Ryan’s mind stirred, his electric field flickered, and the next second he was standing at the entrance of the botanical garden.
The speed of his movement honestly surprised even himself.
Stepping inside, he was greeted by the scent of nature.
The space was vast, simulating different ecosystems and filled with strange plants he’d never seen before—glowing mushrooms, shrubs with crystal-clear leaves, bizarre trees with branches that twisted like dancers…
his eyes couldn’t take it all in.
Two Herta dolls wearing gardening hats and holding tiny tools were watering a flower that kept changing colors.
“Um… excuse me?” Ryan approached.
Both dolls turned simultaneously, their purple eyes settling on him.
“Can we help you?” one of them asked, in the familiar flat doll tone.
“I’m Ryan, a new researcher. Madam Herta sent me here to conduct research.” He showed his access pass.
“I’m not very familiar with the plants here. Could I ask for some guidance?”
The two dolls exchanged a glance.
The one who’d spoken nodded: “We can help. I’m Herta No. 7 and she’s Herta No. 8. We’re responsible for daily maintenance here.”
Ryan stared at the magical botanical garden, feeling like a country bumpkin who’d wandered into fairyland.
He pointed at a plant bearing fruit like little stars: “What’s this?”
“Star Crumb Fruit,” Herta No.
7 answered.
“The fruit contains trace cosmic dust. Refreshing flavor. One of Madam Ruan Mei’s preferred snacks.”
He pointed at a huge flower whose petals constantly opened and closed, a spiral galaxy seeming to spin at its center: “And this?”
“Spiral Star Flower,” Herta No.
8 explained.
“Its petal cycle synchronizes with energy fluctuations in a specific star region. Mainly used as a living sensor for observing cosmic background radiation.”
Ryan: “…”
Alright.
He shouldn’t be applying Earth’s botanical knowledge to the plants here.
This wasn’t a botanical garden—it was an exhibition hall for the supernatural.
He found a quiet corner and sat down at a small stone table.
Looking at the seed that flickered between visible and invisible, then at the wondrous garden around him, he felt at a loss.
“Um… teachers?” he called to the two dolls.
Humble inquiry—a scholar’s eternal tradition.
Not knowing means…
well, more learning.
“Could you give me a quick primer on the… common characteristics of the plants here? I think my knowledge base needs an update.”
Herta No.
8 immediately set down their work and walked over.
No.
7 produced a small floating blackboard from somewhere, which began automatically displaying simple diagrams and text.
No.
8 pulled out a tiny pointer.
“Since you’ve asked so earnestly,” Herta No.
7 began, her tone still flat but the content oddly taking on a lecturing quality, “this genius shall generously enlighten you.”
Ryan’s mouth twitched.
Why does that line sound familiar?
And did he just accidentally trigger a teaching module?
“First, forget the ordinary plants from your homeworld that only know photosynthesis.” Herta No.
8 tapped the blackboard with her pointer, where a stick figure of a plant with stars around it appeared.
“Most plants here have growth patterns and forms connected to various cosmic energy fields, imaginary currents, and even specific Path resonances.”
“They might absorb light, or feed on external signals.” Herta No.
7 added.
“They might need watering, or they might need you to recite poetry or play heavy metal music.” Herta No.
8 continued.
“In summary,” both dolls said in unison, “do not judge them by common sense.”
Ryan facepalmed.
“…Thank you, teachers. I think I get the idea.”
This lesson had thoroughly cracked his worldview.
He refocused on the seed in his hand.
If the ordinary plants here were already this bizarre, how special must the seed from Ruan Mei—the one that triggered a new system module—really be?
He tried concentrating again, using that microscopic perception.
The seed disappeared again.
He tried touching it with extremely weak electromagnetic waves.
The energy flow seemed to accelerate slightly, and the starlight patterns on the seed brightened a little.
“It responds.” Ryan’s eyes lit up.
But he didn’t dare push further.
If he overstimulated this precious seed and it “star-exploded” or suddenly grew into a massive tree that impaled him, that would be a fantastic way to die.
Research hit a dead end.
He could sense its uniqueness but didn’t know how to safely guide and observe its mysteries.
This felt like a caveman finding a smartphone—knowing it was powerful but only using it to crack nuts.
“Looks like I need to take this slow,” Ryan sighed, carefully putting the seed away.
He stood and decided to explore the garden thoroughly first.
At least familiarize himself with these “basic” exotic plants—maybe he’d find some inspiration.
Watching the two tiny Herta figures resume their work, he muttered: “Working for Herta means taking a crash course in interstellar botany first… The life of a researcher here really isn’t easy.” Read this novel at NovelPing for the best experience.
Ryan pocketed the seed and decided to start with a relatively “ordinary” plant.
He scanned the area, his gaze settling on a completely black plant nearby—even its leaves looked like carved obsidian.
This thing looks seriously abnormal.
Perfect as the first specimen for his interstellar botany studies.
He pulled out a small notebook and pen and crouched before the black plant, observing carefully.
“Plant is entirely black, leaves have sharp serrated edges, texture is hard, possibly mineralized…” he muttered while taking notes.
He tried electromagnetic perception.
The feedback showed extremely slow energy flow inside—nearly stagnant, like a black hole absorbing weak ambient light and radiation.
“Extremely high energy inertia, strong absorption properties…” He noted that down too.
To verify further, he carefully directed a tiny current at one of the black leaves.
The instant the current touched the leaf—
Boom!
A dull explosion—not deafening but solid.
The black plant burst apart like an overinflated balloon.
And, as luck would have it, Herta No.
7 and No.
8 happened to be walking over with their little watering can and scissors, preparing for routine pruning.
The two small dolls were sent flying backward like rag dolls, landing—one in each of Ryan’s arms.
The impact sent Ryan staggering.
Instinctively, he caught them both—one in each arm—holding two soot-covered dolls with tilted gardener hats and dazed expressions.
He himself was equally covered in black powder, frozen in place.
The two dolls also seemed to lag for a second, then simultaneously struggled out of his arms and jumped down.
They stood—two dolls and one human, all three with blackened faces—tilting their heads in unison at the black plant that had returned to calm.
Ryan: “???”
The three of them sat in a row on the grass, staring at the small crater still emitting wisps of black smoke, all resting their chins on their hands in deep contemplation.
“So… why did it explode?”
“Based on current data analysis, your energy frequency likely resonated with its internally accumulated inert energy, causing structural imbalance.”
“Deduction is reasonable, but the trigger conditions require extensive experimental verification.”
Three figures—one large, two small—sitting in identical poses on the grass, conducting serious academic discussion over a small crater.
Sunlight streamed through the botanical garden’s simulated sky.
The scene was almost…
adorable?
Ryan sighed and solemnly wrote in his notebook:
“Research Log Entry #1: Obsidian Fern—explosive. Handle with extreme caution.”