After the meeting ended, Qiu Shi and Xing Bi didn’t leave right away—Li Feng asked them to stay behind.
Once the other department heads and Colonel Yu had left, Li Feng touched base briefly with Zhang Qifeng and then returned to the meeting room. “Chief Zhang is heading back to Donglin Town tonight. Xing Bi, pick a group for him to take first, and send someone experienced to keep an eye on things.”
“Why is Chief Zhang’s side getting dispatched first?” Curator Wu asked.
“He’s not the type to act on his own ideas,” Li Feng replied. “He’s been involved in all of this from the start, so he understands the situation better. And… his son’s going too. He’ll be cautious—not likely to cause trouble.”
“Zhang Sihai is the biggest trouble of all,” Curator Wu said, frowning.
“He’s matured, he’s matured,” Li Feng said. “I saw him before the meeting in the parking lot. He’s got wrinkles now. Looks a bit like Qiu Shi’s uncle.”
“Nice description,” Qiu Shi said.
“How many people do we send?” Xing Bi asked.
“You decide,” said Li Feng. “Some will stay in Donglin, and others will go to Xingchuan.”
“Okay.” Xing Bi nodded.
“Now let’s get to the real business,” Li Feng lit a cigarette. “About that—”
“If you’re low on energy, I’ve got pills,” Curator Wu cut in, frowning. “If oral’s not enough, I’ve got injectables. You never used to crave this much—what’s going on?”
“It’s not about energy. It’s anxiety.” Li Feng set the cigarette pack aside. “Everyone here was directly involved in the lab reversal. I asked you to stay so we could talk in more detail. If you’ve got something to say, don’t hold back.”
“I want to clarify something first,” Qiu Shi said. “That data-person—he’s not living inside the General’s memory, right? He can come and go freely, using those cables connected to the General’s brain?”
“Yes.” Wang Hong nodded.
“Then when I connect,” Qiu Shi looked at him, “can he come into my brain through the General?”
Qiu Shi’s question clearly caught Li Feng off guard—his eyebrows rose as he turned to look at Wang Hong.
“No. This data… person,” Wang Hong said, “we currently identify him as the data of A01-249. He needs to—”
“Wait,” Qiu Shi frowned. “What’s this A01-whatever?”
“That’s the missing first-generation bioroid,” Li Feng explained. “That’s his ID number. Does it sound familiar to you?”
“I feel like I’ve heard those numbers before.” Qiu Shi closed his eyes and leaned back.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Li Feng warned him.
“I heard it somewhere…” Qiu Shi murmured. “Did one of you mention it?”
“This is the first time we’ve mentioned it in front of you,” Xing Bi said. “Maybe you saw or heard it in the General’s rooms?”
“Yes!” Qiu Shi’s eyes snapped open. “The professor said it—he said it! He said it was 249!”
“You’re sure?” Li Feng asked.
“I’m sure,” Qiu Shi said. “But there wasn’t any ‘A01’ or dash or anything.”
“He meant the same thing, right?” Li Feng looked at Wang Hong.
“249 is the ID—unique for each bioroid,” Zhang Tan added. “It’s him.”
“There’s no remaining record or file on 249,” Li Feng said. “His data entered the cable network. We don’t know if it was his own doing or someone else’s. Do either of the two chief researchers have any clues?”
“No. But we believe he’s guarding the General’s memory,” Wang Hong said. “There’s something he wants in there. Both the professor and Qiu Shi were hunted and purged when they entered.”
“What’s in the General’s memory?” Li Feng leaned back in his chair. “The General wasn’t exactly brilliant. Yun City’s been peaceful for years—never even had a war. He’s more of a talisman, a symbol. Why keep his brain preserved all this time?”
“Does Mr. Long know?” Curator Wu asked.
“No,” Li Feng replied. “I talked to him briefly before the meeting. I’ve been watching him in the lab these past few days—it’s obvious there’s a lot he doesn’t know. The two chief scientists probably know more.”
