Sixteen

Chapter 16: A Small Life

Zhu Anfu’s new work had only been updated for three days before a slew of nitpickers appeared. Each one acted as though they were paragons of scientific thinking, analyzing the supernatural events in Zhu Anfu’s story more professionally than any scientist, listing countless points in meticulous detail. Zhu Anfu didn’t bother to respond, but Wang Zi could not remain indifferent. In his heart, his master was the greatest; ever since Yuchi, his master, had started attending school, Wang Zi would thoroughly clean the house each day, then squat in front of the website to collect information specifically for Zhu Anfu. For those who attacked his master, Wang Zi would track down each of their home addresses, record them one by one, and compile a list of these split-personality types.

Of course, Wang Zi could not publicly post these individuals’ identities online, as that would be illegal. Instead, he compiled their addresses and submitted them to the website’s legal department. If Zhu Anfu were just an ordinary author, the legal team would probably ignore it. But Zhu Anfu was a newly appointed shareholder—a major one at that. Although he claimed he wouldn’t be involved in management, who could say for certain? Besides, apart from being a shareholder, Zhu Anfu was a celebrated author. The legal department had seen plenty of people trying to smear big-name authors and make fools of themselves. After reviewing the comments, they immediately instructed the site administrators to remove duplicate comments, posted a thread in the forum, and published the valid IP addresses of several of these split-personality individuals—albeit shadowed for privacy—and made it clear: if these were legitimate, analytical comments, they were welcome. But if there were ulterior motives, the department would not hesitate to sue under the newly issued Law for the Protection of Ancients.

Yes, you read that right—the Law for the Protection of Ancients. If there had only been one or two individuals from the past, the state certainly would not have enacted such a law. But the recent wave brought too many at once. Numerous organizations—both legal and illegal—wanted to study these ancients. Regardless of intent, the state could not allow human lives to be treated so carelessly. Within less than a week of the ancients’ arrival, comprehensive protective legislation was enacted.

The forum was thrown into chaos by the post, though Zhu Anfu remained unaware. Wang Zi, feeling quite pleased with himself, ordered the day’s groceries according to the menu Yuchi had left before departing for school. Zhu Anfu had no desire to attend school himself. His curiosity about mechas did not mean he wished to become a rare specimen for public display. At one point, Zhu Anfu had asked Wang Zi whether places like zoos still existed; upon hearing the answer, he decisively refrained from letting Dou Dou out, instead keeping him in the spatial pocket. Dou Dou was still quite small but extraordinarily adorable. Zhu Anfu only played with him using his mind when he felt weary.

Wang Zi had explained that zoos no longer existed. Parks now predominantly featured forests and were prohibitively expensive—a single ticket cost about a typical family’s annual income, most of which was for insurance. If anything happened to a visitor, compensation would be provided. The reason was simple: the government mandated that forest parks maintain their pristine ecosystems. If a person killed an animal in self-defense, they would be prosecuted; if an animal killed a human, insurance would pay out. By now, the variety of animals on Earth was pitifully small, and after the apocalypse, people had learned the importance of maintaining ecological balance.

Animals now lived in forests, and keeping pets had become rare. After the apocalypse, some tried, but people’s enthusiasm quickly faded, leading to an influx of stray pets. The government swiftly enacted strict regulations: to adopt a pet, one needed official paperwork, and anyone caught abandoning an animal would have their credit points penalized. Credit points were more crucial than money. Everyone started with a hundred, which could be increased by performing good deeds. If a person’s points fell to zero, they were exiled—not to another country, but directly into the wilderness, clad in nothing but their underwear. There were prisons, of course, but they would not incarcerate someone just for losing their credit points over pet abandonment. This series of harsh laws effectively ended pet abandonment and sharply reduced the number of pets. Before the advent of robots, people still kept dogs for security, but now, with robots, watchdogs were almost extinct.

People’s fondness for pets had plummeted, not just because of strict laws. According to the regulations, if a pet fell ill, it could receive free treatment at designated facilities. With patience and care, keeping a pet was not that difficult. The main reason people no longer liked pets was that, after the apocalypse, animals had mutated—growing much larger and more ferocious, making them impossible to love. Docile kittens and puppies now resembled tigers and lions; who could possibly find them cute?

After hearing all this, Zhu Anfu had gone online to verify. Not only had cats and dogs grown larger—even cockroaches had mutated to the size of a mature Teddy dog from a thousand years ago. The sheer disgust left Zhu Anfu unable to eat for two days.

