# 593
Chapter 594: A Gift from the Gods
When Lin Qiye opened his eyes again, Yuzuri Nana had already written a line on the paper and held it in front of him.
The Japanese that had been incomprehensible to him moments ago now flowed into his mind with perfect clarity.
—Can’t you hear?
Lin Qiye wasn’t surprised; given how he’d acted earlier, the girl’s misunderstanding made sense.
He nodded.
Yuzuri Nana gave a small “as I thought” sigh, bent over, and wrote again.
—What’s your name?
Lin Qiye stared at the question, hesitated, then shook his head.
He took the pen from her and wrote:
—I don’t remember.
He now understood Japanese, but not how names here were formed. Making up some nonsense would only cause trouble; playing dumb let him dodge questions and ask his own later.
Pity deepened in Yuzuri Nana’s eyes.
Deaf and brain-damaged from the suicide attempt… poor guy.
After a moment’s hesitation she wrote firmly:
—You can see our situation: we can barely feed ourselves and Granny Tsuru. We can’t support you. Stay tonight if you must, but leave tomorrow. And don’t tell anyone you saw me—the police are still after me.
Lin Qiye raised an eyebrow and wrote:
—Why are the police chasing you?
She hesitated, then replied:
—Because I tried to kill myself.
—Attempted suicide is a crime?
—Ending your life without an oracle’s verdict is a felony. Didn’t you know?
Lin Qiye froze.
Oracle?
Suicide is a felony?
Remembering his “head injury,” Yuzuri Nana added:
—Right, which Generation Citizen are you? What’s your ID number? One trip to the station and they’ll know your name, family, everything.
Lin Qiye’s confusion grew.
Seeing it, she sighed, pulled her collar aside, and revealed a string of digits branded on her shoulder: 42857494.
—Everyone’s numbered at birth by the Pure Land. The first digit is your Generation. I’m Fourth-Gen, Granny Tsuru is Second-Gen. You look a bit older than me—probably Fourth-Gen too.
Lin Qiye frowned.
Branding numbers on human bodies?
Feels like a prison… or a ranch.
He recalled cattle in Great Xia branded for identification. Doing it to people seemed obscene.
And how could they guarantee every birth happened in a hospital? What about home deliveries? Could there really be no slip-throughs?
He wrote his doubts down.
Yuzuri Nana stared, astonished, then replied:
—From First-Gen on, every pregnant woman is taken to the Pure Land to give birth. After two months she and the baby are released. Hospitals never deliver babies.
—What if someone gives birth secretly outside?
—Impossible. The ID chip monitors vital signs; once pregnancy is detected the Pure Land locks on and forcibly relocates you. Generation after generation—no one escapes surveillance.
Lin Qiye’s frown deepened.
—What exactly is the Pure Land?
Yuzuri Nana stood, rummaged in a cardboard box, and pulled out an old Tokyo travel guide.
She laid it on the table, pointed at the cover: This is the Pure Land.
Lin Qiye looked. On the glossy cover a neon city sprawled beneath night clouds, and above Tokyo hovered an enormous silver disc, half the city’s size, glowing pale blue like a colossal UFO.
Shock filled his eyes.
What the hell is that?
Technology? Or something mystical?
—You were born there too, you’ve just forgotten.
She showed him the line on paper.
Lin Qiye sat rigid, then suddenly scribbled:
—Generations follow age, right? You’re Fourth, your mother Third, Granny Tsuru Second, her parents First?
She nodded.
—Of course.
—How old is Granny Tsuru?
—Seventy-nine.
Lin Qiye’s pupils contracted; gears spun in his head.
If Second-Gen Granny Tsuru was 79, her First-Gen parents would be around a hundred…
First-Gen appeared a century ago.
A century ago was when the Fog descended.
He wrote:
—What came before First-Gen?
She gave him an odd look.
—Nothing. The gods created the world and mankind starting with First-Gen.
Lin Qiye froze.
Nothing?
Impossible.
If the gods “created” Japan only a hundred years ago, where did it come from? And modern technology in a century?
—Don’t tell me this modern metropolis was built in only a hundred years?
He jabbed at the dazzling photo: Tokyo Tower’s lights, streaming traffic, a jet glinting in distant clouds…
His gaze was grave.
Yuzuri Nana blinked, then wrote smoothly:
—All of it is a gift left to us by the gods.
Lin Qiye stared at the words, paralyzed.
One thought echoed in his mind:
Something’s wrong…
This country is very, very wrong.