It’s a strange invasion, is it okay for me to fight back?

Chapter 618 The Truth
The poet's gaze shifted downwards, landing on the nurse's name tag, which bore her name: Ling Feiran.

He had met the other person before, but he hadn't made a point of remembering their name. Now, however, he had to be wary of them.

The infected population is still small, and he doesn't want his plans to be disrupted by a mere nurse.

However, two nurses have already died in the inpatient department. If a third one dies, it will attract the attention of higher-ups and lead to an investigation, which would be troublesome.

The poet pondered for a moment before picking up the flute that Ling Feiran had given him.

"Feiran, don't cry, I'll play a tune for you," he said.

Ling Feiran felt a slight unease, because no one had ever called her that before; everyone usually called her Feifei.

However, this strange feeling quickly dissipated, and the poet's voice made her feel that everything was reasonable, and even the unfamiliar address was reasonable.

“But isn’t it a bit inappropriate to play the flute at this time?” Ling Feiran asked.

"No, I'm a musician." The poet smiled and put the flute to his lips. "There's no such thing as an inappropriate time, only inappropriate music."

Under the night sky, the melodious sound of a flute rises, as gentle and graceful as a breeze. Far from being noisy, it makes the night even more peaceful.

As Ling Feiran listened, her eyes half-closed and half-open, gradually becoming hazy.

"It sounds so beautiful," she murmured softly.

The poet put away his flute, and then a strange scene appeared—the flute music seemed to have a life of its own; even when the poet stopped playing, the melody continued to linger in the air, endlessly.

The poet closed his eyes, a look of enjoyment on his face, and said, "Stop crying for others. Your tears should flow for yourself. Forget about that pregnant woman. Think about yourself, Fei Ran. What was the last time you were sad and shed tears?"

“The last time I was heartbroken…” Ling Feiran recalled the days before the quarantine zone, her expression somber, “The last time I was heartbroken was because of Feng Shao.”

"Feng Shao?" the poet murmured, repeating the name.

He thought to himself: Feng is not a common surname. The infamous hidden boss also has the surname Feng, and he's giving Meteor a real headache right now. I wonder how Meteor will deal with that hidden boss in the future...

“Yes, his name was Feng Shao, and he was my fiancé.” Ling Feiran’s eyes flashed with resentment. “He was killed by the people from the Supervision Bureau.”

The poet was slightly taken aback by the information. He couldn't help but look around – it was already late at night, and the nurses on duty were drowsy. His flute music also had a calming and sleep-inducing effect, so no one heard his conversation with Ling Feiran in the corridor.

The poet lowered his voice, his tone becoming even gentler, and asked, "How was he murdered?"

Ling Feiran bit her lower lip, her eyes showing struggle. The poet said softly, "Feiran, I didn't mean to reopen your wounds. I just want to help you. Some secrets are not meant to be buried deep inside. Telling them will make you feel better."

Tears gradually filled her eyes, and then a large tear rolled down her cheek.

“When I went to see him… there was a huge hole in his chest. The inspector said that the alien faked its death and attacked the cleaning team while escaping. Feng Shao was killed by the alien. But I know the inspector was lying… it was all a lie,” Ling Feiran repeated, tears streaming down her face, her voice choked with sobs, “It was all a lie!”

The poet had only intended to evoke her painful memories, but upon hearing this, he became curious and pressed her for an answer: "How do you know it's a lie?"

Ling Feiran cried, "I studied veterinary medicine. I've dissected animal carcasses. I know that wounds inflicted before and after death are different. There was a claw mark on Feng Shao's chest that was clearly made after he died! I stared at that claw mark for a long time, I really stared at it for a long time... I wanted to ask them why they did this to Feng Shao, why they did it..."

She grew increasingly heartbroken, almost to the point of incoherence.

The poet sighed softly, put his hand on Ling Feiran's shoulder, wiped away her tears, and asked gently, "Did you ask? Why did they do that?"

Ling Feiran froze, tears streaming silently down her face. "...I didn't ask."

"Why don't you ask?" The poet looked at her with concern, as if he were saddened by her plight.

“Because it’s pointless… When they decide to conceal the real cause of death, they’ll prepare countless contingency plans. I’ll never get an answer; all I’ll get are empty words.” Ling Feiran’s tears slowly stopped, her eyes vacant. “Besides, I know why they do this, so there’s no need to ask.”

"You know?" The poet looked at Ling Feiran with suspicion.

“Hmm.” Ling Feiran nodded, saying blankly, “To cover up the other claw mark on the corpse, I think the claw mark below was left by the alien. The claw mark is on the lower left side of the chest, shallower at the top and deeper at the bottom, indicating that the force was applied from bottom to top. If the alien attacked Feng Shao from the front, this would be extremely abnormal. Such a claw mark is more like the alien standing behind Feng Shao, with its claws going around his shoulders and grabbing his chest—a hostage situation.”

The poet imagined the scene of being taken hostage, a smile playing on his lips, and couldn't help but admire Ling Feiran's meticulous thinking.

“Indeed, it was a hostage situation.” He nodded in reply, feeling a pang of regret. He wished he had met Ling Feiran sooner; cooperating with Ling Feiran would have been much more effective than cooperating with Pashan.

Ling Feiran smiled bitterly, "If someone is held hostage by an alien species, the only fatal wound to the chest can come from an inspector who attacks from the front. Feng Shao was dedicated to working for the Bureau of Inspection, yet he was killed by an inspector..."

“You must hate them very much.” The poet looked at her intently, further stirring up her negative emotions. “You should hate them, Fei Ran. It’s unfair that they hid the truth and made you suffer like this.”

"Does the truth matter?" Ling Feiran raised her misty eyes and stared straight at the poet. "The family that adopted me had been unable to have children for many years. After adopting me, they somehow became pregnant and had their own flesh and blood. I became the insignificant person... Then one day, my adoptive father lost some money. The whole family believed that I had stolen it. They didn't hit me or scold me. They just tacitly despised and disliked me. I heard them whispering behind my back, saying that I had the blood of a criminal flowing in my veins, that my genes were bad, and that they regretted adopting me."

Upon hearing the phrase "inferior genes," the poet's playful expression froze slightly, and his eyes turned somewhat cold.

Ling Feiran continued, "Later, I spent a lot of time and energy proving that I didn't steal the money. I presented the evidence to them, but they just smiled and said that I was too petty, holding a grudge for such a small thing for so long. They also said that adopted children can never be truly authentic. You see, does the truth matter? For orphans like me and Feng Shao, the truth... is meaningless. It has no meaning."

(End of this chapter)