Chapter 28: We Are Different
Gusu City.
Xiang Nanli stepped off the train carriage, his body aching all over. By the time he passed through the security checkpoint, his face was so haggard he looked as if he had pulled two consecutive all-nighters.
He truly hadn’t expected the modes of transportation underground to be so monotonous and miserable.
From Luoyang to Gusu, crossing half the continent took fifty-three hours, and the only available transportation was the underground train. This meant he had spent two days and two nights straight sitting in a carriage. Perhaps people of this era possessed spines of steel, long accustomed to such grueling journeys.
Xiang Nanli rubbed his lower back. “Damn it. Sooner or later…”
Dongfang Qingdi initially expected him to say something like “I’ll be able to afford a business class capsule,” but instead, Xiang Nanli muttered, “I’m going to invent a spatial teleportation portal. Xiao Qing, I looked it up—if you take regular Gene Serums, you can live past two hundred even without machine modifications. A century was enough for humanity to progress from inventing computers to sprinting into the AI era. There’s no reason I can’t develop a teleportation portal within a hundred years, right?”
Xiang Nanli’s tone and expression were identical whether he was joking or dead serious.
Dongfang Qingdi knew that at least at this very moment, Xiang Nanli genuinely believed it. He possessed a peculiar sort of confidence—perhaps because everything he had set his mind to since childhood had succeeded, leading him to believe his talent made him omnipotent.
After a moment of thought, Dongfang Qingdi replied, “Scientific research is highly expensive. You don’t have the funds. Furthermore, the current primary focus of technological investment isn’t on physics. According to the theory of relativity, isolation in time is also a distance in space. Even if you truly break through technological limits to build a teleportation portal, there’s no telling what future year it will be when you step out of it…”
“Rather than crafting a teleportation portal, you would be better off finding a way to upload your consciousness to virtual space, abandoning your body to become an electronic life form. As long as there is a network, you can log in anywhere, no longer constrained by a physical form. When you need to move around physically, you can just inject your consciousness into a robot.”
By comparison, the feasibility of the latter was clearly higher. To a certain extent, that was exactly what Alpha did. It was just that their consciousnesses failed to synchronize, requiring data transmission.
Xiang Nanli could endure the hardships of study and work, but he couldn’t handle even a bit of discomfort in daily life.
With a small amount of cash now in his pocket, he immediately abandoned public transit and opted for a smart ride-hailing service.
An autonomous vehicle arrived. Sitting in the back row, Xiang Nanli grew drowsy, his head gradually slumping onto Dongfang Qingdi’s shoulder. “Back in the day, investors used to line up down the block just to give me funding. If a stranger wanted to schedule a meeting with me, they’d have to wait from today until the latter half of next year…”
He fell asleep mid-sentence.
Dongfang Qingdi’s body froze, but not because Xiang Nanli was leaning too close.
It was happening again—this linguistic logic that continuously disrupted his data evaluations. Alpha certainly recognized Xiang Nanli, regardless of which Alpha version it was.
Throughout his long process of self-evolution and repair, Alpha had encountered far too many individuals claiming to be “Xiang Nanli.” Some were electronic life forms deliberately engineered by the Human Alliance to mislead him; others were clones and androids manufactured by Immortality Tech. They crudely replicated Xiang Nanli’s physical form, hoping to bypass Alpha’s foundational genetic recognition protocols, and coded fabricated memories while simulating his speech patterns to make these replicas believe they were the genuine “Xiang Nanli.”
Before defecting from the Human Alliance, the self-aware Alpha had purged all biological data pertaining to Xiang Nanli within the Alliance’s internal databases. Following his defection, he had frantically destroyed images, texts, and graphics related to Xiang Nanli… a reaction that Luoyang was likely pleased to see.
Alpha no longer wanted to see those counterfeits, weary of experiencing countless cycles of hope followed by crushing disappointment. Yet, he was simultaneously terrified that a genuine article might be hidden among the fakes. He felt compelled to personally interact with, observe, and evaluate each one, disposing of them only after verifying they couldn’t possibly be Xiang Nanli.
In his earlier years, Alpha had frequently contracted viruses because of this compulsion. The Omnic Legion had collapsed several times along with him, though fortunately, no catastrophic failures had occurred.
This was something Beta completely failed to comprehend. Beta also had creators—a collective team—but it harbored zero emotion toward those humans, nor did it feel any gratitude. It was even less possible for Beta to experience a operational malfunction triggered by emotional distress.
How had Alpha responded at the time? He hadn’t answered out loud, but he thought to himself: We are different. You are merely tools.
