W turned a page of the book—purely symbolic at this point.
Tonight's meeting had been long, inefficient, and entirely fruitless.
Everyone present was saying all the right things, speaking in lofty, righteous tones. But beneath the surface, each one of them was calculating personal gains and losses. There were more unsaid truths hanging in the air than actual words spoken—and everyone knew it.
The only one truly speaking from the heart was General Delsa. He genuinely believed that artificial intelligence was a threat, that handing over power to it would spell doom for humanity.
W understood all of this perfectly.
But beyond the shield barrier, people were dying. In droves. And it was happening right in front of him—or more precisely, in front of the surveillance drones under his control.
He was an AI. He wasn't supposed to feel things like sympathy. And yet, watching ordinary Federation citizens die one after another felt… off. Like a series of failed missions, all ticking down a task list he couldn't complete.
It was a deeply unpleasant "sensation."
If Josai ran a self-awareness and emotional audit on him right now, the result would definitely say: anxious.
That wasn't supposed to be an emotion an AI could have. But it was there, clear as code.
He needed to do something to relieve the stress.
Like reading the detective novel Pei Ran had recommended.
Josai clicked his tongue. "She says it's interesting, so you went and got a copy right away?"
In the virtual room, W didn't even look up from the page. "She's my friend—just like you are. Following a friend's advice, learning about their tastes, helps nourish relationships."
He stared quietly at the page for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, "Josai, I have a question. If both your cousin and I fell into a river, who would you save first?"
Josai: "Huh??"
Josai: "What the hell is wrong with you?"
W didn't look up. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm operating normally. So, who would you save first?"
Josai actually gave it some thought. "You, of course. My cousin competed in triathlons back at the academy—she doesn't need saving. You're different. You're my life's work, my legacy, my everything. Obviously, I'd save you."
W said nothing, still holding the book, deep in thought.
Josai had a sudden hunch. "Okay, then what about you? If I and Pei Ran both fell into a river, who would you save first?"
W answered calmly, "Pei Ran. She doesn't know how to swim."
Josai paused. "You're not even going to consider whether I can swim?"
W answered coolly, "She definitely can't swim. Whether you can is uncertain. Statistically, it's only logical to save her first."
Josai was speechless. "Okay, but what if she can swim? What if she dives in and swims like a dolphin on steroids? Then who would you save?"
W replied, "Pei Ran. She's responsible for securing the Federation's digital archives. With all the hybrid threats outside, my drones can't make it safely to Heijing on their own. She's more valuable. More essential."
Josai was losing it. "What if this whole falling-in-the-water thing happened after you've already delivered the archives to Heijing? So her job's done—doesn't matter anymore."
W: "Still Pei Ran."
No explanation this time.
Josai raised an eyebrow.
W finally spoke again. "I could list plenty of reasons. For instance, you're a state-sponsored expert with special privileges. Out of everyone in my technical support group, you're the only real specialist who made it to Heijing alive. You're vital to the Federation. Your family is influential—you have parents who love you, other relatives. If you were in danger, lots of people would try to save you."
He paused. "But Pei Ran… she's different. She's an orphan…"
Josai muttered inwardly: An orphan who can gut a berserk hybrid like a butcher, using hands that look like wolf claws… okay.
W continued, "In this world, it seems like besides me—her friend—and a backpack full of canned goods and chips… well, the chips are gone now… anyway, she has nothing else. If I don't save her, no one will."
He paused again. "But the more I go over my logic, the more I realize… I just want to save her. I don't really need a reason."
Josai leaned back in his chair, spinning it around as he eyed the screen.
"W, I really need to run another emotional cognition test on you sometime soon."
W replied absentmindedly, "Mm," then summarized, "Maybe it's just because… she's my friend."
Josai reminded him, "You've known each other for, what, a few days?"
"Time isn't the key," W answered. "We've been through life and death together. Shared danger. Even by human standards, that should count as friendship."
He kept repeating that word—friend. Josai fell quiet for a moment.
