Cen Zhixu loosened her hand.
Her long hair hung down, masking the fading red marks on the side of her neck and the silent, lingering tenderness deep into the shadow.
She scooped up a handful of water and splashed it against her face. Droplets slid down her temples and eyelashes, tracing a steady line along her neck.
Drip. Drop.
Her communication ring buzzed to life. Cen Zhixu lowered her head to glance at it. It was [Pei Yuan].
She wiped away the water droplets, raised her hand, and tapped it open. The next second, several messages popped up in succession:
[Pei Yuan]: Captain! I am wandering around Sector Six right now. Is there anything you want to eat? Should I bring some back for you?
Followed by three photos:
[A snapshot completely devoid of any composition, showing messy neon signs, pedestrians, and half a tree shadow.]
[A flower shop with the focus poorly adjusted; the floral shadows were all blurred together, making it impossible to even distinguish roses from lilies.]
[A small cat sleeping on a curbside bench, its tail wrapped around its front, curled up into a fluffy ball.]
Cen Zhixu swiped through them one by one.
The first two photos were truly disastrous to look at, but the cat, unexpectedly, turned out quite well.
She tapped the screen and replied.
[Cen Zhixu]: No need.
[Pei Yuan]: Really? You do not want anything at all? Not even the contracted little girlfriend who signed a contract with you?
[Pei Yuan]: Then I guess I will just run away from home, oh?
Cen Zhixu paused her movements, lingered on the message for a moment, and expressionlessly typed three characters.
[Cen Zhixu]: Not working?
The other person remained silent for a long time before sending a grievance-filled emoji.
Immediately following were a string of messages:
[Pei Yuan]: The supervisor said my pheromone overflow affected my colleagues, docked my annual leave, and chased me out.
[Pei Yuan]: I was originally just wandering around aimlessly, but somehow I ended up right outside the Law and Order Bureau. As soon as I sat down to eat two small cakes, the captain chased me out again.
[Pei Yuan]: I had no choice. After circling around and around, I could only come to Sector Six to reminisce about my first date with the Captain.
[Pei Yuan]: You have to admit, White Butterfly Restaurant is genuinely delicious, especially the roasted beef ribs. The following five hundred words of heartfelt praise for the food are omitted.
Cen Zhixu: [Omitted.]
She lowered her gaze to read that long, chattering string of text, her eyelashes twitching slightly.
How on earth does one wander aimlessly starting all the way from the White Tower, walking right into the Law and Order Bureau, finishing two cakes, and then getting chased out by people?
Truly preposterous.
After banging out a bunch of messages, Pei Yuan did not wait for a reply at all. She shut off her communication ring and continued waiting for her corn dog.
As expected of the White Tower inner city, even the roadside food carts were kept impeccably neat.
The vendor, wearing a cap, mask, and gloves, moved with swift efficiency, squeezing on a line of ketchup and drizzling a circle of golden mustard.
“Your corn dog. Eat it while it is hot.”
“Thanks a lot, boss.”
Pei Yuan took the corn dog, took a blissful bite, and finally had the time to look at Cen Zhixu’s message.
Cough, cough, cough! The next moment, she was choked so badly she almost coughed out the corn dog.
[Cen Zhixu]: Circling such a wide loop.
[Cen Zhixu]: Just wanted to find me to talk?
This, this person!
No, she absolutely could not let Cen Zhixu gain the upper hand. Pei Yuan immediately paused eating her corn dog and began typing out a rapid-fire reply.
However, before she could even send the long paragraph she had poured her heart into, a new message popped up:
[Cen Zhixu]: Disobedient little dogs who run around get locked up, you know. Are you? Well-behaved?
Pei Yuan stopped moving.
She stared at that single line of text, her earlobes turning blazing red in an instant. The corn dog in her hand suddenly did not taste so good anymore.
Damn it.
Why was it like this again?
Clearly, she was the one who launched the offensive, sending photos and messages one after another, acting cute, buttering up, and talking nonsense without missing a beat.
