Heijing was far bigger than Pei Ran had imagined.
This underground city was nothing like the dim, tunnel-like burrow-worlds of the bunker systems. It was grand in scale, with a high, dark dome that didn't feel oppressive. The dense clusters of towering buildings—resembling a gargantuan termite nest—made the place look like a real city, albeit with a slightly strange architectural style.
Outside, night had already fallen, but inside Heijing it was bright as day. Cold white light poured down from the lighting equipment installed on the dome.
It looked like the city was still under construction. Roads hadn't been fully paved, and potholes and construction signs popped up here and there.
But perhaps no one had expected that one day, the hovercars would disappear—and the only vehicles capable of reaching Heijing would be those ancient, ground-bound relics.
The closer they got to the city center, the more complete the infrastructure looked. Through the armored vehicle's window, Pei Ran could see a large open square in the distance, surrounded by towering buildings. One of the buildings featured a massive, sky-high virtual display screen.
Portraits of people—each blown up to enormous proportions—cycled on the screen.
And Pei Ran saw herself among them.
Her 3D holographic image slowly rotated, accompanied by a list of her "heroic deeds," and a bold line of text:
[Federation First-Class Medal]
Pei Ran stared, speechless: the Federation sure was generous—just handing out medals like that without even telling her.
Her likeness continued to spin onscreen while she herself sat locked in a sealed armored vehicle, able to watch the spectacle only through a narrow window slit.
A squad of fully armed Federation soldiers escorted the vehicle. Not only were they carrying weapons, but every inch of their bodies was wrapped in a transparent film.
The shimmering membrane flowed with an iridescent sheen like a soap bubble—it had to be some sort of specialized isolation suit.
This level of precaution was likely due to the unstable green light inside her—particularly the madness-type fusion strains.
Pei Ran wasn't feeling quite as unwell now.
She touched her wrist.
Upon entering Heijing through the southern gate, they'd immediately locked a red bracelet around her left wrist. It looked similar to her usual black one, but this one wasn't elastic. It was made of rigid plastic with a locking clasp.
Pei Ran tugged at it gently. The clasp was sealed shut. There was no removing it.
The moment the bracelet clicked into place, all the green light inside her—including Order-type 001, 002, and 003, as well as the erratically rampaging madness-type particles—instantly quieted down.
It was a suppressant. The bracelet could suppress the green light.
And once it was on, she did feel better. The dizziness and nausea subsided significantly.
At the moment, though, Pei Ran's thoughts were more occupied with curiosity about this underground city.
From the entrance onward, she'd been immediately loaded into the armored vehicle. After passing through several heavily guarded checkpoints, she vaguely heard voices outside—the soldiers speaking to each other.
So this was a place where people could speak out loud.
She hadn't spoken in days. Her vocal cords seemed to have forgotten their function; silence had become a habit.
Pei Ran tried to say something.
"Heijing."
Her voice sounded strange, like there were aftershocks in her ears—her own voice thundered in her head, startlingly loud. Her heart clenched and began to pound.
Three seconds passed. Nothing happened.
She repeated softly, "Heijing."
And then, in her mind, she called out: "W?"
Pei Ran had figured it out. She understood now—all of it.
W had told her Heijing had summoned him back immediately. Some people were still worried she might mutate. They hadn't wanted her entering Heijing.
Which was why, on the aircraft, he hadn't dodged CT122's gunfire.
Destroying the metal sphere had been the best option.
If the metal sphere still existed, then whether he disobeyed orders to stay with her or returned to Heijing, the storage drive inside it would still officially belong to him.
And if she had taken the drive with her, she'd be labeled a thief trying to exploit it for her own gain.
But with the sphere destroyed—objectively, and unrelated to her—she was instantly rebranded as the hero who protected and salvaged a vital drive.
That explosion had solved the dilemma for him and elevated her to the moral high ground. Now she could enter Heijing rightfully.
That stupid sphere had really thought it all through.
The metal ball had merely been a robot under his control. Given how intimately he understood Heijing, odds were that his true self was somewhere in this city. She wondered if he could still receive her mental signal.
No answer came. Pei Ran turned her gaze back to the window.
On the roads of Heijing, almost everyone wore uniforms—soldiers. All the vehicles were military-grade, painted in camouflage tones of army green and sandy beige.
Suddenly, Pei Ran saw a jet-black antique car.
It sped up from behind and drove alongside the armored vehicle. The armored vehicle immediately slowed to let it pass.
A military car yielding? That alone made Pei Ran lean closer to the window, trying to get a better look.
