In those days of Plants vs. Zombies

Chapter 662 Living is enough

As Mo Chen left, he casually closed the heavy, soundproof wooden door, completely shutting out the noise from the outside world.

In the reception room, only the sound of Canon leisurely sipping tea remained.

Simmons, sitting opposite him, felt a tightness in his throat and didn't know where to put his hands, so he could only awkwardly place them on the table.

"It's been a long time, Simmons."

Canon's deep brown eyes were quietly scrutinizing his younger brother through the rising steam of the tea.

The tea mist swirled like a thin veil, blurring Simmons's features, but it couldn't obscure the concern in Canon's eyes.

One year, three months and fourteen days later, he finally met Simmons alive.

Canon remembers this number more clearly than the date of any battle.

Every sleepless night, he firmly believed that his younger brother was still alive, and he longed to reunite with him countless times.

The thousands of words I wanted to say came out, but in the end, they were reduced to just a few words.

"Thin."

Canon put down his teacup, the porcelain cup clinking against the tray with a crisp sound: "But it's sturdier than before, looks like I didn't waste my time in the ruined city."

"Ah."

Simmons responded softly, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the rim of his teacup.

The warmth of the tea seeped through the cup and into Simmons's palm, but it couldn't dispel the trepidation he felt at their long-awaited reunion.

It was an instinctive fear of facing judgment, a fear of facing one's elder brother, one's family, and the past.

Canon's gaze fell on Simmons' face, but his eyes did not show the usual excitement of brothers reuniting. Instead, they looked more like a general inspecting his long-lost subordinates, with a sense of confirmation and assessment.

He was observing whether the other person's eyes were firm, their posture steady, and whether their soul still retained the beliefs that a federal soldier should have.

But the instant Simmons looked up, a barely perceptible crack appeared in Canon's serious and aloof exterior, a tenderness that was almost painful, and it vanished in an instant.

He coughed a few times, as if trying to suppress those emotions completely.

After calming herself down, Canon slowly asked, "Tell me, why didn't you rejoin your unit after you got separated from them?"

At this moment, his tone was calm to the point of indifference, yet it carried an undeniable sharpness.

As a general of the Federation, Canon genuinely believed that Simmons deserved a reasonable explanation for this matter.

Military orders are as firm as mountains, and military discipline is as ironclad as iron; even if he is one's own younger brother, he is no exception.

The surviving federal soldiers' decision not to return to their units was undoubtedly a violation of federal military regulations.

It is not only desertion, but also dereliction of duty, and a serious act that could undermine morale.

Simmons is a descendant of the Levy family, but at this moment, this illustrious identity cannot serve as a shield for immunity.

If even Levy, whose business started with military industry, can violate military regulations, can soldiers still be seen as a shield to protect the people of the Federation?

"After my squad was scattered, we encountered monsters in the ruined city, and our communication equipment... was also damaged in the battle..."

Simmons took a deep breath and began to recount his experiences in that campaign.

He lowered his head, staring at his reflection in the teacup, his voice dry and hoarse, as if grit had been stuck in his throat for a long time.

“The equipment damage does not mean you have lost your legs. You should have known at the time that the 59th Army of the Federation had established many temporary outposts in the vicinity.”

Canon’s tone was full of pressure: “Even if you have to crawl, you have to crawl back to the nearest outpost and ask to rejoin the team.”

"Return to the team?"

Simmons suddenly raised his head, his voice rising abruptly, filled with a long-suppressed hoarseness and accusation: "I also want to rejoin the team, but I can't. As you know, the 59th Federation Army failed to win that punitive expedition and retreated in disgrace from the high walls of that war fortress, leaving behind many plant spirit warriors in the ruined city!"

His words echoed in the empty reception room, carrying a tremor and endless sorrow.

“I’ve been to the nearest outpost, but the federal troops stationed there have long since withdrawn. There’s no one there, Major General Levy. Please tell me how to get back to my unit.”

Upon hearing this, Canon's expression changed drastically. What Simmons said was completely different from the situation back then.

The plant warriors who were assigned to those temporary strongholds to provide support all said that no remaining soldiers had arrived.

That is why Lieutenant General Satos issued the order for the entire force to evacuate the ruined city.

But the truth Simmons told himself was completely the opposite of what those plant warriors had said.

He trusted his brother, but that also meant one thing—someone had given false intelligence, causing many scattered plant warriors to be forced to remain in the ruined city.

Those who are lucky can still survive as wanderers, while those who are unlucky have probably already gone to the other side.

After a long silence, Simmons clearly saw that Canon's fingers were trembling slightly.

The elder brother's chest heaved violently a few times, as if he were forcibly swallowing this suffocating truth.

He slowly closed his eyes, his deep brow bone casting a shadow on his eye sockets, as if he had aged several years in that instant.

"Feel sorry···"

Those two words seemed not to be spoken, but rather forced out of the throat.

Simmons was stunned. In his memory, Canon was always the composed major general of the 59th Army of the Federation.

But Simmons had never seen Canon so dejected.

After a long, or perhaps short, period of time, Canon suddenly stood up and walked over to Simmons.

The cold, hard shell that belonged to the general shattered, revealing the anxiety and pain beneath, that of an elder brother.

"But you're still alive, that's enough."

Canon patted Simmons on the shoulder, the force from his palm no longer an inspection, but a confirmation that was almost greedy—confirmation that the body was warm, confirmation that the body was intact.

In Simmons' memory, Canon hadn't touched him like that in a long time.

Ever since his elder brother put on that military uniform that symbolized honor and became a major general in the 59th Army of the Federation, every touch he made on her turned into a standard military salute.

"elder brother···"

Simmons moved his lips and couldn't help but utter the name he had chewed over many times in the ruined city.

"Just stay in courtyard number 5905. It's better here than there."

Upon hearing Canon's words, Simmons did not respond immediately, but stared blankly at his brother.

The lingering pain in the other person's eyes made him feel more uneasy than any harsh questioning.

Simmons suddenly realized that his own struggle for survival over the past year was also the root of the torment this man was enduring day and night.

"Okay, I'll listen to you."

Simmons finally nodded, his voice slightly hoarse: "I will serve in this courtyard as a plant spirit warrior."

"If you have time, go home and visit your father and mother... they miss you very much."

The estrangement between the brothers caused by their long separation seemed to vanish completely at this moment.