Xing Wuxian really turned and left this time.
In an instant, the entire room emptied out in a flurry.
Pei Ran leaned back against the cover of the examination bed and sighed.
Xing Wuxian looked so much like Shige Ye—there was a ninety percent chance he was his older brother. According to Valia’s words, the royal family had many illegitimate children, and Shige Ye was probably one of them.
The strange thing was, Xing Wuxian, the legitimate second prince, and Shige Ye, an illegitimate child cast aside, actually seemed to have a strong bond.
The murderous intent in his eyes was practically overflowing.
That was a bit odd. Shouldn’t brothers in such families be locked in bloody power struggles? There must be some hidden secrets behind this.
Xing Wuxian clearly knew everything now—denying it would be useless. His words made it obvious that as soon as she left the quarantine center, he would come after her.
And right now, the green light inside her was severely suppressed.
Pei Ran checked her green lights again.
Green Light No. 1 was in terrible condition. Normally, it loved sleeping the most, practically dozing for twenty-five hours a day. Pei Ran could always sense it sleeping soundly, deeply, simply hating to wake up and work.
But now, it was different.
It lay completely still, as if seriously ill.
No. 2 was in slightly better shape. Under Pei Ran’s urging, it sluggishly moved around inside her body for a while, but even that seemed exhausted.
No. 3, like No. 1, didn’t respond to her call, sinking into a deep, unbreakable slumber.
She didn’t know if they would recover a little once the inhibitor from last night wore off. But without the inhibitor, those frenzied green lights might start causing trouble again—what a headache.
As she was lost in thought, Lin Yu appeared at the door beyond the glass partition, signaling for Pei Ran to return the way she came.
Pei Ran followed him back to the elevator, descending to the quarantine room door.
Suddenly, she said, “Lin Yu, I don’t have much to do in the quarantine room…”
Lin Yu immediately asked, “Do you need books? I can lend you my e-reader—it has plenty stored inside. That should be within regulations.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Pei Ran said. “Could you help me find some drawing tutorials? I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’ve been too busy. Now that I’m stuck here, I finally have time.”
“Of course, no problem,” Lin Yu said. “I’ll look right away. I don’t have any, but I have a friend who’s an amateur art teacher. He probably has a full set of tutorials.”
He opened the quarantine room door for her.
Back in the quarantine room, Pei Ran suddenly felt a trace of familiarity with this place where she had slept the previous night. Though it was essentially a metal box, it was far preferable to facing Xing Wuxian and the others upstairs.
The moment the door opened, Ren rushed over, clutching a spray bottle he had procured from who-knows-where, and proceeded to douse Pei Ran from head to toe in a frantic pfft-pfft-pfft mist.
“Master has been to the hospital. Sterilization and disinfection are required. Lift your foot.”
Pei Ran obediently raised her foot so he could spray the soles of her shoes.
Ren placed slippers beside her and commanded, “Master, change shoes immediately. Do not touch anything else, and go wash your hands at once.”
Pei Ran complied, switching into the slippers and heading to the bathroom to wash her hands, all the while deeply questioning who the real master of this quarantine room was.
After washing up and changing clothes, she grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen. Before she could finish them, Lin Yu knocked on the door again.
True to his word, he handed her a small white rectangular device.
“My e-reader,” he said, somewhat shyly. “I prefer reading on this—it feels more like a real book compared to the wristband screen. I loaded it with some drawing tutorials from my friend, though there aren’t too many. Most of them are beginner-level…”
“Beginner is perfect,” Pei Ran said. “That’s exactly what I need.”
He then handed her a stylus. “Drawing with this on the virtual screen is easier than using your fingers.”
After Lin Yu left, Pei Ran fiddled with the little white device, pressing a button to unfold a virtual screen in front of her.
Unlike the wristband’s display, the e-reader’s screen projected a three-dimensional book that could even be “flipped” page by page with her fingers. The virtual pages turned softly through the air, accompanied by the faint rustling sound of paper.
The only difference from a real book was that the font, size, and even the book’s dimensions could be adjusted freely. Images could be zoomed in, and the entire book could be resized at will.
Aside from books, there were plenty of video tutorials, which could be played instantly with a tap.
Scanning the list of tutorials, Pei Ran objectively selected the one that seemed most suited to her—30-Day Fast-Track Drawing for Beginners: Idiot-Proof Edition.
She hunched over the dining table, earnestly following the tutorial. Ren peeked over, gliding up beside her.
“Master, are you drawing a ball?”
Pei Ran: “Mhm.”
