Chapter 71: The Person in the Photo
After returning to the camp, Zhou Qian finally felt the heavy pressure lift off his shoulders.
They had been through a full day and night of chaos. Even though their physical endurance now exceeded that of ordinary people, the mental exhaustion was still hard to shake.
At last, they could rest.
But just as he closed his eyes, someone came to inform him to go to the conference room—
“What’s going on?” He grabbed his helmet and fastened it instinctively before asking, “Why another meeting? Is it urgent?”
“No,” the person shook their head. “It’s a message from General Wu in the Capital. He wants to ask you a few questions.”
Zhou Qian suddenly remembered the list he had submitted and cleared his throat guiltily.
But a second later, he justified it to himself—Huai Yu managed to buy chicks all on her own. It was just a matter of time before she saved up enough materials to build her house.
Who needs his compensation, really?
Besides, that ice sculpture of Lin Xuefeng alone would probably go for 5000 contribution points on the black market.
But still…
When he entered the meeting room, someone turned on a screen and handed him a headset. “Captain Zhou, General Wu wants to speak with you privately. I’ll leave now.”
On the screen was a photo of a young woman.
Zhou Qian instinctively glanced at it.
Who was this? He didn’t recognize her.
He put on the headset. With a beep, someone connected from the other side:
“Captain Zhou Qian?”
“Yes.” Zhou Qian instinctively straightened his posture and stared at the screen, suddenly feeling a flicker of familiarity.
“General Wu,” he answered respectfully, “what do you need from me?”
“Nothing much,” Wu Yue’s voice came calmly. “I just wanted to ask—does the Huai Yu you know resemble the person in this photo?”
“No,” Zhou Qian answered without hesitation.
He wasn’t lying. Although there was a vague sense of familiarity between the two, they really didn’t look alike upon closer inspection.
As for that familiar feeling…
Zhou Qian figured it was because both were good-looking and distinctive, which made them feel somewhat similar.
Maybe the woman in the photo was some sort of celebrity before the Cataclysm? He really did feel she looked familiar…
But the longer he looked, the more it was obvious: she was nothing like Huai Yu.
After all, “pretty” came in many forms.
The woman in the photo looked to be in her twenties or thirties. She wore light makeup, but due to the image’s high resolution, all her skin flaws were visible—slightly dark complexion, faint scars—not great skin overall.
Huai Yu, on the other hand, had that delicate, fair skin with faint bluish veins. A kind of pale, almost fragile beauty.
Her hair too—this woman’s was yellowish, dry, and frizzy like she was malnourished.
Then the eyes—this woman had wide double eyelids, making her eyes appear big and beautiful, but her gaze was full of exhaustion and tension.
Huai Yu… she was different.
Zhou Qian couldn’t recall all the details exactly (it would’ve been awkward to stare too much at a teenage girl), but from memory—
Huai Yu looked like a girl still in her teens, hadn’t fully grown up yet. Her eyes were phoenix-shaped, very distinctive—not like this at all.
In the photo, the woman stood under a tree, smiling awkwardly, hands nervously clenched. She seemed insecure, maybe a bit sad.
Also, her fingers were rough and stubby, not fair or delicate—clearly used to hard labor.
That wasn’t Huai Yu.
With her thin arms and legs, no matter how much work she did, her hands still looked soft and pale. Probably good genes.
When she needed help, she’d sweetly call someone “gege” and smile brightly, her emotions always worn openly.
The girl in the photo seemed stubborn, quietly strong in a melancholic way.
Zhou Qian scratched his head. He wasn’t good at describing people, but that was the gist of it.
What was with this General Wu?
Two people who had nothing to do with each other, and yet he insisted on asking if they looked alike.
And judging from Huai Yu’s tantrum that morning, if someone annoyed her, she’d probably throw her basket right at their head!
She wasn’t the type to quietly swallow grievances.
The more Zhou Qian thought about it, the more his head hurt.
Human memory is weird like that. When you really try to visualize someone’s features separately in your mind, you can’t piece them together.
But he knew one thing for sure—they weren’t the same.
So after mentally summarizing his thoughts, he reaffirmed: “General Wu, the two of them do not look alike.”
The person on the other end was silent for a while before letting out a bitter laugh: “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Zhou Qian replied firmly.
Another long silence.
Zhou Qian hesitated, then took the chance to ask, “General Wu, about that list I sent this morning…”
Worried the compensation total might seem high and be rejected, he hurriedly added,
“The girl built the house with her own hands, little by little. Now that it’s gone, she cried her heart out…”
As soon as he said it, he froze.
Wait—this is General Wu. The amount probably isn’t even a big deal to him. Why is he acting like it is?
Tch!
Was he putting General Wu under a biased lens now? Or did he use to admire him and now the illusion was shattered?
But to his surprise, Wu Yue seemed relieved after hearing his words:
“Cried… Huai Yu never used to cry… Forget it, I was just being stubborn.”
“Captain Zhou, thank you.”
The call ended. Wu Yue didn’t even respond about whether the list was approved or not.
Zhou Qian stood there, stunned, then simply tossed the whole thing from his mind: “Whatever. You broke the stuff, I did my best with the compensation. Approve it or not, your call!”
The money came from the Mutated Plant Defense Force’s own budget anyway. If he didn’t approve it, it’d just be embarrassing.
…
Back in the Capital, Wu Yue—who hadn’t rested at all—stared at the photo on the screen, a look of quiet longing in his eyes.
“Huai Yu, when you wrote your will, you were so resolute—didn’t want to be associated with me in any way, didn’t want to accept this unfair world…”
“Now, everyone only knows that the Rose Corridor was created by me. No one has heard of you. If you knew… would you regret it?”
“My mother’s still the same… Honestly, it’s your fault for being so generous to her back then. I know you genuinely wanted a family…”
“But she never changed her lavish habits. And now even I—”
His sorrow was cut off.
Because on the screen, a new notification popped up: the total points on the compensation list—6573—blazed like an eyesore.
