In the Yellow Zone dormitory, Pei Ran did indeed have two small robots bustling about doing chores in front of her.
Xingkong silently followed Ren, like a real apprentice learning how to do household tasks—doing whatever it was told without complaint.
It deftly wiped the dining table, set out plates and bowls, and carried the faint scent of disinfectant, likely sprayed by Ren.
Ren had put away the untouched lunchbox from Pei Ran’s bag, insisting she eat the lunch they had prepared instead—a large plate of double-serving mac and cheese with bacon.
The bacon slices and pasta were coated in melted cheese, rich and flavorful.
But despite the delicious spread in front of her, Pei Ran was distracted, still mulling over the matter of Xing Wuxian.
Unusually, she ate much slower than usual, prompting Ren to glance back and forth at her repeatedly.
Ren tilted its head, staring at Pei Ran for a while, then at the mac and cheese, utterly puzzled.
“Today, Xingkong used its big scissors to cut open the ingredients—did you notice, Master? I think it did a neat job, not bad at all, right?”
Pei Ran snapped out of her thoughts. “Huh? What does that have to do with scissors?”
“Spoken like someone who’s never studied cooking,” Ren said. “When cutting open ingredient packets, you shouldn’t just use any scissors—the technique matters too.”
It flicked out the small scissors from its palm and demonstrated solemnly.
“You need a fixed angle, precise pressure, and the optimal cutting speed. These details absolutely cannot be overlooked.”
The little scissors snipped the air with a crisp click.
Ren concluded: “This—is what you call—craftsman—spirit.”
Pei Ran: “…”
Pei Ran: All this pretentious nonsense—does it have even the slightest effect on how the food tastes?
After the meal, once Ren and the other robot had cleared the table, Pei Ran set up and resumed working on her painting.
Xingkong placed the plates into the dishwasher, then came over and suddenly whispered, “There are so many clouds in the sky!”
It was referring to the virtual window.
Outside the virtual window, the blue sky was dotted with small, evenly scattered clouds, like cotton candy strewn across the ground.
As evening approached, the cotton candy clouds were dyed gold by the setting sun.
Pei Ran painted all afternoon. At dinner, she didn’t let Ren and the other robot cook, opting to eat the lunchbox she had brought back instead. After finishing, she returned to her painting.
She kept at it until nightfall.
Ren busied itself gliding back and forth, mopping the floor, while Xingkong—lacking a wheeled base—couldn’t do the same, so it wiped down dust with a cloth instead.
From time to time, it would lift its head and glance at the virtual window outside.
Suddenly, it said, “Pei Ran, look—there’s a ring around the moon!”
Pei Ran looked up. The virtual curtains were half-drawn, revealing a large, bright moon surrounded by a faint halo.
Ren chimed in: “That’s a lunar halo.”
Pei Ran was completely lost. “Lunar halo? What’s that?”
Ren explained: “It’s an optical phenomenon. When moonlight shines through clouds, the ice crystals in the clouds refract the light, forming a halo around the moon.”
W’s weather simulation system was surprisingly intricate.
Pei Ran suddenly remembered and called out in her mind: “W.”
W immediately responded in her ear: “I’m here.”
Pei Ran asked W: “Did Xing Wuxian and the others leave in the end?”
W replied: “Their guns were confiscated. In the end, they had no choice but to exchange them for registered ones. The rest of their belongings were eventually released after receiving special approval from Basserway. By evening, they had finally completed all the procedures and left Black Well.”
Xing Wuxian had really left Black Well. It was unclear whether he truly intended to go to the Lidao or somewhere else.
Xingkong clutched the dusting cloth, carefully wiping the dining table once more.
Pei Ran glanced at the busy little robot and suddenly remembered something.
She made a silent wish to the virtual weather god in her mind: “The moon is so big tonight that no stars are visible. Will there be stars tomorrow night? Lots and lots of them, twinkling and beautiful?”
W answered gently: “Possibly.”
