Pei Ran also sent Ai Xia a photo of the vanished library.
The bracelet vibrated.
Another image with black text on a white background appeared. This time, the sender field was different, displaying “Federal Department of Defense and Security.”
It read:
【Attention to all federal citizens】
【The Silence has begun】
【Please do not speak. Please do not send any text to others. Only image-based communication is safe. Repeat. Currently, only image-based communication is safe.】
This time, there was an additional paragraph below:
【If you are in any of the following types of buildings, please evacuate immediately: federal government institutions, federal military institutions, public security bureaus, libraries, universities, research institutions, technology companies…】
The list was long and somewhat strange. Attacks on federal government departments and military institutions could be considered normal, but it was unclear why schools and libraries were being targeted.
At least residential areas were temporarily safe.
Pei Ran struggled to search for the residual memories of the original owner of this body.
This world mainly consisted of two continents: East Manya Continent and West Tist Continent. Apart from these, there were scattered lands and islands of varying sizes. The entire planet had long been unified under the federation, with almost no external enemies.
The only possible perpetrators of such terror events were some large and small illegal organizations. It was unclear whether they were behind this.
The explosions outside continued, and after a while, the attacks finally stopped.
Ai Xia sent another image:
【Did you receive the new warning message? It seems like the apartments are fine. I’m heading home; it’s too unsafe outside.】
Pei Ran replied with an image: 【Received it. I’m planning to stay home too.】
Pei Ran looked around her small apartment.
If the entire federation fell, hiding in this apartment would be a good choice.
The walls were thick, and the doors and windows were sturdy, like a fortress. Hiding inside, away from the crowds, with temporary access to food and water, as long as she didn’t inexplicably talk to herself and trigger an explosion, she could hold out for a while and see how the situation developed.
Pei Ran counted the food supplies again and checked the water stored in various bottles and jars, but she felt an indescribable unease in her heart.
It was as if her heart was suspended in mid-air by something unfinished, leaving her extremely unsettled.
It had nothing to do with food or water.
She opened the memo on her bracelet again and found the string of letters and numbers recorded there.
JTN34.
Followed by five exclamation marks.
A faint ache began to spread from her right shoulder. The subtle pain, like spider silk, radiated slowly from the junction where the metallic arm connected to her shoulder, creeping toward her shoulder blade and lower back.
The spreading pain seemed to unlock some kind of meridian, and a shadow of memory surfaced in Pei Ran’s mind.
It seemed to be related to medicine.
Pei Ran pulled open the drawer of the bedside table. Inside lay a small black metal box.
She opened it. It was empty.
It seemed like it should have contained pills. The action of opening the lid, taking out a pill, and swallowing it with water felt like something she had repeated many times.
The pills in the metal box were gone, but there might be more somewhere else.
Guided by instinct, Pei Ran walked into the bathroom and pulled out a small case from the depths of the cabinet.
The white lid of the case bore a red cross. Pei Ran opened it on the spot.
Inside were neatly arranged bottles, jars, and cardboard boxes, all containing common medications.
In the bunker, medicine had always been scarce. Limited resources and production lines were insufficient to meet the needs of human settlements. Diarrhea or a simple wound infection could be fatal. Sometimes, life or death depended on whether someone could get their hands on a box of antibiotics.
In this small case, there were several types of precious antibiotics, as well as antibacterial ointments, painkillers, fever reducers, cold medicine, anti-diarrheal medication, and even multivitamins and a few other health supplements Pei Ran didn’t quite understand.
After rummaging through the case, Pei Ran noticed a zippered fabric compartment on the lid. It seemed to contain something.
She reached in and felt around, pulling out a small paper bag. Inside the bag was a rectangular paper box.
The printing on the box was very simple, with nothing but a line of black text:
JTN34.
The box was still empty, but there was an instruction sheet inside, which read:
【Effective in treating rejection reactions caused by deep neural connections with specific models of mechanical prosthetics.】
【Oral administration. Adults: 1 tablet once daily.】
At the bottom was a warning marked with red exclamation points: 【Unauthorized discontinuation of the medication may lead to fever, severe infection, and even fatal complications.】
Pei Ran stared at the words “fatal complications” and fell silent.
The medicine was gone. No wonder the original owner had added five exclamation marks after “JTN34.”
Given the words “fatal complications,” it was almost unfair that it only got five exclamation marks.
The pain in her shoulder continued to spread.
Pei Ran glanced at the small paper bag again. Printed in blue on the bag was the name of the pharmacy—Wolin Pharmacy.
Wolin Pharmacy—the name felt familiar to Pei Ran.
On her way home by bus yesterday, she had seen this white sign with blue lettering. It was on the ground floor of a building nearby, just two blocks away.
That area was a small commercial district with various shops, making it a bit livelier.
No matter how chaotic the current situation was, for the sake of her life, she had to go there at least once.
Pei Ran rummaged through the cabinet and found something she had noticed yesterday—a roll of wide tape.
The tape was black, about five centimeters wide, and looked quite adhesive. Pei Ran cut a piece off, went to the bathroom, and carefully applied it to her mouth in front of the mirror, pressing it firmly from her left cheek to her right cheek, sealing it tightly.
Making a sound could mean death. Staying silent in her apartment was manageable, but outside, the situation would be far more complicated. There was no guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally speak out of habit.
Pei Ran didn’t trust herself enough, so a physical barrier felt safer.
She looked at herself in the mirror, gathered her loose hair, and quickly tied it into a ponytail.
After just one day of living a peaceful life, the world had descended into chaos.
But no matter how chaotic it was, this place was still far better than the bunker.
