The Paranoid Robot Was Me All Along - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Going Home | Do I Need to Teach You Myself?

It was late at night when Luo Mian walked out of the Research Institute’s experimental building.

The cool air was laced with the scent of fallen leaves and grass, giving him a long-awaited sense of vivid life. He came to a halt in front of the building, facing the neon lights and gazing toward the skyscrapers that pierced the clouds in the distance. Several semi-transparent hovering lanes wove through the buildings in an orderly fashion, where driverless flying cars sped along blue energy beams like streaks of light crossing the sky.

Luo Mian composed himself and retracted his gaze, looking instead at a golden ginkgo leaf that had drifted down to his feet.

Come to think of it, he had been living in the underground research base for over five months, fully immersed in the secret experiment. It had been a long time since he’d stepped out to see the real world… for a moment, he had the illusion of traveling through time.

The late autumn wind carried a chill that poured into his collar. Luo Mian shivered slightly and reached up to pull his trench coat tighter. Simultaneously, the nano-fabric undergarments he wore against his skin automatically detected the external temperature and his vitals, quickly heating up to the optimal temperature.

“Master…”

Just as Luo Mian felt warmer, the bionic hurried to his side. His thin experimental scrubs formed a stark contrast to the heavy trench coat on Luo Mian’s body.

The bionic held out a scarf with both hands, saying softly, “Your neck. Be careful not to catch a cold.”

“…” Luo Mian looked at the scarf he had forgotten in the locker room. After a few seconds of silence, he took it. He turned and walked down the steps, leisurely tying the scarf without saying a word to the bionic.

The bionic watched Luo Mian’s silhouette. Every subtle movement radiated an indifferent, noble elegance; one could not tell at all that he was a patient running a high fever. After a moment of silence, the bionic followed his pace as they headed toward the Institute’s parking hall.

“Group Leader Luo, get in.”

Before they reached the entrance, a streamlined silver flying car pulled up steadily. The door slid open silently, revealing Xu Weilin’s face in the driver’s seat. “It’s past two in the morning. Let us drop you off.”

Luo Mian stopped and waved a hand dismissively. “No need to trouble yourself, Professor Xu. I can get back on my own.”

A gust of cold wind blew, tossing a few strands of deep chestnut hair across his forehead. His heavy coat and scarf swayed gently in the wind.

Xu Weilin noticed that Luo Mian hadn’t even fastened his coat buttons, and a surge of anxiety rose within him—it was as if the person who had just been in a coma for three days and nights after the “mental core” implantation wasn’t the man standing there.

“The wind is strong. Get in first, I have something to tell you,” Xu Weilin insisted.

Suddenly catching sight of the blank-faced bionic behind him, whose blue eyes seemed glued to Luo Mian, Xu Weilin’s dark eyes narrowed. He finally found an outlet for his frustration: “101! Don’t just stare at your master. Get him into the car.”

…What? 101?

Wasn’t that the spotted mechanical dog he had been commissioned to build a while back?

“…” The bionic had been lost in thought. Upon hearing the name, he instantly looked away from the small, light-brown mole behind Luo Mian’s left earlobe. He froze for two seconds, seemingly undergoing an internal struggle, before stepping forward and reaching out a hand to Luo Mian.

“Are we… getting in? Master,” he asked in a low, ethereal voice.

Luo Mian’s expression remained unchanged. He didn’t spare him a single glance; whether someone helped him into the car or not seemed to be a matter of total indifference. He walked slowly to the flying car, smoothed his coat, and methodically sat in the passenger seat. After buckling his seatbelt, a mysterious smile played on his lips. “Professor Xu might as well just call him ‘Loyal Dog’.”

“…” The bionic’s footsteps faltered. He cast a downward glance at Luo Mian before turning to enter the back seat.

“Ah, a slip of the tongue. It’s Serial Number 111,” Xu Weilin turned his head awkwardly, cranking up the car’s heater and handing Luo Mian a thin blanket. “You’re sweating so much, aren’t you afraid of the chill? Why didn’t you wear a hat?”