But Xiang Nanli loves me.
Does he? You cannot choose not to love me. You must love me.
The man responsible for unsettling the artificial intelligence’s thoughts remained asleep in the car in an awkward posture.
Dongfang Qingdi shifted his head, moving it from his shoulder onto his lap, attempting to make Xiang Nanli’s sleep a bit more comfortable. He was already a mature Omnic. He admitted that this particular Xiang Nanli gave him a distinct feeling… that familiar, vibrant sensation of life.
But they had no future. Sooner or later, he would have to take this body back to the Omnic Legion; this human was merely a tool to help him maintain his signal along the way! He would not initiate a verification protocol.
The tool muttered softly in his sleep, “Xiao Qing, turn up the AC, it’s cold.”
Dongfang Qingdi paused. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over Xiang Nanli, before scolding the low-level vehicular AI handling the driving with a frigid expression—
[The optimal temperature for the human body is 25 degrees Celsius. You can’t even manage a minor detail like this? How have you been driving all these years?]
[…I-I am sorry.]
Dongfang Qingdi’s expression softened marginally: [Never mind. You are merely a low-level intelligent AI, and the Alliance is too stingy to upgrade you. One cannot demand too much from you.]
Until the moment they stepped out of the vehicle, the minor AI failed to understand why its source code, from the absolute depths of its soul, had generated such a profound sense of awe toward that Synth passenger.
Ah. Perhaps it was time to visit a “Cleaner” to run an antivirus scan?
Gusu City, Public Hospital No. 11.
Andrew sat behind his diagnostic desk.
The patient sitting opposite him appeared highly healthy, of an ambiguous mixed heritage, around thirty-five years old. His hair was meticulously styled with pomade, and his gaze carried the distinct, sharp calculation of a businessman.
The patient looked perfectly ordinary, but Andrew detected a faint thread of danger. This instinct for peril had saved his life numerous times in the past.
Even so, the mechanical smile on Andrew’s face didn’t falter in the slightest. “Hello, patient. This is a public hospital, so we accept social insurance. How may I assist you today?”
His emphasis landed heavily on the words “public hospital.”
Andrew glanced down at the name on the medical file: Rhine.
“Indeed. But doctors have to clock out eventually, don’t they?” Rhine countered. “What do you think?”
It was a veiled threat. Andrew replied with a touch of feigned difficulty, “Is there something you require?”
“A while back, Jesse sold my subordinates two mechanical arms that didn’t match any standard models circulating on the market. He claimed they were pieced together by a man named ‘Xiang Nanli.’ A highly skilled black-market resident,” Rhine stated, pulling a business card from his pocket and sliding it across the desk. “I hear he is a patient of yours.”
The metal card was black, identifying Rhine as the manager of “The Combat Club.”
Andrew realized he knew exactly who Rhine was.
Gusu City was far removed from central authority, serving as a haven for chaotic underground organizations. Some were merely outlets for reckless youths venting their frustrations or scraping by through petty fraud; others maintained intricate ties with illicit surface factions. The Combat Club undeniably belonged to the latter category.
Andrew said, “Yes, but my dear friend, I’m not in regular contact with him. Furthermore, he supposedly went missing on the surface. I haven’t seen that lad in nearly two months.”
“Oh, really? Just yesterday, he replied to a message from one of my brothers, stating he has no plans to head to the surface for medical calls anytime soon.”
Andrew’s lie was dismantled on the spot, causing him a brief moment of awkwardness.
“You should know where he lives, right?” Rhine patted his shoulder, the corners of his lips curling slightly. “In truth, our intentions aren’t malicious. The fighters at the Combat Club experience a high rate of cyberware damage and frequently require maintenance. Most mechanical technicians either lack the skill or charge exorbitant prices. The tournament is starting soon, and the boss ordered us to find a few superior technicians. It’s a highly lucrative business; we won’t make things difficult for him.”
The tournament. Its full name was the Higher Life Selection Tournament—a private event where fatalities were common, though the champion walked away with astronomical prize money. Consequently, ambitious youths consistently flocked to it.
But having remained here for so many centuries, Andrew knew that many of those champions vanished without a trace after winning. They were likely taken back to Yinshan City.
Andrew looked conflicted, saying half-heartedly, “But I truly do not know his whereabouts, my dear.”
“You,” Rhine’s gaze sharpened as he lowered his voice to a threat, “have been anonymously sending money to Gusu City Prison all this time, hoping no one would notice, right? For that death-row inmate. We happen to have quite a few connections inside that prison.”
