Encoding 3: The Officer Bullies Her.
Mole once complained that their boss, Red Snake, was an absolute computer idiot.
She would plug in a USB flash drive the wrong way three times, use the exact same password for every single account, and open fifty browser windows at once without ever clearing the cache.
However, you would absolutely, positively never want to encounter her out in the wasteland. She would quietly, patiently follow you, watching your every single move.
Like a snake.
Coiling around you, tightening her grip, swallowing you whole.
You have nowhere to run.
The office was quiet, the sound of keyboard tapping echoed intermittently, and the air conditioner blew a gentle stream of air that fluttered the sticky notes pasted on the partition.
“With so many people in White Tower City,” Pei Yuan said lazily, “what a coincidence that you happened to end up inside my head?”
“Was it randomly assigned, did you choose me, or was someone pulling strings behind the scenes?”
The system fell silent for a moment.
Then it quickly spoke up: “Host, I understand your question and am more than happy to answer it for you.”
“The Eye of Order is a city-level surveillance facility, whereas I am merely an individual-facing auxiliary program.”
The mechanical female voice said calmly: “There is a massive difference in our clearance levels and permissions.”
“Ah, that really breaks my heart.”
Pei Yuan spread her hands. “Don’t tell me, System, I thought the two of us were friends.”
“After knowing each other for so long, you still refuse to open your heart to me, and you won’t even tell me where your hometown is.”
Pei Yuan crossed her legs, her tone looping through eighteen twists and turns: “You’ve hurt my feelings, did you know that?”
The system replied very quickly: “Regarding my origins, do you remember the identity chip the staff implanted behind your ear when you entered the city?”
“Of course,” Pei Yuan shrugged. “In my opinion, only a city-state with a screw loose would embed a piece of iron into the back of everyone’s head.”
The system: (No data)
The system: “Please rest assured that I will erase your previous sentence from the memory cache.”
Pei Yuan smiled brightly, raised her hand, blew a kiss into the air, and flashed a finger heart.
The system remained unmoved: “Your identity chip differs in model from those of regular White Tower residents.”
“Official residents are familiar with the order and rules within White Tower City and do not require additional guidance.”
“Outlanders are different.”
The system continued: “Outlanders lack an understanding of the White Tower system and social services, making them prone to falling into difficulties due to information gaps.”
“Therefore, the White Tower randomly embeds individual-facing auxiliary modules, which is me, into the latest batch of foreign identity chips to help outlanders become familiar with and integrate into White Tower City.”
“And you are one of them.”
The system’s tone remained completely steady, devoid of any fluctuation or wave.
“System, you answered about the origin,” Pei Yuan tilted her head, “but you still haven’t explained why it had to be me.”
The system said: “Randomly. To be precise, pseudo-randomly. I analyze multiple dimensions and prioritize assignment to outlanders facing the highest adaptation risks.”
Pei Yuan: (No data)
She somehow felt insulted.
“Fine, fine, I get it.”
Pei Yuan feigned profound grief: “I understand. Out of all the outlanders entering the city, I am the poorest, the most wretched, and the most likely to end up sleeping on the streets.”
The system: “That is one way to interpret it.”
Pei Yuan leaned back against her chair, her hands crossed behind her head, turning down the corners of her mouth as she let out a long, dismissive scoff.
The office remained quiet.
The scattered tapping, an occasional cough, the sound of swallowing, and sticky notes fluttering upward only to fall back down.
In another corner of the White Tower,
silence likewise enveloped the entire room.
A faint scent of disinfectant floated in the air, with a single overhead light suspended directly above the examination chair.
The woman sank into the back of the chair, her collar unbuttoned to reveal a pale, fragile stretch of neck that trembled slightly with each breath.
An IV needle pierced her skin, the tubing winding out from the inside of her wrist as transparent liquid flowed slowly down the inner walls of the tube.
Drip, drip.
The woman curled her fingers slightly, gripping the edges of the armrest while her chest rose and fell slowly beneath her open collar.
