Northern Ireland Dungeon, Sector F, Human Cultural Heritage Research Center:
“You should go back.”
Zheng Rong said coldly, "General Lance, humanity still needs you for many things."
Lance handed a document to Zheng Rong and replied, “Don't forget, this man called Xiang Yu was once a soldier too.”
Zheng Rong said, “That was the past. He isn’t one anymore. I’ll welcome you when you retire as well. You’ve entered the restricted area—no soldiers are allowed here.”
Lance stared into Zheng Rong’s eyes, his voice steady, without emotion: “Soldiers protect all of humanity.”
Zheng Rong responded, “This is the ivory tower, a place for scholars. They ensure the survival of the entire race, just like your responsibility. There’s no such thing as who protects whom.”
Zheng Rong glanced at Xiang Yu in the distance. Xiang Yu was now dressed in a deep blue military uniform, his boots polished to a shine, hunched over, inspecting a trash can.
Lance softened his tone as much as possible, “Zheng Rong, why do you hate soldiers so much?”
Zheng Rong replied, “We develop civilization; you destroy it. Historians and soldiers have always been natural enemies.”
Lance said, “You're biased.”
Zheng Rong replied, “Perhaps. Allow me to keep my bias. Goodbye, General Lance.”
Zheng Rong shouted, “Let’s go!”
The guide light beeped as Xiang Yu, confused, walked swiftly over and asked, “Was that person your friend?”
Zheng Rong nodded, “He was a good friend of my brother.”
Xiang Yu sighed and asked, “Did your brother die because of me?”
Standing by the boundary of the restricted zone, with his hands in his coat pockets, Zheng Rong went through an infrared scan. After a brief pause, he said softly, “Actually, it had nothing to do with you—or anyone else. He died purely… for his beliefs.”
“For his faith in science… his maddening faith,” Zheng Rong said, his expression dim.
He led Xiang Yu into Sector F. Xiang Yu shifted his pack on his back and looked around at the buildings like a curious laborer.
Zheng Rong had to admit that Xiang Yu was quite perceptive. He quickly adapted to his surroundings and observed changes with a keen eye.
During their journey across Eurasia, from East Siberia to here, Xiang Yu would occasionally ask questions, sometimes thinking deeply, and he spent more time in silence than speaking.
His language had also become closer to that of a modern person. He noticed that Zheng Rong didn’t use many modal particles or inverted sentences, so he adjusted his way of speaking accordingly.
“This is your identification. In your era, it would be like a household registry, proving your identity.” Zheng Rong handed the ID that Lance had prepared to Xiang Yu, who took it and casually slipped it into his military uniform’s chest pocket.
Zheng Rong: “…”
Xiang Yu: “?”
Zheng Rong said, “You learn quickly.”
Xiang Yu nonchalantly replied, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do. No need to call me King anymore. I allow you to treat me as an equal.”
Zheng Rong said nothing and got into an electromagnetic vehicle with Xiang Yu, slowly driving along the flat road.
“Do you want to try?” Zheng Rong noticed Xiang Yu glancing at him.
Xiang Yu thought for a moment, then said, “Why not.”
They switched seats. Zheng Rong said, “This is called a steering wheel. Press the left pedal to go, the right pedal to stop.”
Xiang Yu stomped on the accelerator, and the car shot forward with a whoosh, crashing into a fountain with a loud bang.
Zheng Rong: “…”
Xiang Yu: “…”
Sirens blared as Xiang Yu, drenched and disheveled, dragged Zheng Rong out of the water.
----------------------------------------
At the 12th-floor apartment in the West Road Complex, Sector F, the elevator dinged and stopped. Zheng Rong stepped out, his face dark with anger, while Xiang Yu smiled awkwardly.
Zheng Rong unlocked the door with a twist and said coldly, “Come in, welcome.”
Xiang Yu chuckled, stepped inside, and Zheng Rong slammed the door shut with a bang.
“This is your residence?” Xiang Yu asked, surveying the surroundings.
“Yes,” Zheng Rong replied. “It’s small and shabby.”
Xiang Yu said, “Even a humble cottage can shelter a heart that cares for the world. Like a great bird, there will come a day when you soar. Don’t worry.”
Zheng Rong laughed helplessly, “I think I’ve been too modest. Your Majesty, in this entire research center, only those with at least a PhD and a certain level of title are eligible for a private apartment.”
Xiang Yu: “?”
Zheng Rong gave up explaining and said, “This is actually one of the best residences around.”
Xiang Yu frowned and asked, “Where are the other people?”
Zheng Rong replied, “Ordinary civilians… many live together. You’ll find out later.”
Zheng Rong’s apartment was spacious enough for one person. With two single men, there was still plenty of room. The apartment had originally been allocated to take care of the orphaned brothers of Zheng Feng, thanks to the United Government.
Most of the space was taken up by Zheng Rong’s research materials, reports, and antiques. He cleared the stack of papers off an empty bed, roughly stuffed them onto a shelf, and made space. “You’ll sleep here. It was my brother’s bed.”
Xiang Yu glanced at the yellowed photos on the wall, showing two young children.
