Lu Ming, who had lived for four hundred years, died.
The mission failed and crashed from space, but he was taken home as a seriously injured person by the chief scientist of mankind.
The silver-haired beauty pressed her on the hospital bed, and her fingertips slid over the bleeding bandage:
"Heartbeat abnormality, Miss Lu."
On a night filled with disinfectant, she smiled and bit the beauty's earlobe:
"No one has dared to give me such a thorough physical examination in many years... Dr. Duan, continue?"
Until I saw the red lines behind each other's ears when they were intimate.
That was the epitaph she carved on her lover's bones with her own hands four hundred years ago.
On the night when the new plan was put into operation, Duan Yike smashed the laboratory with a roar:
"I bet on the end of my life, but ended up in the bed of the one who started the end?!"
When he returned, Lu Ming had broken off his arm and was hanging in the deep sky.
The bloodstains on the spacesuit left on the ground were still wet, and there was a note attached:
Necessary sacrifices are worthy of praise, Xiao Ke, maybe I will soon know whether emotion is the only way to break the shackles of the human soul.
Duan Yike put on a blood-stained spacesuit and broadcast globally:
"Either you crawl back on your own—
Or I blow up the high-dimensional channel and let the whole universe die in our bed! "
Purpose: Is individual sacrifice really worthy of praise?