books44 Chapter 385 [Empire] "Ignites" in Waiting, "Extinguishes" in Waiting
Chapter 385 [Empire] "Ignites" in Waiting, "Extinguishes" in Waiting
After the bear's flame died, Miyou sat there like a statue, her eyes hollow and lifeless. Her figure remained petite, her waxen skin reflecting a faint sheen in the dim light, as if she had been forgotten by time. Her arms still tightly embraced the bear, but the bear's flame had long since gone out, leaving behind a cold mass of wax that gradually melted, a sign of her own lifeless existence.
Together, they formed a work of art, a deeply cruel one, despite its once vibrant presence. Back then, Miyou would laugh, cry, and run around, and the candle bear would ignite a warm flame, lighting a path towards hope for her. But now, their existence, like silent statues, frozen in this ruined city, as if all warmth and life had been drained away, leaving only an empty silence.
Watching all this, my heart felt like it was weighed down by a heavy lead, unable to breathe. Miyou and Little Bear's existence was like a mirror, reflecting the emptiness and powerlessness deep within me. They were once so real, so vivid, with their own emotions and hopes, yet their stories were frozen in time by an unforgiving fate, as if frozen in time, unable to continue.
This city once held brightness and warmth, hope and dreams. But now, with each passing moment and the birth of each "artwork," these luminous moments are gradually being swallowed up, reduced to cold, indifferent sculptures, displaying shattered ideals and lost hopes. And we, standing before these silent statues, are like silent spectators, unable to change a thing, only able to silently accept the cruelty of this world.
Miyou sat still, her waxen exterior never regaining its life after the flames died. Her existence, like a ghost abandoned by time, and the little bear she held, became another testament to the cruelty of this world. Perhaps all of our stories, too, were frozen in this cold, indifferent moment, becoming irretrievable memories of the past.
I stood there, staring at them intently, a deep sense of powerlessness welling up in my heart. Perhaps, like Miyou, each of us was once so vibrant and full of dreams, but in the end, we are all devoured by unknown forces. Even by our hearts, by ourselves.
I thought I'd have no further interaction with the military before reaching the border system. However, Miyou's condition warranted notification. The tall soldiers, using various instruments, could detect no signs of life or energy in the wax sculpture. She stood there silently, as if she had become a forever, unchanging being. Time and space seemed to have lost their meaning before her.
The soldiers' instruments ticked, the scanners beeped emotionlessly, but nothing unusual was found. Confusion was evident on their faces, yet they reluctantly paused. Miyou's waxy exterior, her eyes hollow, resembled a statue bereft of its soul. No matter how hard they tried, it felt like an empty shell, unable to be awakened.
"Can she... recover?" one of the soldiers whispered, his tone filled with uncertainty and unacceptable confusion. Another officer frowned, his face serious. "At this point, it seems impossible. The connection between her and the bear appears to have been broken. After the flames were extinguished, she seemed completely lifeless."
I stood aside, listening to their discussion, my heart remaining calm. Miyou's condition had long since transcended my comprehension. Like a sheet of paper never opened, blank, rigid, and radiating an untouchable loneliness. And that little bear had long since lost its original spirit and warmth. I held it once, with Miyou's permission, and the wax bear felt soft and bouncy, heavy yet warm. Even though it had once been so vivid and warm, it now served only as a companion to Miyou, lying quietly in her arms, cold, hard, and silent.
I didn't know how to tell these soldiers. They saw no signs of life, nor could they detect any energy flow from their instruments, but I knew Miyou had never completely vanished. Her waxen body might be a seal of some kind, a shell imprisoning her soul. Her soul, deep within, waited for something, perhaps the rekindling of a flame, perhaps some unspeakable miracle.
The soldiers seemed unwilling to give up easily. They proposed temporarily storing Miyou at the military base for further observation. I knew this was just a delaying tactic—they wanted to find a way to restore Miyou's life, or at least understand why she was in such a state. Or, they could completely study and destroy her.
"Her life state is no longer that of an ordinary person," I said softly, my tone somewhat heavy. "She may no longer belong to this world, or perhaps her connection with it has been severed."
One of the officers looked at me and didn't seem to agree with my point of view: "If she is some kind of abandoned experimental subject, we must investigate it thoroughly. We can't let this situation continue." There was a stubborn gleam in his eyes, and he obviously didn't intend to give up.
I sighed and said no more. Miyou's fate was no longer within my control. No matter how real and vivid she had once been, she could no longer be the same. I looked at her waxy face and felt a sudden pity, yet there was nothing I could truly do for her.
In this game of fate, there is no winner.
Yet, I still insisted on keeping Miyou's "body." This was not only a respect for her existence, but also a respect for that little girl—for her unspeakable loneliness and struggle. Although Miyou was trapped in a wax shell, she was once so vivid, so real. Her pain and her longing should not be ignored, should not be abandoned, even...
