Do Bionic Robots Dream of Electric Sheep?
The mountain stream at night was like spilled ink, and the light from the phone divided the cave into two areas.
Chi Qian stood at one end, looking at Shi Jinlan, who was sitting opposite her.
She propped herself up slightly with a long arm, sitting sideways. Black-gold flames burned on her thin frame, making her look lazy and sinister. Her upturned eyes held a smile as she patted, again and again, the “bed” she had just laid out for her.
It was a complete invitation.
If she hadn’t heard Shi Jinlan’s voice with her own ears, Chi Qian simply wouldn’t have believed them.
What couple? How were they a couple?
Hadn’t they been forced to pretend to be a couple before, just to avoid Shi Jinlan’s uncle’s men?
After they rolled down the hillside, Chi Qian had automatically unbound this relationship.
Even she, the one who had deliberately schemed to create ambiguity with Shi Jinlan, had forgotten, yet Shi Jinlan actually remembered.
But even so, that couldn’t change the fact that they were fake.
Why was Shi Jinlan speaking so seriously, even patting the bed and inviting her over?
Could it be that she had actually succeeded in her conquest?
Why didn’t she remember succeeding in her conquest?
Shi Jinlan’s acting was so good it even plunged Chi Qian into deep self-doubt.
She held the phone in her hand, its light reflecting on her face, making her blush exceptionally obvious. Then, expressions of confusion, doubt, and even distress appeared one after another.
Propped up on one hand, Shi Jinlan watched the complex, changing expressions on Chi Qian’s face with great interest, the smile in her eyes deepening.
She wasn’t one to joke around, but whenever she was with Chi Qian, she loved to tease her, for some inexplicable reason.
After watching for a moment longer, Shi Jinlan “mercifully” stopped her joking and quit teasing Chi Qian, explaining seriously, “The temperature in the mountain stream is low at night. It’s not easy to lose body heat if we stay close together.”
“We’re both injured, and our bodies already have inflammation. It wouldn’t be good to catch a cold.”
So that was it.
Chi Qian watched as Shi Jinlan reverted to her usual calm and distant demeanor, and the logic that had been thrown into chaos finally straightened itself out.
So it wasn’t that the mission was successful.
Instead, she had been played by Shi Jinlan.
With the explanation clear, Chi Qian was still a little dejected.
She had genuinely thought she’d completed the mission ahead of schedule and could just let it rot1 until the grand finale.
But when her hope was shattered, Chi Qian’s dejection lasted only for a moment.
Then, with superb efficiency, she hugged her pile of grass and leaves and returned to Shi Jinlan’s side to sleep with her. “Then you sleep on the inside. I’ll be on the outside and block the wind for you.”
Chi Qian moved quickly, and as she spoke, she had already laid out her own “bed.”
Shi Jinlan watched the back of Chi Qian as she neatly lay down, her gaze obscure.
At a time like this, shouldn’t she be making a choice that benefits herself?
Anyway, I can’t walk right now, so wouldn’t she have to listen to me about how we sleep?
Why is she still thinking of me even now?
Idiot.
Shi Jinlan’s brows furrowed. Watching the unavoidable figure in her line of sight, she then turned over to face the stone wall.
Outside the cave, the chirping of insects was faint and distant. In the quiet night, every little sound was rustlingly clear.
Our Miss Idiot wasn’t asleep. Hearing the sound of Shi Jinlan turning over, she stealthily turned her head.
Perhaps many things are only belatedly remembered after one has calmed down.
Or perhaps, there are some things one only dares to think about in the dead of night.
Chi Qian cautiously retracted her gaze. The dark stone wall before her refracted the moonlight from outside the cave, just like the projection of an old movie.
And in this patch of bright moonlight, her mind uncontrollably began to play the scene of Shi Jinlan protecting her as they rolled down the slope.
Dust swirled up, and blades of grass and clumps of dirt continuously scraped across Chi Qian’s cheeks.
Her world was a mess of chaos, until it was brought to a halt by another person.
Breath and a thin sheen of sweat mixed, a delicate and charming fragrance that entered her throat and landed squarely on her heart.
Her heartbeat thumped in her ears, thump, thump, as if countless ripe apples were fluttering down from the trees to the ground.
It was about to drown her.
It was about to make her forget who she was.
In the moonlight, Chi Qian blinked.
Her heart skipped a beat, as if she had suddenly woken up.
No, that’s not right. She shouldn’t be developing any feelings for Shi Jinlan.
The one who fell for Shi Jinlan at first sight was the Chi Qian in the story. She was just a host carrying out the system’s mission. Let alone a future with Shi Jinlan, she shouldn’t even exist in the first place.
