When Xie Jianxun first entered the house, he thought that only this floor was Idis’s residence, while the upper floors were used for his work.
It wasn’t until Yiwen told him that the entire building was a special support gift from the City Lord’s Mansion for talented individuals, and it currently all belonged to Idis.
There were seven floors in total, with a basement below the first floor.
Whether for daily living or work, the space was more than ample.
They took the elevator to the seventh floor. When the elevator doors opened, Xie Jianxun felt as though he had entered another country.
There were no main lights, only the display lights inside various glass cabinets illuminating every corner of the storage room.
Xie Jianxun took two steps forward and then stopped, mesmerized as he admired a small compartmentalized glass cabinet right next to him.
It was lined with black velvet cloth, and atop it sat a single gear-like part in simple fashion. But upon closer inspection, even the patterns on its surface were made up of even smaller components.
“Idis’s practice piece,” came a low male voice from behind him. Xie Jianxun uncomfortably raised an eyebrow and turned to see Ela walking up beside him, staring intently at the glass cabinet as well.
He looked at that cute little face and still felt a sense of disconnect.
One moment, he seemed like an innocent child oblivious to the world; the next, he felt profoundly mature… Truly puzzling, Xie Jianxun thought.
Following Ela’s lead, he said, “As expected of a mechanical master, to make something so intricate.”
Unexpectedly, Ela shook his head and said, “Something you can only look at but not use practically ends up just sitting here.”
The little one reached out to pull him along, his small hand grabbing Xie Jianxun’s finger with a firm grip and dragging him forward.
They passed by many glass cabinets, moving too quickly for Xie Jianxun to do more than glance at them, so he had to focus on what lay ahead.
Xie Jianxun joked, “Is One also kept in one of these cabinets?”
Unexpectedly, Ela nodded and said, “We’re here.”
Before them was a separately partitioned small room. Ela didn’t hesitate at all; he used his iris to unlock the door and entered.
Xie Jianxun followed inside and indeed saw the Mechanical Puppet fully submerged in a massive glass tank.
An unknown light blue liquid engulfed its entire body. A mechanical arm with claw hooks dipped into the water, its six-fingered end resembling spider legs as it gripped the back of the Mechanical Puppet’s neck, preventing it from sinking straight to the bottom.
The Mechanical Puppet’s limbs hung limply, unclothed.
The water surface showed no ripples, its curly hair fanned out in the liquid, looking so lifelike as if it would open its eyes at any second.
Beside the glass tank stood a light gray workbench, about two meters long by visual estimate—plenty of space for the Mechanical Puppet to lie flat on it.
Currently, the workbench was littered with damaged and cracked parts, sorted by the mechanic into seven or eight small piles, meticulously arranged in rows.
Xie Jianxun approached the glass tank. The crack in the Mechanical Puppet’s abdomen was right at eye level.
He glanced at it and suddenly realized the inside was empty.
Xie Jianxun asked, “Where’s its Mechanical Core?”
Ela paused for a moment, momentarily at a loss for words.
After a beat, he replied, “It should be in Idis’s separate storage. This is just to prevent the bionic materials from degrading and for final assembly.”
“Speaking of which, Idis should have given you the materials list.”
Xie Jianxun nodded, in a good mood—the hope of repair was practically within reach.
“Idis will send the list to your Light Brain later,” Ela said. “You have his contact, right, Yiwen?”
Unexpectedly, the topic turned to it. The mechanical arm fell silent for a moment before disdainfully saying, “Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t have used Idis’s contact number…”
Ela ignored it and formally introduced himself. “I’m your assistant for this period. I’ll help check the quality of the materials, and you can come to me with anything.”
So that was why Idis had sent the little one down.
Xie Jianxun crouched down with a smile and shook his hand. “Great, looking forward to working with you, Mr. Ela.”
…
He had no idea what had happened to the Mechanical Core once it reached Idis’s hands.
The night before, after Xie Jianxun left, the house—which hadn’t seen guests in a long time—fell quiet once more.
