Thus Spoke the Buddha: The Quantum Circus | Chapter 16 | The Artificial Mind | Novela.app

Before Diao Chan could finish his sentence, a sudden bolt of lightning tore through the sky above the ruins, erupting with a deafening roar. "No need for such dramatic atmosphere, thanks," Zhao Meiyou remarked. "So, what do you plan to do next?" The subtext of that question was: *How can I help you?* "With your current strength, Zhao Mode, you can't help me." Diao Chan paused for a moment before continuing, "I chose to lose myself at this specific time partly because I found clues regarding the artificial brain, and partly because of Qian Duoduo. It happened to coincide with the moment he emerged from his previous ruins." Right, Qian Duoduo. Zhao Meiyou recalled something. "Is that guy with the government?" "Technically, all archaeologists are on the government payroll," Diao Chan replied. "Why do you ask?" "When we first met, he knew your real name. Most archaeologists use codenames to protect their identities. There are only two ways he could know your true name: one, you're extremely close; or two, he has access to classified government files. If it were the first, I would’ve heard of him from you, so that’s unlikely." Zhao Meiyou shifted his tone. "And Qian Duoduo is absurdly strong. His abilities are ridiculous. If I were the Metropolis government, I wouldn't just leave a volatile group like archaeologists to their own devices. I’d plant a few trump cards among them—not many, just enough to clear the board when necessary." Zhao Meiyou looked at Diao Chan. "But you just said you timed this to match when Qian Duoduo finished his last mission... was that to arrange for me to meet him? You want to win him over? It seems his cooperation with the government isn't exactly ironclad..." He pondered for a few seconds, then a realization struck him. "You want me to flip him? Make him a double agent?" Diao Chan clapped a few times. "Zhao Mode, talking to you is truly effortless." "Thanks for the compliment," Zhao Meiyou said with mock sincerity. "But Diao Chan, I think you're overestimating me. Qian Duoduo is terrifyingly strong. I almost called him 'Daddy' back there. What makes you think I have the merit to flip him?" "The last person you called 'Daddy' ended up as dumpling filling," Diao Chan noted. "Don't sell yourself short. To belittle oneself is to block the path to kinship." "Speak human, I don't do idioms." "I've worked with Qian Duoduo a few times. He’s famous among archaeologists, in the same league as the Consort—perhaps even stronger. Likewise, he doesn't hide his name or his face." Diao Chan seemed to remember something. "By the way, have you still not seen what he looks like?" "Don't even start." Zhao Meiyou felt a phantom ache in his teeth. "I was just guessing whether he was a 'he' or a 'she' a moment ago." Diao Chan smiled. "Then you certainly won't be disappointed." Zhao Meiyou grew intrigued. "That much confidence?" "See for yourself when you get out," Diao Chan said, waving a hand. "He’ll definitely be waiting outside for you. After all, you’re his temporary mission partner; he’ll take full responsibility for your safety." Zhao Meiyou chewed on those words, his expression turning playful. "So, you're saying Qian Duoduo is actually a decent guy?" "Qian Duoduo is an orphan, but his abilities were discovered early, and he was adopted by the government as a child. The first time I worked with him, I sensed something—a strange, familiar feeling. It took me a long time to realize what that feeling was." Diao Chan patted Zhao Meiyou’s shoulder. "It’s you." "I don't have any long-lost brothers, half or otherwise, thank you very much." "Your lung capacity for nonsense is growing, Zhao Mode," Diao Chan laughed. "I'm not talking about blood. I'm talking about the vibe." "What vibe?" "The vibe of that rainy night when we first met, when you gave me a bowl of dumplings in that pork shop," Diao Chan said. "It’s very similar, yet different. If it were Qian Duoduo, he’d probably just boil me a bowl of ordinary frozen dumplings." "Would you believe me if I told you the ones I gave you back then were also just ordinary frozen dumplings?" "Too late to backtrack now." Diao Chan clearly didn't believe him. "Anyway, I thought about it for a while and realized that if the Lower District of the Metropolis