Chapter 1: Setting One

Setting One: The protagonist always survives a car crash against all odds.

“What is the current calendar year?”

“Earth Year 83. On January 15, 2151 AD, the Earth Federation was established, and at the first plenary session, it was unanimously resolved to abolish the AD calendar and adopt the Earth calendar.”

“What is the current system of government?”

“The Unified Federal Government of Earth. In Earth Year –85—that is, May 1, 2065 AD—the Third World War broke out. The war lasted eighty-five years, eighty percent of cities were destroyed, the world was reshuffled, and the survivors gathered on the Eurasian continent to establish the Unified Federal Government of Earth. The current Federal Chairman is Sid von Bismarck.”

“What does ‘the Major Event’ refer to?”

“In Earth Year 19, the Central Computer of the Earth Federation was established. Based on Moore’s Law and employing technologies such as quantum computing, reversible computing, and nanotechnology, it possesses 1024 BB of memory and a processor with ten billion cores. From then on, the ‘Earth Management System’ with the Central Computer at its core began to take shape, and was completed in Earth Year 50.”

“What is its name?”

“Gaia.”

“Not bad at all. Then let’s raise the difficulty a little—please explain ‘the Grand Panorama.'”

“…In Earth Year 71, the research institute published a paper titled ‘The Way Forward in Evolution: Mental Power,’ which sparked an enthusiastic response. The paper detailed the human mind in depth, arguing that as the brain’s domains develop and brainwaves strengthen, human willpower would become an unfathomable force—they called that force mental power. Humans could use mental power to control machinery, control matter, and even control energy. The paper painted a ‘Grand Panorama’: before long, humanity would transition from a mechanical civilization to a spiritual civilization.”

“You’ve reviewed everything quite thoroughly~”

The questioner’s lips curled into a smile, beautiful yet laced with mischief.

“One last question—may I ask you, Old Man Shan Ziwei, how old are you now?”

Shan Ziwei sat properly in his chair, deeply aware of the volatile temperament of the young man in the white coat across from him. So even though the other was clearly toying with him, Shan Ziwei honestly gave the answer he wanted: “Two hundred and thirty-three years old.”

“Bing-go!”

The young questioner began to clap enthusiastically, his voice brimming with exaggerated cheer and delight.

“Congratulations, old-timer—you’ve passed the general knowledge test. Now you can get the hell out of the welfare home~”

Shan Ziwei let out an instant sigh of relief. The young man before him was the director of the welfare home, and although he had the face of an angel, his personality was as wicked as a demon’s. A year of life in the welfare home had thoroughly taught Shan Ziwei one thing: among all the people in this facility, the one you absolutely must not offend was the director himself.

As for why Shan Ziwei—who was neither an orphan nor disabled—was staying in a welfare home, that story went back over two hundred years.

That’s right, over two hundred years ago.

Two hundred years ago, in an unremarkable city on Earth, an unremarkable car accident occurred. The driver at fault died on the spot, and the victim was rushed to the hospital, hovering between life and death. Given the level of medical technology at the time, the victim was absolutely beyond saving. So the victim’s parents, unwilling to lose their son, made a decision: to cryogenically freeze him until molecular repair technology could effectively restore his damaged physiological structures.

All of the above was what the director had read to Shan Ziwei from his file, reciting it like a story with great emotion and expression, right after Shan Ziwei had just awakened from his cryogenic suspension pod.

The newly “revived” Shan Ziwei had listened in a daze, feeling as if he were hearing a heavenly scripture—how could one blink, and two centuries had passed? He had actually survived, and “lived” all the way to two hundred years later?

To be honest, Shan Ziwei had never imagined his parents would make such a decision. In his memory, he had always been a burden they couldn’t shake off. His parents, who had never really cared about him, had actually paid a tremendous cost to place him in a cryogenic storage facility just to keep him alive. The thought made him bury his face in his hands, despising himself for crying, yet simultaneously so overjoyed he could only weep.

—So there really were people in this world who cared about him.

Therefore, even though everyone he knew was gone and everything familiar had disappeared, Shan Ziwei resolved to do his best to integrate into this new world and live on earnestly. However, the world two hundred years later was far too strange. Fortunately, the current system was very well-established. Shan Ziwei was sent to a welfare home to learn the common knowledge of this era, giving him a one-year buffer period.

“Ding-ling—”

“Aha~ Our young lady has come to pick you up.”

