Pei Ran and the metal ball checked the apartment again, but didn't find any new patrol robots.
"Turn off the lights," Pei Ran said.
The metal ball's headlights were blinding, too conspicuous.
W obediently turned off the lights, and Pei Ran activated the lighting on her wristband.
Pei Ran wasn't satisfied. "You're a Federation security agent. Your rank should be higher than those patrol robots, right?"
W answered, "Yes, much higher."
"Then you really can't give them orders to stop tailing me? You know I'm innocent."
W replied coldly, "I told you, I belong to the military, and the patrol robots belong to the Federal Security Department. If I want to deploy them, I need to coordinate with the higher-ups in the Federal Security Department, who will then pass the orders down to the White Harbor City Security Bureau. Only the White Harbor City Security Bureau has the authority to issue direct commands to their patrol robots."
But the White Harbor City Security Bureau was now in shambles. No one could control those crazy balls anymore.
The patrol robots had found this apartment, and they couldn't stay here any longer.
W asked, "You knew there were patrol robots downstairs, so why come up?"
Pei Ran said, "I couldn't just come up to see your relatives."
Of course, it was for the supplies.
Pei Ran first rummaged through the closet.
There were a few winter clothes left from the previous owner, but none were as light and warm as this jacket she was wearing, and it was shorter, allowing more mobility.
She gave up on changing clothes and continued searching.
A large hiking backpack could hold a lot, so Pei Ran took some daily necessities, commonly used medications, and hygiene products, as well as scissors and a fruit knife. She took some bottled water from the fridge, and finally opened a small cardboard box on the floor, packing cans and compressed biscuits into the big bag.
When ordering, she never imagined she'd need these things so soon.
The backpack was stuffed to the brim, and only then did Pei Ran stop, zipped it up, and slung the heavy pack over her shoulder.
She glanced at the cupboard, unwilling to leave the snacks behind.
A few bags of snacks fit into the side pockets of the backpack, and Pei Ran picked up a bag of chips.
The chip bag was bulging and took up too much space, so Pei Ran grabbed a shopping bag, putting all the chip bags inside.
Each bag, with 800 calories of precious energy, definitely couldn't go to waste.
Pei Ran walked to the door, with the hiking backpack on her back, one hand holding the chips, and the other holding the metal ball. She looked back at the small apartment.
For some reason, a bit of nostalgia arose in her heart.
This was the place the previous owner had lived in since childhood, maybe it was the lingering emotions of the original owner at play.
For Pei Ran, this was also the first fixed place she had ever called home, a place where she wouldn't have to wander or hide, a place that could be called "home." Unfortunately, she had to leave.
"Where are we going now?" W asked.
"Find a place to sleep."
No matter what, getting some rest was the priority.
Pei Ran carefully went down the stairs, reached the building's entrance, and stopped. She hid by the door and peered outside.
W almost immediately spoke up. "It's safe. I scanned it, no patrol robots detected."
This ball was really useful.
Pei Ran stepped outside, cautiously crossing the street, weaving through some streets before reaching a towering apartment building similar in design to the Mirage Wing Tower.
She had seen this building when passing by. The bottom floor's doors were wide open, yet there wasn't a soul in sight.
The whole city had lost power, and this building was no exception, with only emergency lighting casting a pale, ghostly glow in the old lobby.
Pei Ran circled the bottom floor and finally pushed open an inconspicuous door around the corner.
Inside was a security guard's break room.
There was no emergency lighting inside the room, no windows—it was pitch black, and a foul odor hung in the air. Pei Ran pressed her wristband, and the virtual screen lit up, floating lightly in the air, illuminating the bloodstains on the floor.
Someone had died here, maybe more than one.
The room wasn't large, but it did have a simple bed. The sheets were soaked with large patches of dark red liquid and unidentified matter.
Pei Ran cast a glance at the photo frame on the desk. The picture showed a middle-aged couple and a young girl smiling at the camera.
Pei Ran briefly looked at it, then turned the frame face down on the desk, dropped her things, and efficiently ripped off the blood-soaked sheets.
