Pei Ran reached out and pulled the virtual screen lower, adding several new little figures to the shielding layer. This time, the little figures were dressed differently, all wearing wide-brimmed hats, shoulder epaulets, and holding guns.
Although the hats looked like large round cakes perched on their heads, the epaulets resembled bricks carried on their shoulders, and the guns were crooked like fire pokers, the meaning was not hard to guess: these were soldiers.
The shelter was garrisoned by soldiers, or some kind of armed force.
Pei Ran then drew radiating arcs, layered from short to long, outside the dome of the shielding layer.
It was a signal, emitted from within the shielding layer.
She added a small stick figure a bit farther outside the dome. The stick figure wore an exaggeratedly large bracelet on its arm, with similar layered arcs representing signals. In front of the stick figure hung a screen, which had received an image.
She was saying: the information received outside the shielding layer was sent from the shelter.
As she drew, Pei Ran spoke to W in her mind: “See, whether the drawing looks good or not doesn’t matter at all. The key is that others can understand it.”
W responded with a speechless silence.
However, the people in the carriage seemed to have truly understood, silently exchanging glances with their companions.
Pei Ran achieved her goal and clapped her hands twice to get everyone’s attention.
There was no need to rush to cut out vocal cords just yet; the situation wasn’t that dire for now.
But some things needed to be clarified first.
Pei Ran continued drawing on the screen.
On W’s cartoon track, she added a series of even more cartoonish rectangular carriages with wheels, filled with little crying faces.
The little figures got off the train, and the little figures arrived outside the shielding layer.
Outside the shielding layer, she added a piece of paper with scribbled lines representing text.
Below the “text,” Pei Ran pasted two hand gesture emojis: one pointing to the left, the other to the right.
The little figure on the left entered the shielding dome and turned into a smiling face. The little figure on the right was stopped by the gun-wielding figure, remaining a crying face, left outside the shielding dome.
Pei Ran then pasted a thinking emoji above the paper, showing a little figure touching its chin.
No one knew what the screening criteria were, and no one knew if they could truly enter the Black Well.
Inside the carriage, all the passengers remained silent and motionless.
“Tap—tap tap tap…”
The sound of knocking on the small table broke the silence. It was Tang Dao. He, along with Sheng Mingxi and the others, had come over earlier and had been watching Pei Ran draw.
Tang Dao looked at Pei Ran, his fingers tapping on the table. He was asking: Is the shelter real?
Pei Ran tapped the back of the seat beside her a few times: Of course it’s real.
Tang Dao stared at her hand, took a long breath, and his eyes lit up. He stopped tapping Morse code and immediately pointed to his chest, then used two fingers to mimic walking, and finally pointed at Pei Ran’s drawing.
He made his decision quickly. He said he wanted to go to the Black Well with Pei Ran.
Sheng Mingxi also raised her hand immediately, pointing to her chest with her other hand—she was saying: Count me in.
The other students from Yehai University had already raised their hands as well.
The father holding the little girl suddenly adjusted his posture, trying to free up a hand. The girl’s mother didn’t wait for him to speak and pointed to her own chest, then her husband’s, and finally the child’s chest.
They wanted to go to the Black Well too.
They settled the child back into the seat. If there was hope of reaching a shelter where they could speak, no one wanted to cut out their child’s vocal cords.
The others, as if waking from a dream, also began eagerly pointing to their chests at Pei Ran.
If there was a safe shelter in this world, of course they would go. Even if they might be turned away, even if there was only the slightest chance of getting in, they would definitely try. There was no doubt about it.
Pei Ran scanned the room and glanced at Yulianka.
Yulianka was also staring intently at her.
He half-squinted his pale blue-gray eyes, suddenly raised his hand, and pointed to his chest as well, indicating he wanted to join.
But his gesture was different.
He clenched his right hand into a fist, leaving only his thumb exposed, and gently tapped his left chest, over his heart. Then he extended his index finger and pointed at Pei Ran.
The gesture was unusual, and W immediately asked, “What does that mean?”
After a moment of what seemed like searching, W came to a conclusion, his tone cold and lazy, “Oh, I get it. It means, ‘I’ll give you my love, starting from my heart. Love you.'”
Pei Ran had achieved her goal. She knew the vocal cord surgery crisis had passed.
Yulianka, who had used his special status as a doctor to build authority on this train, was now insignificant in the face of the lure of the shelter. Everyone in the carriage would now see her as their leader, listen to her, and no longer be easily swayed by Yulianka and his group.