The director brushed aside a strand of his red-tipped hair hanging over his forehead, his smile dazzlingly beautiful to the point of being almost seductive.

“Old-timer, you’re about to leave this place. For the sake of our year together, won’t you give me a big hug?”

“!!!”

Shan Ziwei stumbled back several steps, like a plump rabbit spotting a fox drooling.

“Th-thank you for taking care of me all this year! S-so… a h-h-h-hug or something is totally unnecessary—”

Watching the director approach with unhurried, elegant strides, Shan Ziwei backed away while forcing a smile uglier than tears—he really was about to cry.

Handshakes or hugs—things that were no big deal for ordinary people—were absolutely fatal for Shan Ziwei.

Poor Shan Ziwei suffered from a condition of pathological amorousness. Any physical contact from another person would trigger intense sexual arousal in him. Even more tragic was that despite having “died” once, he still had that condition.

In an era where even AIDS could be cured, this one affliction remained incurable.

Just as Shan Ziwei’s back hit the wall and the director’s figure was about to completely envelop him, a voice like heavenly music came through.

“Director, are you done? I’m here to pick up Fanzi.”

The director braced one arm against the wall above Shan Ziwei and turned to look at the newcomer. His long hair swept across Shan Ziwei’s collarbone with the movement. Shan Ziwei trembled, covered his face, and slowly, slowly crouched down. His pale skin flushed pink, a blaze of color climbing from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Ye Ye, I was just about to have a farewell hug with the old-timer.”

Ye Ye glanced at the director leaning against the wall with a roguishly charming air, then at Shan Ziwei squatting in the corner with his face covered. The entire scene could only be described as “overbearing CEO and his delicate little wife”—perhaps with an added implication of “aftermath.”

“But since you’re here, I’ve lost interest,” the director said.

The moment the director stepped back, Shan Ziwei scrambled to his savior’s side, pulling up his hood to hide his burning red ears.

Thank goodness it was only hair. Shan Ziwei wiped a cold sweat of relief from his brow. His collarbone was his most sensitive spot; if there had been actual contact, he would have been fully aroused. If Ye Ye had witnessed that… Shan Ziwei didn’t even dare imagine such a scene.

“Fanzi,” Ye Ye called him by the nickname she had given him, smiling sweetly. “Long time no see.”

“L-long time no see.”

Ye Ye was the only girl Shan Ziwei could get along with comfortably in the welfare home, for a very simple reason. Shan Ziwei glanced at her. Today, the girl was wearing a black dress and, as always, long black gloves on her hands. Ye Ye had severe mysophobia; Shan Ziwei had his condition. The two afflicted individuals had thus come together, forming a hide-away-from-the-crowd duo and forging a deep revolutionary friendship.

Shan Ziwei didn’t dare tell Ye Ye about his condition, so Ye Ye had always thought they were both germaphobes. Since neither of them liked physical contact, they got along splendidly. Half a year ago, Ye Ye had been adopted by a prominent family. Hearing that Shan Ziwei was leaving the welfare home today, she had come specifically to see him off.

“Director,” Ye Ye greeted him. “I’ll take Fanzi now.”

The director’s gaze shifted from Ye Ye to Shan Ziwei. He tucked his red-tipped hair behind his ear and flashed a grin.

“Come on, old-timer, let me see you off one last time.”

Though the words sounded harsh, there was no malice on the long-haired young man’s face—only exaggerated delight. Escorted by the director, Shan Ziwei followed Ye Ye out of the welfare home, where a high-end maglev car was already waiting.

“Old-timer, after you get out, go dye your hair white—at your age, stop trying to look young. An old man should act like an old man~”

“…I’ll think about it. Goodbye, Director.”

The director stood at the welfare home entrance, watching Shan Ziwei and Ye Ye get into the maglev car. His smile was still so beautiful, drawing the gazes of passersby, yet it also carried a hint of bone-chilling danger.

“Goodbye, old-timer.”

The director smiled as he watched the maglev car drive away. He lifted the strand of hair that had brushed against Shan Ziwei, brought it to his lips, and bit it gently, his smile extraordinarily alluring.

“We’ll meet again.”

—

Inside the luxury maglev car, the germaphobe and the one with the condition sat at opposite ends.

Shan Ziwei stared fixedly out the window. For the past year, his range of activity had been confined to the welfare home; this was his first close encounter with this era.