W glanced over, objectively stating, "The blood has seeped into the mattress."
Pei Ran didn't respond but swiftly flipped the mattress over.
She placed her hand on the top of the metal ball, twisted it to change its direction, aligning its eyes and shooting port toward the door. She then sat down beside the bed, using the light from her wristband to open a bag of chips.
These big bags of chips were too bulky to carry, so she needed to eat them first.
It was Wednesday, which should have been beef noodle day, but unfortunately, she hadn't had any.
The upper part of the metal ball rotated silently, turning back in Pei Ran's direction, and looked at her. "This is...?"
Pei Ran said, "My lunch."
She hadn't eaten anything all day, except for a small chocolate bar that Helan Yu had given her.
She wondered how the siblings were doing.
Pei Ran tore open the tape on her mouth and started focusing on eating the chips, the only sound in the small room was the crisp crunching of chips.
After a short while, the bag was empty. Pei Ran opened another.
W understood. "This is your dinner. You don't need to answer me."
Pei Ran used to often skip meals—sometimes eating three meals in one go, and then not eating for three days.
W didn't speak again, quietly waiting for her to finish.
Pei Ran finished the third bag and reapplied a piece of tape.
This tape was pretty sticky when first applied, but after half a day, it started losing its adhesion, so she had to replace it often.
Once she finished, W spoke again: "A whole day without speaking or interacting with others... do you feel mentally oppressed? Do you want to chat?"
Pei Ran pressed the tape on her face. "No. I don't want to. I actually think it's nice not talking. I even think you're a bit noisy."
W: "..."
She had been used to being alone for so long that having a talking ball around felt strange.
Pei Ran focused again, trying to summon the green light in her mind.
After a whole afternoon of hard work, it had been resting, but now, it seemed to be fully recharged and really appeared.
In the dim room, a faint green glow hovered quietly in Pei Ran's mind, like a glowing firefly.
At the slightest shift of her thoughts, the green light moved too, trailing a glowing line through the darkness.
Last time, it had written the word "Stop," and all nearby power sources and engines shut down. Another time, it wrote "Tear," and an entire alley had been shredded to pieces. Pei Ran didn't dare let it scribble anything random again—who knew what kind of disaster it might unleash?
With that thought, her mind acted like a hand, pressing the glowing dot firmly in place.
It stilled.
The previous two times, the writing had followed her subconscious thoughts. But now Pei Ran wondered: Could she control what it wrote, deliberately?
The metal sphere sat beside her. She didn't want it to notice anything unusual, so she stood up and walked toward the door.
W asked, "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom," Pei Ran replied.
"If you encounter danger," W said calmly, "call for me."
Pei Ran rolled her eyes. "And what would you do? You can't move."
"Maybe I could still help."
"Help me talk it to death?"
W said nothing. Its black eyes watched her, and she couldn't tell if it was feeling offended.
She got curious. "Can we still talk like this if I go to the bathroom? What's the range of this kind of communication?"
W didn't answer directly. "Farther than you might imagine."
Pei Ran opened the door. The main hall still looked safe—completely deserted. She slipped out and quietly shut the door behind her.
The green dot in her mind trembled, like it was getting impatient, eager to move.
Pei Ran recalled the effective range from the last two times the light had written something. She moved to the far side of the hall, away from the guard room door, and stopped there.
What should I try writing? she thought.
She glanced at the joint where her mechanical arm met her shoulder. After taking the medicine, it didn't hurt as much as it had during the day, but there was still a dull discomfort, like something foreign was lodged in the joint.
This arm required constant medication to function. To get that medication, she had to depend on others—a major liability.
As her thoughts stirred, the green light slithered through her vision again.
This would be the first time she consciously tried writing something with it. She wasn't in a rush, so she took her time forming the word.
[Heal]
The word hung there in her mind, not disappearing like the ones before—and nothing happened.
Then she remembered: the earlier words "Stop" and "Tear" had ended with a period.
She focused, and a tiny dot appeared after the character.
