The dark wilderness stretched out under a dim moonlight. The moon was dull, not at all like water, as the Night Sea No. 7 train raced forward.
Aixia sat in the driver's seat, eyes fixed on the track stretching into the distance.
She had received Pei Ran's message about the shelter yesterday and had immediately discussed it with her grandmother. In the Silence, every day was like dancing on the edge of a knife—make a single sound by accident, and you'd be shattered to pieces.
A shelter where you could speak freely, where making noise wouldn't kill you—that was a miracle. If it had been just Aixia alone, she wouldn't have hesitated. Whether it was two thousand kilometers or twenty thousand, she would have gone.
Pei Ran had warned her that the shelter might take in civilians and that entry standards could be strict. Even if they made it there, there was no guarantee they'd be allowed in. It was a gamble.
But the odds weren't terrible, and the payoff was huge—Aixia was willing to take the bet.
The problem was her grandmother's age. She'd always been healthy, but she was nearing seventy. A journey of two thousand kilometers—across terrible roads, in these conditions—was bound to be rough. Aixia worried her grandmother's body wouldn't hold up. And what if they reached Heijing and her grandmother was denied entry? Then what?
When they got the message, Aixia had hesitated. But her grandmother hadn't. Without a second thought, she'd made the decision to leave. She could still write at the time and scribbled on her wristband screen:
"Xiaxia, I know what you're worrying about. Don't hesitate. We have to go. I have a feeling things are only going to get worse."
"There's only hope if we move forward. Even if we lose the bet, we have to try. We can't just shut ourselves in here and wait to die."
They packed light and fast.
Her grandmother had an antique electric scooter—bought decades ago with her first paycheck out of school. She'd never had the heart to throw it away and had kept it well-maintained, always charged, just in case.
And now, it was time.
They couldn't fly—too risky with the snowstorm—and the ground was treacherous. But the scooter was light, and as long as the terrain wasn't extreme, it could move pretty fast.
They rode through the night, stopping only for two hours of rest. They made it just in time—climbing aboard Night Sea No. 7 moments before the fires engulfed the entire city of Night Sea.
Now, sitting in the driver's seat, Aixia felt like her whole body had been beaten black and blue. Every muscle ached.
A wave of drowsiness hit her.
It confused her—after such a harrowing day, she hadn't felt sleepy at all. That's why she'd insisted Pei Ran go rest first. But suddenly, the fatigue was overwhelming, like a tidal wave dragging her under.
She fought to keep her eyes open.
The track ahead stretched endlessly, monotonous and unchanging. One railroad tie after another, repeating to infinity.
Her eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. No matter how hard she tried, they kept closing.
This is bad.
Aixia dug her nails into the back of her hand—but her fingers felt limp, too tired to hurt herself. No pain.
Then a door opened behind her. The sound was muffled and distant, like it came from behind a layer of glass.
Aixia forced herself to turn.
It was Pei Ran.
Relieved, Aixia saw Pei Ran motion toward the rear cars, telling her to go rest.
It probably hadn't been the full three hours yet, Aixia thought. But she couldn't keep going. Just a short nap—then she'd return.
Her thoughts were fragmented, scattered like puzzle pieces. She stood up in a daze, walked two steps, and passed Pei Ran in the narrow aisle.
Somewhere behind her, she thought she heard a voice.
"You're exhausted—go rest."
Aixia instinctively wanted to reply, "Okay." But the little wooden stick clenched between her teeth made it hard to move her mouth.
That snapped her out of it for a second. She turned around.
Pei Ran was sitting in the driver's seat. And she hadn't exploded.
Maybe she really was just that tired—tired enough to hallucinate. She'd had auditory hallucinations before, just before falling asleep.
Aixia pushed open the door to the rear car, sat down next to her grandmother, leaned back—and was asleep within seconds.
The train rumbled on through the night, wheels clattering rhythmically on the tracks.
Pei Ran, deep in sleep, was suddenly awakened by gentle music.
It started faint and far away, then gradually grew louder, clearer, in her left ear.
She blinked groggily—W was playing her alarm tone.
She sat up straight, rubbed her eyes, and asked W silently: "Is it time already?"
"Not yet," W said. "But I need to wake you for two reasons. First, you're about to lose that bet—you know, the one about Inaya. I just saw the green fusion light on her body."
Seriously? That's why he woke her up?
Half-asleep, Pei Ran reached for the metal sphere beside her and clamped a hand on its head, tempted to unscrew its steel dome.
So what if Inaya had the light? It's not like she was murdering people in her sleep. Couldn't this wait?
W picked up on her irritation instantly.
"Of course, that's not the important part. The real reason is—second—I think the train is heading in the wrong direction."