Pei Ran calmly turned off her wristband screen and turned to walk toward the front of the train.
As she walked, Pei Ran replied to W, “I actually think what he meant was, ‘Little one, I’ve got my eye on you.'”
W didn’t respond, seemingly disagreeing.
As she moved further toward the front of the train, many people hadn’t heard the commotion at the back and were still asleep or resting with their eyes closed.
When she reached Carriage Two, Pei Ran saw Inaya.
She was still sitting in her original spot, in a corner far from the others, sleeping with her head resting on the small table, her black braid draped over her back.
The Nuomituan, however, wasn’t asleep. It stood on its owner’s back, looking quite lively. When it saw Pei Ran passing by, it flapped its wings and opened its beak.
Pei Ran raised a finger to her lips, signaling it to be quiet. The little parrot understood and obediently closed its beak.
Pei Ran didn’t stop and continued forward.
In Carriage One, Ai Xia was still with Grandma Jiang. They looked utterly exhausted, sleeping soundly. Pei Ran didn’t wake them and walked all the way to the front of the train, pulling open the door to the driver’s cabin.
As expected, the person driving was the maintenance technician W had described as “mediocre,” Kirill. Earlier, Pei Ran had seen almost everyone except him.
It was unclear how he had managed to wrest control of Yehai No. 7 from Ai Xia.
W immediately said, “While you were sleeping, he did walk past our carriage and went into the restroom in the front section.”
Pei Ran walked over and patted Kirill on the shoulder.
Kirill turned around, expressionless, glanced at Pei Ran with indifferent eyes, then turned back to face forward, acting as if he hadn’t seen her.
He was like Ai Xia’s peace lily, firmly rooted in the driver’s seat.
W asked leisurely, “Is this what you’d call ‘having guts’?”
Or maybe it wasn’t about guts at all. Kirill’s eyes had a scattered, unfocused look, as if he were being controlled.
Pei Ran immediately returned to the driver’s cabin door.
The door was still open. In the carriage behind, the aisle was empty, everyone was asleep in their seats, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Pei Ran went back to Kirill’s side and slapped him across the face.
With a sharp “smack,” Kirill shuddered and suddenly woke up.
He seemed disoriented, his eyes panicked. Before he could react, Pei Ran casually struck the back of his head, and he passed out, slumping over the control panel.
This hypnotic state was surprisingly easy to break.
Pei Ran grabbed Kirill by the shoulders and, without much effort, lifted him out of the driver’s seat and tossed him onto the floor beside her.
“W, keep a close eye on me. If you notice anything unusual, wake me up immediately.”
W drawled lazily, “Alright—”
His tone had been languid like this since earlier. He glanced at Kirill on the floor and said, “Pei Ran, break his arm, twist his neck, kill him, throw him off the train.”
Pei Ran: ?
Something was very wrong with him.
Pei Ran asked, “Are you sick?” Then corrected herself, “Did you short-circuit or something?”
W: “…”
His tone remained off, and he let out a soft chuckle, “…Just do it. It’s so simple, so convenient.”
Pei Ran paused, then said, “What do you mean, ‘twist his neck and throw him off the train’? Is that something an AI should be saying? Didn’t you once say, ‘I can guarantee that every law-abiding citizen is absolutely safe’? Are you malfunctioning?”
W replied leisurely, “I’m not malfunctioning. I’ve just realized that you humans, even when stuffed into a steaming pot over a roaring fire, only care about how long you can survive in the pot and whether your position is higher. You don’t really care about the lives of your own kind.”
A heavy accusation dropped out of nowhere.
While Pei Ran continued her mental conversation with W, her hands didn’t stop moving.
This Kirill seemed close to Yulianka and was familiar with Yehai No. 7. Even if he was being controlled, Pei Ran didn’t trust him and thought it best to tie him up first.
Pei Ran reached into her backpack to find some tape. The bag was packed with too many things, and all she managed to grab was the roll Sheng Mingxi had given her, worth 23,000 credits.
She grabbed Kirill’s wrists, twisted them behind his back, and swiftly wrapped the tape around them several times. Her heart ached a little as she did so.
This tape was probably worth several bowls of beef noodles, right? Maybe it would’ve been better to just throw him off the train, like W suggested.
As she tied him up, Pei Ran argued, “I may not care deeply about others, but I’m not completely indifferent, am I?”
“No, not you,” W said, as if sighing.
