No one knew exactly how many wires needed to be connected to the back of his neck. All Qiu Shi could feel were faint pinpricks—barely any sensation at all—until Xing Bi asked, “Is this the last one?”
“Yes,” the short man replied.
As the final needle was inserted, Qiu Shi’s vision suddenly dimmed, then brightened sharply, then dimmed again.
Between the flashes of light and dark, the strongest sensation he felt was dizziness.
“Shit,” Qiu Shi cursed. “I’m dizzy.”
“That’s normal,” the tall man said.
“What if I puke…” Qiu Shi frowned. “I can’t see anything. Are you sure this is how it’s supposed to go?”
“The connection takes time to establish,” the short man’s voice began to drift, “But one thing to note—the connection can’t last longer than 7 minutes and 15 seconds.”
“Xing Bi,” Qiu Shi called out.
“I’m here,” Xing Bi replied, holding his hand. “You’re still right here. I’m watching closely. If anything happens, I’ll pull the wires out immediately.”
“How long did you say?” Qiu Shi could hear Xing Bi’s voice clearly.
“Seven minutes and fifteen seconds,” Xing Bi said. “I have a countdown in front of me—I can see the time.”
“Alright.” Qiu Shi slowly adjusted his breathing, feeling less dizzy now. The flickering in his vision also faded, turning into a light fog. Through the mist, things gradually began to appear.
It was an office.
A very bright office, with windows.
It felt strange—his body and vision were out of sync. He knew he was still sitting in that electric-chair-like seat, with Xing Bi holding his hand, but what his eyes were seeing and what his body felt were completely different.
Although there was still some haze, he could make out the office fairly well. It was large, similar in layout to the offices of Li Feng and Curator Wu—a large desk, a leather chair comfortable enough to sleep in, a few cabinets, and guest sofas.
Curator Wu’s office had no windows. Li Feng’s looked out onto the dull mines and neon ads of the inner city. But the window in this office showed something entirely different: a wide stretch of smooth concrete on one side, and rows of perfectly aligned trees and flower beds on the other.
“Holy shit,” Qiu Shi murmured. “What is this place outside? So flat and so wide.”
“An old military base,” came the short man’s distant voice.
“No one’s here,” Qiu Shi continued in a hushed tone, as if he were sneaking around, “I don’t see anyone.”
“Qiu Shi,” Xing Bi’s voice came through, “Your voice won’t be heard over there.”
“Really? I feel kinda… guilty.” Qiu Shi glanced around nervously. Just as he was unsure how to move forward, he found himself slowly approaching the desk. “Holy crap, I think I can move with my mind.”
“Try to find a way to contact Li Feng and the others. A phone or video device,” Xing Bi reminded him, his voice sounding a bit distant.
“Xing Bi, did you move away?” Qiu Shi asked.
“No,” Xing Bi gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m right next to you—can see the three little cowlicks on top of your head.”
Qiu Shi chuckled and scanned the things on the desk—pens, two photo frames, an old laptop, and what looked like an equally old phone.
“There’s a phone,” Qiu Shi reached toward it. “Let me see if I can… Yep, I can pick it up.”
“Can you call anyone?” Xing Bi asked.
“No dial tone,” Qiu Shi said after holding it to his ear. “And it doesn’t use numbers to dial either. Even if I could call, I wouldn’t know how.”
“Check for something else,” Xing Bi said. “Is there anything else in the room?”
Qiu Shi wasn’t sure when, but he’d somehow moved to the other side of the desk. He noticed photos in the frames and leaned in for a better look.
There were a lot of people in the photo—two rows. The front row had three seated individuals. In the middle was a man in a military uniform, looking sharp and strong enough to crush eight Xiao Leis with one punch. That had to be the General. On his left was a man in a suit—obviously human, ordinary-looking but imposing. On his right was another suited figure—clearly a synthetic, with a slight smile on his face.
These were likely the three founders of Yun City.
The other photo frame was lying face-down. Qiu Shi picked it up and turned it over.
This photo showed more people. Five synthetics stood in a row, and Qiu Shi immediately recognized Xing Bi. Seeing his familiar face in this surreal context gave him a strange, time-warping feeling.
He could also identify the others: Lin Sheng, Ji Sui, Xu Jie—and standing in the center was Zheng Ting.
This was Xing Bi’s old squad—the strongest infiltration team in Yun City.
“Qiu Shi?” Xing Bi’s voice called from a distance.
“I see your team photo. The five of you,” Qiu Shi said. “Zheng Ting’s in the center.”
“Yeah,” Xing Bi responded. “That was before we came to Yun City.”
“Now I know what you look like in a suit,” Qiu Shi said with a smile.
“Handsome?” Xing Bi asked.
