Little Mushroom

On the communication channel, Polly Joan's voice sounded.

"The stable frequency has covered the whole world," he said, "please don't worry about material distortion."

"The dungeon base has been received," said the voice of the operator at the dungeon base, suppressing the excitement, "Although I don't know what you did-thank God, thank you."

News kept coming.

"The North Base is still defending." It seemed that someone else had taken Dr. Ji's call port, a young voice said.

Then came the news of the dungeon base.

"The transport formation has landed."

"Please indicate the location of the survivors of the North Base."

"Starting breakout."

-They still picked up the full moon in the water.

The sun gradually rises, and in the howling cold wind, the winter sun is dazzling, without a trace of temperature. On the test-tube rack, the glass shone. There seemed to be another heartbeat in the still air.

Aboriginals, latecomers, aliens, and military officers—they just stood in front of the communication channel, waiting, waiting for news about the rescue of the dungeon base, and the situation of the northern base, even the vine that had been guarding the institute from the window. Reach into a branch.

They occasionally whispered.

"How many people have we died?"

"Uncle Shu is dead, and the body is downstairs."

"Where is Tang Lan?"

"--did not see it."

Breakouts and counterattacks began. No one on the communication channel reported the situation. Everyone held their breath.

In this quiet tension, Polly Jean got up from the computer.

His steps staggered and squeaked because of his age or emotion. He pushed open the door, and first stared at the extinguished Simpson cage-all outside was blood and corpses, but Simpson's cage was clean. Immediately, he turned his eyes forward.

Outside the laboratory door, the black figure who had been leaning halfway against the wall also slowly raised his head.

——It's a pair of empty pupils. The ice layer covering tens of thousands of years has covered the green ocean.

Just meet each other and they know each other's identities.

Polly Joan's gray-blue eyes were full of sorrow.

"Child," he said softly.

Lu Yan didn't answer him, he looked down and looked at a blank piece of paper that Polly Joan had been holding.

Polly's fingers trembled slightly, and he flattened the paper forward with a few lines of handwritten writing on it. Anzhe's handwriting is not beautiful, and the dots are simple and clear, like a lake in spring.

"Poly, thank you for your care. I am the inert sample of the North Base. My frequency may be helpful to you, if not, sorry.

PS: Please remember our agreement. "

"Is he really the inert sample?" Polly Joan asked.

"The sample is part of him." Lu Yan's fingers took the white note, and his voice was slightly hoarse: "What did you promise?"

"If one day, the judges of the North Base come here," Polly said, "... say Anzhe is free to go."

Blood stains appeared in Lu Yan's eyes.

He heard heavy footsteps behind him, a dark-skinned Indian man.

-Rum held An Zhe's backpack in his hand and silently handed it to Lu Yan's eyes.

There are some things neatly packed in the backpack.

A monthly Al Qaeda, a silver cross star badge, and a black pistol.

Lu Yan's fingers grabbed the edge of the backpack, and he lowered his head, staring at the contents inside, unable to see clearly.

"He was picked up by our people from the abyss ... he is a good boy and he is doing well here." Looking at him, Polly whispered, "I know the base can't bear him. Do you always know he is here? "

Lu Yan's eyes finally moved from the backpack to Polly Joan.

"I don't know," he said.

Polly Joan's eyes shuddered and he closed his eyes in pain.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The unexpected reunion was the last farewell, and the world still had such cold torture.

The cold wind blew through the top of the mountain.

After a long silence, Lu Yan said, "Where is he?"

"The Simpson cage is a high-capacity field and a collider. Anything entering it will be bombarded by a stream of high-energy particles and dissipated into fragments." Polly muttered: "I think you see it."

The backpack fell to the ground and the barrel hit Polly's temple.

Lu Yan's cold eyes stared at Polly.

"Where is he?" He repeated the question word by word, all emotions erupted at that moment, there was vague madness in the cold eyes, he was like a prisoner already sentenced to death, but he had to confirm the sentence over and over again .

A sad smile appeared on Polly Joan's lips, his loving eyes looked out at the infinitely high sky outside the window, and he knew that all he needed was a good-faith lie, even though they knew everything.

"His frequency is sent all over the world, and he will save everything in distortion." Polly Joan said: "He is right next to you ... he is everywhere."

Lu Yan just looked at him like that, and they were so stalemate until a bang, his fingers shuddered and released, the pistol landed, and "banged" against the iron railing in the corridor, arousing the endless metal buzz.

"Sorry." Lu Yan said hoarsely: "I ..."

He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and didn't say any more.

"It doesn't have to be that way." Polly looked at him with pity, and said, "You can shoot me, you can vent your emotions at will, child."

"Thank you," Lu Yan said dumbly: "If he is still, I will."

This is the calmest and most desperate sentence that Polly Joan has ever heard.

They stood side by side in the corridor in the middle of winter until the **** sunset spread across the mountains and the abyss, until the cheers of victory in the laboratory sounded. The words celebrating the victory are mixed with sporadic messages. For example, the airborne troops of the dungeon base sacrificed more than 600 people. For example, the true number of survivors in the northern base was a few hundred. What did the institute find.

So sadness and joy overlap slowly, and despair and hope go hand in hand. Everything is lucky, everything comes at a price. The sacrifice of countless people, the sacrifice of one person.

A line of tears shed slowly from the corner of Polly Joan's eyes.

Suddenly, a mass of white floated down from Lu Ying's shoulders, and fell on Polly's clothes in the wind, and stretched out the soft hypha and touched him.

"What is this?" Polly picked it up and asked.

"Inert samples." Lu Yan said: "His most important thing."

Polly Joan naturally knew who Lu Yan was referring to. There was only one "he" between them.

He stared at the mycelium.

"This is an asexual spore, a fungal breeding body," he said, his eyes narrowed. "He never told us what his species belongs to, so he is--"

Looking at the spores, Lu Yan whispered, "He is a mushroom."

His voice was hoarse, but like endless pity and tenderness: "He's just a ... little mushroom."