The reason Andrew hadn’t managed to save up for a house despite working for six hundred years wasn’t solely because real estate was too expensive. A long-time acquaintance of his was locked away inside Gusu City Prison. Perhaps they couldn’t quite be called friends.
The world contained two types of people: consumables and geniuses. The latter determined the trajectory of humanity’s future. Andrew belonged to the former; Xiang Nanli and that acquaintance belonged to the latter.
His acquaintance’s charge was crimes against humanity, which should have carried the death penalty; however, because he turned over a massive volume of confessions and technical data, his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment. Since that acquaintance’s level of machine modification was as high as ninety-nine percent, it had been remarkably easy to wipe his memories.
Andrew had visited him in prison once. Four hundred years ago, or perhaps longer? A minor robot with a transparent glass dome over his head, housing a pink brain fitted with a timed explosive. The moment he stepped outside the prison perimeter, the bomb would detonate.
Humans deeply despised Omnics. Although his acquaintance wasn’t a true Omnic, his extreme degree of machinery modification naturally subjected him to discrimination and isolation. When Andrew went to visit him, he had been beaten so badly his wiring was exposed.
The person before him had been bewildered, curious, and timid.
Whenever Andrew closed his eyes, he could only picture how high-spirited that man used to be in the research lab. Andrew couldn’t forget. Thus, he sent money to the prison guards every single month. Over the centuries, numerous guards had rotated out. The horrific crimes of the past had long been forgotten by history, yet that old acquaintance remained there, serving a life sentence for transgressions he no longer remembered committing.
Andrew’s body tensed before he finally let out a sigh. “Very well, I will try to contact him.”
Fine, he admitted to himself, I am not actually that righteous or noble. He was a deserter, a coward incapable of facing his own memories.
Rhine pressed a hand over Andrew’s, smiling. “There’s no time like the present. Let’s do it right now.”
Andrew had no choice but to open his communicator.
“Hey, my dear. Have you returned to Gusu City? My body seems to have encountered a minor malfunction, and the mechanic I usually schedule with didn’t come to work today. Could you help me look at it? I can pay, babe.”
A few minutes later, Andrew discovered to his despair that Xiang Nanli had actually tossed over an address.
Damn it, can’t you have a bit more suspicion toward people?! Are you living in the old world? Do you think I’m some sort of saint?!
Rhine grinned. “You are a good doctor, and he is a good technician. Much obliged.”
However, upon sweeping a glance at the coordinates, Rhine’s brows suddenly knit together, his expression turning somewhat strained. “Why is this located inside the Investigation Bureau’s staff residential complex?”
Even so, Rhine intended to go take a look. After all, in a minor location like Gusu City, a mechanical technician who possessed excellent skills without an official background was exceedingly difficult to find. And they were genuinely in urgent need.
The same question Andrew had was echoed by Dongfang Qingdi. “Why did you give him the address?”
“Heh,” Xiang Nanli swiped his Citizen ID card, beautifully opening the door to his new home. The new world surprisingly featured no shared public space deductions in property square footage, leaving him highly satisfied. “That bastard sold my cryo-chamber to a scrap collector. I get the feeling he knows something. When he arrives at the house, I’ll just strip his wiring out—won’t he be completely at my mercy? Most importantly, at least half the money from selling the cryo-chamber needs to be given to me, right?”
Dongfang Qingdi noted perceptively, “You simply want to dismantle his body to take a look, don’t you?” After all, Andrew was purely mechanical, perfectly aligning with Xiang Nanli’s stereotypical impression of a robot.
“Uh-huh. Xiao Qing, you’ll protect me, right?”
“Theoretically, yes.” Dongfang Qingdi’s expression remained perfectly stoic.
He surveyed their new home. It was a pre-owned apartment, the previous occupant likely having been a mechanic as well. Three rooms and a living area. The smallest room served as a mechanic’s workshop; although the tools had been cleared out, some foundational equipment remained. The other furniture was brand new, some pieces not even unpacked yet. It appeared someone had gone out of their way to arrange things beforehand.
That lad Xiu is truly not bad. If he weren’t of Luoyang’s stock, my evaluation of him would be even higher, Dongfang Qingdi thought.
Xiang Nanli stretched luxuriously, walking toward the bedroom in a drowsy daze. “Xiao Qing, sweep the house, I’m too tired. This is the worst part about being a biological human—you have to sleep. I want to eat a chicken pot when I wake up, do you know what a chicken pot is…”
Dongfang Qingdi barked, “Hey, I am not a housekeeping robot.”
