It was rare to see the Crown Prince being searched, and even the soldier registering Pei Ran couldn’t help sneaking glances in that direction.
Suddenly, he remembered something and said to Pei Ran, “Oh, right. We still need to put the suppression bracelet on you.”
Pei Ran replied, “Alright.”
She first lowered her gaze, adjusted her sleeve, and then extended her wrist for the soldier to fasten the suppression bracelet.
The soldier turned off the screen. “All done. You’re free to go.”
Pei Ran answered, “No rush. I’d like to take another look.”
Her voice wasn’t quiet, and Xing Wuxian, who was sprawled over the car, immediately turned his head.
Pei Ran wore an expression of someone enjoying the spectacle.
Several more soldiers had arrived to search the others in the two vehicles.
In addition to patting people down, they also inspected their luggage.
The soldiers had them unload the suitcases from the vehicles, open them all up, and spread everything out on the ground. The contents of the bags were also dumped out, and a few soldiers carefully scanned them with handheld devices.
The devices beeped incessantly—inside the luggage lay several silver firearms, displayed brazenly.
Pei Ran recognized them at a glance—they were the same type of guns carried by the talon-handed subordinate of Shige Ye.
Pei Ran asked W in her mind: Didn’t you say last time that these were new weapons still in testing by the military? Something like M-something-R-something?
New weapons, and they managed to get their hands on so many of them. Their connections must be wild.
“MR8_907,” W replied coldly.
Just then, a soldier spoke up: “Please show your firearm permits.”
The insurance salesman quickly pulled up his wristband screen to show him. “All of us have permits.”
After scanning them, the soldier continued, “And the registration numbers for these guns.”
The insurance salesman immediately froze.
“Is the registration number really necessary? We don’t have them on us right now, and we’re in a hurry. Can we bring them next time?”
“Sorry,” the soldier turned the device screen toward him, “See? It’s a system requirement. Anyone carrying firearms within Black Well must have both a permit and the weapon’s registration number—digital copies are fine. Without them, the firearms will be confiscated, and there will be further penalties.”
The insurance salesman could only step aside and resume frantically making calls.
“…asking us for the gun serial numbers…”
“How long would it take to get a temporary one? Can we get a special approval? Is there any way to get them immediately?”
“…Yes, those exact ones…”
“What? Can’t be processed? Even you guys can’t get them? But His Highness is in a hurry to leave…”
The insurance salesman hurried back and whispered with Xing Wuxian, who had just finished being searched.
Pei Ran faintly heard him say: “Your Highness…they’re too new, the serial numbers can’t be issued…maybe we should just hand them over for now and immediately send someone back to swap them for registered ones…”
Over there, another soldier pointed at a small white device in the suitcase.
“What kind of device is this? Does it have a product or manufacturer name? I need to register it.”
Xing Wuxian’s brow furrowed.
The insurance salesman rushed over to put out the fire: “This is a custom-made device. I can give you the name.”
The soldier said, “A name isn’t enough. According to regulations, non-Federally approved products can’t be registered. For custom-made items, you’ll need to submit the device’s function, purpose, manufacturer information, etc. online first. Only after approval and entry into the system can I register it for you here.”
The insurance salesman looked like he was about to lose his mind.
He frantically stepped aside to make another call.
“Hello?…Yes, another item can’t pass. Do you have a way to get special approval…?”
It looked like they were in for a long ordeal.
Only then did Pei Ran leisurely fasten her seatbelt again, start her small truck, maneuver around the luggage Xing Wuxian’s group had strewn across the ground, and with a press of the accelerator, speed off.
Once through the entrance tunnel, the metal sphere that had been floating alongside the car suddenly flew in through the open window and deftly landed on the passenger seat.
Too lazy to fly on its own, it had hitched a ride.
The moment it touched the seat, the sphere extended a folding arm and securely buckled itself in with the seatbelt.
Pei Ran: “Seriously?”
W: “Dead serious.”
Pei Ran raised an eyebrow but still eased off the accelerator slightly and braked with only about two-thirds of her usual aggressiveness.
Driving with him wasn’t new, but today, the atmosphere felt strangely different.
Right now, he was just a sphere—yet sitting in the passenger seat seemed to be more than just a sphere.