Pei Ran instantly snapped awake. "What do you mean?"
"There's a digital compass in your wristband. It works without network access. Just check."
Pei Ran opened the virtual screen.
The compass was clear—the train was heading due south.
But the map W had sent her showed the Night Sea No. 7 track ran almost straight to the northwest. No turns.
Why were they suddenly heading south?
That made no sense.
This wasn't an old car that could just turn off the road. It ran on fixed tracks.
Her first thought: hallucination. Maybe she was under a spell or illusion, and the southbound train was fake.
But W was an AI. Illusions shouldn't affect him.
Unless this W was also fake—part of the illusion.
But that didn't add up either.
No one else knew that she could speak with W mentally. Simulating his voice perfectly? Creating an illusion that complex? Almost impossible.
At the security gate last time, they'd broken the trance by slapping each other. Pei Ran really didn't want to slap herself, so she twisted her mechanical arm into her thigh instead.
Pain shot through her leg. Hard.
Probably going to leave a bruise.
W noticed. "You're not under hypnosis. I double-checked. Here's what I found—Night Sea No. 7 used to run a short circular route. Later, it was upgraded with a new northwest track. We just passed the Tanggu Dam—that's where the old loop and the new track split."
"I checked—turns out the old loop wasn't decommissioned. It's used for maintenance. Maybe the train hadn't run in a while, and the switch was left pointing toward the old loop."
The train had taken the wrong track—onto the outdated loop.
Pei Ran stood up and grabbed the metal ball. "Can we go back?"
"Absolutely," said W. "Some trains have engines on both ends. This one doesn't, but it can reverse—use the front engine to push the cars backward to the switch point. Then we flip the switch and rejoin the main track."
Pei Ran nodded and started walking up the aisle toward the front car to find Aixia.
She'd only gone a few steps when she saw, through the glass doors between carriages—Aixia was sitting inside Car One, next to Jiang Gong.
She looked exhausted, leaning on the seat, sleeping soundly beside her grandmother.
Pei Ran moved forward quickly, peering into Car Two. Sheng Mingxi and Tang Dao were there too. All asleep.
The hairs on her arms rose.
If they're all here… who's driving the train?
W saw it too and immediately said, "Pei Ran, I'm sorry. I didn't see Aixia leave the cockpit."
He'd been on the little table between seats—no angle to see the cockpit door.
"And she didn't wake you up or hand over control?" W asked.
"She wouldn't," said Pei Ran.
Aixia was sharp. In the chaos, she'd managed to cross half the country on a scooter with her elderly grandmother. She wouldn't just abandon the controls.
Something had happened.
Then—
A scream came from the rear.
A real scream, from a man's throat. Raspy. Desperate.
"HELP ME—"
The cry echoed through the train. Horrifying.
"HELP ME—"
Then nothing.
Pei Ran turned just in time to see a chubby man stumbling down the aisle of Car Four, as if he'd woken from a nightmare. Gripping the seats on either side, trying to stay upright.
And then he was gone.
In an instant, his body exploded—blood and meat spraying everywhere.
The people in the car were all jolted awake—only to see that horror.
Luckily, no one else was sitting near him. No one else was hurt.
Another life lost. Only forty-five people left.
From the corner of Car Four, came a frantic thudding—kicking, struggling. Loud bangs.
It was the family with the little girl.
The girl had woken to the screams and then seen the carnage. Terrified, she flailed wildly.
Her parents clamped their hands over her mouth, terrified she'd make a sound. Their fingers dug into her mouth in desperation.
But the tighter they held, the more terrified she became. She couldn't calm down. The couple looked completely broken.
The dining car door swung open. Someone entered.
Yulianka.
He carried a syringe. Face grim, eyes resolute. He knelt in front of the girl and plunged the needle into her arm.
The drug worked fast. The girl went limp and silent.
Her parents collapsed into the seats, sweating and pale.
Yulianka stayed there, crouched beside them. He pointed at the girl, then pulled down his surgical mask. He opened his mouth wide and pointed at his throat.
Then, with his other hand, flat as a blade, he made a slicing gesture across it.
Anesthetic could only suppress it temporarily—this time was fine, but what about the next? And the one after that?
What he was really suggesting was that the girl's parents take advantage of her unconscious state to cut her vocal cords.
It took a moment for the girl's parents to register what he meant. Then the mother lowered her head, eyes brimming with tears.
Yulianka stood up, eyes filled with sympathy. He waited quietly for their decision.
At last, the mother nodded, clutching her sleeping daughter tightly, sobbing silently and uncontrollably.
The father looked utterly exhausted, as if all the life had been drained from him. He raised his head and made a gesture to Yulianka—a slicing motion across his throat.