In this silent room where the only sounds were the dripping IV and the humming machinery,
the system’s voice rang out:
“Administrator Admin, the following is a real-time report concerning the special tracking target ID: Pei Yuan.”
“At 14:07 today, she initiated a dialogue asking about my origin, deployment method, and connection to the Eye of Order.”
“Mhm.”
The woman closed her eyelashes and chuckled softly: “Expected.”
The system stated: “I used the explanation of outlander auxiliary module to complete the initial handling. The target did not continue asking, but the degree of conviction is questionable.”
The woman chuckled again. Slowly opening her eyes, moisture floated lightly within her brilliant, dazzling pupils.
“Pei Yuan is very smart,” she said. “That excuse won’t fool her for long, or rather, she didn’t believe it at all to begin with.”
“Keep a tight watch,” she instructed softly, “but try your best not to let her notice.”
The system acknowledged: “Understood. I will gradually adjust the interaction mode and attempt to build a foundation of trust with the target.”
The woman curved her eyelashes. The outer corners of her eyes were tinged with a thin flush of illness, her breathing raspy as she breathed out very light words.
“You two will get along.”
She said: “Iron out the wrinkles, resolve some minor conflicts, and slowly you’ll become best friends.”
The system fell silent for a moment before saying: “I reserve judgment on that, Administrator.”
“But I will do my best.”
For Pei Yuan, the happiest time of every day was none other than after getting off work.
Previously, she had been frugal every day, counting pennies on her fingers, feeling like buying an extra apple would bankrupt her.
Yet after latching onto Cen Zhixu’s coattails, Pei Yuan happily stuffed her refrigerator full of all her favorite foods.
With a soft beep, iris recognition passed, and the apartment door slid open.
As soon as Cen Zhixu stepped onto the plush long-pile carpet, she caught an unfamiliar fragrance drifting through the room.
Butter, black pepper, and the aroma of pan-seared meat escaping into the air.
Frowning slightly, she looked toward the kitchen. The door was half-open, and the aroma was drifting out from inside.
Cen Zhixu walked over.
With a soft click, Pei Yuan was busy lowering her head, but upon hearing the movement, she whipped around.
She saw Cen Zhixu leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking at her lazily.
Pei Yuan chuckled sheepishly: “Ms. Cen, I am not very good with smart appliances. I fussed with it for ages and only managed to whip up a few ugly things.”
Cen Zhixu stepped into the kitchen in her slippers and glanced over: “What is this?”
“Mushroom cream soup, grilled lamb chops, and mini cherry cakes for dessert,” Pei Yuan introduced them one by one. “I made the fruit jam entirely by hand.”
She sighed: “There was supposed to be a baked potato too, but your smart oven has too much personality and baked the potato into a rock.”
A trace of amusement flashed across the bottom of Cen Zhixu’s eyes. She rinsed her hands and lightly dipped a finger into the edge of the cake.
Cherry jam clung to her fair fingertips, rich and vibrant in color, slipping downward in a precarious, dangling drop.
Licking the jam away with the tip of her tongue, her fingertip retained a wet sheen tinged with a blood-like red, resembling a bitten cherry.
“Too sweet.”
Cen Zhixu evaluated.
Pei Yuan muttered with a wronged expression: “Really? I was sitting here patting myself on the back, thinking I overperformed.”
Before she could finish speaking, Cen Zhixu raised her hand and dipped into the cherry jam once more.
Extending her fingertip forward with a slight tilt, she pressed it against Pei Yuan’s lips, gently smearing it across from left to right.
Pei Yuan froze, letting her paint the jam inch by inch across her lips.
Warm, sticky, and subtly sweet and sour.
Cen Zhixu watched her, a faint smile hidden beneath her long eyelashes like a little creature that knew how pretty it was and simply loved to bully people.
“Pei Yuan.”
She said softly: “Why don’t you taste it and find out?”