The exam was scheduled to end at 5 p.m., but due to the rapid progress, everything was completed by around 4 p.m.
The test data was transmitted to the optical computer and sorted in descending order.
Xiang Yunjian reviewed the list to confirm that no student had exceptionally outstanding scores in any single category. After packaging the list and sending it to the instructor, he closed the page.
The school representative saw the students off and then cautiously approached to inquire about the results.
Xiang Yunjian put away the optical computer and said in an official tone, “There will be a notification. Please wait patiently. We are only responsible for proctoring the exam.”
After packing up the equipment and shouldering it again, the middle-aged man politely urged them to stay, saying, “It’s almost mealtime. Why not have a meal at our cafeteria?”
Xiang Yunjian replied, “Thank you, but we have other matters to attend to. Do you know where the child from this morning lives?”
The middle-aged man looked suspicious. “What do you want?”
Xiang Yunjian said, “We need to conduct a test.”
The middle-aged man exclaimed in surprise, “But the kid’s unregistered!”
Without changing his expression, Xiang Yunjian replied, “In special times, war orphans without household registration will be understood by the Alliance. The Alliance authorities will conduct background checks and assist in completing their household registration.”
The middle-aged man hesitated several times, wanting to say something but stopping himself. Seeing their serious expressions, the look in his eyes gradually began to change.
Were the selection criteria of the Alliance’s top universities always this unique, this enigmatic, this hard to fathom?
Had he known earlier, he could have told his students to feign illness too.
Xiang Yunjian said, “Also, I’d like to gather as much information about the kid as possible. Do you have any here?”
The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment before replying, “Actually, I’m not very clear about the details. I can ask the person in charge of the welfare home for you. The kid ran away from there before.”
…
The navigation system couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of the derelict area where Cheng Feng lived. Fortunately, the general direction was known, and with the help of a real-life map, it was still relatively easy to find long-term residences.
Following the directions, the four of them first took a vehicle to the edge of the city, then walked along a long-neglected road to reach the derelict area.
Along the way, they passed through an abandoned urban zone, where ruins and debris from bombings lay scattered everywhere. Children were playing among the collapsed buildings, barely adding a touch of life to the desolation.
Cheng Feng’s home was a bit farther ahead, situated on an empty grassy field. It felt secluded and chilly, with its outer walls peeling off, resembling a dilapidated house on the verge of collapse.
“Here?” Jiang Linxia stared at the door for a long time, his tone filled with doubt. “The door is open.”
He gave it a light push, and the door slid inward under the slight force.
The interior was dimly lit, with no lights on. From the faint outlines of objects, it was clear that the furnishings were simple and sparse, giving no impression of being inhabited.
Jiang Linxia slowly walked inside, muttering, “Could they have already moved out? That kid was so reclusive – if he moved, there’s a good chance no one would know.”
Yan Shen felt around along the wall for a while but couldn’t find the light switch.
Just as he was starting to feel puzzled, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out in the quiet room, startling them like a clap of thunder.
“What are you doing?”
Jiang Linxia jolted violently. It wasn’t until the lights came on that he noticed Cheng Feng crouching in the corner, looking like a little mushroom.
Still rattled, Jiang Linxia exclaimed, “You’re here?!”
Cheng Feng remained silent.
Jiang Linxia asked again, “What are you doing crouched over there?”
Cheng Feng widened his eyes slightly. Though her gaze was devoid of emotion, it felt piercingly sharp, as if to say that everything wrong was their fault.
Jiang Linxia turned to look at the team leader. Xiang Yunjian nodded his chin slightly, signaling the diplomat to continue the communication – no further instructions from leadership.
Jiang Linxia had no choice but to clear his throat, soften his tone, and channel the professionalism of a seasoned recruiter as he coaxed, “We’re here to give you a test. Don’t you want to attend UFU?”
Only then did Cheng Feng stand up slowly and say, “Weren’t you not recruiting?”
With a face full of righteous conviction, Jiang Linxia spoke as if even he were starting to believe his own words. “Our school does have a sense of compassion. We thought it over and felt we should give you a chance. After all, it hasn’t been easy for you.”
As Cheng Feng approached, the group finally noticed the training device in her hand. She had been playing with it in the corner just moments earlier.
It was an outdated command input keyboard, long obsolete within the Alliance.
The printed characters on the keys had long faded, and even the specially designed keycaps showed noticeable wear and indentation. The display screen was completely broken, snapped off from its connection point.
It was clear that its owner had used it for a very long time.
For a moment, the group fell silent.
The reason this device had been phased out back then was that consumers found its setup too monotonous, its data overly complex and poorly categorized, making it unsuitable for beginners in manual input training.
Xiang Yunjian looked down at it for a moment before taking it from her hand and asking, “Is it broken?”
“Yeah,” Cheng Feng replied. “It’s been broken for a long time.”
Even though it was just a monotonous system-like tone, it somehow sounded particularly pitiful.
Xiang Yunjian said, “I’ll get you a new one when the time comes.”
Cheng Feng raised his head and pressed further, “When is ‘when the time comes’?”
Xiang Yunjian couldn’t help but smile and said, “I’ll have the admissions office bring one over for you directly. In just a couple of days.”