can still produce any 'normal' kids, one is you, and the other is someone like Qian Duoduo." Zhao Meiyou nodded. "Got it. We're both orphans." "I'm an orphan too. In a sense, most children in the Metropolis are orphans. The concept of being raised by two parents was buried along with the Old Era." Diao Chan glanced at Zhao Meiyou. "In short, I think you two will get along quite well." Since this involved the artificial brain, they were now in a precarious three-way standoff with the Metropolis government and the Diao family. The two of them alone were far too weak; if they could pull in Qian Duoduo—a special figure walking the edge of government power—he would be a powerful ally. Before Zhao Meiyou could spit out any more smart remarks, Diao Chan quickly finished explaining his plan: "As far as I know, Qian Duoduo has been preparing for a high-difficulty ruins exploration recently. He needs a partner, and the candidate hasn't been finalized yet. Your experience of 'losing a dear friend' in S45 will make him feel guilty. Since you're a rookie, he'll act as your Guide for a while to make up for it. Seize the opportunity and make sure he takes the bait." "You said it yourself, it's a high-difficulty ruin," Zhao Meiyou countered. "Setting aside whether I'm just going there to die, would someone like him even look at me?" "Your 'immortality' bug is enticing enough. Qian Duoduo has access to classified files; he definitely knows what you're capable of." Diao Chan asked, "Think back—did he test you in the ruins?" Zhao Meiyou thought for a moment, suddenly remembering the escape in the subway when he was crushed by a falling concrete slab, his brains splattered everywhere. And he hadn't died. *Damn, so that's what he was waiting for.* Zhao Meiyou’s expression turned meaningful. "Fine." He continued, "I'm on this pirate ship of yours. Also, what do you plan to do? Stay in the ruins forever? Will the government send more people in?" "Don't worry about this side. I won't be coming out for a while. S45 is my home turf, after all." Diao Chan raised his gun, aiming it at Zhao Meiyou’s head. "Alright, don't keep the man waiting." "Hey, is this how you treat someone you're asking for a favor?" "I learned it from you." Diao Chan suddenly smiled. "By the way, do you still remember Zhao Bujiao's nickname?" The gunshot rang out. *** Zhao Meiyou opened his eyes on the piano bench, his face pressed against the keys. Diao Chan was right; Qian Duoduo was sitting nearby, eyes downcast, clearly waiting for him to wake up. Though it was his first time seeing the man's real face, Zhao Meiyou was certain this was Qian Duoduo. He wore an archaeologist’s uniform. The overhead lights were piercingly bright, like a blade tracing from the nape of his neck down his spine, disappearing into his waist before emerging at his trouser cuffs to reveal a sliver of pale ankle bone. Dazzled by the light, it took Zhao Meiyou a moment to steady himself. He cleared his throat. "Nice hair, Brother Qian." Qian Duoduo looked to be about his age. His long hair was tied back, and under the cold white light, he had a jade-like quality—not the polished elegance of Diao Chan’s upbringing, but more like ancient burial jade, cool and smooth, nestled in the mouth of a corpse. It was hard to describe—like a cat, like a snake; beautiful, yet slightly chilling. Then Zhao Meiyou remembered Qian Duoduo’s killing spree in the ruins, a living terror tearing through everything like a lightning storm. *Okay, so he's fierce, not just chilling.* He heard Qian Duoduo ask, "Why did you dodge Diao Chan's first bullet?" The question made Zhao Meiyou want to laugh. He realized Qian Duoduo didn't actually care what he had done at the end, nor did he truly want an answer. He just needed something to report to others. Like a written report, or a government supervisor, or perhaps this room was being monitored. Right, monitoring. Zhao Meiyou suddenly remembered that while the Metropolis government couldn't directly observe the Quantum Field Threshold, they could record through the monitors archaeologists carried. The Consort didn't give a damn about anyone's face and obviously had ways to bypass it, which is why nothing happened in A173, but Qian Duoduo was an archaeologist specifically trained by the government. Zhao Meiyou quickly reviewed everything that