“It’s not that serious.” Luo Mian took the blanket and folded it neatly on his lap without using it. “What did you want to tell me, Professor?”

Hearing the bionic enter the car, he glanced at the rearview mirror and realized someone else was sitting in the back seat behind the driver. “Director Lu? You haven’t gone home yet?”

“I came to see you off,” said the woman leaning against the back seat. This was Lu Qiyu, the Director of the Federation Capital Star’s High-Tech Research Institute, a woman in her forties with countless honors. “Are you feeling better, Xiao Luo?”

Luo Mian replied in a low voice, “I’m fine now. It’s too much trouble for you to make a special trip in the middle of the night.”

He had originally thought that at 2:00 AM, the night would be quiet enough to avoid his colleagues and take his “failed product” home in peace. Instead, he’d run into both Xu Weilin and the Director.

“You’re always so polite,” Lu Qiyu raised a violet-gold mechanical hand, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. “If it weren’t for the secrecy of this experiment, protocol dictates the entire Institute should be throwing you a victory banquet.”

“The Director overstates it. The experiment was my duty. Besides—” Luo Mian shifted his gaze, meeting the almond-shaped eyes of the bionic in the mirror—eyes almost identical to his own. “It’s just a failed product. There’s no need.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the car departed smoothly, quickly leaving the high-tech skyline of the Institute behind in the night.

“You can’t say that,” Lu Qiyu smiled warmly, turning to look at the bionic sitting upright beside her.

That face was indistinguishable from Luo Mian’s. Perhaps bolstered by the flawless, indestructible mechanical body, the bionic lacked the “fragility” that the original body forcibly wrapped in pride and stubbornness. It possessed a sturdier sense of heroism. Fortunately, the expression was somewhat dazed and innocent; if he were as serious as Luo Mian, his oppressive aura would make it impossible for anyone to meet his gaze.

However…

Lu Qiyu’s thoughts drifted. If Luo Mian didn’t have congenital heart disease, or if he didn’t have such a severe mechanical rejection reaction and could have replaced his heart—if he had been healthy since childhood—he would probably look exactly like the being sitting next to her. He wouldn’t have had to endure so much alone at an age when other children were running wild, nor would he have developed a maturity far beyond his years.

Heaven truly is jealous of genius, the Director sighed, feeling a pang of heartache for the young man. She would have to fight for more opportunities for him.

Beside her, the bionic keenly sensed her gaze. He turned his head slightly and greeted her politely: “Hello, Director Lu. I am Serial Number LM-111. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hi, hello,” Lu Qiyu smiled at him and retracted her gaze. She turned to Luo Mian in the front seat. “The secret mission may have failed, but LM-111 scored near-perfect on the anthropomorphic rating test. This is already a breakthrough in the field of robotics.”

Luo Mian gave a self-deprecating laugh. “But it wasn’t a perfect score.”

“Good grief,” Xu Weilin looked at the night scenery outside. “Group Leader Luo, you’re far too hard on yourself. Look on the bright side—perfectionism is just a form of self-torture. Not everything succeeds 100%.”

Luo Mian replied noncommittally, “The progress of a species lies in self-discipline. Otherwise, human rights wouldn’t stand above machines, would they?”

“…” Xu Weilin was speechless, marvelling that the man was truly the Institute’s number one overachiever.

“The fidelity test actually has its limitations. You’ve done very well, Xiao Luo,” Lu Qiyu comforted him before changing the subject. “By the way, the Secretary of the Federation Council contacted me the day before yesterday. He wants to meet you, but I told him you need rest. I postponed it; it won’t be too late to arrange a meeting once you’ve recovered.”

“Thank you, Director.” Luo Mian thought of the key figures behind the secret experiment and said indifferently, “Since the experiment failed, they must be disappointed. Do they want someone else to continue?”

“There are no such plans for now.” Lu Qiyu clenched her fist slightly, the violet-gold mechanical hand reflecting the blue lights of the hovering lane. She fell silent for two seconds then looked up with a smile. “Just focus on resting. Don’t think too much. I’ll notify you if there’s any news from above.”

