The director of the research institute, Li Liangzi, who commanded all the oddballs there —Xue Xun, the all-around fixer who acted as a bridge between combatants and players — and that slightly mentally impaired, muttering foolish boy.
He Wuning paused to think for a moment. Could it be that they’d hit some kind of technical bottleneck and were now turning to mysticism, hoping Qi Hong might come up with something through divine inspiration?
He took a step forward, deliberately making a small noise. As expected, the two turned toward him, though Qi Hong kept his head lowered, barely reacting to the world around him.
Xue Xun looked surprised. “Eh? Brother He, what are you doing here? You didn’t go to the meeting?”
Li Liangzi pushed up her glasses. “You skipped it, didn’t you?”
“Coming here instead…” — she smiled faintly — “Yi Luo’s idea, right?”
Xue Xun clicked his tongue in exasperation, looking frustrated. “Can’t that guy teach people anything decent?”
“Well, since you’re already here, come in and sit down.” Li Liangzi opened the office door behind her. He Wuning glanced inside — the lab was the complete opposite of Zuo Changming’s chaotic one. Everything was neatly sorted and labeled, a neat freak’s paradise.
He had originally planned to visit Zuo Changming, but after spotting a folding bed in the corner of her lab, he thought for a moment and obediently followed them in.
The four of them sat around a table. Li Liangzi brought out tea and cookies to serve them. He Wuning eyed the cookies suspiciously, and Xue Xun quickly explained: “It’s not some luxury item. There’s a researcher here who once blew up the kitchen cooking. After that, he awakened an ability to make sweets.”
“Once a week, Director Li personally supervises him to make a batch of edible snacks. Part are used for research, and part for eating. So yeah, consider it an Institute specialty snack — you won’t find these anywhere else. Try one.”
He Wuning nodded, then placed one cookie in front of Qi Hong. To everyone’s surprise, the boy who barely responded to anything actually lifted his head slightly and murmured, “Thank you.”
He Wuning was a little surprised — but Xue Xun looked utterly shocked. “Wait—what? He talked to you?!”
Seeing his expression, He Wuning raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t talk to you guys? I thought you called him here to discuss something.”
“We did want his help,” said Li Liangzi regretfully, “but progress has been slow. When a therapist is present, he might nod or shake his head. And only when his uncle’s around does he speak a few complete sentences.”
“But anything relayed secondhand is prone to errors. This time we wanted to see if he could talk to us directly — clearly, it didn’t work too well.”
Then Li Liangzi’s eyes lit with curiosity. “But the fact that he responded to you is interesting…”
“I remember it was you and Yi Luo who saved him, right? He must still remember you — and that you helped him before?”
He Wuning thought for a moment. “He probably remembers.”
“So what are you asking him about?”
It was just a casual question, but the two exchanged glances before either spoke.
Li Liangzi adjusted her glasses. “I think we can tell him. What do you think?”
Xue Xun tapped the rim of his teacup rhythmically with a finger, then finally nodded.
He Wuning looked puzzled. “What is it?”
Li Liangzi said matter-of-factly, “We’re attempting to predict the game’s next version — including its update time and contents.”
He Wuning froze, then instinctively sat straighter. He turned toward Qi Hong. “I know he can predict, but just now, you didn’t say you wanted him to predict the next version — you said you’re trying to predict it.”
“Does that mean your abilities are similar?”
Li Liangzi smiled. “You’re very perceptive.”
“That’s right. My awakened ability is data simulation. From a modern scientific standpoint, so-called divination methods — like I Ching or ‘imperial foresight’ — are also forms of data-driven modeling.”
“I can use existing data to calculate the most probable future outcomes.”
“As for Xue Xun…”
She glanced at him — he looked resigned. “Better you tell him yourself.”
Xue Xun hesitated, then sighed. “Ahem. When people ask about my ability, I usually say I haven’t awakened one yet.”
He Wuning raised an eyebrow. Xue Xun smiled helplessly. “Not because it’s some great secret. It’s just that… once people find out, they tend to feel a little uneasy around me.”
“My ability is called — ‘The Only Standard for Testing Truth.’”
He Wuning instinctively replied, “—Is practice?”
“What? No, not that part.” Xue Xun laughed. “Simply put, I can tell whether someone is telling the truth. That’s why I was assigned to the liaison post.”
“When meeting new players, before we know their character or powers, we can’t just trust whatever intel they offer — I verify it first.”
He Wuning nodded slowly. “I see.”
He also understood why Xue Xun thought he might mind.
Players who provided intel to the authorities usually had to describe their entire battle process in detail. And since most of them fought in teams, that information often came at the cost of their comrades’ lives.
