Pei Ran reached out to pull the virtual screen lower and added several new stick figures to the shielding layer. These ones were dressed differently—they all wore wide-brimmed hats, had epaulets on their shoulders, and held guns in their hands.
Even though the hats looked like giant pancakes balanced on their heads, the epaulets like bricks strapped to their shoulders, and the guns were as crooked as fire pokers, the message was clear: they were soldiers.
There were soldiers stationed at the shelter—or some kind of armed force.
Pei Ran drew a series of radiating arcs on the outside of the dome, short to long, layered like waves.
A signal. Being transmitted from inside the shield.
Then she drew a stick figure farther away from the dome. This one had a hilariously oversized wristband with the same kind of signal arcs emanating from it. Floating in front of the figure was a screen that had just received an image.
She was saying: the message received outside the shielding layer came from the shelter.
As Pei Ran drew, she explained to W in her head, "See? Whether the drawings are pretty or not doesn't matter. What matters is that people can understand them."
W responded with a silent, unimpressed pause.
But everyone in the train car seemed to have understood. They exchanged looks with their companions, quietly but meaningfully.
Satisfied, Pei Ran clapped her hands twice to get everyone's attention again.
There was no need to rush into cutting out vocal cords just yet—things weren't that dire.
But some things had to be made clear.
She continued sketching on the screen.
She added a string of cartoonishly boxy railcars to W's cartoon track. The railcars were filled with little crying stick-figure heads.
The little figures got off the train. They walked to the outside of the dome.
She added a piece of paper there, with scribbles meant to represent lines of text.
Below the "text," she placed two emoji hands—one pointing left, the other right.
The figures who went left entered the dome and turned into smiling faces. The ones who went right were blocked by gun-holding stick figures. They stayed outside, still crying.
Above the paper, she stuck on a little emoji of a figure rubbing its chin, thinking.
No one knew what the selection criteria were. No one knew whether they could truly enter Blackwell.
The car fell silent again.
Thump—tap tap tap…
A few knocks on the table broke the silence. It was Tang Dao. He and Sheng Mingxi had come over earlier and had been watching Pei Ran draw the whole time.
Tang Dao looked at Pei Ran, fingers drumming the tabletop. He was asking: Is what you said about the shelter true?
Pei Ran knocked on the back of the seat beside her: Of course it's true.
Tang Dao stared at her hand, took a long breath, and his eyes lit up. He didn't bother with the tapping code anymore. He pointed to his own chest, mimed walking with two fingers, then pointed at her drawing.
He'd made up his mind instantly. He wanted to go with Pei Ran to Blackwell.
Sheng Mingxi raised her hand immediately too, tapping her own chest—Count me in.
The other students from Night Sea University were also raising their hands.
The father holding a little girl adjusted her position to free up his hands, but the mother beat him to it, pointing first to her own chest, then her husband's, and then the child's.
They wanted to go too.
They sat the child back down. If there was even the slightest chance to reach a place where speaking was allowed, no one would willingly cut out their child's voice.
More people, as if waking from a dream, began tapping their own chests at Pei Ran.
If there was a safe haven in this world, of course they had to try—no matter the risk, no matter how slim the chance.
Pei Ran scanned the room and her gaze stopped briefly on Yulianka.
He was already watching her, eyes fixed.
His pale blue-gray eyes narrowed slightly, and then he raised a hand and pointed to his chest too. He wanted to join.
But his gesture was different from the others'.
He made a fist with his right hand, leaving only the thumb out, and tapped it gently over his heart on the left side. Then he extended his index finger and pointed at Pei Ran.
W immediately asked, "What the hell does that mean?"
After a moment's pause, he gave a cold and lazy-sounding answer: "Ah. Got it. It means, 'I want to give you my love, starting from my heart. I love you.'"
Pei Ran had achieved her goal and knew the vocal cord crisis was over.
Whatever authority Yulianka had built up on the train due to his doctor status no longer mattered. In the face of hope, everyone now saw her as the backbone. No one would easily fall for Yulianka's influence again.
Pei Ran turned off her wrist screen without a word and headed to the front of the train.
As she walked, she said to W, "I think what he meant was, 'You're marked. I've got my eye on you.'"
W didn't reply. He didn't seem to agree.
Up ahead, some people were still sleeping or resting with their eyes closed, unaware of the conversation from the rear car.
In Car 2, Pei Ran saw Inaya.
She was still curled up in her corner seat, asleep with her head resting on the tray table, black braid hanging down her back.
Sticky Rice Ball wasn't asleep though. The parrot stood on its owner's back, quite energetic. When it saw Pei Ran passing by, it flapped its wings and opened its beak.
Pei Ran raised a finger to her lips in a shhh gesture.
The little parrot seemed to understand and obediently shut its mouth.
She kept walking.
In Car 1, Aisha and Jiang Gong were still together, fast asleep. They looked exhausted. Pei Ran didn't wake them. She made her way to the very front and opened the door to the conductor's cabin.
As expected, the one driving wasn't anyone important—just the supposedly "average-rank" maintenance tech, Kirill. She'd seen everyone else earlier, except him.