“Very,” Qiu Shi replied.
“Well, handsome guy wants you to keep searching for another comms device,” Xing Bi said.
“Right.” Qiu Shi came back to himself. “This state… is kind of…”
“Easy to lose focus. Stay sharp,” Xing Bi said. “Don’t get distracted.”
“How do you know that?” Qiu Shi asked, placing the frame back as it was. He looked around and saw two doors—one leading out of the office, and another that likely led to an inner room, maybe a lounge or meeting room.
“The technicians told me,” Xing Bi said. “Can you still hear them?”
“No,” Qiu Shi replied. “I can only hear you.”
“Stay focused. I’ll keep talking to you,” Xing Bi said.
“Okay,” Qiu Shi was already at the inner room’s door. “There should be another small room here. I’ll check it out.”
“Qiu Shi, don’t,” Xing Bi said urgently. “Don’t open any doors.”
Qiu Shi’s hand froze mid-reach. He slowly backed away toward the desk. “Shouldn’t stuff like that be mentioned from the beginning?”
“Four minutes and twenty seconds left,” Xing Bi said. “Is there a computer?”
“There is,” Qiu Shi looked at the laptop on the desk. “Can this connect to comms?”
“It can. Open it,” Xing Bi instructed.
Qiu Shi flipped the lid. The screen lit up.
“Do you see the icons?” Xing Bi asked. “There should be one labeled ‘Call’—click it.”
Honestly, the most advanced device Qiu Shi had ever used was that little pet assistant he got from Inner City “privileges.” Aside from some junk the old man let him mess with, he’d never touched anything high-tech. The only reason he recognized the object in front of him was because the old man had a shell of one just like it.
He leaned in close to the screen, squinting at the icons. It felt like a dream—he could see things, but it took effort to make them out. The text was worse—he could barely read, and now he was relying solely on the shapes of the letters.
“The icon looks like an old-fashioned telephone,” Xing Bi’s voice was growing distant again.
Qiu Shi forced himself to focus and finally found the old phone icon. He tapped it.
A window popped up on the screen, showing what looked like surveillance feeds—streets, plazas, and many blacked-out screens.
He struggled to make out the footage but couldn’t see much. However, he caught a glimpse of a blurry date in the upper-right corner: 2044.
That was a very old date.
Yun City used three-digit year formats, starting after the war. If Qiu Shi remembered correctly, they were currently in 243 or 244, maybe 245…
In the post-apocalypse, people had long stopped caring about dates. Outside the inner city, no one could track them—not that it mattered. For most people, time was just yesterday, today, tomorrow… and a past they didn’t want to remember, or a future they might never see.
“Qiu Shi,” Xing Bi’s voice pulled him back, “Follow my voice. The first one—check the lab.”
The word “lab” jolted Qiu Shi. There were still people in that lab waiting for them to rescue them.
He stared at the screen and clicked on the first surveillance window.
When the blank screen came to life, Li Feng had expected to see the General’s face.
Instead, it was Qiu Shi’s face that appeared—something Li Feng hadn’t anticipated. He had suspected that Qiu Shi and Xing Bi might find some way to contact the lab through the General, but he hadn’t imagined it would be this direct.
However, Qiu Shi on the screen looked a bit confused, as if he didn’t realize the connection had already been established.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Long, who had been meditating with his eyes closed by the glass wall, stood up.
Qiu Shi appearing like this in the lab meant they not only might know the truth about the General, but possibly even more.
“No idea,” Li Feng stood in front of the screen, arms crossed. “I didn’t even know this was possible.”
Curator Wu also came running out of the experiment chamber, staring at Qiu Shi on the screen in shock. After two seconds of stunned silence, he finally asked, “How did they even know about this method?”
“No idea,” Li Feng replied.
Judging by Curator Wu’s expression, the shock wasn’t just about the method—they were more shaken by how they knew.
“Get out of the way.” Gao Shan was pacing anxiously behind the glass, but Li Feng stood squarely in front of the screen, blocking his view. He could only glimpse some blurry shapes from the side.
“I’m not moving,” Li Feng said. “This is Yun City’s secret. Even if you blow your brains out in the next second, don’t expect to learn anything. You can die with regrets.”
“If I do die, I’ll drag you down first!” Gao Shan slammed his fist on the glass behind Li Feng.
Li Feng ignored him. Qiu Shi on the screen started to speak.
But there was no sound.
“Is this connected like a surveillance feed?” Li Feng asked Curator Wu.
“Yes,” Curator Wu stared at the screen.
Li Feng picked up a microphone. “Is this thing on?”
“It’s on,” Curator Wu replied.
“Qiu Shi, I can see you,” Li Feng tapped the microphone. “But I can’t hear you. I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.”
