Black Well would become the Federal Ark in this disaster.
“But Pei Ran,” W shifted the conversation, “since the base has limited capacity, even if they accept civilians, they’ll certainly establish admission criteria—things like age, occupation, education level, and criminal record. The criteria will be based on an assessment of the remaining population, and at this point, I can’t predict exactly what the final standards will be.”
He continued, “However, I believe that before the silence worsens further, before things deteriorate even more, it would be wise to get there early—while travel is still relatively manageable. If you wait near the base in advance, you’ll have the best chance of entering once they start admitting civilians.”
He called this “a time when travel is still relatively manageable.”
But what he said made a lot of sense.
Pei Ran nodded.
“Actually, I hadn’t planned on entering Black Well. I just wanted to take you there, get the medicine as agreed.”
Now that it was confirmed Black Well was a safe refuge, its appeal had grown considerably.
W picked up on her meaning. “And now?”
“Now, I’m still a bit hesitant,” Pei Ran admitted frankly. “I can’t help but worry—what if, once I get to Black Well, you people drag me into a lab and dissect me?”
W suddenly let out a laugh, like a real person. “Pei Ran, I didn’t realize you had such strong paranoid—”
Mid-sentence, he changed his wording.
“Uh… I completely understand your concern. Check your screen.”
Pei Ran’s wristband vibrated.
He had sent her several screenshots of documents—all related to a special division of the Federal Security Department called FBSMD, the Fusion Body Support and Management Department.
“I told you before—the Federal Security Department has been cooperating with fusion entities who have abilities. This department has existed for nearly thirty years. Other than a few ordinary humans, most of its members are order-type and collapse-type fusion entities. The oldest employee has already retired.”
“We’ve been studying fusion entities for many years. In fact, Black Well’s shielding layer is a direct result of that research. So far, aside from corpses, we have not dissected anyone—”
He added, “–Of course, if you voluntarily lay yourself on the operating table, I’m sure the researchers wouldn’t refuse.”
Pei Ran: “…”
W continued, “I know that since the silence began, your abilities have been evolving. But we have corresponding management protocols. There’s nothing to worry about.”
He paused briefly, then added in a lower, cool voice, “Don’t worry. I won’t let them dissect you.”
Pei Ran remained silent.
She didn’t completely trust his words. But they did hold a certain level of credibility.
She pondered for a moment before pulling up her chat window with Ai Xia.
“I’m going to tell Ai Xia about Black Well,” she said.
A safe haven—especially one that would soon start accepting civilians—was something people needed to know about as soon as possible.
W didn’t stop her. Instead, he replied nonchalantly, “We were just having a casual conversation. If you insist on sharing our casual conversation with someone else, I can’t stop you.”
Without hesitation, Pei Ran typed, took a screenshot, and sent the message to Ai Xia, including the map W had previously given her that marked Black Well’s location.
Ai Xia responded almost instantly with a meme of a cat so shocked that its face was blurry.
Then, a follow-up image:
【Really?!】
【There’s actually a place like this??】
Pei Ran replied:
【I just got word that the base might start accepting civilians in a while. But I can’t guarantee the information is 100% accurate. And even if they do accept civilians, since space is limited, they’ll definitely have an admission process—things like age, profession, etc. So even if you travel all that way, there’s no guarantee you’ll get in. Are you willing to take the gamble?】
No one knew whether staying home and holding out or trekking over two thousand kilometers to find a refuge was the better choice.
Especially since Ai Xia still had her grandmother.
Her grandmother was old, and Ai Xia had never mentioned any other family members. If she went to the refuge alone, she would have to leave her grandmother behind. But if she brought her along, there was no telling whether her grandmother could endure such a long journey—or if the refuge would even accept her due to her age.
It was a difficult decision.
Ai Xia replied: 【I understand everything. I need to discuss this with my grandmother.】
Not long after, Ai Xia sent another message—not about their decision, but about something else entirely.
The image read:
【Pei Ran, my grandmother told me that if you want to reach the location on the map, there’s actually a very convenient way. In Yehai City, there’s an antique sightseeing train called Yehai No. 7. It departs from Yehai and heads northwest, with its final stop near Black Well Base. The train is over two hundred years old, and because they wanted to preserve its original charm, they never installed an AI driving system. It might still be operational.】
Pei Ran: !!
A working antique train!!
She hadn’t expected to stumble upon such valuable information.
Pei Ran immediately asked, “W, you can find out everything—why didn’t you know about Yehai No. 7?”
W had already seen Ai Xia’s message on the screen. His encyclopedic reputation was now under serious scrutiny. He remained silent for a moment before replying,
“Hold on, I’ll check.”
A few moments later, he said, “Found it. Yehai No. 7 is an antique train that’s 230 years old. It was originally decommissioned but later restored as a sightseeing train. At first, it only ran a short circular route, but after upgrades, it was repurposed as a nostalgic tourism line to the northwest. Its final stop is not far from Black Well Base.”