If someone’s so-called “narrow escape from death” really meant abandoning their teammates and running away, or if their “heroic battle” was completely fabricated — well…
Realizing that Xue Xun could see through all of this, it was no surprise that many people would be reluctant to continue providing intelligence.
But they needed information from ordinary players.
Xue Xun looked at He Wuning and laughed. “But I don’t think you’ll mind. After all, you’ve never lied… Ah, wait, that’s not quite true — the very first thing you ever said to me was a lie.”
He Wuning recalled their first meeting — he had been sitting in Xue Xun’s office, and Xue Xun, just like now, was holding that oversized mug filled with overly strong tea.
The first question was—
“Your name?”
“He Wuning.”
He Wuning: “…”
Xue Xun chuckled. “At the time, I thought — since you’re using an alias, the intel you gives will probably be full of holes. Who could’ve guessed that, aside from that one lie, everything you said afterward was true.”
He Wuning looked at him expressionlessly. “It wasn’t a lie. It’s just my in-game ID.”
Xue Xun laughed out loud. “Alright, alright.”
He sighed, then complained in a tone of long-time familiarity: “Honestly, this ability of mine comes with way too much pressure. Knowing everyone’s secrets isn’t a blessing. Just look at my sleep quality! Look at my dark circles! And my hair — falling out by the handful!”
“Ahem!”
Li Liangzi smiled and cut in. “Speaking of sleep — to prevent insomnia caused by the stress of being surrounded by monsters, we’ve developed a new anti-insomnia drug. Want to try it, Director Xue?”
Xue Xun immediately refused. “Please come back to me after you have a certified safety report.”
“Hehe.” Li Liangzi smiled regretfully. “But since He Wuning’s here, and if Qi Hong is responding a little today — why don’t we see if we can communicate with him?”
He Wuning looked at the boy with his head lowered and tried calling softly, “Qi Hong?”
No response.
He wasn’t really surprised. He’d never been the particularly approachable type. Even before the game began, the stray cats downstairs would bolt the second they saw him. Being inexplicably liked by someone was a feeling he had never really experienced.
Wait.
He Wuning suddenly realized something — being inexplicably liked… that was…
He slowly raised his head. “There’s someone who might be able to help you.”
“Who?” Xue Xun asked curiously.
“My younger brother,” said He Wuning, leaning back in his chair. “His awakened ability is affinity. It’s completely useless for fighting — actually, it attracts a whole swarm of monsters — so I often forget he even has an ability.”
He glanced at Qi Hong. “But maybe it’ll work on him.”
Xue Xun slowly sat up, his expression serious. “You know… that might actually work.”
“When I talked with your brother that day, I could tell half the things he said were lies — but somehow, I still ended up going along with him. I even reduced your disciplinary report because of him…” He paused, frowning. “No, that won’t do.”
Xue Xun slammed the table. “You’re going to have to make up that report.”
He Wuning: “…”
“Ahem.” Li Liangzi smiled, stepping in to smooth things over. “Alright, alright. If his brother can really help, one report isn’t the end of the world.”
“Can you contact him now?”
He Wuning nodded. “His ability isn’t suited for combat. He usually stays within the safe zone.”
He opened his comm device and sent a message to He Anan.
Meanwhile, Li Liangzi’s gaze wandered toward Q-chan.
Q-chan blinked and quietly hid behind He Wuning’s back. Even before, Zuo Changming had said he wanted to “study” it — and now this big sister’s stare was just as scary.
Sure enough, while they were waiting for He Anan to arrive, Li Liangzi couldn’t help but ask, “Your system — could it assist us with an experiment?”
He Wuning looked at Q-chan, and before he could answer, Li Liangzi quickly added: “Don’t worry. We won’t dismantle it or do anything strange. We just want to collect some data.”
“Simply put, we’d like the system to participate in a small test. You can supervise the whole time.”
“We’ve already worked with other combat systems before — all of them came through the tests just fine, no adverse effects.”
He Wuning hesitated for a moment, then glanced at Xue Xun. Xue Xun blinked and said with a helpless smile, “It’s fine — she’s not lying.”
Q-chan floated into the air, arms crossed. “If that’s all, then fine — I’ll do it for my sweetie’s sake. Bring it on.”
Li Liangzi’s eyes lit up. She immediately led the group to the lab next door.
The experiment was handled by another researcher. The others stood on the other side of the glass wall, where they could clearly hear the conversation inside.
At first, the questions were ordinary — hobbies, personality, and so on. After listening for a while, He Wuning raised an eyebrow. “What kind of test is this, exactly?”
Li Liangzi pushed her glasses up and smiled. “A Turing test.”
“We want to find out whether these so-called systems are actually highly advanced artificial intelligences — or something else entirely.”
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The author has something to say:
Q-chan: Ah, I get it! This is a Q-superstar fan Q&A!
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