She was borrowing a person’s body to complete Shi Jinlan’s lifeline.
Afterwards, the bridge will return to being a bridge, and the road will return to being a road.2
The true beginning of her life is the death of the Chi Qian in the story.
She and Shi Jinlan were not on the same timeline.
Chi Qian reached out and loosened her collar, feeling a tightness in her chest.
Her sluggish heartbeat was like a bouncy ball in a child’s hand; it hit the ground with a thump, and then, because of that damn “forces are relative,” it bounced back even more fiercely.
A child doesn’t understand this principle and will always be knocked staggering by the rebounding ball.
Ignorant and confused, they’ll wail loudly, shouting that it bullied them and that they’ll never play with this ball again.
But later, when it’s time to play, they’ll play with it again.
People never learn.
After keeping her eyes closed for a good while, Chi Qian just couldn’t fall asleep.
She simply retreated into her mind and called for Thirteen to chat: 【Thirteen, are you there?】
【I’m here!】 As if to make up for his negligence towards Chi Qian these past few days, Thirteen’s response this time was particularly attentive.
【How many people’s system have you been?】 Chi Qian couldn’t sleep and didn’t know what to talk about, so she simply started asking about Thirteen’s story.
【1,542. Among them, 1,443 failed their missions and were sent to be destroyed,】 Thirteen answered truthfully.
Hearing this number, Chi Qian’s scalp couldn’t help but tingle. 【So many! Working for you systems is a high-risk profession!】
【Actually, you can’t really say that,】 Thirteen disagreed. 【It’s mainly that many hosts can’t accept being completely cut off from the mission world after the mission is completed. They mistakenly conflate their own feelings with the feelings from the mission, are unable to recognize reality, and can no longer continue working for the system, so they have to be sent for destruction.】
The mechanical, emotionless voice entered Chi Qian’s mind. A few wisps of cold wind blew in along the stone wall, and a chill rose all around.
Of course, Chi Qian didn’t want to become someone destroyed by the system, but everyone who was sent for destruction never thought they would see that day.
Feelings are the things least under a person’s control. They are a flood, a ferocious beast, a tumbleweed; a moment of inattention and they spread all over the world.
Chi Qian felt a pang of sympathy and then asked, 【Then, those hosts who survived, are they all that type who are light with a body free of love3, emotionless mission executors?】
Thirteen nodded. 【Yes. Because after completing this mission, the host needs to accept other missions to maintain their life within the system.】
【…】
Chi Qian’s dream was a little shattered. She had thought she would be free after this mission ended. So it turned out: 【No matter where you go, you’re still a company livestock.4】
【In the system world, there is no competition between hosts. There is no mutual deception,5】 Thirteen corrected.
【Moreover, if a host feels they have enough points, they can choose not to accept missions. It’s a two-way choice for us as well.】
It was clearly a formless stream of data, but Chi Qian didn’t know why she felt that after Thirteen said this, a female guide in a work uniform and a pencil skirt was standing before her, giving her a polite, professional smile.
So Chi Qian smiled too and, given her past experiences, said, 【I don’t really believe you.】
But Chi Qian didn’t dwell on it; after all, that was a matter for the future.
She was still more curious about Thirteen right now, so she asked again, 【Speaking of which, what number host am I for you? 1540?】
Thirteen: 【1542.】
The curiosity in Chi Qian’s eyes instantly vanished.
She expressionlessly adjusted the grass under her head, sadly discovering that she was, in fact, the latecomer.
Seemingly sensing Chi Qian’s mood, Thirteen added, 【If the host succeeds in this mission, you will be my 100th host to survive.】
【How many people have you said that to!】 Chi Qian said jealously.
【Only the host,】 Thirteen stated. 【Only the host asks about me.】
Hearing this, Chi Qian somehow felt a pang of heartache for Thirteen.
She was always kind-hearted, her capacity for empathy stronger than anyone around her. Thinking about how Thirteen had been with so many hosts and no one had ever cared about his affairs made her a little sad.
But, do bionic robots also dream of electric sheep?
Chi Qian didn’t know. Before this, she had always thought Thirteen was a system without emotions; she didn’t even understand why he had granted her initial request to become a cat.
【What is the host thinking about?】 Thirteen asked, seeing that Chi Qian hadn’t spoken for a long time.
【I was thinking…】 Chi Qian didn’t plan on telling Thirteen her previous thoughts, worried that he might experience the data corruption from earlier in the day, so she jumped back to the previous topic: 【Then my number is pretty good.】
Thirteen: 【Indeed. Nine times nine returns to one.6】
Chi Qian nodded.