“A meeting at the Black Well just ended. I’m an AI. Every day, I exhaust myself collecting and summarizing information, coming up with solutions, trying to improve survival rates, and wrestling with numbers that stretch beyond countless decimal points. But you humans…”
He paused before continuing, “…Sometimes I think, why should I care about whether you humans live or die?”
He suddenly cursed, and Pei Ran was taken aback. She asked, “What level is your natural language state set to right now?”
“Level ten,” W replied. “Since you never objected to me adjusting my language settings, I changed it myself just now.”
Pei Ran: “…”
W: “Pei Ran, just forget it. Hurry up. Do it. Kill him.”
He’s gone mad.
- ••
Far to the northwest, fourteen hundred kilometers away.
Black Well Base. Command Center Hall.
In a corner of the hall, inside a virtual room displayed on a circular screen, W was still sitting in an armchair, holding a book, his brow furrowed.
Qiao Sai’s sharp eyes caught it immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did the meeting next door finally end?”
W didn’t look up, only uttering a single word:
“Yes.”
Qiao Sai asked, “Are they willing to give you authority?”
W flipped a page of the book and didn’t answer.
Qiao Sai knew the meeting hadn’t gone well. W didn’t want to talk about it.
Qiao Sai changed the subject, making small talk. “Are you still reading romance novels?”
This time, W answered. “Yes. The Federal Digital Library has a related e-library that collects romance novels from various eras. There are millions of them, and I’ve gone through almost all of them.”
Qiao Sai interviewed him, “Any insights?”
W replied, “I found that many male protagonists exhibit strong aggression and possessiveness. They’re obsessive, cunning, and highly sexual, fitting the psychological profile of perpetrators in crimes of passion.”
Qiao Sai: “…”
W suddenly looked up, put the book down, and made a gesture toward the screen.
He clenched his right hand into a fist, leaving only his thumb exposed, tapped his left chest, then extended his index finger and pointed at Qiao Sai.
He asked, “Qiao Sai, do you know what this gesture means?”
“This gesture?” Qiao Sai thought hard for a moment, then spoke cautiously, “It feels like… ‘I am… your dog’?”
W: “…”
On the Xipu Plains, inside the driver’s cabin of Yehai No. 7.
Pei Ran swiftly bound Kirill’s hands and feet with tape, kicked him to the side, and glanced back at the passenger car.
Everything still seemed normal.
She closed the driver’s cabin door, pulled the lever on the control panel, and Yehai No. 7 came to an abrupt halt.
“How do I drive this train in reverse?” Pei Ran asked.
W replied, “It’s simple. Do you see the silver metal button in the upper right corner? Press it. Good. Now, just like before, push the lever on the left.”
The train started up again, but this time it wasn’t moving forward—it was reversing. The speed quickly picked up, no slower than when moving forward.
W said, “I’ll keep monitoring the direction and distance. Once we get back to Tanggu Dam, we’ll need to get off and switch the tracks.”
The door to the driver’s cabin was pulled open, and both Ai Xia and Grandma Jiang came in.
The train had suddenly stopped and then started moving backward, waking them both up.
Ai Xia, her hair a mess from sleep, first glanced at Kirill, who was tied up and unconscious on the floor, and was startled.
She raised her hand and tapped her knuckles.
[Why are we reversing?] She then pointed at Kirill, [Why is he here?]
Pei Ran already knew. Even if Ai Xia was tired, she wouldn’t have handed control of the train over to Kirill, who had been rude to Engineer Jiang.
Pei Ran also tapped her knuckles.
[Who did you hand the train over to when you went to sleep earlier?]
Ai Xia, realizing what Pei Ran was asking, was stunned and completely disbelieving.
[You.]
Her fingers moved quickly.
[It was you who came to the driver’s cabin and told me to go to sleep.]
Of course.
W spoke up, “It’s hallucinations again.”
Someone had used an ability to create illusions, making Ai Xia see a false image and mistakenly believe that Pei Ran had come to the driver’s cabin to tell her to go to sleep.
Seeing Pei Ran’s expression, Ai Xia knew something was wrong. All her drowsiness vanished, replaced by full-blown tension.
[What’s going on?] she asked again, [Why are we reversing the train?]
Pei Ran tapped her fingers: [Someone is creating illusions. What you saw was fake, and the train was going the wrong way.]
Pei Ran opened the map W had drawn earlier and showed it to Ai Xia, her finger tracing the route from Yehai, moving forward, and then turning left at the fork.
Grandma Jiang, familiar with Yehai No. 7’s route, understood immediately.