Still, the word didn't vanish, and her shoulder still ached. No effect.
Maybe it needed a different word.
As she thought that, the glowing line reversed, retracing its steps. The strokes vanished one by one, until even the period was gone. It returned to the original glowing dot.
She tried a different word: "Recover."
Nothing.
"Cure."
Still nothing.
Her dream of being her own personal healer was shattered. Apparently, the ability had limitations—not everything she wrote would work.
She started analyzing: the successful words so far had all been verbs. What would happen if she wrote a noun instead?
Right now, the thing she wanted most was—
JTN35.
The light erased the previous word and began writing. But it only managed a large "J" before stalling, like it was glued in place. No matter what she did, it refused to continue.
Pei Ran: "…"
Just one letter? That was useless.
She wiped the "J" away and tried again.
This time, she wrote a Chinese character:
[药]
("Medicine")
She wasn't sure if writing such a vague term would work, but the green light snaked across her vision, forming the word and adding a period at the end.
Then—everything vanished from her mind.
Did it work?
Under the harsh, white lights of the hall, she looked around. No sign of JTN35.
Still, the fact that the word disappeared meant there might be some effect. She searched more carefully, unwilling to give up.
Then, just a few steps ahead on the floor—something tiny.
A paper fragment, no bigger than a fingernail.
She picked it up.
White, with a black curve across it. Looked familiar.
Then it hit her: it was part of a JTN35 medicine box. That curve was the tail of the letter J from the printed label.
Her heart pounded.
She hadn't summoned the full medicine, but she had manifested a physical fragment out of thin air. That meant—
This power didn't just affect the environment.
It could create things from nothing.
Words became matter.
Writing was law.
This was more powerful than Pei Ran had imagined. If she could make an object appear from nothing, then maybe—someday—she could conjure a full dose of JTN35. Or something far more unimaginable.
She clenched the scrap of paper tightly in her hand, cleared her thoughts, and finally headed to the downstairs bathroom.
When she returned to the staff room, she pushed open the door.
The metal orb still sat quietly on the table—battered and dented—black eyes fixed on her.
"You were gone a while," it said.
"Mm." Pei Ran responded silently in her mind.
W spoke again, voice calm and even: "So… were you constipated?"
Pei Ran: ???
W sounded perfectly clinical. "Your time in the bathroom exceeded the average for young human females. Therefore, I concluded you might be constipated. I have several suggestions to—"
"I really don't need your advice," she interrupted.
But W persisted, matter-of-fact as ever: "To prevent constipation, you should consume adequate dietary fiber, stay hydrated, maintain an active lifestyle, and develop regular bathroom habits. I also have a personalized tip—eat fewer potato chips."
Pei Ran gave him a long look. "I was thinking of fixing your shell tonight. Bending the pieces back into place, so your parts don't fall out while I carry you around. But now, I'm not so sure."
W, surprisingly self-aware, asked calmly, "Is it because I talk too much?"
"Correct."
"I don't experience bodily functions. Your digestive system is to me what a cooling fan is to a CPU—just a support mechanism. So really, you shouldn't feel awkward discussing—"
"If you say those two words again," Pei Ran warned, "try me."
"…Got it. I won't."
"Bringing that up just lowers your standing with me."
"Understood. What would raise my standing?"
"Not saying a single word. Silence is the best dowry an AI could bring."
W went quiet for a beat. Then:
"I'm not sure why I would need a dowry. But if I stay silent for the rest of the night—could you help fix me?"
Pei Ran considered. "If you don't say one word tonight, and I happen to be in a good mood tomorrow morning… maybe."
She folded her scarf to use as a pillow and lay down on the mattress fully clothed.
"You don't sleep, right?" she asked.
Silence.
"Oh, right. You can't talk. Then I'll leave night watch to you."
She rolled over, found a comfortable position, and closed her eyes.
W: "…"
They were tied together now—if she died, he'd never make it to Heijing. His targeting was sharp, firepower strong. Pei Ran trusted him enough to rest easy.