“He can’t hear me,” Qiu Shi said, a little anxious. “I see Li Feng and Curator Wu. I can hear Li Feng, but he said he can’t hear me…”
“Write to him, Qiu Shi,” Xing Bi’s voice came from outside the window, distant. “Find a pen. And paper.”
There was a pen—on the desk. Qiu Shi grabbed it and looked down, searching for paper. There should be some in the drawer.
He opened the drawer and found a notepad. He pulled it out.
“What should I write?” Qiu Shi asked nervously, holding the pen.
“Tell them the oxygen is limited,” Xing Bi said. “And ask if there’s any clue about how to open the lab, so we can look for it.”
“Everyone inside the lab is alive, no one’s injured,” Li Feng was also speaking on the screen. “The way to open the lab might be a code, a physical key, or some other ridiculous thing…”
Qiu Shi quickly scribbled on the notepad, then held it up to the camera.
There were words on it—but they were small.
Li Feng and Curator Wu immediately leaned toward the screen, nearly bumping heads.
“You’re running out of air.”
“What does that say?” Curator Wu yelled.
“Your handwriting… our refugee schools really suck at teaching writing,” Li Feng squinted at the note. “We’re running out of air?”
“What do you mean we’re running out of air?!” Curator Wu’s eyebrows were practically tangled in a knot.
“Don’t curse us like that, Qiu Shi,” Li Feng said. “We know—Chen Dang said we could probably last about ten days.”
“Tell him to look for the code,” Curator Wu said.
“Where are you?” Li Feng asked. “Qiu Shi, where are you? Are you with Xing Bi?”
Qiu Shi was anxious. He didn’t care about the ugly handwriting—he just didn’t know how to write the answer.
“He asked where I am, and whether I’m with Xing Bi,” Qiu Shi said. “How the hell am I supposed to write that?”
“I’ll do it,” Xing Bi said.
Qiu Shi felt Xing Bi grab his right hand.
When he looked down, his hand was already writing on the paper with the pen.
Even though he felt dizzy, his mind was foggy, and his senses were starting to fade—he couldn’t hear clearly, couldn’t see clearly, and Xing Bi’s voice seemed to drift farther away.
He could feel time slipping by.
But he could still tell—Xing Bi’s handwriting was really beautiful.
He held the notepad up to the screen.
“In the General’s office. Two minutes until connection ends.”
“Does the Chief Technician know the lab password or method to open it?”
“The General’s office?” Li Feng froze. Then he turned to look at Curator Wu. “Chief Technician?”
Curator Wu stared at the words on the screen. Even in his shock, his expression looked strangely complicated.
“Speak up, Lao Wu,” Li Feng said, raising his gun and pressing it to Wu’s forehead. “If you’re not planning to leave, might as well die now and save us some oxygen.”
“I’m not sure if they know or not,” Curator Wu didn’t even seem to notice the gun. He was still caught on the phrase “Chief Technician.” “But it’s possible. Director Lu might’ve ordered me to demote them because of unauthorized research.”
“Qiu Shi,” Li Feng looked at the screen, “did you hear that? They might know. Ask them. If they don’t tell you, throw them into the General’s office and make sure they never come out.”
“Where’s the General’s office?” Curator Wu looked over at Mr. Long behind the glass, still reeling. “Where’s the General? How come I don’t know?”
“Cheng Gu took him away, interfering with Qiu Shi’s signal,” Li Feng said.
Cheng Gu came over and dragged Curator Wu into the inner lab chamber.
“Qiu Shi,” Li Feng continued staring at the screen, “after this connection ends, can you start another one?”
Qiu Shi had been looking down to write, but suddenly lifted his head, looking past the camera, startled.
Li Feng saw his lips move: “General.”
Then the feed cut out.
The screen returned to black.
“Who are you?!” the General, bursting through the door and seeing Qiu Shi, immediately pulled out a gun.
Before Qiu Shi could speak, the General was already at the desk.
Qiu Shi tried to retreat, but the General grabbed him.
The door was still open. Qiu Shi struggled, trying to flee toward it—but he couldn’t move.
In his struggle, he saw a shadow flicker past the doorway.
“Qiu Shi!” Xing Bi’s voice was distant and faint.
“Qiu Shi!” The voice came again. “Listen to my voice. Focus—one, three, five, seven…”
“Mm.” Qiu Shi answered.
“Pull the cable,” the short one said.
Xing Bi pulled the connector from the back of Qiu Shi’s neck.
Qiu Shi’s tense body suddenly went limp, slumping against Xing Bi.
“Lay him flat,” the tall one said.
Before Xing Bi could set him down on the floor, Qiu Shi suddenly started convulsing.
“It’s normal,” the short one said, pulling a black case from under the chair. “Normal neural reaction to stimulus. Hold him down.”
