Chapter 4

“YL7429, from now on I’ll call you Zhuang Zhuang, okay?” Su Ling spoke with a habitual smile; even facing a robot was no exception. “Does the general get nutrient injections every day?”

“Yes. Nutrient solution can maintain the general’s bodily functions.” Zhuang Zhuang opened its mechanical abdomen and retrieved the syringe.

Su Ling curiously glanced twice at Zhuang Zhuang’s abdomen and asked, “What does the general usually eat to supplement nutrition?”

“Nutrient solution can maintain the general’s bodily functions.” Zhuang Zhuang repeated.

It took Su Ling’s brain two full circles before he understood. “You mean the general doesn’t eat or drink at all under normal circumstances—he only gets nutrient injections?”

“Yes, Madam of the General.” Zhuang Zhuang did not understand human desires for food or spiritual needs.

Why? Su Ling didn’t get it. Ordering a robot to feed him shouldn’t be difficult, right? Why was the general making things hard on his own mouth and stomach?

Hearing no further instructions, Zhuang Zhuang walked to the corner of the room, stood straight against the wall, and remained motionless like a piece of furniture.

Only then did Su Ling realize that Zhuang Zhuang had always been in the general’s room, on standby around the clock—he had simply overlooked it before.

He walked to the side of the general’s bed, half-squatted, and cupped the general’s head with both hands, turning it toward himself while explaining, “I’m going to feed you a little water. Don’t choke.”

The general’s gaze was no longer the inorganic coldness from before; it had become deep, and his brows furrowed slightly.

Su Ling held the honey water and lightened his voice. “Doesn’t your mouth taste like anything? Drinking something sweet is good.”

The general’s lips remained tightly closed with no intention of opening. Su Ling stuffed the straw into the general’s mouth. “It’s sweet—just suck a little.” The general pushed with his tongue, and the straw tilted out.

“Why won’t you drink? Difficulty swallowing?” Su Ling’s lively eyes rolled. “Zhuang Zhuang, give me a clean syringe.”

He pulled the needle off the syringe and drew half a tube of honey water. When he tried to feed again, he found the general’s head had already turned toward the inner side, leaving him only the back of a head—a silent refusal.

Was he throwing a tantrum? What should I do? Su Ling stared dejectedly at the back of the general’s head. “If you don’t want to drink, of course that’s fine. But you should at least give me a reason, right? Whatever you want me to do or don’t want me to do, you can say it. As long as you speak, I’ll try my best to make it happen.”

The owner of the back of the head slowly closed his eyes, expression somewhat embarrassed—something Su Ling could not see.

“Is it that you don’t trust me? If there was poison in the water, Zhuang Zhuang would definitely say so. I just want you to eat something.” Su Ling wished he could knock open the general’s head and see what he was thinking.

So what if he’d read the book and knew the man’s behavioral habits? The book never said why he refused to eat or drink! The description was far from detailed—enough to make one’s hair fall out.

Was it because of a bad mood? Or because he knew what the Su family had done and was taking it out on him? Or simply because of physical pain, so he didn’t want to eat?

A man’s heart was a needle at the bottom of the sea—impossible to guess no matter how hard one tried.

As a human being, it was impossible not to want to eat, right? A flash of inspiration struck Su Ling. He decided to make all kinds of delicious food and place them in front of the general—tempt, tempt with all his might. He believed no one could withstand a food attack.

With a plan in mind, Su Ling’s mood brightened. He asked Zhuang Zhuang for a cotton swab and dipped it in a little honey water.

He half-knelt on the general’s bed, one hand braced beside the general’s right shoulder, the other holding the cotton swab up before the general’s eyes, speaking as if coaxing a child: “No more drinking water. Let’s just moisten your lips, okay? Your mouth is all cracked.”

The general’s lips pressed lightly together, and his Adam’s apple bobbed once.

Su Ling took it as agreement and carefully used the cotton swab to coat the general’s lips. “Lick it—it’s sweet.” He revealed a small, lively smile.

That smile—how to describe it? Neither brilliant nor radiant, but warm, like being wrapped in a pool of hot spring water, making every pore relax and open. His apricot eyes curved, shimmering with soft moonlight.

The general unconsciously licked his lips, then frowned in chagrin and swish—snapped his eyelids shut.

“Don’t like it?” As always, Su Ling received no response. It didn’t matter; there was still plenty of time. He flipped off the bed. “General, rest well. I’m going to buy some ingredients and make you something delicious.”

He didn’t know that after he turned around, the general kept staring at his back. Not openly, but somewhat sneakily, as if observing in secret, yet hiding a trace of reluctance.

It had been too long since anyone had spoken to the general like this. In the past it had been flattery and compliments; later it became disdain and contempt. Rarely had he heard equal and relaxed words.

It had been too long since anyone asked about the general’s feelings. Before, he had been too strong, as if invincible; later, too weak, so there was no need to ask. He had always lived unlike a person—more like a combat robot.

Pei You had always believed there was nothing wrong with being a robot. Without emotions, without expectations, one could be invincible.

He blankly gazed at the ceiling, eyes hollow, thoughts drifting far away.

All the buildings on the street radiated the coldness of metal, but with people came vitality. Calls of street vendors, noisy chatter, laughter and roughhousing… warmed the air. Su Ling liked lively places full of human presence.

He was like a tourist, appreciating novel scenery, sensing fresh people, experiencing a new kind of life.

Even more like a little bird that had wandered into the human world by mistake, his small mouth chattering nonstop, asking Fang Fang all sorts of questions.

“Fang Fang, what’s this?” Su Ling pointed at a purple-blue spherical object the size of a watermelon, its surface uneven and bumpy. Just looking at it killed one’s appetite, yet it was displayed in a fruit shop.

The shopkeeper glanced at Su Ling, corners of his mouth turning down. Who knew where this country bumpkin had come from, not even recognizing purple-skin fruit? He must eat nutrient solutions every day and couldn’t afford natural fruit.

Fortunately the robot didn’t care whether Su Ling was country bumpkin or not and answered dutifully: “Purple-skin fruit. A giant evergreen tree of the Bombacaceae family. The fruit is round, 30 to 45 centimeters in size. The skin is firm and purple-blue. The flesh consists of aril packs, pale red in color, sweet and juicy.”

Su Ling was very curious about its taste, but interstellar food was expensive—especially natural vegetables and fruits. Ordinary families couldn’t afford them. Once he had money, he was definitely going to eat his way across the entire interstellar space!

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