Chapter 235: The Human Part

The night at the Spirit Pivot Villa was so silent it felt suffocating.

There were no insect chirps, only the winter wind howling, and even the carefully tended plants in the courtyard seemed frozen in the cold air.

Beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling windows lay the heavy darkness of night; in the living room, only a single warm-yellow wall lamp was on, its light barely outlining the furniture's contours while leaving vast, blurry shadows in the center of the room.

Chris sat on the sofa, body leaning slightly forward, hands clasped and resting on his knees, his knuckles somewhat pale.

He had not turned on the television, played games, or read a book; he simply stared quietly toward the door, like a sculpture waiting for judgment.

When footsteps echoed down the empty corridor, he moved almost imperceptibly.

Yang Yi walked in.

She had taken off the sharp-lined suit jacket she often wore when going out, wearing only a simple white shirt and black trousers.

Her face showed no fatigue, nor any emotion, only the calm of work completed, or rather—blankness. Seeing Chris, she did not stop her steps, merely nodding slightly as she tossed her jacket onto the arm of the sofa.

"Not resting yet?" she asked, her voice not loud, yet sounding unusually clear in the overly quiet space.

Chris took a deep breath, as if finally flipping a switch. He stood up, walked toward her, and stopped a few steps away. The light from behind him cast his expression in some obscurity, but the tension in his voice could not be hidden.

"I saw the news, Diego City... and those online, because of the recording..." He paused, seemingly weighing his words. "Those attacks on you... I... I'm sorry... the recording... I didn't expect the CIA to install listening devices in my home... I had people check it many times before..."

"I know." Yang Yi cut him off, her tone flat, even carrying a hint of near-tolerance.

She walked to the dining area, took a bottle of pure vodka from the temperature-controlled wine cabinet, poured herself a glass, her movements unhurried: "I also roughly know the channel through which the recording leaked; you are not the instigator. Chris, don't worry, I am not the type to punish the same person twice for the same thing."

She took a sip of vodka stronger than medical alcohol, turned around, leaned her back against the countertop, and fixed her calm gaze on him. "Your guilt was paid for last time." She was naturally referring to the mansion that had turned to dust, and this magnificent cage he now inhabited.

Chris felt a chill from her overly calm "tolerance."

He would have preferred her anger, preferred her accusations, rather than her mentioning that conflict which changed everything and its consequences as if handling an archived old file.

"Yang Yi," he stepped forward two paces, trying to see her eyes more clearly. "You... you have changed so much compared to before."

Yang Yi raised her eyebrows slightly; this subtle expression seemed somewhat abrupt on her untroubled face, like a small stone breaking a calm lake, but the ripples vanished quickly.

"Before?" she repeated the word, seeming to find it interesting. "When do you mean? When I was saving the world, nearly died, yet was accused of being an alien? Or when I was in panic after awakening, unable to rest day or night? Or perhaps even earlier, when I expected a bunch of cockroaches and bugs to love me?"

Her tone remained steady, even carrying a hint of inquiry, but every question was like a small hammer striking Chris's heart.

"I..." Chris was speechless.

"Chris," Yang Yi set down her glass, the glass base meeting the marble countertop with a crisp, light sound. "Do you hope I would always remain in that state of pain, fragility, and constant anxiety about gains and losses? Do you like that version of me, the one battered by trauma and unable to control herself?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if observing an interesting subject. "I remember you said you liked me in any form. Was that statement a comfort to me at the time, or a lie?"

"Not a lie!" Chris refuted urgently, his voice rising somewhat. "Of course I don't want you to suffer! I just..." He could not find the precise words to describe the immense unease and sense of alienation in his heart.

"You just feel it is strange." Yang Yi finished his sentence for him, the corner of her mouth curving into an extremely shallow arc that could hardly be called a smile. "You say I have changed, but your true meaning is that certain aspects of me make you like me less, making you feel uneasy and unable to control me. So, tell me, what makes you feel the strangest? Is it my power? My way of handling problems? Or..."

She paused, her gaze seeming to pierce through Chris's body, looking at some void behind him. "The fact that I am no longer easily swayed by emotions?"

