Near the ruins of the Hongli City Breeding Base.
A blue Maserati pulled up beside a trash bin at a corner near the ruins. The door slid open slowly, and a snow-white calf, clad in blue python-skin high heels with lace trim, emerged.
Qishenggu lifted the hem of her skirt and stepped out of the car. Holding up a lace-trimmed parasol, she walked slowly toward the filthy trash bin, her heel accidentally stepping on some disgusting filth.
A pair of legs hung over the edge of the trash bin; the pants were torn and tattered, as if a homeless person were lying inside.
Qishenggu covered her mouth and nose with a small, fluffy fan, coughed twice, and peered inside the trash can: “Poor child, the Puppet Master asks when you’re coming home.”
Eris lay stiffly inside the trash can. His right eye socket was empty, his ear had been pierced to shreds, his clothes were in tatters, and the ball-and-socket joints of his limbs were exposed—he looked no different from a ragged rag doll tossed into the trash.
“I don’t know. Tell him I’m on my own now.” Eris buried her face in the trash and muttered, “And you, you peacock woman, don’t you dare call him a puppet master. He’s an artist—the artist Odan Nix. Although the biggest blunder of his life was pinning his hopes on a loser like me. “I hope I never see the Divine Messenger again—or his sashimi-wife.”
“Alright, you little jinx,” Nix said. “He’s fired a new pair of eyeballs and engraved his name on them.”
Eris jolted upright from the trash can, doing a sit-up: “What? Are they for me?”
Qishenggu used his lace umbrella to block the flying trash: “They’re for you. If you can’t get back to the doll shop within a day, he’ll attach those eyeballs to a newly fired doll.”
“I’m going back!” Eris leapt out of the trash can and launched himself onto the Ferrari parked by the roadside, covered head to toe in garbage.
Qishenggu coughed a few more times, feeling his condition worsen again.
——
Medical Ward, IOA Headquarters Building, Aphid City.
Noticing Xiao Xun staring at the hem of his coat, Han Xingqian smiled. “The new laundry detergent I bought is too fragrant; it’s not suitable for work clothes.”
“I-is that so?” Xiao Xun leaned in to sniff. It smelled like ordinary disinfectant, but out of habit, he went along with Dr. Han’s explanation. “I’ll take it home to wash at lunchtime.”
“Take a good whiff.” Han Xingqian smiled faintly, raised his hand, and pressed it against the back of Xiao Xun’s head. Completely caught off guard, Xiao Xun tumbled headfirst into Han Xingqian’s arms. In the confusion, it felt as though he’d been caught red-handed, but Xiao Xun had no proof.
A head suddenly popped up between them.
Xiao Xun startled, taking two steps back to separate from Dr. Han, only then realizing it was Bai Chunian who had squeezed in.
“Getting that close during work hours? I’ll dock your pay.” Bai Chunian rested his chin in his hand, eyeing them.
“The Search Division has never paid me a dime, and you’ve never paid me a cent for house calls either.” Han Xingqian pushed his glasses up his nose, rolled up his sleeves, shoved his hands in his pockets, and gestured toward the flustered Xiao Xun across from them: “He really loves the smell of disinfectant.”
Just as Xiao Xun was about to sink into the ground with embarrassment, Bai Chunian waved him over: “You stay here and watch the test subjects. Keep yourself safe, too. I need to talk to Brother Han about something.”
Bai Chunian pulled Han Xingqian into an empty ward, closed the door, turned around, and whispered, “Do you remember Du Mo?”
“I remember. The guard from the International Prison.”
“Yeah. After the former warden stepped down, that raven took over the identity of a released prisoner—using the identity of the bellbird who died protecting the pastry chef as his own cover—and just vanished for a long time.”
“But yesterday he suddenly showed up at the café outside the headquarters building. He came to report something to me.” Bai Chunian unfolded a crumpled document from his pocket and showed it to Han Xingqian. “He said Ailian had canceled the transport contract with the Red-throated Bird and switched to another company—one that pays better but is more reliable.”
“Which one?”
“The Lingti Clan.”
“……” Han Xingqian paused to consider. “How did he find out?”
“He was planning to sneak out of the country and boarded a Lingti Clan cargo ship. He just happened to overhear a sailor mention it during a handover with the manager.”
“So, I have a plan now that requires Xiao Xun’s help. But given how strained his relationship with the Lingti Clan is, if I ask him directly, he might be very resistant. Why don’t you talk to him instead?”
Han Xingqian: “Besides borrowing other people’s Omegas, what else can you do?”
Bai Chunian: Borrow other people’s Alphas. I’ve also made arrangements for Bi Lanxing.
“Is this even reliable? Du Mo… He managed to come up with a way to escape from the international prison—he’s definitely a calculating one. We can’t trust him.”
“He’s only doing this because the tree he was leaning on has fallen. Rather than risking a dangerous escape, he might as well try his luck at the IOA. He’s an Omega, and the Alliance has always been very tolerant of Omegas. “You’re right. That’s why I found Du Mo a good job… Uncle Jin has a new brand that’s in need of an operations planner, so I introduced him there… Anyway, let’s come up with a legitimate reason to keep him here for now.”
“It’s fine. Even if it’s fake news, it won’t hurt us.”
“Oh, and he gave me something useful.” Bai Chunian pulled a capsule-shaped object—about the size of a fist—from his pocket.
Han Xingqian recognized it immediately. It felt heavy in his hand, and when he shook it, he could hear the sound of liquid inside.
“Liquid nitrogen.” Han Xingqian raised an eyebrow. “A liquid nitrogen capture net for test subjects.”
“Not bad, huh? Take it and study it.” Bai Chunian said smugly.
“Come to think of it, on the day you went to stir up trouble at the Red Fox City breeding base, you probably had plenty of chances to get your hands on a liquid nitrogen capture net.”