She had no idea how he'd gotten control of Night Sea No. 7 from Aisha.
W said, "He actually passed through our car earlier while you were asleep—went into the restroom up ahead."
Pei Ran walked over and tapped Kirill on the shoulder.
He turned slightly, gave her a blank look, then turned back like she wasn't even there.
Like a peace lily planted in that chair.
W asked slowly, "Does this count as 'having guts'?"
Or maybe it wasn't guts at all. Kirill's eyes were unfocused and glassy—he looked… controlled.
Pei Ran immediately went to the cabin door.
It was still open. The aisle behind her was empty; everyone else was asleep. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
She returned to Kirill's side and slapped him hard across the face.
Smack!
Kirill jolted and suddenly came to.
He looked around in confusion, eyes wide with panic. Pei Ran didn't wait for him to react—she knocked the back of his head and he slumped over, unconscious.
Whatever trance he was under, it wasn't hard to break.
She grabbed his shoulders and, without much effort, dragged him off the driver's seat and onto the floor.
"W, keep a close eye on me. If I start acting weird, knock me out immediately."
W drawled, "Suuuuure—"
He'd been sounding off this whole time. He glanced at Kirill on the floor. "Pei Ran, break his arms. Snap his neck. Kill him. Throw him off the train."
Pei Ran: "???"
Something was definitely off.
She asked, "Are you sick?" Then corrected herself: "Did you short-circuit or something?"
W: "..."
Same weird tone. He gave a soft laugh. "…Come on, it's so easy. Just do it."
Pei Ran paused. "Aren't you the one who said, 'I can guarantee that every law-abiding citizen is completely safe'? And now you're asking me to kill someone?"
W replied lazily, "I'm not glitching. I just realized—you humans, even if you're dumped into a steaming pot, only care about staying alive a little longer than others, about standing slightly higher. You don't actually give a damn about each other."
A heavy accusation.
Pei Ran kept her thoughts with W while her hands moved.
Kirill seemed close to Yulianka and was clearly familiar with the train. Even if he'd been controlled, she didn't trust him. Safer to tie him up.
She reached into her bag for duct tape. The bag was too full. The only one she could find was the expensive roll Sheng Mingxi had given her.
She grabbed Kirill's arms, folded them behind his back, and wrapped the tape tightly—several layers.
It hurt her soul a little.
This tape could've bought her so many bowls of beef noodles… Maybe she should have just tossed him out.
While tying him up, she mumbled, "I mean, I might not care that much about other people… but I'm not completely heartless, right?"
W said, "No, I wasn't talking about you."
He sounded like he sighed.
"A meeting at Blackwell just ended. I'm an AI. I work constantly to gather data, process information, give recommendations, optimize survival rates—arguing with numbers ten decimal places deep. But you humans…"
He paused. Then added quietly:
"…Sometimes I wonder why I even care whether you live or die."
Then he swore.
Pei Ran blinked. "What language processing level are you on right now?"
"Level ten," W said. "Since you never objected to me adjusting it, I made the change myself."
Pei Ran: "..."
W: "Pei Ran, come on. Just do it. Kill him."
He'd gone mad.
Far to the northwest, 1,400 kilometers away.
At Blackwell Base.
Command center.
In the corner of the hall, a virtual avatar of W sat in a circular chair, reading a book, brow furrowed.
Jose spotted him right away.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "The other meeting finally wrapped up?"
W didn't look up. He just muttered one word: "Yes."
"Did they agree to give you more authority?"
W turned a page. Didn't answer.
Jose got the hint—whatever the outcome, it wasn't good.
Trying to change the subject, he asked, "Still reading romance novels?"
W finally replied, "Yes. The Federal Digital Library has an archive. Millions of titles across all time periods. I've gone through most of them."
Jose laughed. "Learn anything?"
W said, "I've found that many male leads exhibit strong aggression, possessiveness, paranoia, deceit, and high libido—typical traits of suspects in crimes of passion."
Jose: "…"
Suddenly, W looked up, closed the book, and made a gesture toward the camera.
He made a fist, thumb out, tapped his chest, and pointed at Jose.
"Jose, do you know what this gesture means?"
Jose studied it for a moment, then said cautiously, "It looks like… 'I'm… your dog?'"
W: "..."
Back on the Western Plains, in the conductor's cabin of Night Sea No. 7—
Pei Ran had Kirill tightly bound and kicked to the side. She took another look toward the back.
All seemed normal.
She secured the cockpit door and pulled a lever on the console. Nightsea No. 7 screeched to a sudden halt.
"How do I drive this thing in reverse?" Pei Ran asked.
W replied, "Easy. See that silver metal button in the top right corner? Press it. Good. Now push the lever on the left like you did before."
The train started moving again—but this time in reverse. It quickly picked up speed, no slower than when it was moving forward.
W said, "I'll keep monitoring direction and distance. Once we're back at the Tangu Dam, we'll need to get off and switch the tracks manually."
The cockpit door was pulled open—Aisha and Engineer Jiang had come in.
The sudden stop, followed by the abrupt reverse movement, had woken them up.