“Qiu Shi and I are going back to Xima Town,” Xing Bi said.
“There’s a lead there?” Li Feng asked.
“There’s another first-generation bioroid there,” Xing Bi replied. “But he’s dying.”
“A bioroid—dying?” Li Feng frowned.
“It’s his choice,” Xing Bi said.
“Who is he? Can he be brought back?” Curator Wu leaned forward excitedly. “He might be the last of the first generation! Older than even your era. His knowledge of the original tech could—”
“Lap Wu,” Li Feng interrupted. “Calm down.”
Curator Wu sighed and sank back into his chair.
“What we need to do now is twofold,” Li Feng said. “First, figure out 249’s origin and background. Second, figure out how he moves. Does he have… a home? I mean, a hideout? Or is he just always floating around inside those cables…”
“He definitely has a base—he needs a place to store himself,” Zhang Tan said. “It’s unlikely he fully entered the General’s memory. If the connection gets interrupted, he could be trapped in there.”
“The part we’ve seen could just be a copy,” Wang Hong added. “What we need to find is where the original data is stored.”
“Fu-ck,” Qiu Shi muttered, frowning. “How the hell do we find that?”
“We need…” Wang Hong glanced at the projected cable diagram on the wall.
“A full map of all cable distributions,” Curator Wu said.
“Do we have that?” Li Feng asked.
“No,” Curator Wu replied. “We were just a mining company fleeing for our lives. We had money, land, and managed to bring some old data and a lab with us. But compared to the vast tech infrastructure back then, we’re just a drop in the ocean. Generations have died since then. And from the records, the war and the final explosion, and fire… I doubt much was left.”
“Then head to Xima Town first,” Li Feng looked at Xing Bi. “The one first-gen bioroid you’re in contact with might be our only lead.”
“Mm.” Xing Bi gave a brief nod and got up.
“I can go in again,” Qiu Shi said. “There must be clues in the General’s memory.”
“No.” Li Feng rejected him flatly. “Absolutely not.”
“No,” Wang Hong echoed. Even as someone obsessed with connecting Qiu Shi, he firmly objected. “If we aren’t 100% sure that what we need is in there, you can’t go in. The unknown damage could be severe. You’re too valuable for our research—you can’t risk it.”
“Watch your mouth, Chief,” Qiu Shi snapped. “Don’t say shit like ‘research value.’ Makes me want to hit you.”
They departed for Xima Town immediately.
Qiu Shi looked at the two large supply crates already sitting next to their vehicle and couldn’t help but admire Li Feng. In the ten-odd minutes Xing Bi spent handing off the deployment of bioroids to Zhang Qifeng and Lin Sheng, logistics officer Li Feng had everything packed and ready.
Immediate departure. No gaps.
“Li Feng’s secretary and assistant…” Qiu Shi leaned back in the passenger seat, reclining his chair, “How do they stay alive? If their boss works like this, they must be exhausted too.”
“Doesn’t matter the era—even two hundred years from now,” Xing Bi said as he started the car and headed out of the city, “wage slaves will always be the same.”
Li Feng stared at the map in front of him, silent for a long time.
Only he and Chen Dang remained in the meeting room. Curator Wu, in response to the Logistics Bureau’s electricity-saving campaign, had left just one light on over the corner of the conference table.
“Do you have anything else to add?” Li Feng asked.
“No,” said Chen Dang.
“Can I trust that?” Li Feng asked.
“You should be able to tell,” Chen Dang said. “I don’t know much either. If Zheng Ting’s central system hasn’t been destroyed, maybe we can still find something.”
“Xing Bi didn’t destroy his system,” Li Feng said. “Old Wu and the others will try to analyze it.”
“That’s about all I can think of,” Chen Dang said.
“My intuition tells me to trust you,” Li Feng glanced at him, “but rationally it’s hard. bioroids are truly powerful in some ways—frightening, even.”