Pei Ran said to Xingkong: “The weather forecast says that outside that window, we might see lots and lots of stars tomorrow night.”
“Really?” Xingkong held the cloth, tilting its head to gaze at the virtual sky outside the window, eyes full of anticipation.
Pei Ran looked again at the moon with its halo and thought it was quite beautiful—but the thought quickly passed.
She lowered her head and continued painting.
The moonlight outside the window was lovely, but it was only an illusion—just like the peaceful life in Black Well. Comfortable, tempting, yet fragile.
If she didn’t take action to eliminate the threats lurking beneath this facade of stability, this peace would burst like an illusory soap bubble at the slightest touch.
- ••
Black Well.
Day 18 of the Silence. (TL: Damn not even a month yet?!)
Early in the morning, after taking her medicine and eating breakfast, Pei Ran hurried out the door.
As soon as she stepped out, W immediately greeted her: “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Pei Ran replied.
She headed to the garage, hopped into her small truck, and sped straight to the 33rd-floor office in Central Tower.
Team Leader Li, ever the health-conscious early riser, had already arrived. She was leisurely sipping water from an insulated cup when she spotted Pei Ran and cheerfully greeted her: “Everything go smoothly yesterday?”
“Yeah, wrapped up early,” Pei Ran handed back the car keys. “Are we going out to retrieve equipment again today?”
“Not today,” Team Leader Li said. “I’ve got interviews scheduled with a few volunteers applying for this job. The work takes place outside Black Well, pays well in resource vouchers, and isn’t particularly dangerous, so we’ve had a lot of applicants lately. If any of them are a good fit, they’ll take over soon, and we won’t have to handle it anymore.”
She added: “Oh, right—Lu Ming and the others got back yesterday. They’re on the 35th floor with Special Ops now. You’ll finally get to meet the rest of our team.”
Pei Ran said, “I was just about to ask. Last time, you mentioned Deputy Team Leader Lu was heading to Lidao?”
Team Leader Li nodded. “Yep, there’s an urgent rescue mission out there. I expect they’ll be leaving soon.”
Pei Ran asked, “Can I go with them?”
Team Leader Li froze. “Of course you can… well, probably. Lu Ming’s always complaining about being short-handed. But are you sure? It’s a high-risk mission.”
Pei Ran nodded immediately. “I’m sure.”
Team Leader Li recognized her determination. “Given your track record, you’d be a good fit for rescue ops. These past couple days collecting equipment must’ve felt pretty dull, huh? Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to meet Lu Ming and the others.”
- ••
Central Tower – Top Floor Command Center
As always, W’s voice echoed through the command center, methodically coordinating operations inside and outside Black Well. Its tone remained calm and detached, utterly devoid of emotion.
But on Qiao Sai’s screen, W looked… different.
It sat on the living room sofa reading a book, uncharacteristically bundled up in a thick, fuzzy robe over an equally heavy set of pajamas. A large red scarf was wrapped high around its neck, covering half its face up to the chin.
Qiao Sai: “What are you doing?”
He frowned. “I know the virtual world doesn’t have temperature, but are you… trying to sweat out a fever?”
W didn’t look up. “Stood on the balcony too long last night. Caught a chill. Feeling a bit under the weather.”
Qiao Sai: ???
Qiao Sai: “W, don’t be ridiculous. You’re a virtual avatar. Since when do you ‘catch chills’?”
W replied flatly: “My pet was designed with real biological parameters. Naturally, my virtual persona is also modeled after human traits—colds and illnesses included. Is that so strange?”
He raised his hand and touched his forehead. “Seems like I have a bit of a fever.”
Qiao Sai: “…”
Qiao Sai: “Then why don’t you take a virtual fever reducer? Oh wait, you don’t have any—guess you’ll have to code one first. Or do you need to build an entire virtual pharmaceutical factory in your world first?”
The figure on the screen, seemingly oblivious to Qiao Sai’s sarcasm, remained still. His voice carried a hint of inexplicable petulance as he uttered two words: “Don’t wanna.”