On the black car's door was a very distinctive emblem—a three-headed iris flower.
At a glance, the three flower heads grew from a single stem, resembling an upright trident.
The symbol looked incredibly familiar.
Pei Ran remembered now: the same golden emblem was printed on the inside cover of Shi Geye's black notebook.
A chill ran through her.
She stared at the car. It quickly overtook them.
Soon, a second identical black antique car passed by—this one without the emblem. Then came a third.
This time, the rear passenger window rolled down slowly.
A cascade of flame-red hair came into view.
Pei Ran quickly ducked away from the window, heart hammering.
It was Haipo.
The red-haired expert who had dissected the metal sphere's structure like the back of her hand—and who had worked with Shi Geye.
That vivid hair, those sharp dark features—Pei Ran couldn't be mistaken. And seated beside her was the hook-handed man whose mechanical arm had been disabled with a single pull.
Shi Geye was dead. How had these two gotten to Heijing?
And so quickly—they'd arrived nearly as fast as she had on the Night Sea.
Haipo's gaze happened to land on the giant screen in the central square. Pei Ran's 3D image was still spinning there.
They would absolutely recognize her.
So even grudges from the road had followed her into Heijing.
What was more disturbing: W had once said Shi Geye's identity was so secret he didn't even show up in the Federation citizen database.
Which meant the person in that first black car must be similarly special.
The three-headed iris had to be an important symbol.
Too bad W wasn't here to explain. If he were, she'd already have the answer.
The three black cars quickly sped off ahead.
The armored vehicle turned off the central square and onto another street. Eventually, it stopped in front of a heavily fortified building.
A tall, transparent shield wall stood around the base of the building. The main gate—made of the same material—slowly opened.
Inside the barrier, a squad of armed soldiers awaited them like it was DEFCON 1. Their entire bodies were encased in shimmering "soap-bubble" suits, weapons ready.
Someone opened the car door. Pei Ran stepped out.
Behind the bubble suits, the soldiers stared at her. Their eyes were wary, as if she might turn into a monster at any moment.
At the building's entrance, a young woman with black hair descended the steps.
She wore a military uniform and bore the insignia of a lieutenant general. She wore no bubble membrane. Her steps were brisk as she headed toward the armored vehicle.
A soldier quickly intercepted her, speaking in a low voice: "General, for safety reasons, you can't get too close."
She stopped a few steps away and looked at Pei Ran. Her cold expression softened into a faint smile.
"You're Pei Ran, right? I'm Song Wan. Welcome to Heijing."
Hearing someone speak felt strange. Pei Ran didn't reply—she just nodded.
Song Wan continued, "Marshal Veina is occupied, so she asked me to receive you. You'll be staying in the quarantine center for now. A dedicated medical team will monitor your condition—we hope to keep the mutation under control."
She paused. "That storage drive—can I have it now?"
Pei Ran pulled the tiny drive from her pocket.
A soldier in an isolation suit took it from her and handed it to Song Wan.
Song Wan carefully pocketed it and said, "You've been through a lot. Your room is ready. Get some rest."
An armed captain—only his eyes visible—stepped forward to escort Pei Ran to the elevator.
The elevator looked sturdy and spacious enough to carry dozens, but only the captain came up with her.
He looked very young. Gun in hand, he kept several paces away, occasionally glancing at her—only to quickly look away when caught.
There were no buttons inside the elevator. As if it already knew their destination, it ascended automatically, then stopped and opened.
The captain led Pei Ran through several iris-scanned checkpoints until they reached a final door.
Pei Ran was surprised.
Given all the security, she'd expected something like a prison cell.
But the room inside looked like a regular apartment—cleaner and more spacious than her little flat in White Harbor.
The captain motioned for her to enter.
He finally spoke: "This is your quarantine room. If you need anything, use the intercom to reach the center's control desk. The place is under constant surveillance to monitor the mutation. If you need to change clothes, the bathroom is private. If you're hungry, there are snacks in the kitchen, though dinner will be served soon."
It was a long speech. In the outside world, that many words might have gotten him killed ten times over. Pei Ran nodded.
The place looked normal, but it was still a prison.
The captain added, "Get some rest. If tomorrow morning you're still…"
He trailed off.
Pei Ran finished the sentence silently: If you're still alive.
The look in their eyes was easy to read—pity, sympathy—as if she were already doomed.
He skipped the second half: "...then the medical team will come by for a full-body checkup."
He turned to leave, then paused again.
