Chapter 136: Extra 1 – Chronicles of Ping An Island (Part Two)
After hearing the Silver Hammer visitors describe their island’s conditions, the officer’s budding enthusiasm for trade was tempered by reason, slowly receding.
Trade was appealing, but if Silver Hammer’s culture was so toxic, forcing ties would trouble Ping An’s residents.
Since it needed more thought, they focused on the present.
After talks, the group agreed not to move to the main island.
They weren’t here to freeload—nobody welcomed freeloaders except freeloaders themselves.
Conveniently, their islet was a blank slate awaiting development.
They could aid Ping An while building their own new home from scratch.
This “fresh start” was far easier.
Their crew was well-rounded: vanguards, logistics, medics, technicians, analysts, mechanics, scouts—fully equipped.
A band of young, peak-condition adults, bold enough to venture to the world’s edge, could carve out a new homeland.
In Silver Hammer, though, they’d be nearing the average mercenary death age.
Thirty was a stark divide between life and death.
At 28, Ning Zhuo felt lucky, teetering on death’s edge before pivoting into this peaceful new world.
But Tang Kaichang’s fondness for this world was limited.
…So many people, terrifying.
Old Lan, named Lan Ye, was an action-driven nerd with a brilliant mind but zero social finesse, bursting with a love for talent he couldn’t contain, eager to chat with Tang Kaichang.
Tang Kaichang, allergic to strangers’ kindness, nearly panicked, shrinking into the cage’s depths, playing dead.
After talks, Ning Zhuo’s group left the containers, finding Lan Ye still crouched by the cage, doggedly trying to connect with Tang Kaichang.
The officer, embarrassed, barked to summon Lan Ye back.
Lan Ye didn’t budge, but Tang Kaichang flinched, silently vowing to stay indoors for three days.
Knowing Tang Kaichang’s sensitivities, Ning Zhuo didn’t force him out. He dismantled the chicken coop, dragging the wheeled cage, bidding the officer farewell, and personally escorted Tang Kaichang to his container.
Tang Kaichang was his find; Ning Zhuo felt duty-bound to protect this fragile younger brother.
Ning Zhuo pulled the cage ahead, the uneven ground making it jolt.
Shan Feibai pushed from behind, quietly assisting.
The two hauled their cage-bound little brother home across the plain.
As Tang Kaichang distanced from strangers, he perked up.
Tentatively, he gripped the cage bars, looking up at Shan Feibai pushing behind.
Shan Feibai made a goofy face.
Safe in the cage, Tang Kaichang smirked, dimples echoing Shan Feibai’s pear-shaped ones, a charming mirror.
With the two leaders absent, Yu Shifei, “Panqiao’s” second-in-command, naturally took over diplomacy.
Lan Ye, still fixated on the young genius, reluctantly shifted focus, noticing Yu Shifei’s striking silver hair and purple eyes.
Curious and blunt, he asked: “Hello, Mr. Yu, are those…” gesturing to his eyes, “…natural?”
Yu Shifei, mid-clear conversation with the officer, replied politely: “Yes, Mr. Lan.”
As Lan Ye pondered the rarity of purple irises, Yu Shifei added lightly: “That’s how I was made at the factory.”
The oblivious officer chuckled, thinking it a dry joke.
Lan Ye’s jaw dropped, studying Yu Shifei’s calm demeanor, not joking at all.
He stared intently, realizing Yu Shifei’s eyes faced Ping’an island sunlight head-on.
Under such glare, his pupils only slightly contracted, unaffected.
Even that “contraction” looked eerily real.
No other non-human signs showed.
Lan Ye abruptly grabbed Yu Shifei’s hand, squeezing hard.
It felt balanced—hard bones, soft flesh, steady warmth, human-like.
Jin Xueshen, witnessing this, twitched his brow, teeth grinding with a sharp “click.”
The officer frowned: “Old Lan…”
Lan Ye, locked on Yu Shifei’s eyes: “Are you… a robot?”
“No,” Yu Shifei answered calmly. “I’m an android.”
Officer: “…”
He’d never guessed the person he’d chatted with wasn’t fully human.
Lan Ye spun in a daze, squatted, raking sea-breezed hair back, big eyes fixed on Yu Shifei, grinning through near-tears.
Yu Shifei’s existence dropped a nuke in Lan Ye’s mind, leaving him reeling. He begged to stay, eager to build a new home with them.
One Tang Kaichang was already a treasure.
Yu Shifei sent him into a frenzy.
From birth, Yu Shifei knew he was an ethical anomaly.
In Silver Hammer, such “monsters” were common, his uniqueness unremarkable.
He’d never been so fawned over.
Lan Ye wasn’t bad—just a stubbornly nerdy workaholic. His earnest pestering, with thirsty eyes, was hard to rebuff after Silver Hammer’s cold indifference.
Like his purple eyes, Yu Shifei’s patience was innate.
Lan Ye asked, he answered, sensing no romantic intent—his radar for that was keen.
Sadly, Jin Xueshen, petty and possessive, had no such patience.
He’d bristled jealously when Boss Fu favored Ning Zhuo, ready to snap at him.
Now, Lan Ye was practically breakdancing in his territory.
To avoid trouble, Yu Shifei never spoke to Lan Ye privately, only openly, with Jin Xueshen present.
But Jin Xueshen saw it differently.
To him, Yu Shifei was brazen, flirting with Lan Ye right in front of him.
Realizing this, he nearly burst from silent rage.
