Chapter 57: I feel Xiaoqing’s cooking is still better.
The small robot had a pair of long arms that nearly dragged on the ground. Its body resembled a water bucket, topped with a perfectly round head. The upper half of its metallic head was completely transparent. The lower half was covered by an iron plate fitted with protruding facial features: two camera lenses for eyes, a loudspeaker for a mouth, and no nose at all. It was easy to tell that Beichen—formerly Mobei—was the exact same model of Machine-modified Human as Andrew. People nowadays simply wouldn’t modify themselves into something like this; everyone tried to preserve their human form as much as possible.
Xiang Nanli recalled the maintenance he had performed on Andrew and began placing orders for the necessary parts on the online mall.
He brought Beichen along and boarded the intercity bus. The prison was located in the suburbs, so there weren’t many people around, and plenty of empty seats remained. Xiang Nanli scanned two tickets and took a seat in the back of the bus.
As the bus drove further into the city, it gradually filled up with passengers. A burly man with a mechanization level of at least 35% swaggered over and smacked his hand down on Beichen’s head: “Hey, what right does a robot have to take a seat? Get the hell out of the way!”
The brain matter housed inside the glass jar wobbled forward from the force, giving Xiang Nanli a jolt of alarm.
“Oh? Oh…” Beichen looked up at him blankly, his body shrinking back. He immediately prepared to stand up, looking the absolute picture of a cowardly punching bag.
Xiang Nanli pressed a hand down on Beichen’s shoulder, stood up himself, and spoke in a tone that was neither haughty nor humble: “First of all, he is not a robot; he is a Machine-modified Human. His degree of mechanization is just relatively high. Secondly, I bought two tickets. I have no obligation to give up a seat for you.”
One look and it was obvious this man was a street thug: mechanical arms, cybernetic eyes, a buzzcut, and full-body tattoos. The muscles on his body looked as hard as solid rock. If it had been someone elderly, weak, sick, or disabled, that would be one thing. But wasn’t this just blatantly bullying an honest person to pick a fight? Besides, in Xiang Nanli’s eyes, the barely 1.3-meter-tall Beichen definitively fell into the category of a “child.”
Xiang Nanli’s words were perfectly reasonable and well-founded, but unfortunately, the buzzcut thug had an unreasonable, explosive temper.
He threw a punch straight at Xiang Nanli’s face, the sheer force of it tearing through the air with a whistling sound. Some bystanders had already squeezed their eyes shut, unable to bear the gruesome sight of flesh being ripped open. But the expected bloody scene never occurred.
Xiang Nanli clamped his hand firmly around the man’s metallic wrist and, inch by inch, pushed the fist away from his face. The smile on his lips gradually turned icy: “Don’t you know how to use your words properly?”
Heh. Did the guy think the millions of credits’ worth of Gene Serum he consumed was just for show? What was the point of waking up at five in the morning to get beaten black and blue by Dongfang Qingdi all those times? It wasn’t like he was a masochist!
Though he looked somewhat angry, Xiang Nanli’s emotions weren’t actually fluctuating that violently. It was just that “fury” was the most appropriate response to handle this situation. As Xiang Nanli gripped the man’s metallic arm, its model and internal structure automatically surfaced in his mind; he had dismantled plenty of this exact type of mechanical arm before. It was a pity he didn’t bring his tools; otherwise, he would have let this buzzcut thug experience what it felt like to lose 150,000 credits in a single punch.
Unable to push his mechanical arm forward even a millimeter, the thug realized he had kicked a steel plate, yet he didn’t want to back down too easily.
They remained locked in a stalemate for two or three seconds until a familiar figure walked over from the other end of the carriage: “Aiya, aiyo! If it isn’t Teacher Xiang! Fancy running into you here.”
It was Neptune from the Combat Club. He walked over and delivered a vicious kick to the buzzcut thug: “What the hell is wrong with you, kid?! You dare mess with the club’s mechanic?”
The thug was kicked several meters away. He sat on the floor, taking forever to finally scramble back to his feet. Unexpectedly, he coughed up a mouthful of pink liquid mixed with thin, pink filaments.
Neptune’s heart skipped a beat, wondering to himself, I didn’t kick him that hard, did I?