He would accompany his daughter. He would also have his vocal cords removed.
The mother made the same gesture at her own throat.
The train car was silent. Everyone was watching them.
Across the aisle, the elderly couple stood up.
The old man tugged gently at Yulianka's white coat, pointed to his own throat, then to his wife's, and made the same cutting motion.
Others began to rise as well.
The situation had grown so dire. A single nightmare could kill. Compared to that, vocal cords were just another organ—one they didn't even use anymore. What good was a voice if it meant death?
One by one, everyone in the car decided to undergo the surgery.
Yulianka looked around. His pale blue-gray eyes brimmed with a godlike sorrow and compassion.
At last, he nodded and motioned toward the dining car, indicating for the girl's parents to carry her over.
Pei Ran had watched silently. Now she took a deep breath and headed quickly toward Car No. 4.
These people were different from Kim Hojun. Kim was in too much pain to last the night without the surgery. But these others… they still had a choice.
The surgery could wait. And the fact that the train had gone off course couldn't be ignored any longer.
The little girl, who used to have bright, curious eyes, now lay unconscious, her lids shut tight as her mother held her close.
But Pei Ran could still see those clear eyes in her mind, as if the child might speak at any moment:
"Big sister!"
"Sis, I found a pretty screw and brought it for you. Is it useful? Can you use it to build your gun?"
"Sis, do you think one day we can adopt a kitten like in your stories? I want a white one."
...
W understood exactly what Pei Ran intended. "You're going to tell them about Blackwell?"
"Yes," said Pei Ran. "The terminus of Night Sea No. 7 isn't far from Blackwell. I was planning to ask around once we arrive in the morning. If anyone wants to follow me, I'll take them there."
"But Blackwell hasn't finalized its criteria for accepting civilians," W reminded her. "It's unpredictable. Some of them might not be allowed in."
"I know," Pei Ran said. "I'll tell them everything. Some people may have other plans. Others might want to take their chances. W, send me the map of Blackwell. Remove the text."
The father was now carrying his unconscious daughter carefully toward the dining car. The mother protected the girl's limp head, and Yulenka walked silently behind them.
Pei Ran strode forward, caught up to them, and grabbed the back of Yulenka's white coat.
Yulenka turned in surprise, as if asking: What is it?
Pei Ran didn't answer him. Instead, she raised both hands high and clapped twice above her head.
Clap. Clap.
Even without that, the whole car had already been watching. The shouting, the banging—it had woken people in the neighboring cars. Even Sheng Mingxi and the others up front were poking their heads around.
Pei Ran expanded her wristband's virtual display to its largest size and projected it into the aisle, floating high so everyone could see it.
A translucent screen hovered like a thin membrane above the seats. A map appeared on it, crisp and clear.
All the text had been erased by W, but from the layout of the mountains, rivers, and major cities, it was obvious—they were looking at the northwest region of the East Manya continent.
W had thoughtfully marked Blackwell with a bold red dot, and even traced Night Sea No. 7's rail route on the map.
This time, it wasn't a rigid line, but a cartoonish track with exaggerated wooden ties. It looked hilariously out of place next to the precise map, and the proportions were ridiculous—a single tie might have stretched across half of Night Sea City if scaled to size.
W asked Pei Ran, "How's my style this time? Not too AI-ish, right? A little more playful?"
Pei Ran paused. "We'll talk about your art later. I'm busy."
W muttered, "Carbon-based lifeforms… poor things. No multitasking."
Pei Ran: What?
Pei Ran: "What did you say? I dare you to say it again."
W instantly backed down. "I didn't say anything about 'daring' or 'again.' I'll shut up. You carry on."
The car was completely silent as Pei Ran projected the map. Everyone stared, confused.
What did this mean?
Once she was sure everyone had seen the red mark for Blackwell, Pei Ran lowered the screen slightly and began adding to it.
She zoomed in on Blackwell, again and again, then drew a large inverted dome over it—a protective shield.
Inside it, she began adding matchstick figures, all paired off, facing each other in conversation. Each one had a speech bubble floating above its head, filled with scribbled lines standing in for words.
And every one of the tiny figures had a big smile.
If W had drawn it, it would have looked better. But with so many eyes on her, Pei Ran decided to do it herself. As long as the message got through, that was enough.
She finished, then raised the screen back up.
Silence.
Not even the sound of fabric brushing or people shifting in their seats.
Everyone stared at the screen.
The meaning was obvious—so obvious it felt unreal.
Could such a place truly exist in this chaotic world, where making a sound meant death?
A place where you could speak freely?
A true sanctuary?
Even Yulianka, always so composed, looked stunned as he stared at the image.