After a long silence, he suddenly said: “She can’t multitask.”
Qiao Sai: “Who? Oh, Pei Ran. Obviously—she’s human. Of course she can’t process multiple threads like you AI can.”
W: “So when she’s busy, she can’t spare a glance my way.”
Qiao Sai: “Unbelievable.”
W suddenly murmured: “What is she doing?”
Qiao Sai: “Pei Ran again? What about her?”
W already knew. It closed the book in its hands. “She’s going to Lidao.”
Qiao Sai was completely lost. “Pei Ran’s going to Lidao? With everything in chaos right now, fusion bodies running rampant—why would she go there?”
W didn’t answer, but it understood perfectly.
It turned to Qiao Sai: “That thing I asked you to make for me last time—it’s not finished yet, is it? The surveillance doesn’t cover your dorm, so I can’t check the progress.”
Qiao Sai gave him an exasperated look. “You doubt me? Of course it’s done. Pulled all-nighters for it.”
W gazed beyond the screen. “I knew it. Only Qiao Sai could work that fast.”
Caught off guard by the rare praise, Qiao Sai immediately forgot his exhaustion. “You planning to give it to her now?”
W nodded. “Yes. Please deliver it to her immediately.”
—
Pei Ran followed Team Leader Li to the 35th floor.
The place buzzed with activity—far livelier than the floors below. Most people wore military uniforms or camouflage combat gear, moving briskly through the halls.
Team Leader Li led Pei Ran familiarly to a room.
Inside, a small group huddled together—some perched on tables, others leaning over, tapping rhythmically on a virtual screen.
“Tap-tap-tap-tap—”
“Clack-clack-clack—”
They were all practicing Morse code.
They tapped in the same manner as Tang Dao—fingers for short signals, palms for long ones—but they were all clearly inexperienced, fumbling through it like last-minute cramming, still peeking at the code charts as they tapped out halting, uneven rhythms.
Suddenly, Pei Ran spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
A dark-haired girl with long, upturned lashes, dressed in light gray combat gear, the circular FBSMD emblem affixed to her chest.
She was bent over the table, earnestly tapping out Morse code.
Pei Ran recognized her instantly—the same girl who, on the day the Silence began, had stood amid the panicked crowd at the supermarket entrance in White Harbor, calmly compiling all available intel on a virtual screen.
Turns out, she was also an FBSMD operative with abilities—and she’d made it to Black Well too.
Among the group, a young man leaned against the table, addressing everyone: “No one’s fluent at first. Don’t stress—just keep practicing.”
Team Leader Li rapped her knuckles against the open door. “Lu Ming, look—we’ve got a new recruit.”
The young man turned.
So this was Lu Ming, FBSMD’s deputy team leader.
He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with thick brows that cast a stern shadow over his eyes. His rolled-up combat sleeves and no-nonsense demeanor stood in stark contrast to Team Leader Li’s easygoing warmth.
Lu Ming sized up Pei Ran. “This the newcomer you mentioned yesterday?”
Others in the room had already recognized her, their eyes widening. “Isn’t that—the one from the central square’s big screen—?”
Someone said, “Pei Ran.”
The weight of universal recognition was unnerving.
The dark-haired girl spotted Pei Ran and immediately gave a small, discreet wave. Clearly, she’d recognized her from the broadcast too—and wasn’t the least bit surprised to see her here.
Lu Ming, however, didn’t seem to know her at all.
“Sorry, I don’t pay attention to the screens,” he said. “Just got back from outside Black Well yesterday.”
A passing soldier stepped in to deliver documents, casually asking, “Lu Ming, were you in the capital retrieving those Academy experts?”
Lu Ming nodded tersely. “Yeah. Only brought back one. Lost a few people too. Hope the Lidao mission goes smoother.”
The soldier asked, “Special Ops casualties, or FBSMD?”
“Both,” Lu Ming replied.
As the soldier left, Team Leader Li continued, “You’re always short-handed, right? Pei Ran says she’s willing to go—and I think she’d be a good fit.”