Despite the constant pressure from the military to hand Miyou over for further research or placement, I knew she wasn't just an ordinary object, more than just "an abnormal object without life." She was once a child with a story to tell. She had a mother, a birthday, and a warm embrace. I couldn't let her be carelessly discarded, subjected to indifferent, even cruel, research, and become a "foreign object" they couldn't understand.
I don't want her existence to be meaningless.
"You said that Miyou's condition showed no signs of life. But she was once a living child, and she had her own story." I looked at the officers with a firm gaze, and my tone was unquestionable, "I will keep her. No matter what she has become now, I will not let her be abandoned."
The officers exchanged glances, clearly unwilling to relinquish control of Miyou's "body." However, under my insistence, they nodded helplessly, "In that case, we can't force you. But please remember, Miyou's condition isn't optimistic. If it continues for a long time, it might..."
"I'll take care of her," I interrupted him, my voice clear but firm. "Miyou doesn't need your experiments, nor does she need your 'help'. She just needs to be left alone. All you can do now is leave."
At this moment, one of the officers looked slightly displeased, but he didn't continue speaking. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Miyou and me alone. A heavy silence hung in the air, as if the world had temporarily stopped. Miyou still stood there, holding the bear, her eyes empty, her waxy skin glistening faintly in the dim light. She was like a sculpture, a forgotten work of art, quietly existing, no longer demanding any response.
But I could see worry in her empty eyes. Wen Ya said that she "extinguished" it while she was guarding my bedside. At that moment, I regretted it deeply.
I should never have missed seeing this child for the last time because of my two-day escape.
She was "ignited" by waiting, and I, in turn, let her "extinguish" by waiting... I couldn't help but clench my fists, my nails pricking my palms numb. Just like that, quietly.
There was a dead silence in the air.
I know this stillness is perhaps her kind of peace. I dare not disturb it, for I know her soul, perhaps imprisoned within this waxen body, awaits some touch, some opportunity. Perhaps she hasn't completely lost hope; perhaps one day, a faint flame will reignite within her chest, awakening her dormant heart.
But even so, I can only wait quietly, waiting for her return.
"I'll wait for you, Miyou." I whispered to her, as if she could hear me.
But she still didn't respond, just standing there quietly. That empty look in her eyes made me feel distressed.
The little girl had gone through so much pain, the loss of her mother, the lonely waiting, and the transformation into a waxen shell of a strange beast.
I have no way of knowing what her future will be like, but at least, at this moment, I hope she can stay quietly until her soul can be ignited again, until she can find the warmth that belongs to her.
Miyou's destiny may no longer belong to this world, but in my heart, she will always be the child who longs for her mother, the brave girl who holds on to the candle flame.
A wax sculpture has appeared in my room, standing silently in a corner, becoming a part of my life. The wax girl, wearing a blue and white princess dress, the hem of her skirt slightly spread out, seems frozen in a dream. She holds a bear, a wick still hanging from its head, a candle that has not yet fully burned out, though it has already gone out. In the soft light, the wick is like a faint signal, hinting at the little girl's past longings and her unextinguished hopes.
Whenever I enter this room, the wax sculpture before me silently reminds me of Miyou's past. Her empty eyes stare forward, as if waiting for something, or perhaps all her anticipation has been lost in the unreachable darkness. Despite her still form, she fills me with an indescribable heaviness.
I know that this wax sculpture is more than just an object; it represents Miyou's past, her final story. Although her body is no longer active, she is still the little girl who once stood by the candle in the park, waiting for her mother.
The room was often filled with an unspeakable silence, occasionally punctuated by the sound of wind outside the window and the distant noises of the street. Every time I looked at the wax girl, I couldn't help but think of her story, an incomplete one filled with pain and loneliness. Her mother was a soldier, a brave captain, but she ultimately could not return to her daughter. Miyou held on to that candle until she finally ignited herself, consuming herself completely.
Every time I think of all this, I can't help but feel a deep sense of powerlessness. Miyou's story can no longer continue, all the warmth and hope swallowed up by that tiny candle. Her existence has become a silent pantomime, a tragedy.
Yet, even so, I still can't abandon her "remains." She was so real, so eager, until the moment that candle went out. I can't let her existence just fade away from my memory, I can't let her pain just fade away.
Only a faint light remained in the room, and the wax sculpture, illuminated by the light, took on a hazy beauty. She stood there quietly, as if guarding something, or perhaps waiting for some kind of liberation. I didn't know if she could hear what I said to her, but I still whispered to her, "Miyou, you are no longer alone."
However, the wax sculpture still did not respond, staring ahead with empty eyes, as if she was still waiting for that distant hope.
A wax sculpture has appeared in my room, a silent work of art. It is not only Miyou's remains, but also the last memory of her life. Although her soul has left.