Colonial Suit

"How have you been lately?"

Inside the bar, neon lights flickered, and scantily clad women moved back and forth. Singer and Haji were huddled in a corner, with a pile of empty bottles in front of them.

"How else could I be? Just getting by." Haji replied with a wry smile, pointing to the drinkers in the distance and the faintly visible hunters. "You know, I have a big family to worry about, so it's not easy to live comfortably."

"It's not the apocalypse anymore," Singer said, taking out a cigar and lighting it.

"Things have only changed recently, but long-standing habits are hard to break," Haji replied, picking up his glass and taking a sip. "I always feel like it's not real, and I always want to save more and be more careful."

Singer watched him silently, looking at the wrinkles on his face, the suffering at the corners of his eyes, and grinned.

"Good habit."

"Yeah, I think it's a good habit too," Haji sighed. "But no amount of preparation can change reality."

"The Black Tide... won't spare me just because I've prepared some extra food."

"You know about the Black Tide?" Singer asked in surprise.

"How could I not?" Haji picked up the bottle and started pouring wine, without looking up. "Don't think that X35 is isolated from the world. Don't forget that even in your time, a large number of ships still landed here every year. Although the purpose was nothing more than collecting slaves and resources, there was always some exchange."

"I heard about the Black Tide a year ago from a crew member, and then he disappeared. I guess he won't be back."

Haji looked up, as if reminiscing, or perhaps feeling sorry for himself.

"No one will come under the Black Tide."

"That's right," Singer continued, picking up his glass and drinking it all in one gulp, then snatching the glass in front of Haji. "This trip of mine is probably the last time too."

"Is that so? It really is a forgotten land. I'm used to it anyway," Haji smiled wryly, but didn't say much more.

That was normal. After all, X35 didn't have much value. In the past, it was an apocalyptic world, barren and desolate. Apart from slaves and a little meager mineral production, there was nothing worth the attention of the cosmic civilization. In the general environment of the Black Tide spreading across the starry sky, it was only natural that it was abandoned.

As a native of X35, Haji was prepared.

"I've collected some food, and there are quite a few weapons. It should last for a while. As long as the Black Tide doesn't destroy us immediately, it's just another apocalypse," Haji replied in a low voice, picking up a new glass and starting to pour wine. Watching the amber juice rise in the glass, his eyes gradually blurred.

"We are all people who don't know what tomorrow will bring. It's a blessing from God that we're still alive."

"Singer..."

"Hmm?" Singer was stunned, but saw Haji raise his glass and clink it against his.

"I'm happy that you can leave here," Haji said, with a smile on his face, but a hint of tears in his eyes. "I'm even happier that you can come back here."

"After all, we grew up here, and the same brand has been left in our blood. We have tasted the same loneliness, indifference, cruelty, competition, and... those bloody corpses, and the soft, beautiful bodies."

"We all know that this is a cold and cruel world. Your ability to leave means that my brother has finally found his own happiness and goals. Your ability to come back also means that my brother will not forget us."

"But..." Haji's eyes suddenly fixed on Singer's face, and he stared at him.

"You are not a savior."

"You and I are no longer people of the same world."

"Since you've already gone out, you should forget this place, forget this cold apocalypse. The past here is just a burden to you, a drag. Every time you dream back here at midnight, the flashbacks in your memory are a torment to you. For so long, how can you evolve?"

"Don't look at me like that. Although I'm just an ordinary person, I also know how important evolution is to a cosmic warrior! Weakness cannot become strong, and memories cannot become strong. This cold world is meaningless to you. And you have already walked out of here, so cherish the opportunity! Seize every opportunity!"

"In that case, why did you come back?"

After saying a lot, Haji's eyes became even more blurred. He suddenly raised his glass, clinked it against Singer's, and then raised his head and drank it all in one gulp. The mellow juice flowed down the corners of his mouth, but it was mixed with some inexplicable liquid.

That liquid was shiny and crystal clear, containing vicissitudes and affection.

The affection of the apocalypse is worthless, but it cannot be measured by money.

Singer watched him silently, without speaking or drinking. Half a cigar was in his mouth, emitting wisps of smoke. This was a man's moment, and language was worthless. Only by listening silently and feeling silently could he comprehend the language that rolled in the blood, belonging only to comrades, brothers, and men.

"Go back!"

Haji finally drank all the juice and slammed the glass on the table, making a loud bang.

"Go back as soon as possible, go back tomorrow!"

"This place doesn't need you, and we don't need you! Leave, the farther the better, the faster the better. If you still need that damn memory, then when you grow into a god, it will be enough to occasionally think of us."

As he spoke, Haji stood up and stretched out his hand to Singer.

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"Lia is waiting for you upstairs, in the old room."

"She's a good girl, don't let her down. If you can take her away, that's the best. If you can't, then tomorrow morning, I hope you don't let her wake up from her dream." A small knife slid across the table and was pushed to Singer. "The pain of waking up from a dream is more terrible than death."

Haji said to Singer like this, his eyes flickering. "I believe Lia thinks so too."

"Death?" Singer looked silently at the knife, not knowing what he was thinking. "Since when did you learn to dominate other people's destinies?"

"I have never dominated anything. This is actually her own request," Haji replied, his face twitching involuntarily. "She has waited too bitterly, and I heard that cosmic mercenaries have long lives. She doesn't know if she can wait any longer. Instead of suffering in memories every day, it's better to sleep forever in a dream."

"Singer, you are not a good man, and neither am I. But she is a good girl."

"Do one thing for her."

"Isn't it a kind of happiness to sleep in the arms of a loved one?"

Haji grinned, the smile indescribably bitter and ugly. "Unfortunately, bastards like you and me can't even get such happiness."

Happiness?

Singer raised his head and glanced at Haji, then turned his gaze to the knife. He couldn't help but recall a conversation in his mind, a conversation about love that someone had once asked him.

What is love?

A simple piece of grilled meat, a bowl of hot soup, someone to sing for you when you are tired, someone to cry for you when you die...

Sometimes it's poison, sometimes it's plain rice...

Plain, but deep into the bone marrow.

This is love.

In his eyes, the knife shattered in front of Singer, like shining stars.

Don't let the woman who loves you deeply cry again...

Singer sighed, picked up his glass, and drank it all in one gulp. (To be continued...)