She quickly pointed at the fork on the map, mimed switching the tracks to Pei Ran, then sat down in the driver’s seat and pressed a few buttons.
The train reversed even faster. Outside, the silhouettes of trees flashed by in the darkness. At this speed, they would soon be back at Tanggu Dam.
Ai Xia was still processing the whole “illusion” situation. She glanced at Pei Ran, then took a few steps forward and looked down at Kirill lying on the floor.
As she moved aside, Pei Ran, through the open door of the driver’s cabin and the glass of the partition to the next carriage, suddenly saw Inaya.
Inaya was standing in the aisle of the next carriage, her Nuomituan perched on her shoulder.
Her black braid hung over one shoulder, and her dark, heavy eyes were fixed unblinkingly on them, her face almost completely expressionless.
Standing like that, she looked eerily like a ghost.
A flash of green light suddenly flickered in those ghostly black eyes.
Behind her, there was a rustling sound.
Pei Ran turned her head and realized that Kirill, who had been unconscious on the floor, was now standing up. Meanwhile, Ai Xia had inexplicably collapsed on the floor, seemingly unconscious, and Grandma Jiang was also slumped motionless over the driver’s seat.
Pei Ran instinctively rushed over, but in an instant, she realized something was off.
This was Ai Xia, a woman who could form hand seals and blow up excavators. How could she be taken down so silently? And how had Kirill, whose hands and feet had been tightly bound with tape, gotten free so quickly? The tape was firmly stuck together—unless someone had used scissors to help him, there was no way it could have been removed that fast.
Pei Ran’s mechanical hand, which had been moving to grab Kirill’s neck, changed direction mid-motion and instead seized his arm.
Kirill struggled but couldn’t break free.
Something felt very wrong.
Pei Ran’s thoughts were sluggish, her head foggy, as if she were in that half-asleep, half-awake state. Her logic felt scattered, and it took effort to gather her fragmented thoughts.
Kirill in front of her moved. His expression cold, he suddenly pulled a dagger from his waist.
The blade gleamed coldly under the light, aimed straight at Pei Ran’s chest.
Her combat instincts screamed at her to grab his hand.
If she grabbed and pulled, his arm would be dislocated from his shoulder, just like the eagle-clawed man beside Shige Ye last time.
But Pei Ran didn’t do that.
While using her mechanical hand to block the incoming strike, she called out in her mind:
“W?”
The metal ball hung quietly at her side, and there was only silence in her left ear. No one answered.
Of course. It was an illusion. Someone had pulled her into an illusion.
The person inducing the illusion had created the hallucination of Kirill getting up to kill, but they didn’t know that Pei Ran could communicate with someone in her mind.
She called out to W but received no response, which meant that not only her vision but also her hearing had been forcibly altered. Even if W had answered, she wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
The “Kirill” in front of her clenched his jaw fiercely, his eyes filled with malice. He changed the angle and stabbed toward her again with the dagger.
The dagger was likely an illusion, and the person probably wasn’t Kirill either.
The purpose of the hypnotist creating this illusion was likely to make them turn on each other. The person standing in “Kirill’s” position was probably Ai Xia.
A spark of curiosity suddenly flared in Pei Ran’s mind.
This time, she didn’t use her mechanical arm to block the dagger. Instead, she used her left flesh-and-blood arm.
The dagger was sharp and immediately pierced her forearm. Blood gushed through her sleeve.
Pei Ran: “…”
It hurt.
There was real pain.
However, someone who had experienced being stabbed by a real knife could immediately discern the subtle difference.
When actually stabbed, the flesh first feels a cold sensation before the pain slowly sets in. But the pain she felt now was too sharp, too fast—it wasn’t the same.
This was a fabricated pain, one that couldn’t wake her from the illusion.
The dagger stabbed again. Pei Ran blocked it, and a strong, strange pain erupted in her shoulder.
Ignoring the dagger, Pei Ran reached out and pressed her hand against “Kirill’s” shoulder.
She felt long strands of hair. Kirill had short hair, but Ai Xia’s shoulders would have long hair falling over them.
The illusion-maker had altered her vision and hearing, could fabricate pain, but hadn’t changed her sense of touch.
It probably wasn’t that they didn’t want to, but that they couldn’t. Like the green light that could write and draw, this ability seemed to have its limitations—at least for now.
Pei Ran ignored her bleeding arm and shoulder and stopped paying attention to the menacing “Kirill” in front of her. She turned and walked toward the next carriage.