Zheng Rong leaned close to Xiang Yu, their lips almost touching, as he pulled the photos down, tossed them into a box, and kicked it under the bed.
“The bathroom,” Zheng Rong said. “Bathing, everything’s done there. There’s hot water.” He turned on the heater’s faucet, and Xiang Yu recoiled in shock, testing the water in disbelief, “Hot water? From where?”
Zheng Rong said nonchalantly, “The Yellow River, from heaven.”
Then he opened the fridge. “Food’s in here. It’s called a fridge. Some is cooked, some raw. When you’re hungry, you can take it out…” He pulled out a ready meal, waved it at Xiang Yu, and popped it into the microwave.
“This box is the stove.”
Zheng Rong turned on the microwave. It hummed, and Xiang Yu observed it through the window as steam rose inside. The microwave beeped.
Zheng Rong said flatly, “Dinner is served, Your Majesty.”
He took out the meal, unveiled it—a dish of braised beef with rice—pulled out a chair for Xiang Yu, and tore off a few napkins, placing them by his hand. “The cups are over there. If you’re thirsty, get your own water.”
After explaining the essentials, Zheng Rong lay on the bed, returning to some unfinished work he’d left behind before the journey.
Xiang Yu devoured his meal, studying the napkins for a moment before using them to wipe his mouth.
“Well done,” Zheng Rong said with a hint of satisfaction. “You’re very smart.”
Xiang Yu asked, “What’s next?”
Zheng Rong got up and said, “Study. There’s a lot to learn, starting with writing.”
He brought out a literacy board, wrote a few characters, and taught Xiang Yu the basics of Chinese characters and pinyin. Handing over some materials, Zheng Rong said, “Here are tapes for learning Chinese, used by historians, along with textbooks. You can use them to learn slowly.”
Centuries later, Chinese characters had evolved, but Zheng Rong didn’t explain why Xiang Yu needed to learn them, nor did Xiang Yu ask. He knew well enough that literacy was crucial for communication, understanding, and connecting with the times.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Zheng Rong was a quiet man, capable of going an entire day without speaking, cold to the point of isolation. His home, apart from the Mayan artifacts, Chinese antiques, and mountains of research papers, only housed a computer.
Sometimes he’d listen to old pop songs from a bygone era or government anthems promoting victory during the apocalypse.
Occasionally, Xiang Yu would hum along. His learning speed astonished Zheng Rong. In less than three days, Xiang Yu had mastered all the pinyin and was now lying on the bed, engrossed in a book titled Picture Stories, awkwardly holding a pencil, carefully practicing writing Chinese characters.
As Zheng Rong softly sang, “Tears that pretend to fall…,” Xiang Yu glanced at the computer.
Zheng Rong had never let him touch it. After showing a moderate level of curiosity, Xiang Yu courteously kept his distance from the glowing screen.
Xiang Yu chimed in, “The sky is grey, will you forget who I am…”
Zheng Rong couldn’t help but laugh, “You’ve memorized the song already?”
Xiang Yu asked curiously, “Why do people cheer at this part?” This question had puzzled him for a long time.
Zheng Rong explained, “Because halfway through the song, the singer started taking off his clothes. It was a concert.”
Xiang Yu, not fully understanding what a concert was, nodded, understanding only the part about a man taking off his clothes.
Zheng Rong turned away, sipping coffee while staring blankly at the totem-like figures on the screen.
“There’s no global internet anymore,” Zheng Rong said suddenly. “This computer is connected to the network of the entire research center. You can use it to learn more things.”
Xiang Yu: “?”
Zheng Rong got up from his seat, pulling Xiang Yu over to the chair. “Now, I want to teach you how to use it.”
Zheng Rong logged into the research center’s network, which contained three major categories: Humanities, Natural Sciences, and Social Sciences. Xiang Yu was immediately captivated by the dazzling images.
In a hushed voice, Zheng Rong said, “I’m using my personal ID code to log in. If any confidential information leaks, I will be punished. Xiang Yu, please keep this a secret while you learn.”
Xiang Yu didn’t fully understand but thought for a moment and then nodded, “Don’t worry, I’ve always been tight-lipped.”
Zheng Rong taught him how to search. Xiang Yu took a deep breath.
“Let’s start with history. You may not recognize some characters; just hover the mouse over them, and it’ll speak the words aloud.” Zheng Rong guided Xiang Yu’s large hand to the mouse, showing him how to move it slowly.
Xiang Yu turned his head and asked, “How does this flat thing work?”
Their breaths intermingled, and Zheng Rong shifted uncomfortably. “The keyboard is too complex to use right now. You’ll learn that once you know all the characters.”
“For now, just look. Don’t make any comments,” Zheng Rong instructed. “The login name is mine. If this little window starts blinking, it means someone’s messaging me. Please don’t respond.”
Xiang Yu focused intently on the screen, and Zheng Rong collapsed into bed, falling asleep.
Five minutes later, Xiang Yu glanced at Zheng Rong, pulled a blanket over him, and continued to immerse himself in the sea of history.
Ten minutes later, Xiang Yu got up, fetched a carton of milk, and put it in the microwave. The ding sound briefly interrupted Zheng Rong’s sleep, causing his breathing to hitch.
