Chapter Eleven

11. Mutation

As it turned out, the pictures weren’t all that helpful. The vegetables that seemed unfamiliar in the photographs became somewhat recognizable once Yuchi Ankang saw them in person; after some thought, he realized that these plants had likely mutated during the apocalypse.

Yuchi Ankang simply prepared two dishes, while Wangzi recorded the entire process. After confirming that the recipes weren’t already in Yuchi’s repertoire, Wangzi immediately uploaded them and soon received a bonus, which he promptly reported to his master. Yuchi Ankang hadn’t expected that collecting recipes could actually be profitable. Should he study more dishes? On second thought, they weren’t exactly short on money now, so perhaps it was better to leave such opportunities to those less fortunate.

Once dinner was ready, Yuchi Ankang went to the bedroom to call out Zhu Anfu. It was only when they sat down to eat that he thought to ask, “Wangzi, do you need to eat?”

“I’m a robot—I don’t need food. Just put me on the balcony at night to absorb the heat stored during the day; I can convert that heat into my required energy. Don’t forget to press the sleep button.” Wangzi explained very earnestly. “While absorbing heat, I’ll perform self-cleaning.”

“How long is your lifespan? Don’t tell me it’s only a year or two!” Zhu Anfu’s tone was tinged with regret and an unspoken emotion. Wangzi was, after all, the most familiar presence since their arrival—not that they’d spent much time together yet, but they’d be living side by side from now on. Even though he reminded himself to be cautious around Wangzi, feelings inevitably develop over time.

“Of course not! I belong to the longest-lived class of robots. I can last for more than a hundred years. If my master is willing to replace my body, I can live even longer.” Wangzi replied with great pride. No one had ever worried about a robot’s lifespan before—he felt he had found good masters. He was sure they would be willing to replace his body.

“What’s the optimal time to change your body?” Zhu Anfu immediately perked up at this information.

“Thirty years. The best working period for robots is within thirty years; after that, we slowly age until, eventually, we can’t move.” Wangzi then explained some additional points about robot maintenance.

“Wangzi, how long do humans live now?” Zhu Anfu listened intently. If they couldn’t outlive the robot, he wouldn’t consider replacing Wangzi’s body.

“The average human lifespan has now reached two hundred and fifty years.” Wangzi reported the latest statistics, causing Zhu Anfu to spit out the soup he had just taken in. “Pfft… Two hundred and fifty! Who would want to live that long?”

“Master Zhu, you, Master Yuchi, and those who came with you are likely the oldest people in the world—over a thousand years old by now—so you might have pushed the average lifespan even higher.”

He really didn’t want to hear such things. “How are infancy, childhood, youth, middle age, and old age defined here?” Zhu Anfu was curious; at two hundred and fifty years, was childhood going to last into the thirties or forties?

“Infancy lasts until age three, childhood until eighteen, youth until about a hundred, middle age until a hundred and ninety, and the rest is old age. Physical appearance hardly changes—some people reach two hundred and still look as young as ever.” As Wangzi spoke, he served Zhu Anfu another bowl of rice.

Zhu Anfu thought that such people weren’t human but immortals—over two centuries old and still appearing youthful, surely they had achieved something beyond the ordinary!

“It’s actually because, in their youth, many people receive a beauty serum. It’s not expensive. If someone grows up without it, by a hundred, they begin to age normally.” Wangzi added a few more facts. Over the course of the meal, Zhu Anfu and Yuchi Ankang learned much about life in this era. Comparing it to their previous lives, they realized that survival without money here was impossible—the annual taxes alone were enough to make one cough up blood, and the laws and regulations seemed endless. But people did enjoy high standards of living—no unpaid wages, no bosses absconding with company funds.

“Wangzi, you mentioned before that we could invest in the website. Could you explain that to me?” Yuchi Ankang felt he was the one who ought to shoulder the responsibilities of providing for the family; as for Zhu Anfu, he should just enjoy his days in leisure.

“Actually, master, you can withdraw the money at any time; the website can pay out. Online authors don’t need to pay income tax now—in fact, not only are they exempt, but they also receive a monthly stipend. Signed authors get a basic living allowance of 3,500 each month. There are many online authors now. In your case, master, you’re entitled to back pay for over a thousand years.” Wangzi paused, noticing his master calculating that sum even while eating. “Master, I have a calculator built in.”

Zhu Anfu quickly sat back down to tally the amount. Seeing the figure, he clicked his tongue in amazement—people living in the future really were fortunate.