He turned his head, offering Xiang Nanli an apologetic smile: “He lives in my neighborhood. He used to be a courier until a robot took his job. He’s been unemployed ever since, so his blood boils whenever he sees a machine. On top of that, he recently caught some weird skin disease—red spots growing all over his back—and it’s making his brain foggy. He was actually just on his way to the hospital today. I am so sorry, bro. I’ll teach him a lesson once we get back.”
Neptune pulled out a cigarette and two cash vouchers, shoving them into Xiang Nanli’s hand: “Ah, this is my stop. I’ll drag him off right now so he doesn’t pollute your eyes. Bro, keep in touch if you ever need anything.”
With that said, Neptune grabbed the buzzcut thug by the ear and hauled him off the bus.
A brewing public brawl fizzled out just like that, leaving the surrounding spectators looking surprisingly disappointed.
Xiang Nanli looked down at the cigarette and the two vouchers in his hand.
He rarely smoked and didn’t recognize the brand. But if it was being given as an apology gift, it was likely hard currency in the underground world.
[It is a cigarette containing dopamine hormones.] Xiao Zhi, his internal AI assistant, provided an explanation. [Content: 5 micrograms per stick. It carries a certain level of addiction. Anything above 30 micrograms is considered contraband.]
Holy crap, weed.
Xiang Nanli immediately tossed it into the trash can. As a result, before he even got off the bus, at the very next stop, an emaciated woman frantically crawled over to the trash bin, glanced left and right, picked up the cigarette, and bolted off the bus.
Xiang Nanli’s eyelid twitched at the sight.
The vouchers were just simple, unregistered bearer checks; the two combined only amounted to 50 credits.
Beichen still looked spaced out. He quietly whispered to Xiang Nanli: “I smelled mushrooms.”
Xiang Nanli: “You installed an olfactory system?”
Beichen nodded at first, then hesitantly shook his head: “He had spores on his skin. I saw them, so I smelled them.”
Xiang Nanli’s vision was perfectly normal, even a bit better than the average human, but he certainly hadn’t seen any spores on that thug. Unfortunately, the guy had already gotten off the bus, so there was no way to verify it now.
An hour later, the bus finally meandered its way to the neighborhood near Xiang Nanli’s home. He had originally started walking while holding Beichen’s hand, but after realizing the robot walked far too slowly, he simply scooped him up and carried him under his arm.
The pharmacy downstairs, which was usually deserted, now had a long line winding out the door. Xiang Nanli didn’t dare get too close. Observing through the glass for a moment, he noticed that this entire crowd was purchasing medication for skin diseases.
Xiang Nanli immediately pulled his collar up even higher, almost covering the majority of his face.
The little robot looked around at its surroundings.
The world in Beichen’s eyes was quite different. His world existed solely in shades of black, white, and gray, but certain things appeared to him as a colorful spectrum. For instance, the pink spores floating in the air—perfectly round, with a thin thread trailing from the tail end, just like dandelions.
“Spore dust. A lot of it. In the air.” He hugged Xiang Nanli’s neck, speaking sluggishly. “Remember to wear a protective mask.”
Xiang Nanli’s mood grew slightly heavy: “Looks like we need to head to the Surface ahead of schedule. I just feel like Gusu City hasn’t been very peaceful lately.”
He stuck to his routine and bought dehydrated vegetables from the supermarket downstairs, planning to soak them when he got home, steam a bowl of rice, and thaw and slice some of the braised meat Xiao Qing had made to throw together a meal.
He wondered if Dongfang Qingdi had made it back to his home yet. He had already gone through three bags of the braised meat, leaving only fifteen. Once it was all gone, he’d be reduced to eating nutrient paste.
Xiang Nanli was a picky eater, but not overly picky. For instance, if something tasted good, he could eat it endlessly without ever getting sick of it. There was a scientific explanation for this, suggesting that repetitive behaviors reduced the cognitive cost of decision-making.
He took the elevator up to the 17th floor. Before he even reached his apartment, the rich aroma of a home-cooked meal wafted down the hallway.
Xiang Nanli inhaled the cooking fumes deeply: “Is the neighbor cooking? The smell of garlic frying in hot oil, plus the fragrance of chili peppers—it’s definitely a stir-fry with dried chilies, green chilies, red chilies, and Sichuan peppercorns. Smells amazing. What are they making? Spicy diced chicken?”