happened in S45. Confirming there were no issues, he began to bullshit freely. "Well, Brother Qian, I'm new to the job, a bit rusty. A man doesn't feel right without his lower half, and I lost control when I tried to change myself back." Qian Duoduo turned around, looking him up and down before nodding as if confirming something. "I see." "Ruins S45 will be classified as Special Danger and placed under seal for the time being." Qian Duoduo lowered the piano lid, pulled a document from the music stand, and scribbled a few lines. "Government officials might seek you out for routine questioning later. Just answer truthfully." "Got it." Zhao Meiyou nodded. "Anything else, Brother Qian?" Qian Duoduo wrote quickly. Paper products were rare in the Metropolis, yet he seemed very accustomed to using a pen. A lock of long hair fell beside his face with his movements, and he tucked it behind his ear. Qian Duoduo didn't answer the previous question. Just as Zhao Meiyou thought the silence would last forever, he suddenly spoke: "There's a mark on your face." "Huh?" Qian Duoduo finished the document, gathered it, and stood up. He was about half a head taller than Zhao Meiyou. He leaned down, his finger lightly brushing Zhao Meiyou’s face—perhaps he didn't actually touch him, but Zhao Meiyou felt a puff of moist air. "When you came out of the ruins, your face hit the piano keys." "This piano is custom-made. It will be put into cold storage and can't be played again." Qian Duoduo turned to leave, his coat tail brushing against the papers with a rustling sound. He seemed to whisper something at the same time. It sounded like: "I'm sorry about your friend." After Qian Duoduo left, Zhao Meiyou sat quietly on the bench for a moment, thinking steadily: *Holy mother of...* *This guy is exactly like Diao Chan said.* They had spent a considerable amount of time in the ruins. After returning to the Lower District, Zhao Meiyou crashed and slept. His dreams were empty as usual. When he woke up, he went to work and filed a long leave of absence for Diao Chan. He was sitting in the emergency room, pondering how to lure Qian Duoduo onto his "pirate ship," when Old Man De suddenly poked his head in. "Kid, where'd you go off to for the New Year?" "What kind of talk is that?" Zhao Meiyou instinctively greeted him. "Did you take your meds, old man?" Old Man De ignored the medicine talk, instead looking at him with a mysterious, knowing grin that gave Zhao Meiyou goosebumps. "Seriously, if you have something to say, say it. Why are you just smiling at me? Is there a flower on my face or something?" "Take a look in the mirror, kid." Old Man De chuckled and walked away. "It's not a flower on your face—it's a peach blossom!" Baffled, Zhao Meiyou found a mirror and realized he was having an allergic reaction. There was a red mark on his cheek. Since there were few people in the hospital during the New Year, no one had pointed it out until Old Man De saw it. No wonder the old man said he had "peach blossoms" on his face and smiled so slyly. Zhao Meiyou clicked his tongue at his reflection. The allergic patch wasn't large, roughly where his face had hit the keys yesterday, but the outline was... suggestive. It looked like a lip print. A red one. But if Zhao Meiyou could be bothered by something like this, he wouldn't be Zhao Meiyou. He went to get some allergy cream and specifically asked for a red-tinted ointment. Using a makeup brush, he dabbed and smeared, filling in the center and sharpening the blurred edges. If the allergy had only been a vague outline before, he had now painted it into a vivid, fiery-red lip print. Allergies meant he shouldn't handle raw meat, so he skipped his part-time gig at the pork shop. After work, he went straight for dinner. The "restaurant" was a pushcart parked outside a convenience store, an automated vending machine for synthetic cooked food. It was raining tonight. Zhao Meiyou selected fried rice on the screen and clicked "dine-in." A red-and-white waterproof awning extended from the cart, and a dining board and seat rose up. "Eating alone, Brother Zhao?" The girl working at the convenience store leaned out the window, an orange bubblegum bubble popping with a *snap*. "Want me to keep you company?" Zhao Meiyou snapped his foam chopsticks apart and pointed to the lipstick mark on his face. The girl raised an eyebrow, ducked back into the store, and a moment later tossed out a plastic bag containing Marlboro cigarettes and canned beer. Zhao Meiyou looked at it. "What's this for?" "My treat!" the girl's voice called from inside. "You wouldn't pick a place like this for a date, and since you were just kissed, you must've been dumped!" *Top-tier logic,* Zhao Meiyou thought. *And here I was going to perform the 'just successfully proposed' act.