“Your ball is squashed.”
“Mhm.”
“Is that big black splotch supposed to be shading?”
“Mhm.”
“Your ball doesn’t look much like the one in the book.”
“Mhm.”
Ren held back for a while, then quietly set down his cleaning cloth. He extended a single finger, tapped Pei Ran’s screen, and—swish—drew a flawlessly perfect circle, shading it in with a few quick strokes.
It looked exactly like the one in the tutorial. As if copy-pasted.
Pei Ran lifted her head wordlessly and stared at it: You AIs really have no sense of boundaries.
Ren snatched up his cloth and whooshed away. “Ah! It’s almost lunchtime. I must prepare lunch.”
A sound came from the door—someone outside was opening it.
Not Lin Yu.
This was another staff member in full hazmat gear, only a pair of deep gray-green eyes and a few strands of golden-brown hair visible beneath the hood.
Pei Ran had seen this person yesterday, among the armed personnel who had escorted her with Lin Yu.
Unlike Lin Yu, he stood far outside the door, as if afraid Pei Ran might fuse with him at any moment. From a distance, he raised his hand and held out a box of medication.
JTN34.
He explained, “The medical team asked me to deliver this to you.”
As he reached for the door-close button, Pei Ran immediately stopped him, just as she had with Lin Yu. “What’s your name?”
He clearly hadn’t expected the question. After a long pause, he stammered, “Hugh… Hugh Sif.”
Pei Ran nodded.
Hugh Sif pressed the wall button, and the quarantine door sealed shut again.
Holding the box of pills, Pei Ran walked into the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet where she kept her chips and medication. But she didn’t put the new box inside.
This Hugh Sif—shifty-eyed, startled like a rabbit when asked his name—was very suspicious.
She scratched the corner of the box with her nail, inspecting the seal carefully before peeling it open to retrieve the two blister packs inside.
Thirty triangular pills in total.
She scratched the foil of each pack lightly with her nail, then stored them away, lining them up with the other boxes already in the cabinet.
Black Well was too chaotic, too unpredictable. For now, it was safer to stick with the two packs she’d brought from White Harbor.
Ren slid over, peeking at the row of medicine boxes hidden behind the chips. His display instantly switched to an exaggerated look of shock.
“Oh my stars!” he declared. “All these are your meds? My master is a walking pharmacy!”
Pei Ran replied, “You’re a tin can. Your master’s a pill can. Perfect match.”
Ren was already bustling around, prepping lunch.
Pei Ran wandered over and peered into the cardboard box on the kitchen counter. “What’s for lunch?”
“Curry pork cutlet rice,” Ren replied. “Before I came yesterday, I specifically went to the supply depot to collect the ingredients according to the menu schedule.”
Today was Sunday. The original owner’s memo had noted: Sunday is curry pork cutlet rice day.
Pei Ran asked curiously, “Then what’s for dinner tonight?”
“Let me check my schedule list.” Ren responded swiftly. “For dinner, I’ll prepare beef burgers for you.”
This was Friday’s menu from the memo. Back then, she had still been on Yehai No.7 and missed the burgers, only eating a small can of beef stew.
So it was filling in the week’s missed meals like this.
“What about tomorrow?” Pei Ran asked. “Is it braised chicken rice?”
Ren looked surprised. “How did you know?”
The memo had listed Monday: braised chicken rice day.
W had gone through the memo with her and remembered it clearly.
Ren’s mechanical hand popped out a pair of scissors, snip, cutting open the pre-packaged meal bag. “Fragrant instant rice—just toss it into the kitchen processor, and in twenty seconds, it’ll be piping hot.”
This time-trip hadn’t involved much interaction with humans, but AI companions kept popping up one after another.
Unexpectedly, Pei Ran found that when they weren’t enemies, when they weren’t killing and setting fires, they could actually be quite amusing.
Casually chatting with the little robot, Pei Ran probed, “Ren, do you know who sent you to me?” She feigned ignorance. “The quarantine center? Or your original owner—what was his name, Qiao Sai or something?”
“The quarantine center?” Ren let out a very human-like pfft. “As if they could order me around. And my original owner? He’s always given me freedom, never interferes with my life… er… my machine life.”
It tilted its head, lowering its voice conspiratorially. “Of course, it was a higher-order AI who assigned me here.”
Pei Ran: “Higher-order AI? Who?”
Ren’s expression turned even more mysterious. “Him… Do you know? He holds the highest authority, controls everything, commands everything.”