“To me, it’s humans who are frighteningly powerful,” Chen Dang said.
“You mean Qiu Shi?” Li Feng smiled.
“Someone like Qiu Shi is something bioroids can never achieve even if they get ‘infinitely close,’” Chen Dang said. “I used to think he didn’t want anything, just lived in the present moment. Now I realize what he wants could be as big as an entire world.”
“That’s exactly why you should trust him,” Li Feng said. “Only someone like him can give both humans and bioroids a sense of security.”
The car drove out of Cloud City and passed the stretch of jagged wasteland where the defensive shelter was. Qiu Shi saw many engineering vehicles from mining companies and some framework structures hastily erected near the mountains—it looked like buildings were about to go up.
“Are they expanding outward?” Qiu Shi leaned against the window and looked outside.
“Looks like it,” Xing Bi replied. “Since the defense line now reaches Xima, it makes sense not to waste this stretch of land. They can expand the outer city to accommodate more refugees, boost production, and use it as a buffer zone for war.”
“A buffer zone?” Qiu Shi glanced at him. “That’s just another way of saying a death zone, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Xing Bi responded.
“Maybe there won’t be any more war,” Qiu Shi said. “In a few decades, maybe a century, this place might be comfortable to live in. Just not sure if I’ll live to see that day.”
“Living a long time doesn’t necessarily make life interesting,” Xing Bi said.
“Xing Bi,” Qiu Shi looked at him. “Would you… ever make that kind of choice?”
“What kind of choice?” Xing Bi asked.
Qiu Shi didn’t answer.
“I don’t know,” Xing Bi said. “Are you trying to convince me not to make that choice?”
“I don’t know,” Qiu Shi replied. “I’ll definitely die before you. I don’t know which would be more painful or more joyful—watching you slowly age and die, or you forever living inside memories.”
The old man still lived in the small room inside the underground warehouse. Qiu Shi had had Captain Yang assign this warehouse to the bioroids for storing their supplies. Normally, no one disturbed them.
As usual, they had arranged to meet Deng Yeye here.
Grandpa was still in his wheelchair and looked about the same as the last time they saw him, but his eyes seemed a little unfocused. He stared at Qiu Shi for a while before recognizing him. “Qiu Shi.”
“Yes, Grandpa,” Qiu Shi said.
“You’ve changed,” Grandpa said. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“Your central system is starting to fail,” the old man said. “Might not last another three months.”
The old man’s words were blunt, but Grandpa didn’t seem to mind. For bioroids, concepts like “life and death” might not mean the same as they do for humans.
“Let’s get to business,” Deng Yeye said as she opened a can of food. “Ah, canned food from Cloud City still tastes the best—so much better than that stuff outside with a hundred-year shelf life.”
“If it had a hundred-year shelf life, it’s probably at least fifty years past expiration by now,” Qiu Shi said.
“Expiration dates are just a guideline. As long as it’s not spoiled, you can eat it,” Deng Yeye said. “It’s just not as tasty.”
“Weren’t we going to talk about serious matters?” Xing Bi said.
“Right,” Deng Yeye nodded. “Let’s get to it.”
“Grandpa,” Qiu Shi sat across from the wheelchair. “Do you know about a01249? A first-generation bioroid.”
Grandpa looked at him. His gaze was unfocused, but when he heard that code, his eyes landed precisely on Qiu Shi’s face. “Did you come across 249?”
“You could say that,” Qiu Shi said. “We came across… his data.”
“Data?” Deng Yeye asked.
“Back in our time, we only heard about him. We weren’t allowed near core technologies. A bioroid like him, who was directly involved, was way beyond our reach,” Grandpa said. “He never left the research institute his whole life.”
“Research institute? What research institute?” Qiu Shi pressed. “Where is it?”
“Military-controlled research institute,” Grandpa said. “I don’t know where—it was underground…”
Grandpa trailed off mid-sentence, just staring at Qiu Shi.