Luo Mian observed her expression through the rearview mirror and gave a soft “Mm.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Lu Qiyu added. “There’s a robotics expo at the Capital Star Exhibition Center in early December. I didn’t plan for you to attend because of the secret experiment, but if you’re interested, the Institute wants you to go as our representative. LM-111 would be the exhibit. However—”

“Except for me, the leadership doesn’t know about the secret nature of the experiment. I made it clear that your attendance depends on your own will. Furthermore, since 111 looks exactly like you, it involves portrait rights. His display must have your consent.”

Luo Mian fell into deep thought.

Setting aside the secret “mental core” experiment, Serial Number LM-111 was indeed a leading technology within the Federation. Exhibiting him would certainly garner massive attention, serving as a crowning honor for both the Blue Planet Research Institute and himself. Director Lu always valued him and respected his thoughts; she likely wanted to use this opportunity to help him move past the “failure” and see LM-111 as a successful masterpiece renowned across the Federation… she was being very thoughtful.

Luo Mian didn’t care much for fame or reputation, but he felt awkward rejecting the Director’s kindness. Yet, he truly disliked displaying his things in public—especially LM-111. He only wanted to keep this “six-time failure” hidden at home, locked away from everyone’s sight.

“It’s fine. If you don’t want to go, it doesn’t matter,” Lu Qiyu said, sensing his silence. “Tomorrow is your twentieth birthday, right? Take a long vacation first.”

“Director, you don’t need to worry about me.” After weighing it, Luo Mian accepted. “LM-111 consumed a lot of resources; it’s only right to make the best use of him. Please proceed with the original plan; I will follow the Institute’s instructions. However, I wish to personally arrange certain details of the exhibition.”

“No problem, you’re in charge of it all.” Lu Qiyu felt relieved. This young man—not only was he extraordinarily capable, but he was also so proactive. She wondered what his perpetually absent parents were thinking… Fortunately, he had an LM-111 to look after him now.

Lu Qiyu looked at the bionic beside her. “Give him a name when you get back. Don’t just call him by a serial number; it’s so cold. Think of him as a twin brother, a companion.”

“Heh, wouldn’t that mess up the family tree?” Xu Weilin thought of Luo Mian asserting his ownership in the lab and raised an eyebrow at the dazed bionic in the mirror. “Group Leader Luo worked so hard to build him, I bet he doesn’t want to be his ‘brother,’ right?”

“…” The bionic met Xu Weilin’s dark eyes and, for some reason, detected a subtle trace of hostility.

Luo Mian gazed out the window, not denying it. “After all, I am his creator.”

“True, your status is the most stable.” Xu Weilin was about ten years older than Luo Mian, in his early thirties. Their fathers both worked at the Federation Intelligence Bureau, so they had known each other for a long time. Xu Weilin had always wanted Luo Mian to call him “Big Brother,” yet Luo Mian treated everyone with the same cold equality, regardless of age or gender. He barely recognized distinctions of sex or age in his professional life. He even addressed his parents as “Commander Luo” and “Director Lin” over the phone. He maintained extreme boundaries; it was hard for anyone to get close to him—Xu Weilin, naturally, had failed for years.

“So,” Xu Weilin laughed, “111, remember to take good care of your ‘Dad’ when you get home. If anything happens, tell us immediately. Don’t let everyone worry.”

“…” The bionic forcibly suppressed a twitch at the corner of his mouth, unable to fathom this new relationship with his own original body.

Lu Qiyu saw the bionic’s “stiff smile” and the flash of speechlessness in its seemingly innocent eyes, and she couldn’t help but chuckle. She tapped her mechanical wrist, sending out a few messages.

Immediately, a notification popped up on the bionic’s internal optical screen:

[Hidden System: New message from Director Lu Qiyu. Please check.]

The bionic’s exterior remained unchanged, but internally he skillfully navigated the system to open the message:

[Lu Qiyu: Xiao Luo, the current situation is complex. There are traitors within the Federation, and the Necros Empire once tried to breach Blue Planet’s outer quantum shield. The military is following up. During this time, I need you to cooperate on certain tasks.]

