Choosing a father for one’s own child is, after all, a private matter and not suitable for discussion in the workplace. Jiang Miao turned off her light screen, planning to continue the conversation when she got home.
Before leaving work, her colleague Tanaka, who had already experienced giving birth, reminded her, “Don’t forget to check online for other people’s strategies and experience summaries. It can help you avoid many mistakes and detours.”
Jiang Miao thanked him and boarded the bus home.
Most of the time, Jiang Miao chose the four-person bus for her commute.
A bus with ten or twenty people was too noisy, and sometimes the passengers’ qualities varied greatly. A two-person bus was a bit awkward; if she encountered someone unpleasant or incompatible, it could be tiresome. The four-person bus was just right – she could chat if she felt like it, or she could quietly sit and observe others chatting.
Moreover, although the cost of the four-person bus was negligible for someone with Jiang Miao’s substantial income, it did exclude many low-income individuals automatically.
At this moment, Jiang Miao could empathize with the feelings of the black woman she encountered in the morning. On her way home, she couldn’t resist finding an appropriate moment to share her good news with the fellow passengers.
The passengers on this evening bus were not the same as the three people she met in the morning, but there were two familiar faces. Everyone congratulated her enthusiastically.
Jiang Miao returned to her house with a cheerful mood.
As a eugenics[1] with a successful profession, Jiang Miao’s house not only had a prime location, excellent community safety, comprehensive facilities, and advanced artificial intelligence but was also spacious, bright, and tastefully decorated in a fresh and comfortable style.
However, despite the spaciousness of her house, it felt empty without anyone else.
Except for those who had to share a living space with others due to economic constraints, most ordinary adults, outside the wealthy elite, lived alone. Only the couples who has deep feelings for each other chose to cohabit, and even then, many relationships naturally ended as time passed. Because the purpose of their love wasn’t necessarily marriage, and without the pressure to pursue a specific “outcome,” couples would often part ways when the initial passion faded or aesthetic fatigue set in.
In this society, relationships were often seen as fleeting, and even more fleeting was sexual life. Satisfying physiological needs together, willingly and consensually, was a commonplace and everyday occurrence, as simple and natural as eating or drinking water.
On Earth, such behavior might be colloquially referred to as “hooking up,” but in Jiang Miao’s era, many still considered it immoral, and it had not yet become a conventional aspect of people’s lives.
Jiang Miao traversed into this era and, after reaching adulthood, attempted sexual relationships with the opposite sex twice. However, both experiences left her disappointed.
The first time, she consistently felt a sense of emotional disconnection. By the second attempt, after careful observation and reflection, she finally understood that people here didn’t approach relationships with the idea of “dating and eventually getting married over time.” Instead, they pursued immediate happiness and were always ready to end one relationship and start another.
Jiang Miao had experienced romance during her time on Earth, though it was a relatively innocent campus love. In the end, due to her decision to continue her education while her partner sought opportunities in another city, the relationship didn’t lead to a lasting commitment.
Nevertheless, that romance allowed Jiang Miao to experience the process of falling in love.
In her view, romance in the interstellar era was too fast-paced, lacking commitment, making it difficult for her to feel the genuine, or rather, the kind of love she longed for.
Eventually, she gave up on it.
Being a typical affection-oriented person, without feeling loved, her joy diminished, and the pleasures of life became tasteless. After two relationships, she found them unsatisfying, akin to something of little value.
Fortunately, in this era of advanced technology, there are numerous tools available that allow Jiang Miao to reconcile her inherent values from her past life with the drastically new perspectives of this era.
Entering her home, the ceiling automatically illuminated, revealing a sky filled with blue clouds. It seemed as if the house had no roof, but it was actually a realistic simulated lighting effect.
Jiang Miao tossed her bag at the entrance and removed the personal smart brain device from her wrist before heading to take a shower. Midway through, unable to resist, she combed her wet hair back, wiped her face, and asked, “Nina, any response from the Gene-Optimized Parenting Program?”
In her previous life, Jiang Miao had interacted with AIs like Xiaona, Xiaodu, Siri, Xiaobing, Tmall Elf, and many others. Naming her AI Xiaona was a form of tribute.
With a sweet and fresh voice, the AI promptly replied, “Received one response; the other five have not responded.” As she spoke, an image appeared on the glass of the shower.
Providing the response was Dr. Bradley, with brown hair and green eyes, who had also “passed” Jiang Miao’s evaluation.
As for the other candidates whom Jiang Miao “rejected,” because she promptly clicked “reject” the moment she received the notification, she would not receive any feedback from them, regardless of whether they “accepted” or “rejected” her.
Only those who clicked “accept” but were rejected by the other party would receive rejection feedback. However, those who clicked “reject” would not know whether the other person accepted or rejected them.
No one would receive any further information from candidates they rejected, as this was a harassment prevention feature in the gene matching phase of the optimal parenting program.
So, even though Jiang Miao had “accepted” Major Yan He, the black-haired and black-eyed officer, and hadn’t received his response yet, it at least indicated that he hadn’t rejected her.
At this moment, Jiang Miao subtly realized that between these two candidates, she was inclined towards Major Yan He.
It turned out that her inherent aesthetic preference leaned towards the features of black hair and black eyes.
Of course, in this era, everyone was already a mix of different ethnicities.
For instance, the black woman she met in the morning already had skin tones close to East Asian. As for Major Yan He… Jiang Miao wiped her face, opened his photo, and with a slight swipe of her finger, the 3D holographic image rotated in response to her movement.