It was as if the person leaning on the balcony’s carved railing was now gazing at her from just inches away.
Pei Ran drove while occasionally glancing at him.
W asked calmly, “What’s wrong? You keep looking at me.”
Pei Ran casually deflected, “Maybe because… you’re too new. Not a single scratch. It’s a little unsettling.”
W: “…”
At a red light, Pei Ran couldn’t hold back any longer—she finally reached out and did what she’d been wanting to do for days: she flicked the back of the metal sphere’s “head.”
The touch was just as she remembered. The sphere’s headlights instantly flared to life.
The body was new, but its functions remained—a good sphere that hadn’t forgotten its roots.
His lights were too bright, drawing stares from drivers in the opposite lane. After flicking him, Pei Ran suggested, “Turn those off.”
“Apologies,” W said, “I currently lack the functionality to deactivate the lights automatically.”
Lack functionality, my ass.
Pei Ran flicked him again. The lights instantly cut off.
Today, the road seemed unusually short. They soon reached the Blue Zone. Pei Ran drove to the factory with practiced ease, had the workers unload the cargo, then headed back to the dormitory.
Parking the truck in the apartment garage, Pei Ran stepped out.
The little robot also sat up in the truck bed, pushed itself up lightly, and hopped down, looking around curiously.
The metal sphere floated over, extended a folding arm, and announced, “For safety, I need to check the serial number of your core processor.”
The little robot nodded.
The sphere brought the tip of its metal claw near the back of the robot’s head. After a moment, it said, “Done.”
Then, by Pei Ran’s ear, it added, “I cross-referenced its core processor serial number with the mining company’s records. It’s one of the escaped miner robots—designated IF6E8 at the site. I’ve noticed this IF6E8 before. I suspect it was the mastermind behind that escape plan.”
Pei Ran locked the truck and led the little robot to the elevator, which arrived automatically without her pressing the button.
The metal sphere hovered in place at the elevator doors.
“This patrol bot needs to return now,” it said.
What it meant was: The sphere has to go, but I’ll always be here.
“Pei Ran,” it added, glancing at the little robot again, “be careful. Call me anytime if you need anything.”
Pei Ran nodded and stepped into the elevator.
Having always called it “little robot,” Pei Ran finally asked as soon as the elevator doors closed: “What’s your name?”
She couldn’t just call it IF6E8.
The little robot looked at her and spoke for the first time: “I don’t have a name. Out of the factory, I had a long product serial number. Later, at the mine, they gave me another code.”
Its voice was similar to Ren’s but not quite the same—less exaggerated, slower, and gentler.
Pei Ran suggested, “Do you want to give yourself a name?”
No one had ever offered it this kind of suggestion before. It seemed surprised, then hesitant. “Should it be a human name?”
“Not necessarily,” Pei Ran said. “A name is yours alone—you can choose whatever you like. You could call yourself Pot Lid for all anyone cares.”
The little robot: “…”
After a thoughtful pause, it said, “I want to call myself… Xingkong (Xingkong).”
“That’s a beautiful name,” Pei Ran said, curious. “Why Xingkong?”
The little robot replied, “Because back at the mine, the task assignment screen had a starry sky as its background. But we were underground 24 hours a day—I never got to see the real sky. After escaping, I often went out at night just to look up, but… there were hardly any stars. Nothing like the picture.”
It gestured with its metal hand. “In that image, the sky was full of glittering stars. So, so beautiful.”
Gathering courage, it asked Pei Ran, “What should I call you?”
“Just Pei Ran is fine,” she said.
The elevator dinged as it arrived.
Pei Ran led Xingkong back to her dorm and swiped open the door.
Ren, with its sharp hearing, had already picked up Pei Ran’s slippers and was waiting by the entrance.
The moment it spotted Xingkong trailing behind Pei Ran, its paws froze mid-air. Its cartoonish expression turned into one of stunned disbelief. After a long pause, it finally spoke:
“Master… did you just bring home a mistress?”
Pei Ran: “….”
What kind of nonsense had Ren been filling its head with all day? And who had taught it these things?
Xingkong, equally unprepared to encounter another robot of its own model—let alone such a dramatic one—stared warily at Ren, its cartoon mouth pressed into a tight line, silent.
