Sakedi and Gela walked into the Great Information Nest and were immediately met with the sight of the Armored-type leader—who could probably keep fighting with a broken neck as long as he could hold it up with his hands, but whose stoic persona could never be allowed to crumble—sitting on the ground in a state of utter disarray, feeding honey-dew to a Broad-wing male.
The deep gray Zerg’s scales were flared in ring after ring; from a distance, he looked like an irregular, overripe pinecone.
The Core-type, who was usually never one to keep his mouth or hands to himself, stood there and arched an eyebrow, yet he didn't make a sound.
Gela, who had slid down from his arms, didn't speak either. He pressed close to his partner’s side, watching this scene—which could be described as a masterpiece of absolute chaos—alongside him.
It was a bewildering sight.
The other Broad-wings were each clutching a small honey jar, their slender tongues lapping up the amber liquid inside while letting out low, marveling hums.
It was the literal definition of "so good it makes you cry."
Meanwhile, the scrawniest one was clutching the Armored-type leader’s tail-whip. His thin neck turned in sync with the other’s movements; wherever Kleiman’s arm moved, that head followed.
He was like some new species of sunflower.
In truth, at the very beginning, the male who had been fed the honey-dew—the one named Kara—hadn't dared to move an inch.
Once the sweet taste was pressed into his mouth again, he had habitually clamped down hard on the handle of the spoon, refusing to let go even after Kleiman gave it several tugs.
The female, having never experienced such a situation, was still in a daze. He was like a blind man feeling an elephant, crossing the river by gingerly feeling for every stone.
However, even so, he could roughly understand that this was not the time to command the other to let go in a rebuking tone.
Generally speaking, Kleiman simply suffered from a phobia of the opposite sex; he wasn't intellectually deficient.
Thus, based on his experience from a moment ago, he tried to propose a reasonable negotiation.
"Do you... want more?"
The male, whose entire body was stiff with fear, looked at him. After a long stalemate, he carefully spat out the spoon.
Things became smoother after that.
Sensing that the other had no intention of harming him, the Broad-wing’s tightly clamped scaled tail relaxed slightly as he greedily accepted another mouthful.
Perhaps because he was frequently beaten during feedings in the past, Kara would occasionally twitch while the honey-dew was in his mouth, causing even his scarred, thin tail to undergo minor spasms. But he ate with frantic speed, as if the food would vanish if he were a second too slow. Unconsciously, his forelimbs urgently clutched the Armored-type’s arm, and the tail curled between his legs wagged in small, neurotic tremors.
Thus, Sakedi and Gela both bore witness to the legendary scene of a giant pinecone feeding a malnourished sunflower.
Before the Core-type could sigh at the headache it gave him, the white Zerg had already begun to smile silently.
He gently took his partner’s hand and pulled him back into a corner, lest the Broad-wings—who were only halfway through their meal—be scared to death by their sudden appearance.
"Let’s wait a bit before going over," he said to the pitch-black female, his voice barely a whisper. "They’re doing well right now. Let’s wait a little longer."
His mental filaments could sense the emotional fluctuations of this group, and the complexity of the changes astonished Gela.
The three Broad-wings clutching honey jars were filled with joy.
The emotions of the gaunt Kara were more fractured—fearful and pained—but after all the negative emotions had drained away, threads of ignorant happiness surfaced from the depths, like the slight sweetness that finally lingers after eating something incredibly bitter.
And Kleiman was the most interesting one of all.
For the first time, Gela tasted the flavors of embarrassment, doubt, and bewilderment on that high-and-mighty Armored-type.
It was as if the most stubborn seed had cracked open a sliver of a gap, and something brand new was growing out of it.
Afraid of startling this newborn green sprout, Gela instinctively pulled his partner to hide in the shadows.
"It’s not affection."
When Sakedi looked over, the white Zerg had already read the unspoken question in his expression and explained in a low voice.
"At least, not yet."
But many things were far more important than affection.
Affection was an overly singular emotion, and it often came with exclusivity. People became addicted to the hormonal shifts and endorphin rushes brought by pleasure, yet easily overlooked the aggressive emotions that accompanied them.
At this moment, the fluctuations interwoven within the Great Information Nest were diverse and chaotic, yet they uniquely lacked the joy triggered by reproductive impulses or sexual attraction.
Sakedi understood his thoughts perfectly. His usually merciless tongue rarely refrained from making some earth-shattering comment.
They squeezed into the shadows of the small corner, the Core-type’s long tail-whip entwined with his partner’s slender white scaled tail.
"I know," he whispered against Gela’s ear in a nearly inaudible volume, patting the other’s head. It was just like every time the other felt sad; he would hold his partner, give him a little shake, and offer gentle comfort.
"It will get better, don't worry."
"With me watching over him, Gray-wing is already a companion under my protection. Everything will keep getting better."
A long time ago, when he and Gela had talked about Kleiman over an encrypted channel, he had mentioned his hope that the Armored-type could step down, plant his feet on the ground, and—beyond the endless slaughter—come to understand what a normal Gray-wing family, a male, and a larva were like.
