Chapter 598 - 5: Farewell (Part 2)
But Chen Zhou knew that this seemingly beautiful scene would not last long. Once he left, the island would return to its old ways.
"What else can be done?"
Chen Zhou often thought so.
Even in more developed modern times, expecting everyone to be selfless is a fantasy, let alone in the 17th century.
He could repeatedly remove those parasites, correct the island’s course, or establish strict supervisory institutions to cleanse internal corruption.
The problem is, he would leave.
Even if he didn’t leave, he would eventually die.
Corruption would continue to breed, and the direction would still deviate from the right path. Strict supervisory institutions would be infiltrated and corrupted. Ultimately, the island’s fate could only be decided by its residents.
Chen Zhou ultimately and helplessly discovered that those seemingly changeable things, in the end, could not be changed.
In his final years, he could only do his best to maintain the island in an "ideal" state.
...
After Saturday and Sunday had their own children, they became less close to Chen Zhou.
Life and death could not create a barrier, but power built a high wall.
Perhaps they had learned too much about human nature over the years. When Saturday spoke to Chen Zhou, he always praised him. When Sunday played chess with Chen Zhou, he would intentionally make mistakes.
Chen Zhou remembered when Sunday first learned chess, he was no match for him, often trapped by successive moves or having his pieces captured.
Back then, even when Sunday knew he was not a match, he would rack his brain to play against him and never held back.
As he grew older and played more games, Sunday’s chess skills became more profound. By the time Chen Zhou was 46, he couldn’t compete with Sunday anymore —
Because that year, Chen Zhou lost six chess games in a row to Sunday.
On the chessboard, Chen Zhou did not have much competitiveness.
Sunday’s enhancement in chess was because he loved it enough and never gave up over the years. Normally, Chen Zhou would feel proud of him.
But as Sunday, with his higher chess skills, began to clumsily "perform" and deliberately blunder, Chen Zhou felt disgusted.
He didn’t know why those once sincere children had turned like this.
He couldn’t figure out whether this so-called "human affairs sophistication" would genuinely make the world better or more muddled.
Chen Zhou simply couldn’t adapt to others hiding their true selves, concealing their thoughts, and deliberately flattering him.
This exacerbated the loneliness in his heart, making him feel isolated from the world, unable to speak his true thoughts to anyone except his deceased companions.
...
In 1686, Chen Zhou celebrated his 52nd birthday.
On this day, a grand celebration was held on the island as usual, and the boiling noise could be heard from afar.
The once wooden dock had long changed. Smooth stone roads and various brick houses lined the streets, ships coming from afar docked at the port, and tall masts stood like a forest.
People in various outfits walked through the streets, with the cries of vendors, laughter of young couples, and the chatter of pedestrians filling the air.
Smoke rose from the beach, where people prepared fresh sea fish beside a lit charcoal grill, and the smell of seasonings wafted with the wind.
The steam engines roared in the factories, and workers worked overtime, steadfast at their posts —
Working on holidays, they would receive substantial pay.
Although the island’s natives had earned a good income through work and trade over the years, those who were concerned about their children’s future worked even harder.
...
Looking down from a height, the most notable was a colorful long dragon.
This dragon wove through the slightly sparse forest, setting off from the docks, factories, and several other residential areas, winding around fields, converging into a long river marching toward the Temple.
The previously unknown "Wang Lingguan" gradually rose to fame as the island expanded over the years.
In recent years, the once-built grand Temple by the zebra was abandoned, and people constructed an even larger and more magnificent temple for this "God," creating a gilded new statue based on the bronze one.
At the same time, Wang Lingguan was assigned new roles —
The so-called Sea God, Thunder God, War God, and even the God of Wealth, God of Wine, and God of Love, it seemed he had become an almighty deity.
Chen Zhou had not donned that Iron Massacre to preside over a sacrifice in a long, long time.
The Iron Massacre was kept in the factory’s storage room, covered in dust.
Besides a few islanders, few remembered the leader appearing at ceremonies in majestic black Armor.
Even fewer knew how the island’s festivals were established or what the first ceremony looked like.
Some even forgot the island’s true ruler, knowing only the renowned Sunday, Saturday, and other high-ranking officials.
Life was so busy that they almost had no time to care about other things, focusing their attention on clothing, food, shelter, savings, and their descendants...
...
In the midst of this vibrant festival atmosphere, in the depths of Fruit Tree Valley, a quiet manor was devoid of voices.
On a cleaned hillside behind the manor, there were several small new tombs, and one by one, marble tombstones stood in the green land with names engraved upon them.
Chen Zhou lay on this green land, his face splashed with dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Beside him was Lai Fu’s grave, and a little further lay Xiao Huihui and Grape, farther still sat Tiger Head, Kuang Dang, and Gray Ball...
Pillowing his head on his arm, Chen Zhou looked at the sky.
August should have been the rainy season, yet today was a rare sunny day, a sky as clear and bright as a pool of water.
Perhaps from overwork, though just past fifty, Chen Zhou’s hair was mostly white.
The sunlight, a little dazzling, made him squint his eyes.
Nonetheless, even his aging eyes couldn’t withstand the sting and squeezed out a few tears in the glaring sun.
Lying on the hillside, as if asleep, Chen Zhou did not think about all the island’s troubles and clamor.
He stayed silent for a long time, finally, slowly turning toward Lai Fu’s tombstone, dreamily speaking.
"I’m leaving, Lai Fu."
With that, Chen Zhou reached out, touching the hard tombstone with a hand starting to show signs of age spots, the skin loose.
"I am going back to my homeland, perhaps never to return, nor to talk to you again."
The marble, warmed by the sunlight, felt slightly warmer than the human body to touch, yet it had no fur, even if Chen Zhou closed his eyes, he couldn’t imagine it to be Lai Fu.
He paused and continued.
"I know you find the parrots noisy, so I didn’t bring them here.
Today is actually my birthday.
I think you knew that, every time I had a birthday, you were happy, after all, you could enjoy good meals!
But these past few birthdays, I haven’t been happy, this year especially painful."
"Actually, I’m not afraid of aging, nor death, it’s just a sense of heaviness in my heart."
Chen Zhou sat up, leaning against the tombstone, looking toward his manor, gazing at the greenery.
"I am not an idealist, nor do I have grand ambitions, never hoped to establish a ’Utopia’ or a ’Paradise Island’ here.
Maybe it’s because I’m old, maybe I haven’t changed with the world, I find that those people I knew are starting to become unfamiliar.
Once I always felt some part of me had blended into this era, melded with this world.
But now I realize I ultimately do not belong here, neither does my existence, nor my thoughts, my concepts..."
"Lai Fu, you probably can never understand this feeling.
But that’s for the best, I wish for you to always remain a care-free dog."
Again, he touched the tombstone, as if petting Lai Fu’s fluffy head, Chen Zhou stood up, slowly departing the hillside.
This long challenge had finally reached its end, leaving only three digits in the long countdown of 10,300 days.
He had already bid farewell to his best friend, and now, the only thing worth his concern was those "most familiar strangers."