DPM Chapter 18-Premeditated Part 1
Translated by Snowfall77
Mozun took the ring out of the box, pinched between his thumb and index finger. Extending it to Wu Xingyun, Mozun asked: “Will you marry me?”
Wu Xingyun was completely dumbfounded. No, he didn’t want to marry the person kneeling before him in front of everybody. This hadn’t remotely been part of the agreement. Yet Wu Xingyun knew he couldn’t speak his mind before so many cameras.
His marriage to Mozun was Wu Xingyun’s mission. It was one thing to dislike his task or complain in private. But he would not publicly show his dissatisfaction. He was a soldier, and he’d conduct himself properly.
Glancing around, Wu Xingyun saw no one who could help him. And he didn’t know how to handle the situation politically. It wasn’t like this little show affected the relationship of the two sides…And there shouldn’t be hypocrisy.
Once again, Wu Xingyun observed Mozun. Hope and appeal filled Mozun’s eyes, gradually turning to despair, as Wu Xingyun stood silently.
Until finally Mozun’s habitual lazy, careless smile returned.
Then Wu Xingyun turned his head away. He couldn’t keep looking. His heart tremored in his chest. When he’d shot Mozun, he’d done it without hesitation or timidity. But now, he didn’t dare meet Mozun’s eyes.
Randomly flitting his gaze about, Wu Xingyun asked: “The ceremony’s already been held, aren’t I…Haven’t you already married me? What else do you wish to do?”
Mozun briefly froze, then gave a little laugh, putting the ring away. “Yes, you’re right.”
Finished, Mozun got up and walked to Wu Xingyun’s side, hooking an arm around Wu Xingyun’s shoulders. “I’m so glad to have such a wife. He’ll be my only spouse. His presence represents the peace between the Alliance and the Federation. Every day he exists, I will not proactively declare war against the Federation. May this peace last forever.”
Mozun took the wine glass handed over by the emcee and drained the contents in one gulp.
At the same time, on the distant other side of the galaxy, a young Lieutenant Commander in a gray uniform observed his screen. His hands clenched, as he suffocated under the weight of his emotions.
Wen Nuo hadn’t been able to restrain himself. He’d been watching the live broadcast, the end result being he’d only distressed himself more.
His sight stayed glued to Wu Xingyun’s face. When he saw the soldier he’d trained, who he’d cared for, kissed by the Night Shard, Wen Nuo punched his desktop.
The ashtray went flying, ending Wen Nuo’s viewing.
“Peace? Go to hell!” Wen Nuo growled in a low voice, then collapsed into a chair.
He buried his head in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair, as his shoulders shook.
He hated the Night Shard, hated the appeasement policies of the Federation, and loathed his own incompetence even more.
Moments later, turning off the soot-covered screen, We Nuo pulled out a stack of white paper, took a pen and wrote a line on the first sheet: “The Combat Weaknesses of the Demon Army and Corresponding Measures.”
Back at the actual ceremony, Wu Xingyun breathed a sigh of relief, as things seemed to be getting back on track.
Mozun publicly presented Wu Xingyun with a ship. The only spacecraft on the planet with a dimensional jump function. Early the next morning, the escort team would leave in the ship, to return to the Federation.
Thus Mozun’s side of Wu Xingyun’s dowry was settled, for everyone to see. With a tacit understanding to leave unspoken what had been lost on the voyage.
Ai Lan, the psychologist, handed over what was left of the Federation’s share. Adding the announcement that Mozun had the right to use the materials given, but no claim of ownership.
The lengthy formalities finally at an end, the feast commenced. Mozun and Wu Xingyun came down from the podium and toasted everyone, apparently another one of Mozun’s native customs.
Wu Xingyun wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. After paying his respects to four or five tables, his head spun round and round, and they still had more than ten tables left.
Walking a little crookedly, Wu Xingyun was about to fall. Two soldiers stepped forward to help him, but a powerful arm wrapped around Wu Xingyun’s waist.
Mozun’s voice low, he said to Wu Xingyun: “Hold out just a little longer. The cameras will be going away soon. When the live broadcast is over, I’ll send you to your room to rest.”
An automated camera zoomed in for a closer view of the two men holding each other and whispering.
Although their agreement had been that Wu Xingyun drink wine for all the toasting, Mozun relented, stealthily having Wu Xingyun be given water instead.
Wu Xingyun, already drunk, couldn’t even tell the difference. Desperate not embarrass himself, he concentrated on staying steady on his feet.
At last, they’d finished going to every table, Wu Xingyun propped up by Mozun.
The banquet continued on. Wu Xingyun, however, was no longer fit to attend.
Mozun greeted Bi Jin, the mutant who’d presided over the ceremonies, then informed Bi Jin that he was taking Wu Xingyun home, and that he’d return momentarily.
The banquet and Wu Xingyun’s new house were not that far apart. Still, the surrounding were very tranquil. Turning a corner, they walked along an small uninhabited street.
At the end of the lane, about a hundred meters long, was Mozun’s residence, an unimposing three-story building.
With no one to spy on them, Mozun unexpectedly reached out and embraced Wu Xingyun.
His head aching, the stoic Wu Xingyun didn’t struggle. There were no people gawking, no live broadcast. Just a quiet road, where a tall, black-clad man held a shorter, expressionless soldier in a pale green shirt.