“But the website will definitely try to find excuses not to pay the full amount, so we need to negotiate. We should prepare two options: hire a lawyer, or buy shares—the more you invest, the higher the returns. This is the only website of its kind in the country; the prospects are excellent and there are no limits to its growth.” Wangzi went on to explain the current protections for online copyright. Zhu Anfu couldn’t help but pinch Yuchi Ankang—if only things had been like this back when he was writing! Earning more than 800 and having to pay tax was such a pain back then.

“Will we have management rights if we buy shares?” This was what Yuchi Ankang wanted to know. Though they still didn’t understand much about this world, they planned to make it their home.

“Yes, the more shares you hold, the more management rights you have. But I suggest that before making any decisions, master should study the field further.” Wangzi offered the best advice, and Yuchi Ankang accepted, asking Wangzi to help find a suitable school.

“By the way, Wangzi, can anyone use mechas nowadays?” Zhu Anfu thought of the mecha warriors who had brought them here—their mechas were terribly ugly.

“No, master. Only military personnel can operate mechas. The technology is still in its infancy, and most research is based on imitating what’s described in novels, including those written by you, master—they’ve drawn inspiration from your works as well.”

That evening, Yuchi Ankang and Zhu Anfu continued their discussion with Wangzi about how to make use of their newfound wealth. Zhu Anfu eventually bowed out, saying the sheer volume of information was overwhelming. Yuchi Ankang chatted with Wangzi for a while longer, but Wangzi soon excused himself, citing their wedding night as a good reason to stop. Following Wangzi’s instructions, Yuchi Ankang placed him on the balcony, then glanced toward the bedroom. Remembering the newly purchased household essentials, he decided to test them out.

~~~

Who says a wedding night has to be a certain way? Zhu Anfu lay sprawled on the bed with no regard for decorum, deeply frustrated. The night before, after Yuchi Ankang had finished talking, he’d come in and pressed down on him. At first, Zhu Anfu hadn’t thought much of it, but soon realized something was amiss. Truth be told, Zhu Anfu had always harbored feelings for Yuchi Ankang, but had never seriously considered acting on them. He’d even imagined that one day he might attend Yuchi Ankang’s wedding and watch someone else stand by his side.

When Yuchi Ankang mentioned marriage, Zhu Anfu had felt a tinge of relief, but also wondered if they might end up divorcing someday. After all, two centuries together—who could guarantee that hearts wouldn’t change?

“Have some porridge. I just made it,” Yuchi Ankang said, bringing in a bowl. “Wangzi said everyone gets a month off for marriage, no matter what they do. You can’t start school until a month after the wedding. Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“No. Didn’t you hear the officials say we’re not allowed to go out easily, to avoid drawing crowds and causing blockages?” Zhu Anfu rubbed his waist. “Do you think we can really live to be over two hundred?”

“No. We haven’t had our genes altered, so there’s no way we’ll live that long. Our lifespans will probably just be a few decades.” Yuchi Ankang had forgotten—they may not have reached the space station, but they had broken through the clouds, and that counted as space travel. If there were any mutations, it wouldn’t be surprising.

“Close the door. I want to enter the space, and I need you to keep watch.” Zhu Anfu felt it necessary to check if the space still existed; otherwise, he’d never be at ease. Yuchi Ankang nodded, and Zhu Anfu immediately slipped inside.

Staring in shock at the scenery within, Zhu Anfu’s eyes widened. The fruits had grown enormous—the tomatoes were as big as pumpkins, and the tiny dates were the size of pears. “My god, are these even edible?”

He took two dates out of the space and tossed one to Yuchi Ankang. “Would you dare eat this?”

“This is a date?” Yuchi Ankang examined it, glanced out the window, and took a bite. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Really?” Zhu Anfu quickly tasted his own. “So sweet! What could have caused this? Was it our spin around space? Or is it because we’re in the future and the space evolved along with us?”

“It’s hard to say right now, and it’s not easy to get these tested. Let’s wait until we have more resources. By the way, should we contact Wang Fei and Zhao Long? I think they’re trustworthy, and we don’t have any other friends or family here. We could treat them as close friends so we don’t feel so alone.” Of course, Yuchi Ankang had another motive—he wanted to show off that he and Zhu Anfu were now legally married.

Zhu Anfu agreed with the suggestion. Of everyone who had come with them, only the two astronauts had gained his admiration; as for the mad scientists and selfish individuals, he wanted nothing to do with them. Just thinking about it made him break out in a cold sweat.