In the seventh-floor storage room, the top mechanic activated a switch and silently watched as the mechanical hand extended from the glass tank, precisely gripping the back of One’s neck.
It then lifted, immersing the entire shattered shell into the bionic nutrient solution.
Strictly speaking, the Mechanical Puppet wasn’t a modern “bionic person,” but some principles overlapped.
For instance, they both used bionic materials that could degrade prematurely without proper treatment.
But he had no interest in this soulless body.
What interested him was the Mechanical Puppet’s Mechanical Core.
And that face identical to his own.
“Are you and I… copies of the same person?” he muttered to himself, staring at the mostly shattered Mechanical Core in his hand.
Idis turned and returned to the workshop, picking up the modified screwdriver.
After a integrity test, the Mechanical Core retained about 46.8% completeness, from which he could probably extract around ten percent of the memories.
He wasn’t sure if those ten percent memory fragments would yield factory shipment scenes or just irrelevant, disjointed snippets.
In fact, attempting to read the content might further damage the Mechanical Core.
“What’s to be done? You and I come from the same person, after all,” he whispered.
A red glow seemed to flicker deep in the young man’s pupils, making his face appear strangely eerie.
Idis placed the Mechanical Core in the center of the instrument and activated it.
At the same time, he placed a hand on his chest, pulling a long data cable from within his body and connecting it to the top of the instrument—no one knew he was a bionic person.
Reading began.
As expected, there were no factory scenes. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw an endless, scorching hot golden desert.
Soldiers called from behind him: “Commander, there’s likely a King Insect hive ahead! Shall we proceed with exploration, sir?”
The next moment, a low, gentle voice issued from his mouth, as if he himself had spoken it.
“Withdraw for now and return to the temporary camp. How are the people of Golden City? Are they willing to relocate entirely?”
The soldier said, “…No. They hope the Commander can directly kill the King Insect and preserve their city.”
The Commander halted, saying nothing.
The soldier continued, “We’re Mechanical Puppets, sir. In their eyes, we’re expendable—meant to charge into uncharted King Insect hives, blow them up, and fight the King Insects to the death, because human lives take priority.”
Commander: “That’s why I want them to relocate directly—it’s better for preserving lives.”
Soldier: “But sir, they don’t just want their lives; they want their property intact, not a single bit missing.”
The memory paused, went black for a moment, then resumed with a new scene.
The new scene shook violently, sand and soil blasting into his face.
Firelight, explosions, collapses—the air swirled with the horrific buzzing of insects that could shatter eardrums.
The next second, total darkness.
Then, the memory shifted to a different scene.
The Little Adventurer stood before him, clutching a cup of mint water tightly. A large coat draped over its head—clearly not its own.
Its ash-gray hair was tucked under the coat, and its hand was held by someone, those golden eyes peering at him cutely.
The palm was soft and warm.
The next moment, the Little Adventurer lay beside him, yawning and nearly sprawling on top of him, mumbling for a bedtime story.
It was the new guest who had just left his home.
The current him looked far more mature and steady than in the memory.
The Little Adventurer in the memory had an enthusiastic smile, its brows and eyes brimming with an innocent sweetness that overflowed.
Especially when facing the ‘him’ with those memories.
The final memory fragment showed the Little Adventurer falling from the air, gun in hand, plummeting toward him with utter trust.
Idis instinctively leaned forward, reaching out to catch it.
He caught nothing.
He froze for a moment, then realized and shut off the instrument, rechecking the integrity.
Fortunately, the short read hadn’t damaged it; the Mechanical Core remained as it was.
One—that was the name the Little Adventurer in the memory called him.
Like a serial number.
Before he could ponder further, he faintly heard Yiwen’s nagging from the next room over:
“Oh dear, tomorrow Xunxun’s moving in. I need to give him a cozy bedroom—with carpet, plush toys… No, Idis is such a jerk; there’s not even a single fuzzy decoration in the house. Have to order some last-minute…”
Xunxun. He savored the affectionate nickname.
If he repaired the Mechanical Core more completely, could he read even more?
Like the factory scenes.