[Lu Qiyu: You must keep the success of the experiment a secret. Protect your original body. Do not let him come to any harm.]

The bionic’s brow furrowed slightly after reading this. He instinctively flicked his eyes up, only to accidentally collide with Luo Mian’s scrutinizing gaze in the rearview mirror—a gaze tinged with suspicion and alertness. It caused his mechanical blue eyes to freeze for a split second.

He quickly resumed an expressionless mask and silently replied:

[Serial Number LM-111: I understand. Thank you, Director.]

…

Luo Mian lived in a sky garden villa in the center of the Capital Star. The entire villa district was situated within a floating building of over two hundred stories, its exterior covered in flowing nanomaterials—a famous landmark of the city.

The flying car reached the entrance, and Lu Qiyu and Xu Weilin only left once they saw him safely into the hover-lift.

As the lift doors closed, Luo Mian’s tense nerves finally relaxed. It wasn’t because of nervousness; it was simply that he was accustomed to wearing a social mask. No matter who he was with, he was like this; only in solitude could he completely unwind.

The lift rose steadily to the top floor.

Until he used the bio-ID chip embedded in his wrist to swipe open the door, Luo Mian didn’t say a single word to the bionic following him—it was as if he had forgotten the other’s existence. He pushed through a wave of unbearable dizziness and heart palpitations, his steps feeling light as if he were sleepwalking.

The lights in the room brightened as he entered. He changed his shoes at the entrance and took off his coat, his steps unsteady as he walked into the walk-in closet.

The bionic watched his thin silhouette in silence. Finding a pair of spare slippers to change into, he followed him in. Seeing Luo Mian’s shoulders heaving with his breath, looking very unwell, he followed and whispered, “Master… are you alright?”

Luo Mian was dizzily unbuttoning his shirt. Hearing this, his hands froze. He was startled, thinking an intruder had broken in, and quickly re-fastened the buttons.

He turned back and said irritably, “Who told you to come in? Get out!”

“…” Standing in this familiar closet, the bionic felt stifled, yet his face showed nothing but perfect worry. “But, you look pale… do you need me to perform a check-up and treatment for you?”

Luo Mian scrutinized the bionic through his increasingly blurred vision. Only then did he realize he must be delirious from the fever—to feel a sense of shame in front of a machine.

Yes, it was just a cold machine. No matter how much it looked like him, it was no different from the vacuum cleaner, dishwasher, or air purifier in the house. Furthermore, even if it weren’t a machine, just by virtue of having a face identical to his own, he shouldn’t feel the slightest bit of bashfulness. After all, he knew himself best; he knew every detail of his own body. He had touched himself countless times; what did it matter if he undressed in front of “himself”?

“My apologies…” The bionic lowered his head as if he had been harshly reprimanded by that cold gaze, preparing to leave. “Please proceed as you wish, Master. If you feel unwell, please call me. I will be by your side at all times.”

“Stop.”

As he turned around, he was called back by Luo Mian’s cold voice, the tail end of which carried a hint of playfulness.

In truth, because he was himself, the bionic didn’t even need to use empathy to understand Luo Mian’s real thoughts. At this moment, he only had a premonition of bad luck.

Sure enough, Luo Mian walked slowly up to him. He raised his hands and unbuttoned his shirt one by one, from top to bottom. Fair, delicate skin and lean, beautiful muscle lines were gradually revealed, bathed in the hazy glow of the dim lights.

The bionic stood frozen in place, not daring to move.

Until the last button was undone, Luo Mian stared into the other’s icy-blue eyes. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he tossed the discarded shirt precisely into the laundry bin.

Then, he took a step forward, his voice returning to its usual gentleness: “My heart feels uncomfortable. Help me massage it.”

“…” The bionic’s eyes flicked down, then quickly away as if burned by something invisible.

Luo Mian caught the subtle flinch. He said with displeasure: “What? Do I need to teach you myself?”