Aisha's hair was a mess from sleep. She glanced at the unconscious Kirill, who was tightly bound on the floor, and jumped back in surprise.
She raised her hand, tapping her knuckles in a quick gesture.
[Why are we going in reverse?] Then she pointed at Kirill. [Why is he here?]
Pei Ran already knew. Aisha, no matter how tired, would never have left Kirill—who'd been so rude to Engineer Jiang—in control of the cockpit.
Pei Ran tapped her fingers in response.
[Who did you hand over the train to before you went to sleep?]
Aisha read the question and looked dumbfounded, completely incredulous.
[You!] she tapped rapidly. [You came to the cockpit and told me to go get some rest!]
Of course.
W spoke aloud, "Another hallucination."
Someone had used a hallucination ability—made Aisha see an illusion, tricking her into thinking Pei Ran had come to relieve her.
Aisha could tell from Pei Ran's expression that something was seriously wrong. The sleep vanished from her face, replaced by a tense alertness.
[What's going on?] she asked again. [Why are we reversing?]
Pei Ran tapped her fingers: [Someone's creating illusions. What you saw was fake. We went the wrong way.]
She brought up the map W had drawn and traced the route from Nightsea forward, then made a left turn at the fork.
Engineer Jiang, familiar with the route of Nightsea No. 7, understood immediately.
She pointed at the junction on the map, mimed switching the tracks, then sat at the controls and pressed a few buttons.
The train picked up even more speed in reverse. Outside, the silhouettes of trees blurred past in the darkness. At this pace, they'd reach the Tangu Dam quickly.
Aisha was still trying to process the hallucination part. She glanced at Pei Ran, then took a few steps forward to look down at the unconscious Kirill.
She stepped aside to clear the doorway.
Pei Ran, following her line of sight, looked past the cockpit and through the glass separating the train cars—and suddenly saw Yulianka.
Yulianka was standing at the far end of the next car, holding Nuomi over her shoulder.
Her black braid hung over one shoulder, her dark, heavy eyes locked unblinking on them, her face eerily blank.
Just standing there—she looked like a ghost.
Then, in those deathly black eyes, a flicker of green light flashed.
A rustling sound came from behind.
Pei Ran turned—and saw that Kirill was now on his feet, no longer unconscious.
Aisha, meanwhile, was inexplicably lying on the floor, passed out.
Engineer Jiang was slumped over the console, motionless.
Pei Ran instinctively lunged forward, but something was off.
That was Aisha. A woman who could form hand seals to blow up excavators. She wouldn't go down silently like that. And what about the thick layers of tape that had Kirill's hands and feet bound tightly? Where had those gone?
That tape was strong—tightly stuck, binding his limbs. Unless someone helped with scissors, there was no way he could've freed himself that quickly.
Pei Ran's mechanical arm was halfway to Kirill's neck but switched course, grabbing his arm instead.
Kirill struggled—but couldn't break free.
Something felt very wrong.
Pei Ran's mind felt sluggish, her head foggy—like she was in that hazy, half-dream state right before sleep. Her thoughts scattered, and she had to work to pull them back together.
Kirill moved. His face cold and expressionless, he suddenly pulled a knife from behind his waist.
The blade gleamed under the cockpit light as he thrust it toward Pei Ran's chest.
Battle instinct screamed: grab his wrist.
Grab it—and twist—and that arm would pop off the shoulder just like that clawed man's arm near Shige Ye.
But Pei Ran didn't do that.
She blocked the stabbing motion with her mechanical arm and shouted inwardly:
"W?"
The metal sphere floated silently at her side. Her left ear was filled with silence. No response.
Of course—it was all a hallucination. Someone had pulled her into an illusion.
The person manipulating her was projecting an image of Kirill waking and attacking—but didn't know she could communicate with people mentally.
She called out to W—but didn't hear an answer. That meant even her hearing had been altered. Even if W had spoken, she wouldn't hear it.
The Kirill in front of her snarled and stabbed again.
The knife was likely fake. The person wasn't Kirill.
The point of the hallucination must have been to make them kill each other. In reality, the one standing in Kirill's place... was probably Aisha.
Suddenly, Pei Ran felt curious.
This time, she didn't block with her metal arm—but with her real one.
The blade sliced into her forearm. Blood surged through her sleeve.
Pei Ran: "…"
Pain.
It actually hurt.
But anyone who's been stabbed for real can tell the subtle difference.
When a real knife goes in, the first feeling is a cold chill, then pain gradually builds. But this pain came too sharply, too fast—it wasn't right.
This was a forged pain—not enough to wake her up.
The knife came again. Pei Ran blocked it. Her shoulder flared with pain—sharp and strange.
She ignored the blade and reached out, grabbing the attacker's shoulder.
She touched long hair. Kirill had short hair. Aisha's shoulders were the ones with long strands hanging down.
The illusionist had altered her sight and hearing, could even simulate pain—but hadn't changed touch.
Not because they didn't want to—but because they couldn't. Just like the green light that could write or draw but had its own limitations, this power had rules.
Pei Ran ignored the bleeding arm and shoulder, ignored the murderous "Kirill," and turned to head toward the next car.