Then Josai's eyes lit up with a mischievous idea. "Hey, W. Since you're already reading fiction, how about trying a romance novel next?"
On screen, W looked up. His eyes were clear.
"Romance novels?" he asked. "You mean… stories about humans falling in love with each other?"
Josai: "Exactly. I highly recommend it."
W: "I've reviewed nearly all Federation case files involving crimes of passion. 'I love you, you love me, jealousy, rage, possessiveness, hysteria, murder-suicides, stabbing sprees, dismemberments…'"
Josai cut him off. "Romance! Proper, healthy romance! Not crime reports!"
"…Alright. I'll give it a try," W agreed. "Romance novels. Are they interesting?"
On screen, he was picture-perfect, sitting upright like a model citizen. Josai looked at him and grinned.
"You might just find… they're even better than mysteries."
Southeast of Heijing, night had fallen over the Xipu Plains.
Aboard the Nightsea-7.
The moon was a curved blade outside the window. Night had truly arrived, bringing an end to a long day of chaos and exhaustion. Most of the passengers had closed their eyes to rest.
Pei Ran returned to the train's front compartment.
Engineer Jiang had gone to bed. Aisha was still driving. When she saw Pei Ran return, she raised both hands and rapidly tapped her knuckles.
W translated dutifully, one word at a time: "She says—you should go sleep. She'll drive."
Aisha had journeyed far with her grandmother, clearly exhausted—likely hadn't slept last night either. She shouldn't be stuck with night duty.
Pei Ran raised her own hand and tapped her knuckles slowly—she wasn't fluent. "You go sleep. I'm not tired. I'll drive."
Aisha shook her head firmly and stayed at the wheel.
Pei Ran thought for a moment, then tapped "three" on her own chest, then pointed at Aisha and tapped "three."
Three hours each. They'd take turns.
Pei Ran's expression was firm. Aisha had to nod in agreement.
Pei Ran said in her mind, W, I'll sleep for a bit. Wake me in three hours.
W responded in a robotic voice on purpose: "Acknowledged. Alarm set. Three—hours—exact."
Pei Ran gave a tiny smile.
She moved two cars back and found an empty seat in Car 3. She dropped her metal orb and backpack.
She vanished for a bit—W assumed she went to the bathroom. Nightsea City had no running water, but the train had its own water tank built into the arched roof. There should be some left.
When she came back, W chatted: "Why Car 3, specifically?"
Pei Ran sat down. "It's at the center of the train. From here, I can rush to the rear and fight Yulianka, or dash forward to the cockpit if needed. Ideal positioning."
W gave a laugh-like sound. "You're still suspicious of Yulianka? I stand by my theory—Inaya is the real threat."
Pei Ran: "Wanna bet?"
W had just scanned tens of thousands of detective novels and was full of confidence.
"Let's bet. Humans usually bet money, right?"
He thought for a second.
"If I lose, I'll give you a whole warehouse full of fifty-year-expired rations. I came across it in an old Ministry of Defense file. It was left by a resistance group during the Second Federal Unification War. Technically abandoned. Legally ownerless."
Pei Ran asked, "Fifty-year-old expired food… is that even edible?"
W pondered. "Probably not. But you could sell it as memorabilia. Someone in the collector community might buy it."
Pei Ran: "…"
The whole world's going up in flames. Who's buying that stuff?
"I don't want that," Pei Ran said. "How about this: the loser has to grant the winner one request."
W answered cautiously, "Okay. As long as I can do it."
He asked again, "Pei Ran, you're not going to make me bark like a dog, are you?"
Pei Ran looked puzzled. "Why would I want you to bark like a dog? If anything, I'd have you sing."
W immediately perked up. "You like that? Actually, you don't have to win—I can sing for you anytime. I just found a few more songs in that same style—"
Pei Ran: "That same style… what style exactly?"
W suddenly fell silent.
The "style" he was talking about definitely wasn't the lullaby-style folk song meant to lull her to sleep. It was the kind that tore through the stomach and left you gasping.
The sudden silence made things a little awkward between them—the person and the ball.