As long as she didn’t speak.
Under no circumstances could she speak.
Pei Ran wrapped a scarf around her neck, rummaged through the closet, and found a hiking backpack that belonged to the original owner.
The backpack was large, with many pockets, and fit snugly on her back. It suited Pei Ran perfectly. She tossed the roll of tape inside, put on gloves and a scarf, slipped on her shoes, and headed out.
The fingerprint lock on the door was still lit, indicating it was functioning, likely powered by an independent internal battery. Pei Ran locked the door and stepped into the hallway.
The blood in the hallway had half-dried, turning black, but the metallic smell still lingered.
The power was out, and the only light came from the emergency lamps in the corridor. The elevator display was dark. Pei Ran pulled open the stairwell door and began descending the stairs.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell. She didn’t encounter a single person all the way down to the ground floor.
The building’s front desk was shabby and old, and no one was there. Only a splatter of exploded flesh and blood remained, evidence of someone’s misfortune.
Pei Ran pushed open the building’s door and stepped onto the street.
The sky was still gray, the sunlight weak, and the winter air was bitingly cold. The streets were empty—no people, no cars. Occasionally, there were splatters of blood and flesh on the road, but the smell of blood wasn’t strong, just a faint hint drifting in the crisp, cold air.
Pei Ran walked along the road, passing two intersections, and finally saw people.
The commercial district was in complete chaos.
Some shops were tightly locked, while others had their doors wide open.
People were dying everywhere, panic was spreading, and the first wave of those who realized the severity of the situation were frantically looting supplies.
Everyone looked tense, their eyes filled with panic, as if the end of the world had come.
This chaotic scene gave Pei Ran a sense of familiarity—it felt like she had returned to a world she knew.
The largest store in the area was a supermarket. Its doors were open, the shelves in disarray, and not a single staff member was in sight. The row of self-checkout counters stood useless as people rushed out with armfuls of goods, while even more were running in.
It was easy to imagine how the looting had started.
Some people had run out of food at home, and in times like these, the first instinct was to restock at the supermarket.
However, with the power out and the internet down, the supermarket’s payment systems weren’t functioning. Speaking out loud could mean death, and no employee would have the presence of mind to stay at their post.
The public security bureau had also been completely compromised, leaving people with no sense of restraint.
A man carrying several bags of bread rushed out of the supermarket and collided heavily with Pei Ran’s shoulder.
Without stopping, the man cursed, “Are you blind? Can’t you watch where you’re going…”
Pei Ran silently moved several meters away.
She thought to herself: You won’t need to watch where you’re going for much longer.
As soon as the man finished speaking, he realized his mistake.
He froze in terror, his eyes wide with panic. He dropped the bread he was holding and desperately pressed his hands over his mouth, as if trying to take back the words he had just spoken.
But spoken words couldn’t be retracted.
One, two, three.
Boom.
Another splatter of blood and flesh spread across the road, along with scattered crumbs of bread.
Pei Ran stayed close to the edge, avoiding the reckless runners, and scanned the area for the pharmacy.
Amid the chaos, Pei Ran suddenly noticed a girl in a black coat standing by the roadside.
She wasn’t tall, and the scarf around her neck covered the lower half of her face, leaving only a pair of pure black eyes visible. Beside her was a virtual screen, enlarged to nearly the height of a person.
She wasn’t using image mode; the screen displayed large text directly from a notepad:
【Do not speak, or you will explode!!】
【Do not send text messages to others through your bracelet!】
Pei Ran read through the messages one by one—they were all things she already knew.
Her gaze fell on the last section.
【Absolutely do not use any hover cars!】
【All hover cars are equipped with AI interaction systems. The AI voice prompt during startup cannot be turned off, and activating it will cause the vehicle to explode into pieces!!】
So, it wasn’t just people who would explode when they spoke—talking cars would as well.
No wonder all the hovering vehicles had vanished. Everyone who got into one was already dead.
The girl had also conveyed another crucial piece of information—
Typing for others to see was safe. Only sending messages via wristband was dangerous.
No one knew the rules, and the cost of trial and error was life itself. At times like this, gathering all discovered rules and passing them on to others was incredibly important.
Around them, people were desperately scrambling for supplies, crashing into things like headless flies. Only the girl remained calm, standing still like an unmoving stone amidst a raging current.
Exchange was the fundamental principle of survival in a bunker. Pei Ran had obtained useful information, so she should reciprocate with information in return.
She lowered her head and wrote a message, then silently walked up to the girl, stopping a few steps away. She enlarged her wristband’s virtual screen and turned it toward her.
On the screen, the words read:
【The explosion radius of a human body is approximately one meter. From the moment a person speaks to the moment they explode, there is a delay of about three seconds—meaning there are three seconds to escape the blast zone.】
This was new information not listed in the previous messages. The girl read it, exchanged a glance with Pei Ran, then immediately added the line to her own screen.
With her mind still focused on finding medicine, Pei Ran quickly continued forward, weaving through the crowd.
The pharmacy was just ahead. The doors were wide open, and the shelves were in complete disarray, with medicine boxes scattered across the floor.
Inside, there were quite a few people.
Despite the crowd, no one spoke. Everyone was silently rummaging through the shelves, searching for medicine. The only sounds were hurried footsteps, the occasional collision with a shelf, and medicine boxes tumbling to the ground.
Someone had died here before. The floor was covered in chaotic, overlapping bloody footprints, trampled into a mess. Not a single staff member was in sight—they were either dead or had fled.
Pei Ran carefully avoided others as much as possible, moving along the shelves, searching.