Suddenly, Ren raised its scissors and spun in place, looking up reverently. “He is supreme, the creator of all things in Black Well, the one who keeps it running—He is our god!”
Pei Ran: “….”
Pei Ran: “What’s your god’s name?”
“W,” Ren answered solemnly. “Federal Security Agent W—he governs everything in Black Well!”
This little worshipper of W definitely didn’t know that its “god” was currently a battered, broken sphere that lit up when slapped.
And so, it had been tricked by W into coming here… to make curry pork cutlet rice.
The convenient curry pork cutlet rice was ready in under five minutes—glistening white rice, thick curry sauce, with Ren neatly arranging crispy fried pork cutlets on top in perfect rows.
Pei Ran took a bite of the cutlet first. The golden-brown crust let out a satisfying, crispy crunch.
Ren hovered close, its eyes practically glowing with anticipation. “Well?!”
Pei Ran, mouth full, gave a thumbs-up.
After swallowing, she finally spoke: “Just one tiny problem.”
Ren’s cartoon eyes instantly doubled in size. “Problem?! What problem??”
“Too little,” Pei Ran said. “One serving isn’t nearly enough.”
Ren exhaled dramatically in relief. “Then I’ll make you two prepackaged meals tomorrow.”
Pei Ran hesitated. “Is this… too much? Does Black Well have food restrictions?”
“Relax,” Ren reassured. “You’re a Federal First-Class Medal recipient. That comes with lifelong First-Class Subsidies. Eating an extra portion won’t bankrupt you.”
Pei Ran blinked. “Wait—you mean I have money?”
“Well, ‘money’ isn’t quite the right word,” Ren clarified. “First-Class Subsidies are a lifetime benefit. Normally, it’d be direct credits, but since we’re in Black Well during this… special situation, you get daily ration coupons instead. They’re deposited into your account each day—as long as you’re alive, the subsidies keep coming.”
Ren’s cartoon eyes scanned Pei Ran up and down with exaggerated scrutiny. “So if you manage to survive past midnight tonight, you’ll get another day’s worth tomorrow.”
Suddenly, Pei Ran remembered the bet she’d made with W back at Tanggu Dam.
He’d said then: “I want to ensure you never have to worry about food or shelter again. I think I can do it—no, I will do it. After saving so many lives today, you deserve it.”
So this was what he meant.
Just like that, she’d miraculously secured an iron rice bowl.
Black Well—despite the looming threat of Xing Wuxian—did have its perks.
Pei Ran asked Ren, “How substantial are these subsidies?”
Ren’s tone turned theatrically awed. “You’re loaded! Thinking of keeping a few pretty boys on the side?”
Pei Ran: “…”
Just who taught you this, little robot? Your original owner?
Ren continued cheerfully, “First-Class treatment is very generous. Even with the reduced wartime standards here in Black Well, your ration coupons could easily support dozens of people.”
Then, without missing a beat, it added, “My original owner would be perfect, by the way. He doesn’t eat much—you could totally afford him.”
Pei Ran was puzzled. “Last time you mentioned your original owner was an AI expert. Is he in Black Well too? Doesn’t he have his own ration coupons?”
“He’s in Black Well, and he does have coupons—but he doesn’t want to work.”
Ren loaded the used dishes into the dishwasher. “Every morning when he wakes up, he mutters: Is there a sugar mommy out there who’d take me in? Like that. Want to see his photo?”
Without waiting for an answer, Ren whooshed out an image, projecting it right over its cartoon face.
The photo showed a young man with tousled brown curls and bright eyes—quite good-looking, admittedly—though the picture was blurry, as if sneakily taken.
Sure enough, Ren explained, “I took this a few days ago. Candid shots are more realistic, so my rich master can have accurate expectations about my original owner’s appearance.”
Still displaying the photo on its face, Ren launched into a sales pitch: “183 cm tall, 72.5 kg. No eight-pack abs, but you can sort of see the outline. If needed, we could draft a training plan—totally achievable.”
It looked at Pei Ran expectantly. “No pressure to decide now. Just… first impressions?”
Pei Ran, awkward: “…He’s fine, I guess.”
Ren made a triumphant “whoop” sound. “My original owner’s gonna be so surprised when he finds out I got him a sugar mommy.”
Pei Ran: Surprised, yes. “Happy”? Debatable.
Suddenly, Ren froze. “Huh?”
It stood motionless. “Why did my task list just update with ‘Mop the floor 200 times—immediately’?”
“Now?” It stared at the already spotless floor, baffled. “I just mopped this morning. Is it dirty again?”