Xiang Yu hurriedly walked over, gently patting Zheng Rong’s chest.
Zheng Rong settled back into sleep. Xiang Yu drank the milk while studying history. The light shone on his handsome, resolute face as he scrolled from the ancient days of Suiren, who first made fire, to the Hundred Schools of Thought before the Qin Dynasty, and on to the Chu-Han Contention.
Xiang Yu used the mouse’s scroll wheel and noticed comments about him at the bottom of the screen.
The doorbell rang.
Xiang Yu frowned, got up to answer, while Zheng Rong shifted in bed.
Lance stood at the door, “Hello, how have things been lately?” His Mandarin was clumsy. Xiang Yu responded, “Hello, you’re a German.”
Lance nodded, “Is Zheng Rong here?”
Zheng Rong shot up from bed, “What are you doing here?”
Lance remained expressionless, saying nothing.
“Have you finished the rations I brought you last time?” Lance asked from outside.
Zheng Rong coldly replied, “No need, my salary is enough to support us.”
Lance pressed on, “What are you two working on?”
Xiang Yu understood something from Lance’s words and went to open the door, inviting him in, “Come, sit.”
Zheng Rong, slightly displeased, had no choice but to let Lance enter. Lance sat on Xiang Yu’s bed, saying, “It’s much tidier than last time.”
Over the past few days, Xiang Yu had cleaned up the entire apartment. He fetched water and started making coffee, using the small appliances with practiced ease, which made Lance chuckle.
But Zheng Rong’s expression remained icy, his gaze filled with rejection, as if waiting for Lance to say his piece and leave.
“How do you plan to educate him?” Lance asked in English.
Zheng Rong replied, “He’s a person, not a war machine from your military.”
Lance interlaced his fingers, thumbs pressed together in thought, then said, “Listen, Zheng Rong, I’m deeply sorry for your brother’s death.”
Zheng Rong responded, “I’m not. I don’t even feel too sad. You don’t need to comfort me so hard. I’m doing just fine, really.”
Lance said in a flat tone, “Zheng Rong, I know you... Zheng Rong. You don’t need to invite a stranger to live in your home just because you lost Zheng Feng. I hope you’ll talk to me sometimes. I’m willing to chat with you or…”
Zheng Rong sneered, “What is there to talk about with a cold piece of steel like you?”
Lance struggled with expressing his emotions. Trying hard to show his concern for Zheng Rong, his eyes reddened before he could hold back the tears. He said, “I want to do something for you. That person you’re with—I’ve looked into him. He’s a hero to your Chinese people.”
“But he shouldn’t be a replacement—a companion you keep just to fill the void.”
Lance looked at Zheng Rong, his deep blue eyes filled with suppressed sadness, and saw his own handsome face reflected in Zheng Rong’s clear pupils.
Zheng Rong didn’t hold back, “Thank you for your concern, you can leave now.”
Lance stayed silent for a moment, then took out a military bag, saying, “I brought cigarettes.”
Zheng Rong interrupted, “I’ve quit smoking.”
Lance continued, “There’s chocolate. You loved it as a child, and there’s coffee, whiskey too.”
Zheng Rong got up as Lance placed the bag on the bed, saying, “Take care of yourself. I’ll come back.”
Xiang Yu hadn’t finished brewing the coffee, but Zheng Rong had already lost the desire to keep Lance around.
Xiang Yu glanced at the scene and immediately understood the tension in the room.
He came out of the kitchen, his towering figure shielding Zheng Rong, as Lance said, “I’m leaving.”
Zheng Rong sat back on the bed, and Xiang Yu politely escorted Lance to the door, saying, “Goodbye.”
Lance: “…”
Xiang Yu: “?”
Lance frowned, “You speak English?”
Lance repeated his words in Mandarin. Xiang Yu smiled and said, “I only know that one phrase. Zheng Rong taught me.”
Lance nodded, “Goodbye.”
Xiang Yu sniffed the air, catching the scent of smoke.
Zheng Rong sat curled up on the bed, smoking. His hair was a mess, like a restless cat.
Xiang Yu frowned and asked, “What’s that?”
Zheng Rong whispered, “Cigarettes. Want one?”
Xiang Yu stared at him for a while, then took the cigarette Zheng Rong handed him. Zheng Rong lit it with a lighter, and Xiang Yu took a puff, immediately coughing hard.
Zheng Rong burst into laughter.
Cough… cough. Xiang Yu gasped for air, not daring to toss the cigarette. He pointed at Zheng Rong, saying, “What… cough! What’s so good… about this?”
After coughing for a bit, Xiang Yu caught his breath, looked at Zheng Rong, and said, “You look nice when you smile. You should… cough! Smile more often!”
Zheng Rong’s eyes were red, and he stared at Xiang Yu, lost in thought.
Xiang Yu stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, sighed, and gently patted Zheng Rong’s head.
“Though the body perishes, the spirit lives on. The soul stands firm, becoming a hero among ghosts. Zheng Rong, the dead cannot be brought back to life. You must move on.”
Thus spoke Xiang Yu, the Overlord of Western Chu.