“Grandpa?” Qiu Shi called.
“He’ll be fine in a while,” Deng Yeye said. “Sometimes he gets like this.”
“Locked up,” the old man added. “That’s how the first-gens are. Even without cognitive decline, they still lock up easily.”
“Locked up?” Qiu Shi was surprised. “He’s not a robot.”
“We use that word so you’ll understand,” Xing Bi said.
“Fine,” Qiu Shi turned to the old man. “Do you know what he was talking about?”
The old man chuckled.
“You always liked eavesdropping when you were hiding on the second floor of Big Rock,” Qiu Shi said. “Now that you’ve got such a walking story machine next to you, I’m sure you’ve learned plenty.”
“You really know me well,” the old man laughed.
“What is this core technology?” Xing Bi asked. “Why were bioroids involved? Is it related to bioroids themselves?”
“How would I know that!” the old man shouted. “You think he knows?”
Xing Bi didn’t respond.
“He actually knows a little,” the old man smiled. “But all he knows is that after that research began, the fungus started appearing. Whether that was coincidence or causality, no one knows.”
“bioroids have been compatible with the fungus from the very beginning,” Xing Bi said. “Even bioroids based on human biological systems were designed from the start to work with fungi.”
“Damn,” Qiu Shi muttered, thinking it over. “Then it’s not a coincidence.”
“Maybe the instability of the first-gens wasn’t just about their performance,” Deng Yeye said. “Maybe it was about their imperfect symbiosis with the fungus.”
“Are second-gens perfect, then?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Ask him.” Deng Yeye tilted her chin toward Xing Bi.
Qiu Shi turned to look at him.
“I don’t know what ‘perfect’ means,” Xing Bi said. “But our symbiosis doesn’t require any external factors. As long as we choose it, it’s possible.”
“And that symbiosis can go as far as what happened with Zheng Ting,” Deng Yeye added.
“Can I understand it this way,” Qiu Shi felt a chill down his spine, “that from the very beginning, the world wasn’t doing well—even with the help of the first-generation biotics, it didn’t improve. So… they started thinking about changing things, about surviving in another way. Like symbiosis with the fungus? But that doesn’t make sense. Too few humans are immune to the fungus. Only second-generation biotics can…”
“So the humans back then wanted to wipe themselves out?” Deng Yeye frowned.
“The research wasn’t completed before the war broke out,” Xing Bi said.
“And then the fungus outbreak happened. So what were they really trying to study…” Deng Yeye said.
“The brain,” Qiu Shi said softly, looking at Xing Bi. “Right?”
Aside from the general’s brain, Yun City had no remaining research related to this subject. If the general’s brain really contained vital information, and someone had the foresight to preserve it entirely and even devise a way to extract data from it—that could only mean specialized research had taken place. And if that research were connected to all of this, it would be terrifying.
Humans wanted to completely shed their original flesh and continue existing in this world through biotics.
“What’s the role of the fungus, then?” Qiu Shi frowned and asked in a low voice.
“It’s the easiest way to ensure absolute obedience to commands. It allows for retaining self-awareness, while also enabling immediate cohesion into a collective,” Xing Bi said. “For some leaders, that’s a pretty ideal scenario. Cuts down on a lot of trouble.”
Qiu Shi didn’t respond. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Under the bridge,” Grandpa suddenly spoke, having been silent all this time.
“What bridge?” Xing Bi asked.
“A big bridge,” Grandpa said. “Every time we passed it, we were in a vehicle, going through the lower-level tunnel. Beneath it was a river—a wide, huge river… maybe even the sea.”
“You first-gens,” Xing Bi frowned, “couldn’t tell from inside the vehicle whether it was a river or the sea?”
“Mhm,” Grandpa looked at him. “Why?”
“…Nothing,” Xing Bi said.
“Feeling a bit smug, aren’t you?” Grandpa asked.