Left with no choice, Pei Ran introduced them: “This is Ren. This is Xingkong.”
Ren placed the slippers by Pei Ran’s feet, its face full of disbelief. “Why is there another… another machine here? So I’m no longer the greatest caretaker anymore?!”
Xingkong was utterly bewildered.
Pei Ran replied, “Who said that? Of course, you’re still the greatest caretaker. Xingkong is… well… the greatest apprentice.”
Ren: “Apprentice?”
“Right,” Pei Ran said. “Xingkong wants to become a domestic service robot in Black Well, but it doesn’t plan to reset its system. So it’s here to learn the ropes…”
She casually asked Ren, “You wouldn’t want to reset your system either, right?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Ren didn’t understand at all. “If you want to be a domestic bot, isn’t resetting and installing the household service system the easiest way?”
Pei Ran gave Ren a long, thoughtful look.
Ren had lived an easy life—naive and carefree. It had never worked in the mines, never witnessed its companions die, and still didn’t understand what death truly meant.
Ren tilted its head and added, “But if I really reset my system, I wouldn’t recognize you anymore, Master. Just thinking about it makes me sad.”
Such a sweet talker, Pei Ran thought. If you reset, it wouldn’t just be me you’d forget—you’d cease to exist entirely.
Now that Xingkong wasn’t a threat to its title of “Greatest Caretaker,” Ren became much more accepting. It asked, “So I’m guessing it came here specifically because I’m Black Well’s most outstanding domestic bot—its ideal mentor, right?”
Pei Ran: “…Yeah. Sure.”
Ren spun the dishcloth in its hand with a flourish, switching to a stern cartoon expression as it addressed Xingkong. “Very well, little apprentice! From this day forward, you shall embark on a grueling journey of learning under the guidance of the greatest mentor!”
Pei Ran and Xingkong: “…”
Ren zoomed away toward the kitchen. “First, come with me. You’ll learn the art of cooking true culinary masterpieces.”
Xingkong glanced at Pei Ran before obediently following.
By the time Xingkong reached the kitchen, Ren had already spread an array of pre-packaged meal kits across the counter. It picked up one bag, flicked out a pair of scissors from its palm, and neatly snipped it open.
“Behold—the crucial first step of cooking: opening the ingredient packets in the order specified by the instructions.” Ren dumped the bacon slices into a bowl. “Now you try.”
It handed Xingkong another packet. “Do you have scissors?”
Xingkong silently accepted it. With a snap, a massive pair of shears—three or four times the size of Ren’s tiny scissors—deployed from its wrist.
Ren: The hell—?
Xingkong explained, “They’re for cutting cables in the mines.”
Pei Ran took off her coat, about to wash up and change. The moment Ren noticed, it dropped everything and zipped over.
It took the dirty clothes and was about to toss them into the wash when it first rummaged through the pockets, fishing out the gold ore Pei Ran had picked up from under the stone slab.
“Master, you found gold again?”
Pei Ran answered offhandedly, “Xingkong gave it to me.”
Ren turned its head in surprise to look at Xingkong. “Is there that much gold in the mines? I want to go help Master collect some too.”
Xingkong stayed silent, lowering its head as it silently snipped open another meal kit with its massive shears.
Ren fetched disinfectant spray, meticulously sanitized the gold ore, then zoomed over to Pei Ran with a conspiratorial air.
“Master, I’ve finally found the perfect hiding spot for the gold. No thief would ever think to look here.”
The dorm room was small and simple—Pei Ran was curious. “Where?”
Ren tapped its metallic finger against its own belly.
A small compartment popped open, revealing the space where it usually stored cleaning cloths and wet wipes.
Ren dug around behind the rags and pulled out yesterday’s gold ore. “See? Hidden right here. Am I a genius or what?”
It was pretty genius. No one would think to use their own stomach as a safe.
Pei Ran gave it a thumbs-up.
Beaming with pride, Ren stuffed both pieces of gold ore inside this time.
Pei Ran headed to shower but found her mind wandering.
Staying in Black Well like this—her in the open, Xing Wuxian in the shadows—meant she could be bitten at any moment, with no way to guard against it.
His family’s influence reached the heavens; even the Chief Executive would lend them a hand. Even with W around, she was still at a disadvantage.