How was it that in the end, the flustered and clumsy one was still herself?
Why did she lose yet again?
She was not willing to accept this!
Unsurprisingly, after the message was sent, Pei Yuan did not reply.
She gets embarrassed pretty easily.
Cen Zhixu thought to herself.
Cen Zhixu turned off her communication ring and left the testing room, where her young assistant was waiting outside.
The assistant hurried forward, lowering her voice: “The Councilor went up ahead of schedule, asking you to hurry.”
Cen Zhixu nodded: “Understood.”
The assistant stepped forward and draped the silver-white uniform jacket over her shoulders.
Cen Zhixu raised her hand, her fingertips resting on the cold, hard metal buttons. She moved them upward one by one, slowly buttoning up until she reached the very top.
The high collar closed tightly against her neckline, locking the rise and fall of her breath right within it.
The silver chains on her left shoulder cascaded down in layers, wrapping across her chest and waist. Dense and intricate, the links rattled with a subtle, crisp sound whenever she moved her hand.
She was dressed with such rigorous precision. Her uniform was immaculate, austere, and unapproachable.
Yet precisely because of her neck, her waist, and her lowered eyelashes as she fastened the buttons, a hint of hard-to-describe eroticism drifted out from beneath her severe coldness.
The assistant set the elevator for her and then stood respectfully to the side.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
Cen Zhixu said gently.
She turned and stepped into the elevator, the metal doors closing shut.
The light trail swept inch by inch along the shaft walls, rising straight up until it reached the highest floor of the White Tower.
Cen Zhixu stepped out.
The long corridor was spacious, the floor as bright and smooth as a mirror, inverting and reflecting her walking figure.
One above, stepping on the hard, cold ground; one below, stepping on the overturned light and shadow.
The moment her footsteps landed, reality and reflection meshed together with absolute precision, without a fraction of an error.
The guards on both sides of the corridor snapped to attention almost simultaneously, lowering their heads in a bow: “Good day, Captain.”
Cen Zhixu smiled gently: “Mm.”
At the end of the corridor, several guards stood by the door. Seeing her arrive, they immediately stepped forward and respectfully pushed the door open for her.
Beyond the door lay the White Tower Council Chamber.
The dome was high and deep, its silver-white structure converging layer upon layer upward from all four walls, spiraling into a near-perfect central oculus.
Light poured down from high above, cut through countless facets and metal skeletons, and spread across the hall.
The center of the hall sank down by several steps, enclosing a circular platform. Four high-backed chairs were arranged around a cold silver round table.
When Cen Zhixu walked in, there were already two people inside.
Near the door, a tall woman with sharp, fierce brows was pacing back and forth.
She wore a crisp military uniform with rigid shoulder lines, and the heavy thud of her long boots hitting the floor was crisp and sharp, exuding a sharp, unsheathed oppressive aura.
Seeing Cen Zhixu enter, the woman paused, her gaze sweeping over.
“Captain Cen,” she spoke.
Cen Zhixu stopped and bowed to her. The intricate silver chains fell, shimmering with a gentle, watery light under the illumination.
“Councilor Zhen Luan.”
Zhen Luan gave a slight nod, said nothing more, and turned toward her own seat.
Cen Zhixu retreated behind her, standing quietly with her hands clasped behind her back in a disciplined posture, resembling a thin sword sheathed in its scabbard.
Seated directly opposite Councilor Zhen Luan was another councilor.
The woman wore a stern expression, dressed in a formal black suit with her hair coiled at the back of her head, revealing a lean and austere face. She had a high bridge of the nose and pale, thin lips.
She was the Judiciary Councilor.
After similarly bowing and greeting her, Cen Zhixu raised her gaze slightly, sweeping over the other two empty high-backed chairs.
Embedded in the back of one chair was an emblem intertwined with gears, star trails, and a mechanical eye, symbolizing Research.