A master of self-inflicted torment, Jin Xueshen knew his jealousy was baseless. Fuming, he couldn’t sleep or eat, slimming his waist in days.
Jin Xueshen, if you tallied it up, got only words from Yu Shifei—no touch, no commitment.
Having plummeted from paradise to hell as a child, with a prickly, indirect nature, Jin Xueshen craved raw, blazing emotion.
He didn’t want respect; he wanted violence, conquest, love.
But saying that aloud sounded vile, like he was born begging for it.
The more he dwelled, the more trapped he felt—unlovable, narrow-minded, a flawed reject with nothing worth loving. His heart and eyes burned, fists clenched, itching to pick a fight.
But on Ping An, everyone had their tasks. Even Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai were busy discussing new island construction with Ping An’s envoy.
With no one to provoke, Jin Xueshen’s pent-up rage had no outlet. He roamed the island, hunting, shooting down seagulls—nominally to feed “Haina” and “Panqiao,” but really to distract himself.
His aim was deadly, a bird-killer.
He even felled a lone raven.
While Jin Xueshen played his cold-blooded avian assassin, Yu Shifei, silent for days, sought him out.
In broad daylight, he cornered Jin Xueshen in a grove.
Without a word, Yu Shifei pressed a palm to his waist, gauging its size, and said softly: “You’ve gotten thinner.”
Jin Xueshen turned away: “What’s it to you?”
His tone wasn’t harsh; inwardly, he was pleased.
Before Yu Shifei, Jin Xueshen wanted to be true, to let joy show. But try as he might, his smile felt stiff.
For no reason, he grew angrier at himself, smashing a fist into his right arm, storming off.
He knew his neuroticism could hurt others.
Yu Shifei wasn’t human, but Jin Xueshen thought him better than most.
In this gentle android’s presence, he felt wretchedly inferior.
But Jin Xueshen didn’t escape.
His wrist was caught lightly, with a firm shake.
Jin Xueshen flinched, yanking back: “Don’t grab me!”
The motion barely made, he regretted it.
This wasn’t what he wanted.
Luckily, Yu Shifei’s grip held, unshaken.
Yu Shifei: “Are you mad at me?”
Jin Xueshen snapped fiercely: “No!”
—Wrong! All wrong!
Wrong tone, wrong attitude!
He felt he was botching everything, making it worse, his mind a chaotic mess of fury and panic.
He thought of Lan Ye—decent-looking, doggedly chasing Yu Shifei with fervor, so lively…
The more he thought, the shakier his breath, his body trembling.
He roared, suppressed: “I’m mad at myself, okay?!”
A hug from behind answered: “Jin Xueshen is great. Don’t be mad at him.”
Jin Xueshen froze, eyes stinging, the dark fog of grief in his mind dissolving under this warm, bitter heat.
A warm palm pressed his abdomen: “So thin, doesn’t that make you more sensitive?”
Jin Xueshen shuddered, a breathy sound escaping.
He bit his lip, reddening it: “You… don’t touch me, go touch… mm…”
His words resisted, but his hips ground against Yu Shifei’s thighs, nearly melting into him, merging as one.
Yu Shifei: “Me talking to Lan Ye bothers you?”
Jin Xueshen: “It doesn’t. Go play. You finally found someone who likes you, gets you. Chat with him, be with him…”
Yu Shifei: “He just wants to understand me. I only want to understand you.”
Jin Xueshen forced a laugh: “…What do you get about me?”
Yu Shifei’s skilled stroke on his lean abs weakened Jin Xueshen’s legs further: “I get that you like pain. The more, the better.”
Jin Xueshen’s face flushed hot: “Bullshit!”
Yu Shifei: “So, does Mr. Raven want it?”
The words pierced like an arrow, hitting the mark.
Jin Xueshen fell silent, long and heavy.
Yu Shifei held him from behind, waiting.
He hadn’t acted before—Jin Xueshen was healing.
On the ship, the future was uncertain.
Fresh on the island, things were unsettled.
Now, he feared Jin Xueshen might stew himself to death.
He couldn’t bear that.
After a long pause, Jin Xueshen moved.
He turned, head bowed, muttering a curse, as if his next words weighed a ton.
Yu Shifei waited.
He’d spend time waiting for Jin Xueshen’s answer.
“Yes,” Jin Xueshen mumbled, head down, his flushed ears and neck bared, heart exposed. “…I… I want it.”
Compared to Yu Shifei’s patience, Jin Xueshen was always impatient.
Unlike his scholarly looks and quiet name, his temper flared. Once decided, he burned like a wildfire, consuming the one before him.
The palm on his abdomen grew hotter.
Before they burned together, Jin Xueshen plucked something pressed to his skin from under his clothes, damp with his sweat and faint scent—desire’s fragrance.
Panting softly, he hung the small ornament on Yu Shifei’s neck: “For you.”
It was a raven’s flight feather, glossy black, gleaming like polished glaze.
At its tip hung a tiny component.
A bracket from his artificial heart.
Jin Xueshen’s nickname was “Raven.” Lacking tail feathers, this was his substitute.
His meaning was clear.
He trusted him, wanted to be with him.
When you take a bird’s tail feather, touching other creatures angers the raven.
You can’t not love it—it’s sensitive, suspicious, neurotic.
Neglect it, and it might self-destruct in rage.
But accept its feather, and it’s forever.
He’d pluck his finest feathers, one by one, and give them to you.