Lu Ming scrutinized Pei Ran again, his brow furrowing deeper. “A good fit?”
Team Leader Li nodded. “Trust me on this.”
Lu Ming hopped down from the table. “The new recruit hasn’t even had basic firearms training, has she? This mission to Lidao requires carrying guns—and we’re leaving soon.”
“So soon?” Team Leader Li was surprised. “But firearms training can be done in minutes, can’t it?”
She opened her wrist display and sent Pei Ran a file. “Training has three parts: safety protocols, combat simulations, and live-fire practice.”
Pei Ran skimmed through the material—mostly safety guidelines for handling various firearms.
“Done,” she said after a quick read.
“There’s a link below,” Team Leader Li said. “Click it for the safety and simulation tests.”
True to her word, it was an instant exam.
Instead of written questions, the virtual screen displayed dynamic scenarios—testing judgment calls on correct procedures or identifying mistakes in simulated situations.
Pei Ran blazed through dozens of questions in minutes.
The group stopped their discussions, crowding around to watch her take the test.
The results flashed: a perfect score.
“Damn, that’s impressive,” someone muttered. “She aced it after one read? I bombed a bunch of these back then.”
“Yeah, some questions are tricky—real curveballs.”
Lu Ming remained unimpressed. “It’s just basic testing.”
Team Leader Li drawled, “‘Basic’—yet not everyone nails a perfect score.”
She pulled out her silver handgun and handed it to Pei Ran.
“Across the hall’s a makeshift range Special Ops set up. Go practice there. Once you’re done, you’ll be cleared to carry.”
Lu Ming, still visibly skeptical, frowned. “We’re leaving soon. No time for extensive training—just cover basic stance and grip.”
The practice room opposite the hallway was indeed temporary—sparse and rudimentary, with targets lined up at the far end.
Team Leader Li explained the pistol’s mechanics and demonstrated proper firing posture.
Pei Ran listened intently, then asked, “So if I can shoot accurately, that’s it—I’m qualified?”
Lu Ming cut in, “No need for ‘accurate.’ Hitting the target at all is enough. Just remember the safety rules—don’t blast a hole in anyone here.”
Before his words fully landed—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Gunfire cracked through the room.
The target board automatically moved over—even without it moving, everyone could still clearly see.
Each of those shots had hit the bullseye with steady, precise accuracy.
Team Leader Li was pleasantly surprised. “Pei Ran, that good? Have you used a gun before? If you have, just tell me so I don’t have to waste energy teaching you.”
Pei Ran answered honestly, “I’ve used a gun before, but nothing as advanced as this one. I’m afraid I won’t know how to handle such a high-end weapon.”
Lu Ming looked at the target, then at Pei Ran. He was quiet for a while before finally speaking: “We can’t speak outside Black Well, so we’ll need to communicate using electric code. I’ll send it to you—go through it quickly.”
The black-haired girl next to them added in a low voice, “Everyone’s just learned it. None of us are very good at it, so don’t be nervous.”
Lu Ming added Pei Ran through his wristband and sent her the code chart.
Pei Ran glanced through it and said, “I know how to use this.”
Lu Ming couldn’t help but look up. “You do?”
Pei Ran didn’t answer. She simply knocked on the wall with her knuckles: 【That’s right. I studied it a bit before.】
Lu Ming didn’t say a word. She said she’d only “studied a bit,” but in truth, she used it more fluently than anyone here—including him.
After a long pause, Lu Ming spoke again. “What’s your ability? What general category does it fall under?”
He added, “According to regulations, you have the right to refuse to answer. I’m only asking because it’ll be very dangerous out there. If teammates are familiar with each other’s abilities, cooperation becomes much easier.”
Pei Ran glanced at him. “Collapse-type.”
Then she immediately asked, “What about yours?”
No way she was going to be the only one to disclose.
Lu Ming replied calmly, “Also collapse-type.”
Pei Ran: Really?