Beichen scratched his head, thoroughly confused.
He didn’t smell a thing.
Dammit, who’s eating this well? I want to knock on their door and beg for food.
Xiang Nanli swiped his keycard and opened the door. A savory aroma of food rushed over his face, several times more intense and robust than it was out in the hallway.
Clattering sounds rang out from the kitchen; clearly, someone was cooking inside.
“Xiang Nanli~~” Xiao Fu enthusiastically threw itself at him, then immediately stood up straight, on alert, glaring at Beichen. “Who is that now? We’re not going to have enough charging ports at home!”
Xiang Nanli set Beichen down: “This is Beichen. This is Xiao Fu. You guys go play in the study for a bit~!”
The living room had clearly been tidied up. The scattered parts and tools were neatly categorized and put away, yet placed carefully enough that Xiang Nanli wouldn’t lose track of them.
Xiang Nanli had always maintained a “good enough” standard of cleanliness for his environment. Dongfang Qingdi, however, would scrub the place spotless, refusing to let even a speck of dust hide under the bed. Good thing he worked fast, never complained, and didn’t need sleep—Xiang Nanli just let him do as he pleased!
All the excess trash in the room had been thrown out, and his utterly mediocre bachelor dining table was draped with a lace tablecloth. An exquisite glass vase sat on top, holding two fresh tulips: one red, one yellow.
Two hot dishes were already waiting on the table: a portion of steamed eggs with minced meat, and a plate of fried eggplant boxes. The portions weren’t large, just right for one person.
Joy bubbled up in Xiang Nanli’s heart as he happily pushed open the kitchen door: “Xiao Qing~ You’re back?”
But the stranger standing inside quickly made Xiang Nanli realize he had made a mistake.
Dongfang Qingdi wasn’t here.
The young man in the kitchen possessed a striking, gentle appearance with a classical elegance. His features weren’t overly sharp but still had definition, perfectly aligning with Eastern aesthetics. There were two faint beauty marks, one by his eye and one on his cheek.
Luoyang also had two moles on his face.
Back then, after Xiang Nanli had finished a lecture at Princeton, he went to the library to attend a symposium. The theme had been “The Driving Force of Artificial Intelligence on Human Society.” After the crowds dispersed, the midnight library was left with only the university officials, himself, and Luoyang.
As Xiang Nanli walked past the shelves, he discovered that a Chinese book had somehow slipped into this serious academic library—and a leisure book on face reading, at that. He didn’t know which international student had been so mischievous.
Tracing back through his father’s side, Xiang Nanli was a third-generation Chinese immigrant; on his mother’s side, he was second-generation. Their family usually didn’t even speak Chinese to communicate.
Yet, Xiang Nanli had somehow self-taught himself Mandarin without a teacher. Perhaps it was some kind of racial talent. He could not only speak it but also read and write it flawlessly. Naturally, this wasn’t for the sake of catering to some Eastern market; possessing 3/4 Han Chinese blood, he harbored a deep, intrinsic cultural resonance with the distant East.
Flipping open the book, Xiang Nanli casually glanced at a few pages and teased: “Luoyang, both of your moles are incredibly unlucky. Look, this one by your eye brings misfortune to a spouse, and this one in the middle of your face indicates a jealous nature.”
“Professor, that’s just feudal superstition. Why would you still believe in this?” Luoyang’s voice was somewhat helpless as he took the book out of Xiang Nanli’s hands. “…Mmm.”
“Hmm?”
“Nothing. Let’s go; the library is closing.”
Luoyang closed the book and shoved it back onto the shelf.
The book also illustrated an earlobe mole, stating that those who possessed one were exceptionally brilliant.
Did Xiang Nanli know that he had exactly that kind of mole hidden behind his earlobe?
…
…
“Master. Have you returned?” The housekeeping robot’s voice pulled Xiang Nanli back to reality. “Do you intend to name me Xiao Qing?”
He—tentatively calling him “he”—had an obviously masculine build, standing around 183 centimeters tall, and was wearing an apron. He had slightly curly, deep chestnut-colored short hair. His peach-blossom eyes were tea-colored, featuring deep double eyelids with corners that drooped slightly, giving him a deeply innocent look. There was virtually no trace of a robot in his appearance.