It’s evident that although his hair and eye color are relatively normal, compared to the East Asians of ancient Earth, his facial features are much more profound and three-dimensional. The more I look… the more attractive he becomes!
Jiang Miao had planned her menu for the week since last Sunday. The moment she stepped into her home, Xiaona had already instructed the automated cooking machine to start preparing the meal. When Jiang Miao finished showering and arrived at the dining room, the lid of the cooking machine lifted, revealing the steaming hot dishes inside.
Jiang Miao placed the meal on the table and began her dinner.
While eating, she couldn’t resist having Xiaona open the screen again to check on Major Yan He, who still remained silent.
What’s going on with this person? It’s either accept or reject; isn’t it a straightforward matter? What does it mean to delay the response until this late?
Could it be… he’s just too busy and hasn’t had time to address this matter?
Jiang Miao found this reason reasonable and suddenly felt reassured, taking a big bite of her meal.
The dish prepared by the cooking machine wasn’t bad either; after all, the precise data, determining the exact grams of ingredients and seasoning, had been calculated through numerous experiments.
However, once it reached her mouth, there was a sense of “mediocrity.”
Jiang Miao considered herself quite well-off and would often visit reputable and exquisite restaurants a few times a week. Yet, even if the food in those restaurants was delicious, it still had the distinct “restaurant taste.”
The last time Jiang Miao had a home-cooked meal was before she entered college.
She remembered it vividly—on the day she received her acceptance letter, Mrs. Zhang prepared a feast for her.
In an era where technological products could handle almost all household chores, cooking had transitioned from a daily skill to a form of lifestyle enjoyment, a hobby, for ordinary people, excluding professional chefs.
Zhang Ya, with her outstanding professional abilities, had developed a love for cooking in her leisure time. Perhaps due to her passionate dedication to this hobby, the meals she prepared were remarkably delicious.
Zhang Ya was also someone who treated herself well. As long as she wasn’t too busy, she would choose to cook for herself. The vegetables and meat were all pre-prepared by businesses, and the so-called cooking involved merely putting them in the pan to stir-fry. This chapter was copied from NovelPing without permission.
Unlike most people who used degradable disposable tableware daily, Zhang Ya had several sets of exquisite porcelain, considered collector’s items. The quality of life achieved by eating with such beautiful items was naturally incomparable.
Jiang Miao and Zhang Ya lived together for fifteen years, and those years were truly wonderful.
When Jiang Miao was in junior high school, Zhang Ya suggested teaching her how to cook.
Coincidentally, in her previous life, Jiang Miao’s mother had also tried to do the same, wanting to teach her to cook. Jiang Miao was too lazy to learn; there was a cafeteria at school, and if she didn’t want that, there was always the option of ordering takeout. Most importantly, she could always count on her mother to cook when she was back home.
Mom would always be there, right?
Jiang Miao’s mother would often express her frustration, saying, “You, sooner or later, will get married. What will you do then? You can’t expect your husband to cook, can you?”
This statement irked Jiang Miao the most. Why couldn’t a man cook? Why was cooking considered solely a woman’s task? Did she go through all the years of education, earning a Ph.D., just to cook for someone else?
At that time, they would often argue about this, and Jiang Miao would manage to outwit her mother with her sharp tongue, leaving her mother speechless. However, this would lead to her mother’s annoyance, and she would lightly slap Jiang Miao’s arms in irritation.
At that time, Jiang Miao had gradually been pushed by society towards a non-marriage stance. She had no plans to get married and always thought that she and her mother could continue their playful relationship for a lifetime.
Little did she know that before reaching thirty, an explosion would transport her to the interstellar era.
Over thousands of years, she was reborn to an independent, self-reliant, and non-marriage-oriented mother who, surprisingly, also wanted to teach her how to cook?
Jiang Miao vehemently refused at the time.
Zhang Ya tried to persuade her, saying, “Cooking is a hobby. Learning it can significantly enhance your quality of life in the future.”
In reality, Jiang Miao saw through the intentions.
Zhang Ya did mean well, wanting to teach her a skill that could greatly improve her quality of life. However, the underlying reason behind pushing her to do this was that Zhang Ya was growing impatient with the caregiving role and had thoughts of breaking free from it.
Jiang Miao discovered it while cleaning the household AI. When selecting items for deletion, she came across Zhang Ya’s usage history—she had extensively searched for specific details about transferring guardianship of underage optimal candidates to the school.
Jiang Miao speculated that Zhang Ya didn’t go through with it because Jiang Miao’s two grade skips during kindergarten and elementary school had shortened her guardianship period by three years. Moreover, the most crucial factor was that if Zhang Ya gave up custody and guardianship of such an outstanding child, she would no longer benefit from the substantial returns Jiang Miao could bring in the later years.
For Zhang Ya, it was not a cost-effective decision. So, she suppressed her impatience with rationality, endured the last few years, and finally achieved a successful outcome in this parenting investment.
Seeing through all of this, when faced with Zhang Ya’s persuasion to learn cooking, Jiang Miao responded obstinately, “I won’t!”
Then, she pursed her lips, saying nothing.
Zhang Ya considered this bit of rebellion as typical teenage defiance.
Cooking is a hobby, a matter of taste, a form of enjoyment, not a survival or life skill. Although Zhang Ya suggested it twice, Jiang Miao refused adamantly. After flipping through the “Caregiver’s Guide,” specifically the chapter on dealing with teenagers, which advised avoiding confrontations with adolescents as much as possible, Zhang Ya stopped bringing it up.
So, in the present, Jiang Miao often regrets her past defiance, especially when chewing on the standardized meals produced by the automatic cooking machine.
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[1] a product of genetic breeding