The other was carved with spreading leaf veins and supporting hands, bearing a soft, light-golden emblem symbolizing Minheng.
Cen Zhixu leaned in close to Zhen Luan’s ear, asking in a low voice: “Is Councilor Minheng not attending this council session?”
Zhen Luan let out a cold snort.
The Judiciary opposite spoke calmly: “Same as usual. Word is she went to the orphanage to audit classes and inspect basic education projects.”
She sighed: “When it comes down to it, Minheng believes our methods toward that rebel organization member are too severe, so she is unwilling to show up.”
Zhen Luan let out a cold breath through her nose, evaluating: “Excessive sympathy.”
Cen Zhixu said softly: “Some things are actually harder to discuss with Minheng present. Her absence might even be a blessing in disguise.”
Councilor Zhen Luan let out an mm, then waved her hand, clearly unwilling to waste any more breath on the topic.
She turned toward the other high-backed chair, her brow furrowing with impatience: “Where is that madwoman? Every council meeting requires repeated invitations. Does she really think this place is her research institute?”
Just as her voice fell, the heavy doors of the council chamber slid open to both sides once more.
Dr. Tungsten strode in.
She was still wearing a wrinkled lab coat, her hair tied in a ponytail with stray strands sticking out every which way in a messy tangle.
The narrow-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose had slipped down to the tip, but she could not be bothered to push them back up.
Dr. Tungsten swept a glance over the three of them, let out a sneer, and sat down in the high-backed chair embedded with the mechanical eye.
“Alright.”
She said lazily, “Say what you need to say. I am very busy and do not have time to play bureaucratic word games with you here.”
Councilor Zhen Luan’s brow twitched.
Leaning forward, she clenched her fingers into a fist, pressed it onto the table, and slammed it down heavily: “Indeed!”
“Aside from a rebel mole hiding right under our noses for a full three months, there really is nothing urgent!”
“Everything is operating completely perfectly!”
Her words crashed down heavily, and the council chamber fell into a brief silence. No one spoke.
Councilor Zhen Luan leaned back into her chair, slowly relaxing her knuckles, her chest still heaving irregularly.
Standing behind her with a disciplined, lowered head, Cen Zhixu stepped forward half a step at that moment.
“Respected Councilors.”
Cen Zhixu bowed slightly to the three of them, polite and impeccably poised.
“The interrogation report has already been sent to your communication rings. Please review it.”
She continued to elaborate: “Three months ago, an Alpha member of the rebel organization Flint sneaked into the inner city, and was not discovered until the Sector Six pheromone out-of-control incident.”
“According to the interrogation results, besides her, at least one other accomplice is still active within the city.”
Cen Zhixu paused slightly.
“Furthermore, I personally strongly suspect that Flint may very well have planted an insider within the inner city.”
Her voice was unhurried, sentence following sentence, driving wedge-like stability into the tabletop.
Councilor Zhen Luan closed her eyes, forcibly suppressing the surging anger within her. After a moment, she spoke again:
“Three months.”
“A member of a rebel organization lived peacefully in the White Tower for three months without triggering any early warnings.”
She enunciated every word heavily: “Weren’t stopped when entering the city, weren’t tracked after getting in, and did not even undergo a single basic re-examination!”
“Don’t tell me the Research Institute still considers such a massive loophole not worth mentioning!”
Councilor Zhen Luan demanded sternly: “Doctor, do you not plan to offer an explanation?”
Dr. Tungsten propped her legs up on the table, the reflection on her lenses flashing and concealing the expression in her eyes.
“Explain what?”
She tilted her head, the mocking curve at the corner of her lips not even bothering to be hidden:
“Roughly speaking, the Eye of Order has to process over forty thousand identity verifications, transit records, and the like every single day.”
She glanced dismissively over the few of them: “How many misses do you think count as normal under that kind of magnitude?”
No one answered.
Dr. Tungsten volunteered the answer herself: “About three hundred and sixty people.”