He continued, “Now I know why I didn’t find it when I was searching for routes. Yehai No. 7 has been out of service for two months. The line was scheduled for dismantling, so it didn’t appear in my searches.”
Pei Ran asked, “So… has it been dismantled yet?”
W replied, “Not yet. The citizens of Yehai strongly opposed it, so the issue is still in limbo. That means the railway is still usable.”
This was an exciting revelation. If they could take a train—a direct route to Black Well—it would be far easier than navigating the mud and roads, and much faster.
Pei Ran immediately made her decision. “I’m going to Yehai.”
W responded, “At a time like this, let’s hope no one else has already taken the train. I’m sending you the route to Yehai now.”
The route map arrived, along with Ai Xia’s next response.
【Grandma is firm in her decision. We’ve decided to go to the refuge together.】
They had chosen to take the risk.
Pei Ran replied: 【Let’s meet at the departure station of Yehai No. 7.】
She took a screenshot and sent it.
Pei Ran started the car and continued forward.
The falling snow grew sparser until it finally stopped, and the moment it did, it began to melt. The melting snow mixed into the soil of the fields, turning into sludge under the spinning tires, making the road even harder to navigate.
But ahead, there was a train, and beyond that, a refuge where people could speak—like a small flickering flame of hope in the lead-gray distance. The thought reinvigorated Pei Ran.
She drove the entire afternoon. As dusk fell, the sky and fields darkened into deeper shades, making it harder to see the road.
Yehai City wasn’t too far from White Harbor City. Even at this frustrating, turtle-like pace through the mud, she should be able to reach it in a few more hours.
But night was falling.
Once it got dark, finding the right path would become even more difficult. And in times like these, keeping headlights on at night was a terrible idea—who knew what they might attract?
Pei Ran found a patch of woodland, parked the car, and decided to wait for dawn before continuing.
She peeled off the tape that had been stuck to her mouth all day.
Her allergic reaction had worsened.
The skin where the tape had been was now swollen like a cluster of mosquito bites, raised and itchy in tight clusters.
Pei Ran pulled out her last bag of chips and tore it open.
“Pei Ran.” W’s voice was soft.
It probably wasn’t to nag her.
When she wasn’t taping her mouth shut, W usually didn’t talk to her much—so this had to be something important.
Sure enough, he said, “There’s something urgent. You’re about to receive it.”
Pei Ran’s wristband vibrated.
Another image message. The sender was the Federal Department of Defense and Security. Holding her chip, she tapped it open with her pinky. The virtual screen popped up.
The image was the same familiar white background with black text.
【Attention, all Federal citizens. This may be the final warning image containing text.】
【Do not write or use any form of text. Do not send any images containing text.】
【For your safety, go to your wristband’s accessibility settings and switch to full-image mode.】
【The Silence State is expected to escalate soon. The exact time is uncertain.】
【Make preparations in advance. Stay alert and cautious.】
【Wishing you continued survival.】
Pei Ran stared at the image, motionless.
From the moment she received the first warning, she had been wary—writing on images might not be safe. And now, it had finally become unsafe.
If writing was no longer an option, that meant people could no longer communicate by displaying words on their virtual screens. Since Silence had begun, this had been the primary way for people to talk to each other.
And now, Silence was about to deepen again.
W said, “Back then, some of our ships approached the rift on the fifth planet. Everyone on board died, but they left behind valuable footage. As the abnormal energy surrounding the ship intensified, the Silence State inside the ship also escalated accordingly.
“Black Well just observed an increase in abnormal energy near the rift. Its range will soon reach here. That means it won’t be long before Silence upgrades again. The Federation has already sent out warnings to all surviving citizens.”
Pei Ran thought for a moment and asked, “If I prepare a batch of flashcards in advance, writing words on them before Silence upgrades, then when I need to communicate, I just arrange the pre-written cards for others to see—would that still count as ‘using text’?”
The phrase ‘writing and using text’ was so vaguely defined that it seemed full of loopholes.
Pei Ran considered further. “Or what if I don’t write on paper at all, but trace words in the air with my finger? Or use sign language? Would any of that count as ‘using text’?”
W’s voice softened into a low, almost affectionate murmur as he called her name:
“Pei Ran—if you really want to die, go ahead and try.”
Pei Ran: “…”
The more sarcastic this sphere got, the more ambiguous its voice became. It was like dealing with a split personality.
His tone returned to normal. “From the footage we retrieved from the ship, we observed that under Silence of this intensity, certain forms of communication became lethal. But we don’t have enough data. Neither I nor Black Well—nor anyone in the entire Federation—can say with certainty which actions will trigger death.”
“The Federal Department of Defense and Security can only broadly advise everyone to stop using text. But they’re not the ones setting the rules. My recommendation is that you be as cautious as possible and not experiment to find out.”
He was right.
A person only had one life. There was no point in using it to probe the boundaries of the rules.
Just like the warning had said: Stay cautious.
W added, “It won’t be long before we learn what the new Silence rules really are.”
As long as enough people die.
Experience is built on a pile of corpses.