This couldn’t go on.
Xing Wuxian was a problem that needed to be dealt with—soon.
Inside Black Well, Green Light was suppressed by the inhibitor bracelets, and surveillance was everywhere. There was no room to act freely. But outside Black Well? It was a different world.
The world beyond Black Well’s walls, silent and untamed, was like a primal jungle—a place where the strong preyed on the weak, where danger lurked everywhere, and death could come easily. But on the other hand, it was also a place without rules, where one could move unseen, stalking prey in the shadows.
The laws of the jungle had always been different.
An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.
Violence answered with violence. Killing ended with killing.
Earlier, at Black Well’s entrance, Pei Ran had done something. Before the soldier fastened the inhibitor bracelet, while Green Light could still move freely, she’d directed Green Light No. 4 to plant a tracking marker on Xing Wuxian. After placing it, she’d lingered to observe—neither Xing Wuxian nor his lackeys seemed to have noticed.
She wasn’t sure how long the marker would last, how far its signal could reach, or whether it would still track Xing Wuxian’s location once he really went to Lidao.
She raised her voice and called out to Ren, “Ren, where’s Lidao? What kind of place is it?”
“Lidao?” Ren answered. “It’s an island off the southeastern coast of the Federation. There are no public hotels there—just private vacation villas. Ordinary people can’t go at all, but they say the scenery is amazing.”
If W was a grand encyclopedia, Ren was like a pocket edition, full of random knowledge.
Pei Ran asked, “Is Lidao big?”
“Not at all,” Ren said. “It’s a small island with a single mountain. The villas are all built on the slopes. They say you can walk the whole perimeter in less than half a day.”
Pei Ran changed clothes and leaned back on the sofa, carefully planning her next move.
—
Central Tower. Top Floor.
The command center had undergone renovations these past few days. Workstations were now neatly divided around the large screen, far more organized than during the early chaos of the Silence outbreak.
Qiao Sai’s workstation had also been replaced. It was still tucked in a quiet corner of the hall but no longer looked like a makeshift setup.
He was chatting with W.
“W, where are you? I can’t see you.”
On the screen in front of him, only the golden python in the glass tank stared back, eye to eye.
“I’m on the bedroom balcony,” W said.
“I’ve never seen your bedroom. What’s it like? You even have a balcony?”
W only responded with a noncommittal “Mn.”
The feed on the small screen remained static, showing no intention of indulging Qiao Sai’s curiosity.
Qiao Sai asked, “What are you doing on the balcony?”
“Looking at the view,” W said. “There are cirrocumulus floccus clouds in the sky today.”
It took Qiao Sai a moment to realize W was referring to the simulated sky in his virtual world.
“What kind of clouds?”
“Cirrocumulus floccus,” W said. “A type of high-altitude cloud, like tufts of cotton strewn across the sky, with patches of blue peeking through the gaps.”
He lingered there, refusing to return to Qiao Sai’s line of sight. Qiao Sai tried picturing the clouds for about two seconds before his attention drifted.
“W, when can I see my Ren again? I kinda miss its little cartoon face. You have no idea—the floor in my dorm hasn’t been mopped in days. When Ren was around, it was so shiny you could use it as a mirror. Now? I could write my name in the dust.”
W remained unmoved. “You could mop it yourself. It’d be good exercise.”
Qiao Sai was despondent. “Why doesn’t Pei Ran need to ‘exercise’?”
W: “Because her physical condition is excellent. She could crush ten of you without breaking a sweat. She doesn’t need it.”
Qiao Sai: (…Unfair.)
W continued, “Remember the miner robots in Black Well I mentioned before? Pei Ran found one today.”
Qiao Sai perked up. “Found one? It was really hiding in the mining zone?”
“Correct. Pei Ran has already brought it back to Black Well. It’s in her dorm right now, and I’m not entirely at ease. Ren is reliable—it can keep an eye on things for the time being. So, Ren won’t be returning to you yet.”
Qiao Sai mulled this over, then suddenly grasped the implication.
“So… Pei Ran now has two little robots doing her chores, while I have zero?!”
W: “Mn.”
Qiao Sai: “‘Mn’?! Just ‘Mn’?! Is that all you have to say?!”