It was hard to say if this change was good or bad, but the truly powerful would not shrink back because they harbored emotions.
When one reaches a certain age and has seen enough of the world, coldness and paranoia are like immature disguises—either to hide a deficiency in some area or to cover up an innate selfish flaw in one's character. Such petty thoughts were transparent before him.
And right now, the deep gray female was standing on the edge of a high shore, just one step away from walking into this mortal world.
Gela could also clearly perceive that Kleiman wasn't performing this feeding task with the mindset of showing favor to the opposite sex.
The deep gray female simply felt unpleasantness and confusion from the Broad-wing’s cowering reaction. This sharing of negative emotion was precisely the beginning of empathy with another group.
The high-ranking Armored-type, after living for over a dozen Great Cycles, suddenly realized in a single moment that the male clutching his arm was a living Zerg.
It sounded like a rather absurd and laughable conclusion, but most males were accustomed to this reality.
It was different from the casualty figures accumulated in battle, different from the useless entertainment tools mentioned in conversations with comrades, and different from the collective tribal property sold as trade goods. It was also different from the mission targets Kleiman had casually rescued in the past.
The one trembling as he bit down on the Armored-type’s finger was a fellow creature... with a heartbeat, with body heat, who shook incessantly because of fear and pain.
And for the first time, the habitually arrogant direct-line descendant experienced the visceral realization that his fear and the male’s fear were not on the same level.
When he felt discomfort due to the proximity, he could easily push the other away or snap that frail neck. But when the male felt afraid, he could only wag the tail clamped between his legs with all his might and let out a mournful cry as he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck.
During the process of Kleiman’s initial visits with Gela to the small families left behind by fallen Armored-types, he had once asked with great confusion, "They are terrified when they see me. Even if I do the same things and say the same words as you, they still tremble."
At that time, the white male had answered with a calm expression, "Because you can easily hurt them."
But it wasn't until this moment that the female faintly understood the meaning behind those words.
—Because of him, because most females were powerful and utterly unrestrained, because they could easily and gladly hurt beings weaker than themselves.
And for a male, this harm would either arrive today or tomorrow; the powerless weak would experience it all sooner or later.
Kara, who was nearly full, finally snapped out of his trance. Previously, he had been like a hungry fledgling, tightly holding onto every precious drop of sweet liquid.
Now, as another spoonful of honey-dew was offered, he very, very gently caught the other’s hand and shook his head with anticipation.
"Eat... eat!"
The broken Universal Language was repeated several times. Accompanied by a reverse push, Kleiman finally understood the other’s meaning.
The Broad-wing male was earnestly inviting him to eat together.
This clumsy, puppy-like gesture of offering up a treasure would surely seem ridiculous and foolish to other people or other Zerg.
But Kleiman kept his face taut and did not show even a hint of a smile.
Humans believe that in the early stages, infants establish a connection with the world and with intimate relationships through touch and affection.
The Zerg’s small family structure was somewhat different from humans, but they still shared a few common biological emotions. During the larval stage, Zerg young would instinctively seek the care of their kin. Just like Gela, who, despite being ostracized by the tribe, had for a long time prayed for the pity of his caregivers.
This was a survival strategy and an instinct for self-protection.
Whether human or Zerg, one grows through this interactive process, and there is a high probability that one will use the treatment they received as a template, learning similar methods and then treating other individuals around them with similar behaviors.
However, a male born into the Broad-wing tribe had not been as fortunate as Gela to encounter someone like Sakedi, who was willing to pour out vast amounts of resources and love.
So, in the emaciated Kara’s understanding, the best thing he had ever obtained was the marvelous, sweet amber liquid before him.
Thus, the male ridiculously mimicked Kleiman’s actions. Using the same movements, he pushed the very best thing he knew toward the Armored-type female’s mouth.
Kleiman’s lead-gray eyes stared at him for a while. In the end, he said nothing.
He had once turned up his nose at Sa’s way of doing things. Now, he stood on the boundary of the high shore; behind him was a free and comfortable safety zone, where all the power that had accompanied him since birth was as firm and stable as a rock.
He took a step out. From the side of that lofty shore that never touched the dust of the world, from that castle in the air, he stepped into the void and walked into the mud.
Kleiman opened his mouth and took a bite of the sweet honey-dew.
The thin male began to smile.
It was a somewhat unfamiliar, somewhat ugly, clumsy smile that looked like crying.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 大信息巢 | Great Information Nest | A central hub or facility for the Zerg. |
| 阔翅种 | Broad-wing | A specific subspecies or type of Zerg. |
| 武装种 | Armored-type | A high-ranking, combat-oriented Zerg class. |
| 核心种 | Core-type | A high-ranking Zerg class, often associated with command or special abilities. |
| 蜜露 | Honey-dew | A sweet, high-energy substance favored by the Zerg. |
| 卡拉 | Kara | The name of the rescued Broad-wing male. |
| 灰翅 | Gray-wing | Likely referring to the Gray-wing Mercenaries or their specific group. |
| 通用语 | Universal Language | The common tongue used for communication between different groups. |
| 大循环 | Great Cycle | A unit of time measurement in this setting. |