At a rough glance, the rows of towering skyscrapers and the endless streams of people looked no different from the past. But on closer inspection, everything had changed. In the sky floated translucent jellyfish-like objects trailing multiple fiber-optic cables. On the ground, every other street had a “white tree” with long drooping branches.

These weren’t real trees. Their trunks, made of some unknown material, gave off a faint silvery-white glow, and from their tops hung countless white data cables like “branches.” From time to time, people would stop under a “white tree,” or summon one of the “jellyfish” down, take one of the “branches” or “tentacles,” connect it to the black ring on their wrist, and input something.

“That’s a node of Gaia.”

Ye Ye’s voice came from beside him. She must have noticed him staring at the “white trees” and “jellyfish” and offered an explanation. Shan Ziwei paused for a moment, then took a while to connect the term Ye Ye used with the explanation in his memory.

Gaia—the Earth management system with the Central Computer at its core. In today’s technologically advanced world, public social affairs were no longer managed by humans but by the Central Computer. The Earth management system centered on it was like the mythological Mother Earth, constantly creating states of stability, monitoring actions that disrupted that stability, while simultaneously connecting, storing, and sharing the entire planet’s information. The omnipresent “white trees” and “jellyfish” were like the Central Computer’s tentacles and eyes, weaving a dense web that enveloped the entire Earth.

For some reason, Shan Ziwei felt an indescribable fear of being wrapped in such a mechanical network. He turned back and saw Ye Ye pulling off her left glove, pointing at the black ring on her wrist and smiling at him.

“From now on, Fanzi will have to live by this. You can make good use of Gaia.”

Shan Ziwei stared at the black ring on Ye Ye’s wrist. Not only did Ye Ye have one—he had one too, as did every person on Earth. It was the proof of human existence in this era: the quantum terminal. It was part of the Earth management system. A person’s identity, property, and information were all recorded in the quantum terminal. Shan Ziwei always felt it looked like a handcuff, chaining everyone down. With the quantum terminal, Gaia could pinpoint any person on Earth in an instant.

“Being ‘monitored’ by Gaia like this… doesn’t that mean we have no privacy?”

At Shan Ziwei’s words, Ye Ye’s eyes widened slightly, as if she were taken aback.

“Our privacy hasn’t been violated. Gaia’s core is the Central Computer, and it collects information through nodes.” Ye Ye pointed vaguely at the “jellyfish” outside the window. “Without being summoned, nodes don’t enter private spaces—they’re only distributed in public areas. Moreover, to the Central Computer, all information is just data. Its main job is to filter that data and make logical judgments based on the Federal Charter—to the Central Computer, information has only two value orientations: ‘violates the Federal Charter’ and ‘does not violate the Federal Charter.’ It carries no other meaning.”

Ye Ye winked playfully.

“What ‘watches’ our daily lives isn’t a human, isn’t a thinking being—it’s the Central Computer. So there’s no need to worry, Fanzi.”

“…”

Because it’s a machine and not a human, so there’s no need to worry… is that it?

Shan Ziwei always felt uneasy. Perhaps it was because his era hadn’t had such a high-tech management system that he felt so uncomfortable.

“Oh, right, Fanzi—what are your plans from now on? What kind of job are you looking for?”

Ye Ye’s question diverted his attention and quieted the small fear in his heart. Her question was crucial. The Federation had provided Shan Ziwei with one month of individual housing and a stipend. If he couldn’t find a job within that time, he would be assigned to a subsidized housing zone, sharing a large bunkroom with dozens of people… Dozens… of… people…

No, no, no! Calm down, Shan Ziwei. For the sake of your virtue and everyone else’s, for God’s sake think about what you can do!

In the 21st century, because of his condition, Shan Ziwei had stayed home and worked quietly as a programmer. His skills were decent, and his income was fair. Now it was Earth Year 83—the 23rd century. Shan Ziwei stared at the self-driving advanced program before him, speechless with despair.

—It’s not that I’m not professional enough; it’s that the world has changed too fast.

His skills in this era were like showing off with a broadsword in front of Guan Yu, or discussing relativity with Einstein—utterly useless…

Seeing the extraordinarily expressive look on Shan Ziwei’s face, Ye Ye covered her mouth and laughed.

“Fanzi, I remember you once said you were really good at online games.”

She extended an invitation to him.

“So, Fanzi, would you like to come work at my Xiaoye Studio?”