Well, these 1:1 biologically replicated housekeeping models had indeed been highly popular recently. After hundreds of years, everyone had grown utterly sick of seeing cybernetic elements and started pursuing a return to nature.
Xiang Nanli said awkwardly: “No, Xiao Qing is another member of the household.”
He rubbed his nose. “You can be called Xiao Bai.”
Xiao Bai smiled warmly: “Understood, Master.”
“And please don’t call me Master; this household doesn’t practice feudal slavery.”
Xiang Nanli’s arm hairs were practically standing on end.
Xiao Bai looked mildly confused: “Then how should I address you? Aside from Master, the current top ten most-used titles are: Lord, Hubby, Darling, Baby, Wifey…”
The housekeeping robot seemed to constantly alternate between being intelligent and utterly dense. Xiao Bai’s micro-expressions were designed flawlessly—incredibly natural—but his comprehension skills swung wildly from high to low.
Xiang Nanli interrupted him: “Just calling me by my name is fine. My name is Xiang Nanli. It was written on the order page.”
Xiao Bai nodded, carrying the plates over to the dining room and pulling out a chair: “Understood, Xiang Nanli. I have memorized it. You’ve worked hard outside all day; please enjoy your meal. This meal’s ingredients were complimentary from the conglomerate as a token of gratitude for purchasing and utilizing Immortality Tech’s housekeeping robot line.
“I will go draw a hot bath for you in the bathroom. What fragrance of bath oils do you prefer?”
“…?” Since when did we buy bath oils? “Do you have lemon verbena? Thank you.”
Xiao Bai turned around and walked into the bathroom with an incredibly graceful, light step: “Understood, I will prepare it for you immediately.”
Facing the table full of food, Xiang Nanli fell into deep thought.
[Xiao Zhi.]
[I am here.]
[…This housekeeping robot costs 200,000 credits?]
Wasn’t it said that bionic human models were absurdly expensive?
Xiang Nanli had indeed ordered a male robot, but what he had originally envisioned was a fully metallic muscle-man—the kind that looked like it could do chores highly efficiently.
Of course, Xiao Bai wasn’t exactly bad. That face was simply gorgeous, and though his personality seemed overly domestic and wifely, for a housekeeping robot, it really wasn’t a huge deal.
His internal AI had yet to evolve the emotion of ‘confusion.’ It replied: [According to the order slip, yes.]
Fine. Xiang Nanli shoved a few more mouthfuls of rice down his throat.
He still felt that the food Xiao Qing made tasted a bit better.
Just as Xiang Nanli was having this thought, the sound of the front door opening suddenly echoed through the room.
The house ran entirely on sensor-activated electronic locks.
Xiang Nanli put his chopsticks down in alarm, snatched a butter knife off the dining table in a flash, and marched over to the entryway.
However, the moment he got a clear look at the person arriving, Xiang Nanli let the knife slip from his grasp.
Dongfang Qingdi stood at the threshold, the silver-white Pupil Rings glowing brightly in his eyes. The lights in the entryway weren’t turned on, leaving the area in gloom; only his burning gaze pierced the darkness.
“Xiao Qing?” Xiang Nanli was thoroughly surprised. “You—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Dongfang Qingdi suddenly closed the distance in three long strides and crushed him into a tight embrace.
Xiao Qing’s force was immense, sending Xiang Nanli stumbling backward several steps until he collapsed onto the sofa, completely immobilized. He felt as though he had been wholly entangled by dense vines.
Dongfang Qingdi buried his head directly into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Xiang Nanli originally intended to push him away, seeing as Dongfang Qingdi was quite heavy. Yet, in the very next second, he felt the body pressing against him violently trembling.
“Xiang Nanli…” Dongfang Qingdi spoke in a hoarse, ragged voice. “Xiang Nanli.”
Xiang Nanli was a bit stunned. He reached back and hugged Xiao Qing in return, patting his back while pressing a comforting kiss against his forehead: “What’s wrong? Xiao Qing. Were you bullied when you went back to the Omnic Legion?”
A scorching drop of liquid fell against Xiang Nanli’s neck.
Xiang Nanli froze.