“Hmm…” Bai Chunian looked down at the tips of his shoes. “I thought the Chairman wouldn’t tolerate me anymore, so I didn’t take one.”
Han Xingqian: “Tsk.”
“Sorry… I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Here, take this.” Han Xingqian handed him a notebook that was only half-filled. “I haven’t shown this to anyone else. Burn it or eat it—either is fine.”
Bai Chunian took the neat, palm-sized notebook in surprise. Dr. Han always carried a small notebook like this with him to jot down observations on the go.
He flipped through it. On the last page with writing, there was a date and a single sentence: “Bai Chunian lost control after witnessing the mass death of white lion cubs. The scope of his ‘obliteration’ has expanded to encompass all living beings around him, and he no longer needs to know their names.”
Bai Chunian lifted his eyelids but said nothing.
His M2 ability—Annihilation—worked by compressing a person into a glass sphere and then shattering it, causing all memories of that person to vanish from the world. The only weakness of this mechanism was that once it was written down, anyone who saw the note would recall the circumstances of the event.
Han Xingqian shifted the stethoscope around his neck. “Ever since you arrived at the IOA, I’ve been your supervising physician. I know you well enough to understand your true nature.”
“My true nature…” Bai Chunian grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up forcefully, struggling slightly to breathe. “I’m an extremely dangerous test subject, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re the mature-stage test subject with the most pronounced tendency toward empathy—which signifies sensitivity and humanity.” Han Xingqian patted his shoulder. “You did indeed cause a tragedy, but for the Medical Association, the fact that a test subject developed a desire for revenge stemming from ‘heartache’ rather than from a distorted living environment is significant. You may not understand the distinction, but it’s crucial to us.”
Before Han Xingqian could finish speaking, Bai Chunian lunged forward and gave him a big hug.
“Get off me.” Han Xingqian yanked him off, leaving a smear of snot on his white coat.
Bai Chunian suddenly pricked up one ear, hearing a noise outside the door. A pair of eyes peered through the glass, stealing a glance at them.
Bai Chunian yanked the door open. Outside stood a short kid clinging to the doorframe on tiptoes. He was wearing an ill-fitting hospital gown—the sleeves and pants were far too long—and looked to be between ten and thirteen years old.
He was holding a book in his hand—actually, a blank dictionary.
“Who are you?” Bai Chunian took the blank dictionary from his hand, only to discover that the book’s back cover was fused to his left hand.
“I am Test Subject No. 6117, Turing Museum,” the little guy said, staring at them calmly from beneath his drooping eyelids. “Mr. Bai Chunian, Mr. Han Xingqian, I need to speak with you.”
Bai Chunian bent down: “Would you like something to eat, little one?”
He pushed Bai Chunian’s hand away, turned to close the door, and said calmly, “Don’t look at me as if I were a human infant, Divine Messenger. I’m already mature, while you look like a big cat that’s just been weaned.”
Han Xingqian poured him a glass of water. The young man politely accepted it, nodded in thanks, and then said, “My friends and I have discussed it. We don’t want to go back to the breeding facility. I know staying here has caused you quite a bit of trouble, but I need a way to leave the institute. Do you have any suggestions?”
Bai Chunian thought for a moment: “We don’t have that kind of money. IOA isn’t a charity. You’re still the property of the research institute—you’re commodities.”
Han Xingqian said, “Try hiring a lawyer to argue that you possess an independent, autonomous personality, with clear goals and self-awareness.”
Turing Museum nodded: “Are you sure that’ll work?”
Han Xingqian shook his head: “It’s worth a try. But first, you must prove to society that you’re completely harmless. Jinluchong will take you to different places every week to do volunteer work, but there’s a limit on the number of participants—only one mature-stage test subject or two developmental-stage test subjects at a time.”
Turing Museum paused to consider: “Alright, I’ll pass this on to the other test subjects. We hope to receive your help. If we can escape the research institute, we’ll do our best to repay IOA.”
The volunteer activities went very smoothly.
Every day, Golden Thread would carry the mummy on his back and lead one or two test subjects to the locations arranged by headquarters to clock in for work. Sometimes they helped dockworkers clean warehouses; other times they swept streets, helped churches paint walls and create murals, assisted police officers in resolving neighborhood disputes, ensured traffic safety during kindergarten field trips, mended fishing nets, and kept the seaside clean.
Han Xingqian also used his connections to help them contact several lawyers willing to take on their defense.
Bai Chunian hadn’t held out much hope as he sat in Han Xingqian’s office, listening to him call each of his lawyer acquaintances one by one.
“To be honest, the law doesn’t currently recognize the independent legal personhood of test subjects. We’re bound to lose this case, Brother Han. These lawyers are only taking it on because of you—I’m afraid we might not be able to remain friends afterward.” Bai Chunian leaned back in his chair, propping his head in his hands and sighing.
“We have to give it a try.” Han Xingqian hung up the phone, rubbed his hands together lightly, then set his phone down and sent a message to Xiao Xun: “You’ve been working hard lately. Come over for dinner tonight. What movie do you want to watch?”
The “typing…” indicator stayed on for a while, but it took quite a bit of time before he received a reply.
My little puppy/heart/: “I’ll go buy some fish to make soup for you [emoji]”
Bai Chunian leaned in to look: “What are you doing?”
Before he could read the message, his phone buzzed—it was Lan Bo calling.
“I saw that rag doll. It was my oversight not to kill him then; I was too preoccupied with worrying about you.” ” Lan Bo sat sideways on the apartment windowsill, lazily gazing out at the ballet theater not far away.
A conspicuous bomb was attached to the bronze ballet statue at the very top of the theater, with five seconds left on the countdown.
Boom.