She spread her hands, looking completely innocent: “Yet, the Eye of Order only missed two.”
“So, instead of holding a trial and placing blame here, you might as well properly thank the Eye of Order.”
Dr. Tungsten lifted her chin.
“Thank her for intercepting hundreds of troubles that should have walked right past that bunch of idiots in the Guard Corps!”
A vein throbbed at Councilor Zhen Luan’s temple, her knuckles instantly tightening: “Dr. Tungsten, that is enough!”
She suddenly raised her volume: “Don’t play math games with me here. I want answers!”
“Do you think that just because you created the Eye of Order, nobody has the right to question you?”
Dr. Tungsten let out a long sigh.
“Ah, naive, emotional humans who always rely on falling out and pounding tables to solve problems.”
She leaned back, looking toward the silent Judiciary Councilor beside her: “Aren’t you going to say a few words?”
The Judiciary Councilor sat upright with a straight back and shoulders, her face devoid of much expression.
The Judiciary spoke calmly: “Any system will have errors. That is basic common sense.”
“What I care about is: after it makes a mistake, where is the error-correction mechanism?”
The Judiciary Councilor raised her hand, swiping across a light screen as several pages of material unfolded accordingly.
“The Eye of Order failing to identify this Alpha’s abnormality during the city-entry screening stage can be attributed to insufficient samples.”
“The problem, however, is that after she entered the inner city, her life, work, and various activities remained constantly monitored by the Eye of Order.”
“As long as there was the slightest suspicion, the Eye of Order should have captured it and issued at least one low-level warning.”
“Yet, it did not.”
The Judiciary Councilor leaned forward slightly, aligning her ten fingertips and resting them on the table:
“This means the Eye of Order did not just misjudge once. For three months, over and over again, it repeatedly judged this person as normal.”
“A single omission is an error.”
She said slowly: “A misjudgment lasting three months is a structural defect.”
If Zhen Luan was a blade, direct, straightforward, and of startling momentum, then the Judiciary was more like a fine needle: quiet, cold, hard, piercing right into the bone marrow.
Dr. Tungsten’s smile faded. She twirled a stray lock of hair hanging down to the corner of her mouth, narrowing her eyes.
“Structural defect?”
She repeated.
Dr. Tungsten pulled her legs back, sat up straight, and let out a scoff: “Truly laughable.”
“The Eye of Order is a machine, a pure and rational machine. It is neither a god nor a prophet.”
“It can only judge things it has learned, organized and cleansed data, resident files, images, action trajectories, and so on.”
Behind her lenses, the depths of her eyes seemed to burn with a fire: “But what about the outer city?”
“Members of rebel organizations, secret codes, camouflage methods, and so on. Have you ever given me even a single piece of decent data?”
Dr. Tungsten pulled a sarcastic smile to the corner of her lips: “No, nothing at all.”
“You taught the Eye of Order breaststroke, backstroke, butterfly, and freestyle, taught it how to swim in lakes and oceans, and then turned around and dumped it straight into a desert.”
She let out a scoff: “What, did you really expect it to swim its way out of the sand dunes?”
The council chamber fell silent for a moment. Zhen Luan looked gloomy, and the Judiciary frowned with displeasure.
Cen Zhixu stood behind the high-backed chair, her expression calm. The silver chains hung down, swaying a cold, bright line with every breath.
Outside the high windows, clouds drifted slowly.
Daylight slanted down, casting the shadows of the four high-backed chairs extremely long.
Four silent, mutually opposing cracks stretched all the way to the edge of the circular platform.
“Doctor.”
Cen Zhixu spoke up.
She stepped out from the shadow behind the high-backed chair, walking into the sunlight slanted across by the high window.
Her silver hair was touched with a slight brightness by the light, yet she only received half its favor. Her brow bone, eyes, and bridge of her nose were washed clear by the sunlight, every single eyelash distinct.
Yet her soft lips, slender neck, and the rise and fall beneath her clothing still remained trapped in the hazy gloom.