* Then again, who comes to a place like this after a successful proposal? Cigarettes, booze, instant fried rice, and a rainy night. Zhao Meiyou sat before the cart. Business seemed slow tonight; he was the only customer. The neon lights blurred on the glass windows in the rain. Pedestrians in plastic raincoats passed behind him like glowing bits of code dissolving into the night. The Lower District didn't really have day or night; it was more like a computer shutting down and starting up. The difference between light and dark was merely whether the screen was powered. Zhao Meiyou ate while considering whether to go back to his rental or sleep in the emergency room. If he went home, he was low on cat and dog food; it was the New Year, he should at least open a can for them... He thought back to the Ideal City in S45, the Orion War. During the Great Cataclysm, it was said even humans nearly went extinct. How did cats and dogs survive? Were they also created from genes? But shouldn't that technology be expensive? Cheap enough to just abandon them? Or were these little guys actually some kind of mobile mechanical cameras... Should he actually dissect one to see... Or was the cost of genetic products so low that they could be discarded at will? If so, how many clones like Diao Chan were there in the Metropolis? ... *Am I a clone? Maybe, maybe not. Memory isn't a perfectly reliable thing.* *What about emotions? Intuition? Muscle memory? Thought reflexes?* ... Maybe he could ask the restaurant owner. Zhao Meiyou’s thoughts drifted aimlessly. The owner of the place near his house had a strange moral line: he never killed cats or dogs. Maybe it was because he knew cats and dogs were genetic products, and the citizens of the Metropolis were also genetic products—eating them would be like eating oneself. ... Zhao Meiyou’s mind wandered. He unconsciously lit a cigarette, the smoke like an extension of his thoughts, flickering under the light. He sometimes fell into these states. As a typical heartless representative of the Lower District, he was physically fit, slept excellently, and never dreamed. This state, for him, was perhaps what a dream felt like. It was like an old television suddenly regaining its signal. The screen showed deep streets; an abandoned amusement park reopened for business. Who were the guests? Colored balloons flew into the sky; bathhouse tiles kept spreading downward; the lens lost focus; why is the DVD binary; the amoeba just expired; Goldbach is singing; Marlboro hasn't gone out of production yet; it's on fire— "Your cigarette." Zhao Meiyou felt a sudden sting, realizing the cigarette had burned to the end. A guest had joined him at some point, ordering the same fried rice. It was Qian Duoduo. "...Thanks." Zhao Meiyou stubbed out the butt, picked up the pack, and asked, "Want one?" Qian Duoduo’s answer was unexpected. "No thanks, I don't smoke." Zhao Meiyou was surprised. "You don't smoke, Brother Qian?" "My ability is the same type as Diao Chan's—separating matter from the body through quantum mimicry and then solidifying it. What I separate is smoke, but it's just a manifestation of the ability, not nicotine in the physical sense." Qian Duoduo took a large spoonful of fried rice, his cheeks bulging as if he were starving. Seeing Zhao Meiyou stubbing out the cigarette, he waved a hand. "I don't mind the smell. Please, go ahead." Zhao Meiyou gave an "oh" and watched Qian Duoduo eat. For many people he knew, their eating habits were an extension of their subconscious. For instance, Diao Chan’s refined chewing hid a certain hysteria; the Consort’s gluttony actually contained an explosive urge to vomit. But Qian Duoduo’s eating reminded Zhao Meiyou of his younger sister—the little girl who raised electronic sunflowers. He was a member of an endangered species in the Metropolis: a pure child. Eating was for two things only: fullness