“No,” Xing Bi replied. “It’s all man-made, just different craftsmanship. Nothing to be proud of.”
That made Qiu Shi feel uncomfortable.
“Thoughts and emotions aren’t man-made,” he looked at Xing Bi. “They’re yours. Even if you came from humans, you’ll never turn into another Teacher. You’ll always be yourself. There’s no second you in the whole universe.”
“Yo,” Deng Yeye looked at Qiu Shi.
“What kind of bridge is it?” Qiu Shi turned to Grandpa. “You’ve seen the bridge, right? They all look different, don’t they?”
“Like a butterfly,” Grandpa smiled.
Deng Yeye spent a while drawing this butterfly-like bridge on the ground. In the end, they realized what Grandpa described were just several parallel lines pinched together in the middle.
“This is a butterfly?” Qiu Shi was stunned.
“The two sides joined together look like wings,” Grandpa said, his eyes drifting into the distance, lost in thought.
Xing Bi didn’t recognize the bridge. The old man had collected many maps, but he’d never seen it either.
The lead on the research facility ended there.
“Qu Shen is looking through records,” Li Feng lounged in his office chair in pajamas, legs resting on the desk. “Xing Bi doesn’t need sleep—shouldn’t you sleep too? Let me get some shut-eye while you’re at it?”
“You can sleep after this call ends,” Qiu Shi said.
“I was about to sleep,” Li Feng grumbled. “Then you suddenly woke me up. You think I can fall back asleep now?”
“I can,” Qiu Shi replied.
“Young people, damn,” Li Feng muttered.
“Those past studies—do you and Mr. Long really not know anything about them?” Qiu Shi asked.
“We were all born in Yun City. Forget stuff from before the war—even post-war history, we don’t know much,” Li Feng said. “Our so-called understanding of history is limited to Yun City.”
“Mm,” Qiu Shi responded.
“Get some rest, Qiu Shi,” Li Feng said.
“Xing Bi came up with an idea,” Qiu Shi said. “We might be able to lure 249 out.”
“What kind of idea?” Li Feng asked. “Doesn’t sound like a safe one.”
“Using that little cube from Zheng Ting,” Qiu Shi said. “Zheng Ting could communicate with 249. If Xing Bi can control Zheng Ting…”
“You think that’ll work?” Li Feng asked.
“I don’t know,” Qiu Shi said. “But I think it’s dangerous.”
“I think it’s dangerous too,” Li Feng said.
“Would you allow it?” Qiu Shi asked.
Li Feng was quiet for a while before speaking: “Are you afraid the lab people might come up with the same idea, and I’d make Xing Bi do it—since he’s the best at control?”
“You totally would,” Qiu Shi said.
“What do you think I am, in your eyes?” Li Feng asked.
“Scary, cunning… but reliable,” Qiu Shi said. “I just want to know, if we can’t find where 249 is hiding, what’s your plan?”
“You’ll go out and find him,” Li Feng said.
“What?” Qiu Shi froze.
“You’ll go search—for that bridge, for that underground research facility,” Li Feng said. “The area is already narrowed down. Look for places with water. We’ve got time—not much, but enough. Go find it.”
“F*** your ancestors, you call that a small area?” Qiu Shi cursed. “And is that really safer than the other method?”
“Can’t be any more dangerous,” Li Feng said. “Follow the cable path and find places with rivers. If 249 realizes you’re looking for him, he might contact you himself.”
“Then what?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Ask Xing Bi,” Li Feng said.
Qiu Shi said nothing.
“Xing Bi!” Li Feng said.
“Yeah?” Xing Bi responded.
“Are you two messing with me for fun…” Li Feng sighed. “Whatever you’re planning, wait until you’re back in Yun City tomorrow. That first-gen—can you still get anything out of him?”
“He’s dead,” Xing Bi said.
“What?” Li Feng froze.
“The only first-gen left now is 249, hidden inside the cable network,” Xing Bi said.