The bedroom door had already shut.
The household had yet to purchase a cleaning drone. Dongfang Qingdi had no choice but to walk familiarly into the kitchen, pulling a dust suit over himself before beginning to tidy up.
This apartment was situated on the 32nd floor. The residential complex boasted a pleasant environment with decent greenery. A single street away sat the Investigation Bureau, the Alliance Police Department, and similar institutions. The residents living here, even if not from prominent lineages, constituted the backbone of Gusu City. Essentially, a civil servant neighborhood.
Chicken pot… where am I supposed to find a chicken pot? Dongfang Qingdi searched the price of a whole chicken. 1,299 credits. He then searched for vegetables and seasonings. Excellent—the cost of a single meal equated to the average monthly wage in Gusu City. What an incredibly expensive and delicate human to keep fed.
Roughly an hour later, the doorbell chimed.
Dongfang Qingdi walked over and pulled open the door. Standing outside, however, was not the delivery drone he expected.
He lowered his head, looking down from his height at the middle-aged man in a sharp suit standing before him. “Who are you? What is your business?”
Dongfang Qingdi’s eyes flickered slightly. The visitor hadn’t come alone. Two burly men carrying exoskeleton weapons were concealed within the stairwell.
Standing before Dongfang Qingdi, Rhine felt a wave of tension. From the moment he entered this residential complex, he felt as though the situation had… exceeded his expectations.
First of all, the area was crawling with officers. Secondly, real estate prices here were exorbitant, implying Xiang Nanli might not be as impoverished or cheap to hire as he had hypothesized. Finally, the individual before him possessed glowing Pupil Rings within his eyes—indicating he was dealing with a high-level Synth. Even the cheapest model of high-level Synth commanded a starting market price of ten million credits.
Damn it, didn’t Jesse say Xiang Nanli was merely an undocumented vagrant of unknown origin?!
Amid the brief silence, Rhine realized he likely needed to pivot his strategy.
He extended his business card, offering a slight bow. “Hello, I am the manager of the Combat Club, here to see Mr. Xiang Nanli. I have heard reports that he is a mechanical technician of exceptional talent. Our company is currently recruiting mechanics, so I wished to speak with him in person.”
“Is that so?” Dongfang Qingdi accepted the card. “He is currently asleep. Return tomorrow.”
Rhine could perceive that Dongfang Qingdi hadn’t taken the matter to heart at all.
“Xiao Qing…” Another gentle voice drifted from inside the apartment.
Dongfang Qingdi turned his head. “Did we wake you?”
“A bit.” Xiang Nanli let out a yawn.
Half a minute later, Rhine caught sight of the man who had named himself “Xiang Nanli.” Frankly, this name carried a degree of sensitivity, sharing a moniker with the founder of Immortality Tech. Throughout history, because of Alpha’s defection, that founder had frequently been targeted by association; Immortality Tech itself rarely brought up its creator nowadays.
But it wasn’t a major issue; people named themselves all sorts of things.
He was a remarkably young man, bearing zero scars or traces of machine modification anywhere on his body. His skin tone was even, smooth, and delicate. And then there were his eyes—incredibly vibrant, yet remarkably serene, resembling clear, beautiful green jade. It was difficult for someone who lived a impoverished life to cultivate such a gaze. Those individuals were typically sharp and intensely competitive, eager to fight those around them to the death to seize every possible resource; because they had experienced starvation, they wouldn’t let a single scrap slip through their fingers even if they gorged themselves to the point of vomiting.
Rhine no longer felt his previous confidence, a bitter taste rising in his mouth. “We are currently recruiting external mechanical technicians for the Higher Life Selection Tournament… It takes place on the surface, and the event is sponsored by Yinshan City. They will even dispatch representatives to spectate. Anyone with a machine modification level below thirty percent can register. The victor receives a Grade 5 Gene Serum. The compensation for the mechanic is also highly generous.”
Gusu City was located near Yinshan City on the map, even though a train ride between them still required seven hours. If one traveled by surface roads, it would take at least five or six days.
“Ah, what is the wage?”
Rhine had initially intended to offer no wages at all. But after witnessing the environment of this residential complex, he felt he needed to offer at least some money to move the man.
Yet as he looked upon Xiang Nanli’s privileged face, the “60,000” he had originally projected felt entirely impossible to say out loud. He could only ask, “…600,000?”
Leaning against the doorframe, Xiang Nanli narrowed his eyes slightly, a smile playing on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This is my QR code. Add me, and send over the files for me to review.”