Her words were logically clear, pressing step by step, deconstructing Chris's feelings as if analyzing experimental data. This rationality stripped away the ambiguity and probing inherent in intimate exchange, leaving only the cold display of facts.

Chris felt a suffocating sense of powerlessness.

He shook his head, trying to grasp something real. "I am not afraid of your power, nor afraid of your alien identity..."

"Oh?" Yang Yi cut him off; that faint smile deepened slightly, yet made the heart feel even colder. "Then what are you afraid of? Afraid that I no longer need you? Or afraid... that you can no longer influence me as you did before?"

Those words stabbed into his heart like a sword.

Chris's face paled; he realized the initiative in the conversation had long been out of his hands. Every attempt he made to get closer was casually pushed away by her, and turned back into a tool to pierce his own heart.

Frustration and a deeper fear seized him.

"What I fear is that the part of you that belongs to humanity is becoming less and less, Yang Yi!"

He finally could not hold back, shouting out his deepest worry, his voice echoing in the vast living room. "You used to be anxious about gains and losses, you would get anxious and sulk at your mother's arrival, you would feel sad over movie plots, you would get jealous when I mentioned other women's names... You would cry, you would laugh, you would be fragile, you would rely on others, even if that reliance made you feel ashamed yourself! Back then you were a living person, with warmth, with flaws, capable of being hurt and healing!"

He stepped forward, his eyes red, his pupils in the dim light presenting a dark, elegant blue, his voice trembling slightly from excitement. "But now? Look at yourself! So many people in Diego City attacked you with the most vicious words, treating you as a demon, yet you have no reaction!"

"The recording of our argument was used by the whole world as a weapon to stab you, yet you can calmly analyze the pros and cons and tell me 'I won't punish you twice'! Facing those protests, those accusations, you are like watching a mediocre play unrelated to yourself!"

"The part of you that belongs to humanity—those vivid emotions, those soft weaknesses, that flesh and blood that feels pain, heat, and cold—where have they gone?"

"You are standing here now, talking to me, yet I feel I am facing a cold stone statue on a temple altar, a symbol in a textbook, not a living person! Where is the lover I once had?"

The fierce words were like a downpour, crashing into the narrow space between the two.

Chris's chest heaved, staring intently at Yang Yi, hoping to see a crack on her face, a hint of offended anger, or the panic of having the truth exposed—any human reaction would do.

However, Yang Yi simply watched him silently, waiting for him to finish. The light of the wall lamp settled in her eyes into two pools of deep, bottomless darkness.

After a long while, she finally spoke softly, her voice even steadier than before, even carrying a strange, distant sense of vastness.

"The part that belongs to humanity..." she repeated, as if chewing on a word that was both strange and familiar. "Chris, what you miss, is it truly 'the part that belongs to humanity'? Or do you miss that... fragile object that was easier for you to understand, to predict, and even to save?"

"Anxiety about gains and losses, joy and sorrow, jealousy and reliance... these emotions are essentially chemical reactions and psychological patterns resulting from the combined action of biological instincts, social conditioning, and neurotransmitters. They serve survival and reproduction, but they also bring endless pain, internal friction, and decision-making errors." Her tone was flat and calm, like a biologist stating biological phenomena; her figure was stretched by the dim light into a blurry, lonely shadow.

"When a person has to bear the survival probability of six billion people, when a person must calculate the chain reactions every decision might trigger on a macro scale, Chris, tell me, should she prioritize the emotional response that 'makes her feel human,' or prioritize the rational path that is 'most likely to ensure the survival of civilization'?"

Her gaze was so calm it was almost cruel. "Did those 'parts of humanity' you cherish protect her when she was powerless and bullied? In humanity's repeated betrayals, calculations, and the current siege, have they given her any benefit other than pain?"

Chris opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"You say I am like a god." Yang Yi suddenly smiled; this time the smile was more genuine, yet filled with endless fatigue and a detachment that transcended fatigue. "Perhaps... but if becoming a 'god' means having to strip away those human parts that make me hesitate, suffer, and make mistakes, in order to see the path clearly and do those things that must be done but for which no one is willing to bear the blame... then, Chris, this is not a choice; it is a price."