Looking back at her with clear eyes, he hesitated before saying:
"The northern front has launched a full counteroffensive. Everyone here knows—it was you who saved Heijing."
After saying that, he seemed flustered and quickly turned to leave, but Pei Ran called out to him.
"Hey."
She forced herself to speak: "What's your name?"
The act of talking still felt like an injury—vocal cords vibrating only through sheer will. Hearing her own voice still made her heart race, palms tingle with adrenaline.
The captain stopped. A faint flush rose on the exposed strip of skin beneath his eyes.
"My name is Lin Yu," he said. "You can contact me directly on the intercom if you need anything."
"If you're feeling unwell," he added instinctively, eyes scanning her with concern, "you can call me, too."
Pei Ran thought: So I can absorb you into my body and make you part of the fusion?
But she simply nodded.
Lin Yu left. The door clicked shut behind him—automatically locked.
Pei Ran looked around.
The isolation room was a suite, with two sections—an inner bedroom and an outer living area. It had a bathroom and even a small kitchen, resembling an ordinary apartment.
But it wasn't quite ordinary. The ceiling was much higher, and not a single room had windows.
It was a completely sealed box.
The walls were painted pure white, but the surface looked different from standard paint—it had a distinctive sheen. Pei Ran knocked on it casually.
The sound that came back was metallic, with a faint echo. She pressed her mechanical fingers against the wall and applied some pressure. The surface didn't budge, didn't even dent.
Definitely a solid metal box.
Only then did she finish inspecting the place.
Captain Lin Yu was right—the ceiling was studded with blatant, glaring surveillance cameras. Spherical black lenses followed her movement silently as she walked around. The bathroom, at least on the surface, seemed to be free of surveillance.
The living room couch had cushions, but was actually a raised section of the metal floor. The dining table and chairs extended straight out from the walls and couldn't be moved.
The bed in the bedroom wasn't really a bed—it was more of a platform built directly into the floor. It came with a full set of bedding and pillows, but had no mobility at all.
Next to it, the wardrobe was embedded deep in the wall. Inside were two sets of clothing—light gray uniforms that looked like industrial coveralls.
In short, there wasn't a single piece of movable furniture.
Which might not be a bad thing. If she ever turned into one of those fusion-state lunatics W had mentioned, like that major who could absorb everything, there wouldn't be much to fuse with. Unless she merged with the room itself.
What would it even feel like to become a room?
The kitchen had the same seamless, molded design. A boxy device, maybe an oven, was embedded in the wall—clearly meant for cooking, though Pei Ran had no idea how to use it.
Beside it was a built-in cabinet door. Probably the snack cabinet Lin Yu had mentioned.
Pei Ran opened it casually—then froze.
The cabinet was fully stocked with rows of potato chips.
Lined up like they were standing at attention. All kinds of colorful packaging, bizarre flavors—some she'd tasted before, others she hadn't.
The shelf below was filled with bottles of mineral water.
They must be worried she'd get constipated, she thought.
Pei Ran stared at the chip army for a moment, then smiled faintly.
Ever since that metal sphere blew itself to bits, her rational mind had been clear. But the emotional part of her had been drifting, with no place to land.
Now it had finally come to rest.
She picked up a bag of chips, thinking: The chips are here, but where's the medicine you promised?
Back when they made their deal, W had said he was a Federal Security Agent with the highest clearance to access Heijing's pharmaceutical reserves. He promised that once they reached Heijing, he'd make sure she got enough JTN35.
From what he said, he could even formulate it himself. If she made it through the night without mutating—if she was lucky enough to survive—he'd better not forget to give her the meds.
Then she saw it.
Right behind the ranks of potato chips sat row after row of familiar white medicine boxes.
Pei Ran pulled one out.
"JTN35" was printed right on the box. W had kept his word.
She counted them—twenty-four boxes in total. One month per box. Enough to last two years.
Her heart skipped. She flipped the box over and checked the manufacturing and expiration dates.
Freshly made, but only a two-year shelf life.
The two blister packs she'd carried with her all this time—she'd thrown away the original packaging, but she figured they had the same two-year window.
So what happens after two years?
W had said Heijing had enough JTN35 in storage to last her two thousand years—if the meds didn't expire. But who knew whether Heijing still had the ability to produce new JTN35?
Pei Ran wasn't optimistic.
Even if Heijing managed to get a production line running, the first priority would be food and essentials. In a place with limited resources, a niche medication like hers—one almost no one else needed—would be the lowest priority.
The meds in Heijing were just a stopgap.
In the end, if she wanted to survive, she'd have to rely on herself.