Suddenly, a loud clang sounded beneath their feet, and everyone staggered as the Night Sea No. 7 lurched and slowed to a stop.
Pei Ran had a good guess why.
After another wave of text-based attacks, some part of the train—likely still inscribed with words—had burned out.
There was a commotion from the adjacent carriage, a sharp crackling and popping. Pei Ran turned back.
In the aisle of Car 4, a young man was hopping and stomping frantically, his shoes smacking the floor in a wild rhythm, like he was tap dancing.
What he was trying to escape was a flame flaring up from the back of his collar.
He jumped for a few seconds, then realized what was happening, frantically stripped off his coat and threw it to the floor.
But almost immediately, the fire spread to the collar of his sweater and the waistband of his pants.
He tore off the sweater in a panic, slapping at the flames on his waist, finally dropping to the floor and rolling to try to smother them.
Others quickly pulled off their jackets and joined in, slapping at the fire.
The elderly couple who had been communicating in pictograms also rushed over. The old woman brought a large thermos, twisted off the lid, and dumped a full load of water over the young man.
The timing was perfect. The fire finally went out.
"Labels," Pei Ran said to W.
The flames had originated from the label on his clothing. The Federation had already issued warnings, but clearly, some people still hadn't removed the tags from their clothes in time.
If there was one, there would definitely be more.
Night Sea No. 7 might be entirely metal on the outside, but its seats were covered in fabric. If those caught fire, it would be a disaster.
Pei Ran immediately moved toward the back.
Sure enough, in Car 3, a well-dressed middle-aged woman was frantically pulling things from her flaming briefcase.
It was the documents inside that had ignited—stacks of them, possibly contracts. The fire was rising, the flames now half a foot high.
Among the papers was a palm-sized black cube, similar to the projection blocks worn on wristbands, only slightly larger—likely also capable of projecting a virtual screen. It must have contained components etched with text, now spitting fire from within.
Pei Ran rushed forward, snatched the briefcase from her hands, opened a window, and flung the burning case and all its contents out.
The bundle tumbled across the gravel outside. A gust of cold wind caught it—and whoosh—it flared into a ball of flame.
The woman stared blankly at the fireball outside, stunned.
Even now, there were people who couldn't let go of worldly possessions.
Pei Ran pressed on to Car 2. She hadn't even entered when shouts erupted:
"Fire! Fire! Help!"
It was Nuomituan, the little parrot, flapping in a frenzy on its owner's shoulder.
The car was thick with smoke. One of the seats had caught fire. Sheng Mingxi, Tang Dao, and a crowd of others were beating at the flames, yanking off the burning seat covers in chaos.
Pei Ran hurried over, opened a window, and helped them toss the burning fabric outside.
The plastic seats were still catching; a few people jumped up and stomped them out with all their might.
Finally, the flames died down. Everyone slumped into their seats, exhausted.
Jin Hejun was still lying nearby.
He had taken medicine, but the pain remained. Curled up tightly, he held his head, lips pale and clenched, clearly doing everything he could not to scream.
There was nothing more Pei Ran could do for his pain. She kept moving forward.
Car 1 was safe—no signs of fire. Engineer Jiang wasn't at his station; he must've gone ahead. Pei Ran pushed open the door to the control cabin.
It was empty. The door to the outside was wide open. Aisha was standing at the train's nose.
Both she and Engineer Jiang were on the ground; he had crawled underneath the front of the train again.
Pei Ran dropped her backpack, only bringing the metal orb, and stepped down.
Aisha looked worried. Seeing Pei Ran come down, she started tapping furiously at her own fingers again.
Pei Ran had seen this enough to more or less understand her gesture system by now.
Each finger joint on both hands represented a letter. By tapping different joints, she spelled out syllables, which then formed words. It was simpler than Morse code and fairly easy to learn—if one could memorize the letter positions.
Luckily, Pei Ran carried a superpowered assistant.
"W," Pei Ran said, "I think each segment of her fingers corresponds to a letter. Probably, the tip of the pinky or thumb is A, and they're arranged in a zigzag or bow pattern, but I can't figure out the exact order. Can you crack it?"
W replied, "Of course."
All he needed was to try out every possible arrangement and see which one made sense of Aisha's sentence.
Less than a second later, W spoke: "The top segment of her right pinky is A. The letters on each finger run top to bottom. What she just said was: 'My grandmother already tried to remove as much of the text from the components as possible during repairs—but a few slipped through.'"