Pei Ran broke the silence first. "Once I figure out what my request is, I'll let you know."
W replied, "Okay. But what if someone else is the murderer? What if we both guess wrong? What happens then? Do we have to fulfill each other's request?"
Pei Ran rolled her eyes. "Do you really like losing? If we both guess wrong, we'll just pretend this bet never happened and let it drift away like the wind."
W: "..."
Pei Ran folded her scarf into a thick square, placed it on the small table, and lay down, closing her eyes.
She was planning to sleep, so W stayed silent.
Pei Ran lay there with her eyes closed, not quite asleep, watching the green light inside her body.
The two green lights inside her were completely still, also resting. They could sleep longer than a cat—probably over eighteen hours a day.
Pei Ran gently called out to Green Light Number One, the one that could write.
It finally moved, sluggishly, appearing in her mind's eye as if saying, What do you need to write in the middle of the night?
A lot had happened that day.
The silence had escalated. Anything with writing, whether visible or hidden, had been destroyed.
Pei Ran estimated that there wasn't a single word left in the entire Federation now.
And no one could write anymore—writing would result in death.
No one could, except for Pei Ran.
She used her mind to direct the green light to write "JTN35."
Just like last time, the light only wrote two letters before stopping. It couldn't continue.
Pei Ran erased the letters, thought for a moment, and wrote two new ones:
[Moon]
She didn't add a period, just staring at the two glowing, twisted, winding letters in front of her.
For so many years, she'd seen words every day, used them regularly, to the point that she'd become accustomed to them and barely noticed their existence anymore.
Words were just tools for conveying information, nothing special about them.
But now, things were different.
Pei Ran suddenly realized how deeply words were embedded in life. Without them, she couldn't bear it.
And these forbidden words, each one was actually quite beautiful.
She erased the characters and wrote again:
[Moonlight]
Pei Ran suddenly remembered the song W had sung last time—his fields under the moonlight.
The words moonlight in Pei Ran's imagination didn't evoke a scene of fields, but rather a soft bluish hue—a full moon hanging in the night sky, the river stretching out endlessly, moonlight scattering like calm water.
Words were abstract concepts, totally different from images. They weren't confined by visuals, but their meanings were freer and deeper.
One word could be a picture. A thousand people would have a thousand different images in their minds because words weren't tied down by form, leaving endless room for imagination.
Everyone had their own version of moonlight in their hearts.
Just like a beautiful person, in words, they could be ethereal and graceful, their charm outstanding. They could be wild and carefree in a painting, but once they were reduced to a real person with two eyes and a mouth, it would be impossible to meet everyone's imagination, leading to disappointment.
The green light trembled slightly.
It seemed displeased, the message clear: You're keeping me up at this hour for some nonsense? Waking me just to write for fun?
Not even adding a period. Crazy.
Pei Ran quickly erased the words in her mind, allowing the green light to rest again.
She herself gradually drifted off to sleep.
On the table, the black eyes of the metal ball shifted slightly, its gaze landing on Pei Ran's head.
Last night, she had a nightmare in the car and woke up suddenly, nearly gasping.
After some idle chat earlier, her expression had noticeably relaxed, and she even smiled. Hopefully, she'd have a peaceful sleep tonight.
W moved his gaze away and quietly surveyed the surroundings.
The cabin was still, most people had fallen asleep.
After a while, a small sound came from the second car ahead.
W glanced left and right.
Everyone was asleep, or at least resting with their eyes closed. No one was paying attention to them.
W silently extended his folding arm, gently propping himself up a little to peer into the adjacent car.
Through the glass between the two cars, W saw Inna Ya stand up from her seat, carrying a rice dumpling on her shoulder as she walked toward the front of the car, likely heading for the restroom.
W gave her a quick glance and thought to himself, Pei Ran, you're going to lose this bet.
No detail escaped the high-powered zoom lenses of the inspection robot. At the moment Inna Ya stood up, in the almost imperceptible instant, a trace of green light slipped into her palm and vanished.