chest, laughing: "Why are you so hot?"
I said, "I'm excited."
She gave me a sultry look. "I'll tell you something even more exciting. I've decided to have gene editing surgery done on you, so you can become a New Human. That way, you won't have to go back—you can live in the New World forever."
I froze.
"What's wrong? You don't want to?"
I suddenly burst into wild laughter—laughing until tears streamed down, laughing until she stared at me in bewilderment, laughing until the whole room seemed to shake.
"Hahaha. Alright. I'm willing. Let's become New Humans together!" With that, I pressed her beneath me and kissed her fiercely.
My bodily fluids surged forth.
END