It looked like the train would still need time to be fixed.
Night had fallen. The train sat stalled in a flat, empty expanse. No fusion creatures nearby, no buildings in sight.
The air was crisp and cool. After everything that had just happened, not a single passenger dared get off. At most, they opened a few windows to let in the breeze.
Night Sea No. 7 rested on the tracks like a beast pausing to catch its breath.
Aisha lit up her wristband screen and moved closer to illuminate her grandmother's workspace.
Someone turned on the cabin lights. One by one, the carriages glowed. The train was the only lit object in a vast dark plain.
A train, halted and glowing, was not exactly safe. Hopefully it would be repaired soon.
Pei Ran didn't feel comfortable leaving Aisha and Engineer Jiang alone out there. She leaned against the front of the train, chatting with W.
She asked, "Did you scan the passengers? Anyone suspicious?"
W replied, "Actually—yes."
Pei Ran raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
W said, "There are currently forty-seven people on board. One just died, so forty-six now. I've cross-referenced their data from all the Federation's databases—name, birthdate, education, work history. Only one of them has any experience related to hypnosis."
He paused. "It's the girl with the parrot."
That, Pei Ran hadn't expected.
"Her name is Inaya Ganguly, age twenty-two. She dropped out of high school at sixteen and has been working ever since as a waitress at a café in Night Sea City. On the surface, her background has nothing to do with hypnosis. But I found her name in a classified Security Department report—turns out, for the past two years, she's been attending an unlicensed hypnosis study group almost every week. It's a small, illegal gathering where they study hypnotic techniques."
Pei Ran raised an eyebrow. "You people have a lot of illegal hobbies."
It seemed almost too easy to single out the one person who knew hypnosis, and Pei Ran was skeptical.
"If this were a novel," she said, "Inaya—the one who studied hypnosis—would definitely be a red herring. The real culprit wouldn't be revealed until the final chapter. It wouldn't be her. It'd be someone completely unexpected."
W echoed, "Completely unexpected?"
"Exactly," Pei Ran said. "Someone completely unexpected. Like Tang Dao, the guy who knows Morse code. Or Sheng Mingxi, the rich girl from a powerful family. Or even that elderly couple who writes in pictographs…"
She paused, then added, "...Or the most unexpected of all: the parrot. Inaya's little bird."
W was speechless. "A parrot? You think the parrot is the fusion creature?"
Pei Ran answered seriously, "Who's to say it isn't?"
She continued speculating. "That parrot—Nuomituan—has been going to those hypnosis classes with Inaya every week. One day it absorbs some green light, evolves into a fusion creature, and its intelligence spikes. It learns hypnosis too. Then, during the Great Fire in Night Sea, it tries to help its owner survive by hypnotizing people—nudging them to test how to get through the barrier gate."
W paused. "Isn't that a little far-fetched?"
Pei Ran shot back, "But is it impossible?"
W thought about it. "No… not impossible."
Pei Ran went on, "Earlier, when the train stopped, Inaya wasn't planning to get off, right? So the parrot comes up with a plan—it wants to make sure more passengers stay with its owner. Who knows what lies ahead? In a dangerous situation, those passengers could shield her, take the hit for her. It's logical. See? It all adds up."
W remained silent in protest of her 'logic.'
"But," Pei Ran added, "if I had to pick, I'd say the most suspicious person isn't the parrot. It's Yulianka—that girl who's been trying way too hard to get everyone to like her. Helping old ladies onto the train, handing out boxed meals… That kind of character always seems too perfect. In novels, that's usually a sign they're hiding something."
W said, "I haven't read many novels…"
"You should," Pei Ran replied. "They're fun. Especially mysteries. Whodunits."
"I do agree with your suspicion of the overly friendly Yulianka," W said. "But still… this is real life, not fiction. We have to treat Inaya—who's actually studied hypnosis—as our primary suspect."
He said it quickly, a little too quickly, like something strange had just zipped past.
At that moment, Tang Dao leaned out of the train door, holding several foil meal boxes.
He handed one to each of them, along with disposable spoons. It looked like Yulianka really had handed out the food.
Pei Ran slung the metal orb across her body and leaned against the front of the train as she opened her box.
Chicken and rice. Tender chunks of chicken laid neatly over rice, topped with sauce. It had been heated earlier and still retained some warmth. Pei Ran scooped up a spoonful and put it in her mouth.