Knowing all this, Zhu Anfu dared not let Dou Dou out, lest he be whisked away for research. He was gradually learning about this new society—through Wang Zi, through the internet, while Yuchi Ankang learned through school.

Three days prior, Yuchi Ankang had received notice of an interview at the military academy. After passing, he was immediately enrolled. The academy was forty minutes from home. Faced with the choice of boarding or commuting, he chose to commute. Although military academy management was no longer as strict as before, it was still somewhat stricter than regular schools. Day students were not allowed to return home for lunch. From the moment they entered in the morning until eight classes were completed, they could not leave.

Each morning, Yuchi Ankang would bring Zhu Anfu’s lunch, and in the evening, prepare new dishes, deciding on groceries the day before, with Wang Zi responsible for ordering them online the next day. After just three days of classes, Yuchi Ankang found himself deeply interested in the curriculum. He was studying Mecha Engineering, which included only the disciplines relevant to the specialty—unlike a thousand years ago, when management students also had to study Marxism or Maoist theory. There were no elective or compulsory courses outside the core program; anything extra was purely optional. You could study more if you wanted, and no one would stop you, but you had to maintain your primary major’s grades. If you failed in your main field, you had no right to study others. Yuchi Ankang summarized it as the old saying: “Specialize in your chosen trade, not as a scatterbrained fool.”

The mecha program lasted four to eight years, with a curriculum that ranged from basic to advanced. There were four concentrations: maintenance, design, management, and operation. All four shared many core courses—such as mecha history and principles. Yuchi Ankang did not choose the operation track, which required boarding; instead, he opted for design. Never underestimate a mecha designer—a top designer was highly sought after and would never have to worry about employment.

Carrying his notebook, Yuchi Ankang hurried out of school toward the bus stop. Today, Wang Fei and Zhao Long were coming to celebrate; both had been selected by the mecha forces, but having just married, they still had some leave. Yuchi Ankang himself also had leave. These past few days at school had been for auditing and deciding on a specialty. Today, he finally settled on design. He would finish his wedding leave before formally starting his studies.

Wang Fei and Zhao Long had both chosen the mecha track. Wang Fei was deeply passionate about mechas; after reading countless novels, he was thrilled to finally experience it firsthand. As Zhao Long put it, Wang Fei was a little too excited—he wouldn’t sleep unless he was exhausted to the point of collapse each night.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Anfu regarded them both with a mischievous look. “So Wang Fei is the one on the bottom? I thought it would be Zhao Long.”

“I’m on top! You’re the one on the bottom—your whole family’s on the bottom!” Wang Fei shot to his feet, pacing circles in the living room. Now that both had joined the military, their benefits had improved—they lived in a high-end community, a perk for soldiers. The move to a comfortable home delighted them, but Zhu Anfu was so lazy that he flatly refused their invitation to visit, insisting they come to him instead.

Yuchi Ankang had often wanted to help Zhu Anfu overcome his aversion to going out, but each attempt was vetoed before he could even broach the subject. In the end, he let Zhu Anfu be. Fortunately, Zhu Anfu kept up with exercise at home, or else Yuchi Ankang would have dragged him out by force.

“I’m on the bottom,” Zhu Anfu declared matter-of-factly. “It’s too much work being on top—you have to do all the moving.” Yuchi Ankang couldn’t help but twitch at this blatant honesty—couldn’t he be a bit more subtle?

Wang Fei was momentarily speechless. He didn’t have Zhu Anfu’s thick skin. “When do we eat?” Unable to follow Zhu Anfu’s lead, he could only change the subject. “I’m starving.”

“We’ll eat and talk,” Yuchi Ankang said, rising to bring out the freshly prepared dishes from the kitchen. With current technology, there was no need to worry about the food getting cold—the insulation was excellent.

While the four of them ate, Wang Zi used a machine to artfully slice fruit into floral shapes, arranging them on a platter for dessert. Though he believed eating fruit immediately after a meal was not ideal, he wouldn’t disrupt his master’s habits.

“Your Wang Zi is just too considerate,” Wang Fei grumbled in a low voice. “Why is our robot so rigid and old-fashioned?”

Hearing this, Wang Zi immediately moved as far from Wang Fei as possible, worried his master might decide to give him away to a friend. Although he thought it unlikely, he still felt uneasy until his master said otherwise, his emotion display flickering restlessly.