Jiang Linxia glanced around the room and realized how outdated everything was. Strangely, some of the worn-out appliances were still functioning properly.
As he walked around, he couldn’t help but laugh and say, “These are relics from so many years ago. I can’t believe they’re still around.”
He suspected that Cheng Feng probably bought various small spare parts to repair these things, but due to his reclusive nature, rumors had spread that he was fixing his own body.
There was a large wooden table in the room, which Cheng Feng had propped up against the wall.
The group set it down and gathered around it to register Cheng Feng’s basic exam information.
Xiang Yunjian asked, “Name.”
Cheng Feng hugged her knees, leaning against the table, and replied, “Cheng Feng.”
Xiang Yunjian asked, “Just ‘Cheng Feng’? Is that your full name?”
Cheng Feng pondered for a moment before remembering that she also had a formal name.
“Ye Guicheng,” Cheng Feng said. “My formal name is Ye Guicheng.”
Jiang Linxia chuckled, “Kiddo, you even have a formal name.”
Cheng Feng shot him a sidelong glance and decided not to argue.
Xiang Yunjian asked again, “Age.”
Cheng Feng said, “18 years old.”
Xiang Yunjian emphasized, “Real age.”
Cheng Feng repeated, “18 years old.”
Xiang Yunjian paused, then said, “Real age. We’re making an exception for you; age won’t be held against you.”
Cheng Feng lowered her eyelids and repeated, “18. Exclamation mark. Years old. Exclamation mark.”
Jiang Linxia, acting as the mischievous advisor, chimed in from the side. “Write it down as ‘stunted growth.'”
Xiang Yunjian signaled him to stop fooling around. He left the age blank for now and asked, “When did you lose your ability to speak? Congenital or acquired? What was the hospital’s diagnosis?”
Cheng Feng stared at him intently, then tilted her head. A giant question mark seemed to appear on her face.
Jiang Linxia was also taken aback. He dropped his casual posture and leaned over the table, asking, “Aren’t you mute?”
Cheng Feng, confused, said, “Don’t all robots talk like this?”
The four of them let out faint gasps, though they tried their best to suppress them midway. It was as if a breath had caught in their chests, leaving their faces somewhat pale.
After a brief but rapid exchange of glances, Xiang Yunjian steadied himself and calmly asked, “What’s the model?”
Cheng Feng recited a long string of codes. The group immediately searched for it on their optical computers.
The number corresponded to a combat robot that had been released abroad decades ago and had since been classified by the Alliance as a dangerous, prohibited item requiring destruction.
As they read through the long list of danger warnings that followed, their mood grew less than cheerful.
Why couldn’t you have chosen a domestic helper robot instead? they thought.
Xiang Yunjian cautiously asked, “Have you seen this model of robot before?”
Cheng Feng nodded.
Xiang Yunjian recalled that this combat robot was highly lethal. Though banned in the Alliance, it had remained popular in war zones and was a hot-selling product on the black market.
Xiang Yunjian asked, “Did you learn manual coding from it?”
“Yes.”
Xiang Yunjian asked again, “Who left it for you?”
“My dad.”
Xiang Yunjian paused for a few seconds before asking the next question, trying to avoid sounding too interrogative. “When did your dad leave?”
Cheng Feng didn’t seem eager to answer. She pulled her hat down, almost covering her entire face, which made her system-like voice sound somewhat muffled. “You think I’m lying.”
“No, it’s not that,” Xiang Yunjian said, patting her head. “This is just a basic background check.”
Cheng Feng seemed reluctant to cooperate.
Xiang Yunjian waited, but when Cheng Feng didn’t speak, he clicked on the school administrator’s account to ask if Cheng Feng’s information had been compiled yet.
In the group chat, a few messages popped up first.
Jiang Linxia: What do we do? It seems there really might be something off with his mind.
Xin Kuang: But he can communicate normally.
Jiang Linxia: Are you sure? Can we keep the conversation normal all the time?
Yan Shen: It looks like just a cognitive disorder. Not sure if it can be treated.
Xin Kuang: Is it serious if it can’t be treated? If it doesn’t affect his daily life, it should be fine, right?
Jiang Linxia: Your adjectives like “doesn’t affect” and “normal” are a bit ambiguous. There’s no defined range.
Xin Kuang: Let’s go along with it for now. Otherwise, the instructor will scold us again. He won’t listen until he’s faced with reality.
Yan Shen: Think about the instructor’s words and UFU’s motto. As long as there’s no harm to society, a genius’s flaws are simply called quirks.
Xiang Yunjian: I think the issue isn’t too serious. He’s lived with the combat robot for too long, had no other friends, and practiced coding commands every day, so he mistakenly thought he and the robot were of the same kind. In wartime, people need some psychological anchor, especially when they’re young. I can understand that.
Yan Shen: Correction – a combat robot that was strictly ordered to be destroyed.
Xiang Yunjian: Exactly because it was destroyed, the impact isn’t that significant.
Jiang Linxia: He’s just too lonely!!
Xin Kuang: No matter how lonely he is… see if he wants to be friends with you.
The group was too engrossed in the conversation. Jiang Linxia happened to look up and glance around before exclaiming, “Huh? Where did he go?”