W idly commented, "The train meals are usually not that great."
Nonsense—he said that like he had any idea. He didn't even have a mouth, let alone a tongue or taste buds.
The truth? It was delicious.
Aisha, sitting nearby, also opened her box. Glancing up, she saw Pei Ran scarfing hers down, already halfway through. Without a word, Aisha pushed her own box over and started spooning her chicken into Pei Ran's.
Pei Ran immediately blocked her with her hand—if Aisha gave away all the meat, she'd be left with plain rice.
Aisha insistently tried to add more. Pei Ran squirmed and dodged left and right, the two of them locked in a quiet battle—until suddenly, they both burst into silent laughter.
W watched them in silence, then spoke near Pei Ran's ear. "Pei Ran, we're friends, right?"
Pei Ran glanced down at the metal orb.
It sat quietly against her hip, unmoving. In the dim light, a faint blue glow flickered from the processor deep within its core.
He was artificial intelligence—almost no different from the war machines that once burned and killed in the underground bunker world.
Pei Ran paused, then answered, "Yes. We're friends."
W said, "Then I have a question for you. It's just for fun, nothing serious—like how people sometimes chat about nonsense to pass the time."
She took a bite of chicken and rice. "Shoot."
"If Aisha and I both fell into the water," W asked, "who would you save first?"
Pei Ran froze. What?
Wasn't that usually a question about saving your wife or your mother?
She answered honestly, "Neither of you. I can't swim."
Kids raised in bunkers rarely saw bodies of water, let alone learned to swim.
W went silent.
Then he rephrased, "Okay, what if Aisha and I were trapped in a burning room? Who would you rescue first?"
"Obviously Aisha," Pei Ran replied instantly. "You've got a metal shell—you'd last longer. Plus, you're immune to smoke, gas, all that. You won't die from inhalation. You can wait a bit."
W: "…"
Aisha, blissfully unaware that she'd just survived both fire and water, elbowed Pei Ran and pointed with her spoon toward the horizon.
In the distance, something faintly glowed above the horizon—a soft curve, like a dim lantern.
Pei Ran looked once. Then again.
And then she realized—
The moon.
A pale crescent veiled behind the thinnest layer of night haze.
For the first time since she arrived in this world, she could see the moon.
She tilted her head back, searching the sky. The haze was too heavy to spot stars, but the moon alone was enough.
A thrill welled up inside her.
But it wasn't something she could share with anyone.
Quietly, she took another bite of chicken and rice—eating it beneath the curve of that crescent moon.
There she sat, in the wilds, leaning against the train with friends, basking in moonlight, eating the best chicken and rice of her life.
Then, at last, Engineer Jiang emerged from beneath the train.
A strand of silver-white hair fell across her face.
Aisha offered her the rest of her meal, but Jiang shook her head, brushing the hair aside and smiling at the two girls. She raised her hands: one formed a circle, and the other moved like a clock hand, rotating halfway around the circle in a clockwise direction.
The gesture was easy to interpret—she could fix the train. It'd take about half an hour.
Pei Ran finally relaxed.
The moon climbed higher, brushing the silhouette of distant trees, and just as it hung at the peak, Jiang straightened up and gave them a thumbs-up.
Time to go.
The three of them returned to the train. Jiang pulled the lever at the console.
The train began to move.
Almost immediately, the cabin door burst open. Sheng Mingxi rushed in, accompanied by two classmates.
She looked distressed and began pantomiming—a gesture toward her eyes, then bent at the waist in mock agony, then she mimed wrapping her eyes in bandages.
She was talking about Jin Hejun.
Then she pointed at herself, mimicked walking, looked down at seat level, and wore an expression of surprise.
She wandered around, looking in all directions, as if searching for something.
Drama club president through and through—her facial expressions and body language were excellent. Pei Ran understood: Jin Hejun was missing.
There were only so many cars on the train. No one had seen anyone get off. It was hard to believe someone could just disappear.
Pei Ran left Aisha and Jiang to drive and followed the group back through the cars.
They ran into Tang Dao along the way.
Sheng Mingxi grabbed him and repeated the same gestures.
Tang Dao caught on quickly and tapped out a string of Morse code on a table.
He said: Jin Hejun was taken by that doctor.
There was only one obvious doctor on the train.
Yulianka.