DPM Chapter 18-Premeditated Part 1
Translated by Snowfall77
Mozun took the ring out of the box, pinched between his thumb and index finger. Extending it to Wu Xingyun, Mozun asked: “Will you marry me?”
Wu Xingyun was completely dumbfounded. No, he didn’t want to marry the person kneeling before him in front of everybody. This hadn’t remotely been part of the agreement. Yet Wu Xingyun knew he couldn’t speak his mind before so many cameras.
His marriage to Mozun was Wu Xingyun’s mission. It was one thing to dislike his task or complain in private. But he would not publicly show his dissatisfaction. He was a soldier, and he’d conduct himself properly.
Glancing around, Wu Xingyun saw no one who could help him. And he didn’t know how to handle the situation politically. It wasn’t like this little show affected the relationship of the two sides…And there shouldn’t be hypocrisy.
Once again, Wu Xingyun observed Mozun. Hope and appeal filled Mozun’s eyes, gradually turning to despair, as Wu Xingyun stood silently.
Until finally Mozun’s habitual lazy, careless smile returned.
Then Wu Xingyun turned his head away. He couldn’t keep looking. His heart tremored in his chest. When he’d shot Mozun, he’d done it without hesitation or timidity. But now, he didn’t dare meet Mozun’s eyes.
Randomly flitting his gaze about, Wu Xingyun asked: “The ceremony’s already been held, aren’t I…Haven’t you already married me? What else do you wish to do?”
Mozun briefly froze, then gave a little laugh, putting the ring away. “Yes, you’re right.”
Finished, Mozun got up and walked to Wu Xingyun’s side, hooking an arm around Wu Xingyun’s shoulders. “I’m so glad to have such a wife. He’ll be my only spouse. His presence represents the peace between the Alliance and the Federation. Every day he exists, I will not proactively declare war against the Federation. May this peace last forever.”
Mozun took the wine glass handed over by the emcee and drained the contents in one gulp.
At the same time, on the distant other side of the galaxy, a young Lieutenant Commander in a gray uniform observed his screen. His hands clenched, as he suffocated under the weight of his emotions.
Wen Nuo hadn’t been able to restrain himself. He’d been watching the live broadcast, the end result being he’d only distressed himself more.
His sight stayed glued to Wu Xingyun’s face. When he saw the soldier he’d trained, who he’d cared for, kissed by the Night Shard, Wen Nuo punched his desktop.
The ashtray went flying, ending Wen Nuo’s viewing.
“Peace? Go to hell!” Wen Nuo growled in a low voice, then collapsed into a chair.
He buried his head in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair, as his shoulders shook.
He hated the Night Shard, hated the appeasement policies of the Federation, and loathed his own incompetence even more.
Moments later, turning off the soot-covered screen, We Nuo pulled out a stack of white paper, took a pen and wrote a line on the first sheet: “The Combat Weaknesses of the Demon Army and Corresponding Measures.”
Back at the actual ceremony, Wu Xingyun breathed a sigh of relief, as things seemed to be getting back on track.
Mozun publicly presented Wu Xingyun with a ship. The only spacecraft on the planet with a dimensional jump function. Early the next morning, the escort team would leave in the ship, to return to the Federation.
Thus Mozun’s side of Wu Xingyun’s dowry was settled, for everyone to see. With a tacit understanding to leave unspoken what had been lost on the voyage.
Ai Lan, the psychologist, handed over what was left of the Federation’s share. Adding the announcement that Mozun had the right to use the materials given, but no claim of ownership.
The lengthy formalities finally at an end, the feast commenced. Mozun and Wu Xingyun came down from the podium and toasted everyone, apparently another one of Mozun’s native customs.
Wu Xingyun wasn’t used to drinking alcohol. After paying his respects to four or five tables, his head spun round and round, and they still had more than ten tables left.
Walking a little crookedly, Wu Xingyun was about to fall. Two soldiers stepped forward to help him, but a powerful arm wrapped around Wu Xingyun’s waist.
Mozun’s voice low, he said to Wu Xingyun: “Hold out just a little longer. The cameras will be going away soon. When the live broadcast is over, I’ll send you to your room to rest.”
An automated camera zoomed in for a closer view of the two men holding each other and whispering.
Although their agreement had been that Wu Xingyun drink wine for all the toasting, Mozun relented, stealthily having Wu Xingyun be given water instead.
Wu Xingyun, already drunk, couldn’t even tell the difference. Desperate not embarrass himself, he concentrated on staying steady on his feet.
At last, they’d finished going to every table, Wu Xingyun propped up by Mozun.
The banquet continued on. Wu Xingyun, however, was no longer fit to attend.
Mozun greeted Bi Jin, the mutant who’d presided over the ceremonies, then informed Bi Jin that he was taking Wu Xingyun home, and that he’d return momentarily.
The banquet and Wu Xingyun’s new house were not that far apart. Still, the surrounding were very tranquil. Turning a corner, they walked along an small uninhabited street.
At the end of the lane, about a hundred meters long, was Mozun’s residence, an unimposing three-story building.
With no one to spy on them, Mozun unexpectedly reached out and embraced Wu Xingyun.
His head aching, the stoic Wu Xingyun didn’t struggle. There were no people gawking, no live broadcast. Just a quiet road, where a tall, black-clad man held a shorter, expressionless soldier in a pale green shirt.