Qiu Shi’s convulsions were strong—Xing Bi couldn’t restrain him alone.
Lin Sheng and Xu Jie came over and held down his arms and legs together before they could control him.
“What is that?” Xing Bi asked, watching the short one take out a syringe from the black case.
Xing Bi’s voice was hoarse and low, with a chilling undertone that made the short one’s hand tremble. He opened his mouth but couldn’t get a word out.
“Special tranquilizer,” the tall one answered steadily.
The short one snapped out of it and said quickly, “No side effects. Shelf life of a hundred years.”
Xing Bi said nothing and extended his arm.
The short one moved fast—opened the syringe and injected a small amount into Xing Bi’s arm.
After a few seconds, Xing Bi said, “No need to change it. Use this one for him.”
The short one quickly rolled up Qiu Shi’s sleeve and pushed the rest of the dose into his arm.
“Is the dosage enough?” Lin Sheng asked.
“It’s enough,” the tall one replied. “He’s enhanced. Needs less than a normal human.”
The tranquilizer worked quickly. Within ten seconds, Qiu Shi’s convulsions slowly stopped. Xing Bi held his wrist.
His pulse was steady.
His breathing gradually returned to normal.
“Qiu Shi?” Xing Bi called out.
“Mm,” Qiu Shi responded, then frowned slightly.
“It’s okay now. It’s over,” Xing Bi said.
Qiu Shi opened his eyes and stared upward, seemingly still in a daze. After a while, he said, “The General suddenly came in. He didn’t recognize me. We’ve had video meetings before—he should’ve seen me.”
“At the timepoint you entered the office,” the short technician explained, “it’s normal that he didn’t recognize you yet.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me the General would suddenly come in at the end?” Qiu Shi had recovered a bit and sat up. “Damn it, he pointed a gun at me!”
“Is that timing something you can control?” Xing Bi asked.
“There’s only a general range. There’s only one window for entering the office,” the short one said, “but the exact moment can’t be controlled.”
“It wasn’t seven minutes and fifteen seconds just now,” Xing Bi said. “How is that time determined?”
“Based on us… our bodies,” the tall one said, “and Mr. Long. For normal humans, theoretically, Qiu Shi should last longer—if the General didn’t come in.”
“How do you feel?” Xing Bi looked at Qiu Shi.
“I felt a bit nauseous just now,” Qiu Shi slowly stood up. As his body returned to his control, he felt grounded again. He grabbed Xing Bi’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Felt like a dream.”
“It’s similar to hypnosis,” said the short one.
“Any other discomfort?” Xing Bi asked.
“No,” Qiu Shi rubbed the back of his neck. “Just a bit thirsty.”
“There’s water in the monitoring room,” said the short one.
“Can you get me some?” Qiu Shi said.
“Go rest for now,” Xing Bi caught on to what he meant. “This thing shouldn’t be used too frequently. It uses the General’s memory—it’ll affect him too.”
Qiu Shi didn’t argue and followed Xing Bi out the door.
“Where’s the General?” he asked. “What kind of effect will it have on him?”
“It’ll affect the General’s brain,” said the tall one. “The General’s brain is somewhere else.”
The General’s brain.
That strange phrase made Qiu Shi feel nauseated. He turned to glance at the tall one. “What do you mean? His brain is stored separately from his body?”
“There’s no body left,” the tall one said, smiling with excitement.
Qiu Shi stared at the two technicians for a moment in silence before turning away and walking off again.
Back in the monitoring room, the two chief technicians stood in front of the screens, back to their usual routine.
The familiar, monotonous environment and daily work made them revert to the jumpy, jittery technicians who had been locked away from sunlight for twenty years.
Lin Sheng and Xu Jie were also in the room. Qiu Shi pulled Xing Bi into the adjacent break room.
“That was a bit too obvious,” Xing Bi said in a low voice as he shut the door behind him.
“What…” Qiu Shi paused, then chuckled. “You’re actually thinking about that at a time like this?”
“What is it?” Xing Bi asked quietly. “Did you notice something else just now?”
“Curator Wu said those two were locked up here because of overstepping research permissions,” Qiu Shi whispered. “I think they know a lot. We should ask more about the code.”
Xing Bi nodded. “Yeah.”
“And if they don’t cooperate,” Qiu Shi frowned, “I want to go back in as soon as possible. Maybe there’s another clue.”
“Why? What clue?” Xing Bi asked.
“There was someone else outside the General’s office,” Qiu Shi said. “But I couldn’t see the face. He just walked past the doorway.”
“Besides the face, anything else you could make out?” Xing Bi asked.
“White hair and a white beard,” Qiu Shi said.
Xing Bi froze.