and taste. Nothing else. "There was a lot of cleanup for S45, I didn't have time to eat," Qian Duoduo explained, seemingly realizing his manners weren't great. "You won't need to participate in the follow-up work." He felt the words were clumsy but couldn't take them back, so he added a dry, "Sorry." Finally, as if his taste buds had finally caught up, he muttered, "...This food is really terrible." Zhao Meiyou was amused by this series of reactions. "Aiya, Brother Qian, you don't need to apologize to me." He waved his hand, trying to hide his smile, but failed, so he just tried to keep the cigarette in his mouth. "I should be the one saying that. I caused you a lot of trouble in the ruins." "Your constitution is very special." Qian Duoduo didn't hide it. He seemed full now, and his mental state returned to being professional and detached. "I've seen your file, Zhao Meiyou. As far as I know, you've just finished your one-month rookie period. S45 was a temporary assignment. If not for this rescue mission, your next step would have been to continue testing your compatibility with other ruins." Zhao Meiyou hummed. "My Guide for the first month was Liu Qijue. According to the plan, the next one should have been Diao Chan." Qian Duoduo hesitated for a moment. Here came the main point. "Would you be willing to let me be your Guide?" Zhao Meiyou showed a perfectly timed look of surprise. "Brother Qian, you must be very strong, right? Being a Guide for me?" "It's mutually beneficial." Just as Diao Chan had said, Qian Duoduo was very frank about his goals. "I'm preparing for a high-difficulty ruins exploration and need a partner. I haven't found a suitable one yet, and your potential is highly exploitable." Zhao Meiyou finished his cigarette and said, "The mission email I received said the next coordinates are for Ruins A89. Brother Qian, you..." "No need." Qian Duoduo interrupted him. "If you choose me as your Guide, I can take you through all the suitable ruins in the shortest time possible. It’s the highest in both safety and efficiency." He paused, then added, "And I'm in a hurry." Zhao Meiyou smiled. "It seems I have no reason to refuse." Qian Duoduo let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. "Then, see you tomorrow?" He gave an address. "Four in the morning. Can you make it?" "Of course." Qian Duoduo’s figure vanished into the rainy night. The girl from the convenience store walked out with a card reader. "Brother Zhao, pay up for the smokes and booze." Zhao Meiyou withdrew his gaze. "What?" "Don't play dumb." The girl jerked her chin toward the street. "You clearly have a boyfriend now." Zhao Meiyou: "." For once, he was speechless, but then he found it hilarious. He leaned his head on his hand and laughed for a good while before nodding solemnly. "Yeah, then I guess I should pay." He entered Diao Chan’s card number on the screen, thought for a moment, and pressed a few digits into the password box. *Beep.* Payment successful. Zhao Meiyou glanced at the balance and felt his mood soar. He felt like he could live another hundred years. He waved his hand grandly. "Pack me fifty more mixed cans of pet food." He carried two large bags of supplies back to his rental. Zhao Bujiao circled his legs. Zhao Meiyou murmured to himself as he opened a can, "When did Diao Chan give you this nickname? I almost forgot it completely." He set the bowl on the floor and rubbed the cat's head, humming a short melody under his breath. Zhao Bujiao ate with such gusto that the humming was almost inaudible. Finally, Zhao Meiyou smiled and said, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence." *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation ---|---|--- 赵不叫 | Zhao Bujiao | Zhao Meiyou's cat. Literally "Zhao Doesn't-Call" or "Zhao No-Meow." 小名 | Nickname | Specifically a childhood name or pet name. 圣诞快乐，劳伦斯先生 | Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence | A reference to the 1983 film and its famous theme by Ryuichi Sakamoto. 桃花 | Peach Blossom | In Chinese culture, "peach blossom luck" refers to romantic luck or encounters. 引路人 | Guide | An experienced archaeologist who mentors a newcomer. 特危等级 | Special Danger Level | A classification for extremely hazardous ruins. 量子拟态 | Quantum Mimicry | A process of manifesting physical matter from the body within the ruins.