But for some reason, she had a faint feeling that Thirteen’s choice of words wasn’t very auspicious.
Nine times nine returns to one.
Which ‘one’ does it return to?
“What are you thinking about?”
Just as Chi Qian was lost in thought, a voice suddenly came from behind her.
The wind brushed past the trees outside, and their lush branches and leaves trembled violently twice.
The topic Shi Jinlan suddenly threw out startled Chi Qian. “You, you’re not asleep.”
“Can’t sleep.” Shi Jinlan turned around indifferently, opening her eyes to look at Chi Qian, who had been making faint rustling sounds for a while. “You too?”
Chi Qian went down the slope with the donkey7, grabbing the most foolproof excuse: “Yeah, the future is uncertain, so I can’t really sleep.”
It was even a bit of a double entendre.
Chi Qian hadn’t turned around completely yet. With her back to Shi Jinlan, she secretly smiled at her own cleverness.
The night swallowed too many details. Hearing her words, Shi Jinlan’s eyelashes lowered. As expected, she thought.
This person seemed so carefree and unconcerned during the day, but in reality, in the dead of night, she was troubled by the bizarre fact that they couldn’t get out of here.
The future is uncertain.
That phrase was quite accurate.
As she thought this, Shi Jinlan’s thin lips parted slightly. “We won’t die here.”
Shi Jinlan’s voice carried a layer of cold indifference, and that natural sense of distance inexplicably made her words feel reliable.
Even Chi Qian, who knew perfectly well they wouldn’t die here, felt her heart inexplicably steady for a moment.
But the more this happened, the more miraculous Chi Qian found Shi Jinlan to be.
She had said that with such certainty, and then there was that question from before—”as if she knew we couldn’t get out.”
Chi Qian was even worried that Shi Jinlan had discovered some flaw exposed by the system, so she probed, “How do you know? Did you discover something?”
The signal in these mountains wasn’t completely gone, and Shi Jinlan’s phone seemed to be more sensitive at catching the satellite signal.
The moment her phone’s satellite function had picked up a signal just now, Shi Jinlan had sent a message to her confidant.
The people here on the island were not enough to deal with Shi Cheng’s men.
Shi Cheng’s bold and decisive changes to the Shinian Group were deeply scheming. Shi Jinlan had used this to weed out many seemingly loyal people around her and confirm that she still had subordinates she could completely trust.
Chi Qingyan wouldn’t do, nor would Auntie Zhou. She could only contact them now.
Shi Jinlan’s train of thought was clear, and the plan was on the tip of her tongue.
Yet she still didn’t say it out loud.
She looked at the person before her, a hint of imperceptible surprise showing in the depths of her calm eyes.
She had just, unexpectedly, wanted to tell Chi Qian all of her plans.
Had she let her guard down around this person just like that?
The chirping of the insects seemed to change its tune, stretching out outside the cave before suddenly stopping short.
Shi Jinlan felt inexplicably awkward. Her peaceful expression suddenly sank, and she said only, “I won’t let you die.”
Hearing this, Chi Qian laughed lightly. “Miss Shen, you’re so certain.”
The words had a teasing flavor, her intonation rising as she spoke.
But inexplicably, Shi Jinlan detected a faint trace of sadness in them, which made her feel uncomfortable.
Shi Jinlan didn’t understand where this discomfort came from. She lowered her gaze to look at Chi Qian and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you!” Chi Qian had a strong will to live. Just a moment ago she had been waxing sentimental about her future, but now a denial blurted out of her.
Lying uncomfortably, she propped her head up with the back of her hand and looked toward the sky outside the cave.
The world was pitch-black. Only a full moon hanging in the upper right allowed one to confirm that that small patch was, in fact, the sky.
“People can’t see the future. It’s better to cherish the present, so don’t talk about things so far away.” It’s impossible.
As Shi Jinlan listened, she saw Chi Qian slowly turn her head to meet her gaze.
The dim darkness weakened their locked gazes. Chi Qian couldn’t see the look in Shi Jinlan’s eyes, but her own eyes were always so bright that even in the night, they were clear and lucid.
Shi Jinlan was silent, watching Chi Qian for a long moment. It wasn’t until Chi Qian felt the cave was so quiet it made her heart race that Shi Jinlan finally spoke: “Cherish the present, or… cherish the person before you?”
The author has something to say:
Qianqian: I’m going to die in the future qaq
Lanlan: She’s hinting that I should cherish her. She really likes me so much.
Writing up to this point, I suddenly thought of a very sad line: But she still died because of you later on.
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