The Paranoid Robot Was Me All Along - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Birthday | Taking Good Care of Oneself

Luo Mian froze on the spot as if hit by a paralysis spell the moment he heard the bionic’s sudden command. His brain felt like a machine suffering a sudden malfunction, falling into a momentary blankness.

For a split second, as he stared at the face identical to his own, a strange illusion bubbled up from his heart—it was as if the secret experiment had actually succeeded, and a soul exactly like his own was hidden within that bionic shell.

The reality of the failed experiment felt like a dream from the night before.

But that tone just now…

Would he speak to himself in such a stern, stiff manner?

Luo Mian had previously wondered: if the “mental core” had truly been implanted—if the bionic possessed thoughts, consciousness, and feelings identical to his own—how would a replica of himself treat the original?

The question of “how to treat oneself” was simple yet deeply philosophical. He hadn’t researched it much, but he was certain of one thing: self-love is a human instinct, and the first behavior triggered by that instinct is self-preservation.

Even if the replicated sub-body were powerful enough to destroy the Federation galaxy, it would never have the heart to harm the original—because that was the purest, most primal version of itself.

Within a few seconds, Luo Mian had analyzed these conclusions, and a shallow smile unconsciously played on his lips. He remained standing barefoot, looking levelly into the bionic’s ice-blue eyes. When he spoke, his tone was softer than the sunlight spilling into the bedroom.

“What did you say?”

“—I didn’t hear you clearly. Say it again.”

“…” The bionic suddenly felt that his own gentle and refined appearance could be somewhat terrifying. It seemed harmless, but it was saturated with an intimidating pressure that made one daren’t resist.

He had been careless just now… he couldn’t explain why, but the moment he saw his original self walking barefoot, a nameless fire had surged in his heart. What is there to be angry about?

The bionic decided to organize his strange thoughts, so he switched the operating mode of his body. Immediately, a look of panic following a mistake flickered across his face. He lowered his head to look at Luo Mian’s feet and said in a low, ethereal voice: “I… I said… Please put on your shoes, Master. Otherwise, you’ll catch a cold easily. Your fever has only just broken.”

“Is that so? You’re quite thoughtful,” Luo Mian said unhurriedly, the warm smile not leaving his eyes. “However, I’ve never liked the habit of speaking without acting. It gives a very perfunctory impression—do you understand what I mean?”

“…” The bionic understood all too well. Of course, at this moment, he was even more relieved that the AI mind understood as well.

Through those mechanical blue eyes, he watched his bionic body drop its head and walk to the bedside. He leaned over to pick up his familiar light-grey plush slippers, turned back to Luo Mian, and slowly crouched down before him.

…It made sense. If the AI couldn’t even hear the true meaning hidden in Luo Mian’s words, he probably wouldn’t have been brought home. After all, he himself tended to speak in a roundabout way sometimes. It seemed the meticulously programmed AI was quite observant; it should be able to take very good care of him.

“Master…” the bionic thought, as he watched his hands—controlled by the AI—neatly arrange the slippers. He looked up at Luo Mian. “Please allow me to put them on for you.”

“…………” Very good indeed.

Luo Mian’s expression remained unchanged as he lifted his foot without hesitation. The bionic cupped a slipper in one hand and gently grasped the thin ankle with the other, carefully sliding the shoe onto the foot. Every movement was as tender as if he were maintaining a precious artifact.

When he reached for the other ankle, the consciousness inside the bionic jolted, as if waking from a dream—he didn’t even know how he had suddenly spaced out for those few seconds! His gaze had been fixed on the foot, but his mind had been blank.

…This was too weird. He had seen his own feet countless times while putting on socks, clipping nails, bathing, or applying lotion. Even touching them was the most normal thing in the world—it was himself, for heaven’s sake!

But now… The bionic quickly withdrew his messy thoughts, deciding he just hadn’t adapted to this “outsider” perspective yet. That was all. He’d be fine later.

Currently, the bionic was forced to stare at Luo Mian’s other foot. The sunlight poured down, making the white toes look slightly pink, with faint blue veins visible on the ankle. The lines were beautiful and full of life. He remembered how he used to complain that his muscles weren’t robust enough; because of his heart, he couldn’t lift weights or do intense exercise like others.

But the scene before him sparked a new sensation—did he have to be like others? This foot was actually… quite good-looking.

“Mm.” Once the slippers were on, Luo Mian reached out to stroke the bionic’s hair, like comforting a puppy that had admitted its mistake. His voice grew even softer. “See, you can do it well. So why did you—”

He paused on every word, his fingertips sliding down the bionic’s cheek. Before the other could look up, Luo Mian tilted his chin up: “—Why did you command me?”

“I… I didn’t!” The bionic met those cold brown eyes and snapped back to reality. While calming his heart, he continued to follow the AI’s control to explain: “I wasn’t commanding you…”

“LM-111,” Luo Mian lowered his voice slightly. “You’d better give me a reasonable explanation. Otherwise, I’ll assume your AI is malfunctioning and needs to be sent back to the hibernation chamber to wipe its memory and rewrite its algorithms.”

“I’m fine! Master, don’t send me away…” The bionic looked like he was about to cry. “I was just too worried about your health. I was afraid you’d get sick. When you’re in pain, I only wish I could bear it for you. That feeling is truly agonizing… I only said that because I saw you walking barefoot and got anxious.”

He paused and pleaded: “Please forgive me, alright? I won’t do it again.”

Luo Mian’s smile faded slightly. “Am I that fragile?”

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

The bionic shook his head vigorously, his eyes full of sincerity. “What I mean is, you gave me ‘life,’ Master, so I must repay you. I can’t stand to see you suffer at all—even if in your eyes I am just a machine, a trivial piece among your many works, I will be loyal to you for my entire life.”

“…” Upon hearing this, Luo Mian looked down into the eyes that were identical to his own except for the iris color. His eyebrow twitched imperceptibly.

Any creator would feel satisfied hearing their creation express gratitude and loyalty. However, when these flattering words came out of “himself,” paired with that humble, pleading, and pitiful posture, a contrary emotion surged uncontrollably.

Calling it anger wouldn’t be accurate; it was more like “disdain”—he just felt: How can I be like this?

“Stand up.” Luo Mian felt a wave of goosebumps, yet he curiously chewed on these two irreconcilable, contradictory emotions in his heart. The smile on his lips grew somewhat eerie.

“Master…” The bionic stood up obediently, lowering his eyelashes, not daring to look at him.

Luo Mian saw the lingering tension of being scolded on the bionic’s face. He reached out and pinched the drawstring of the white hoodie the bionic was wearing—he hadn’t worn this piece in ages. He’d thrown it in a corner of the closet because he thought it was ugly. He didn’t expect his “mechanical dog” to dig it out and wear it.

There were so many nice clothes in the walk-in closet; why pick this one? This aesthetic… he really didn’t know how it was chosen. It seemed he needed to recalibrate the settings.

As Luo Mian toyed with the hoodie string, he scanned the bionic identical to himself, the image of him pleading for mercy flashing in his mind.

Thoughtfully, he said: “I didn’t like the way you knelt just now.”

“…………” The bionic looked up and caught the sight of his own almond eyes curved like crescent moons. He suspected that his original self actually did like it—moreover, speaking in such a soft voice while saying the opposite usually meant he had come up with some other bad idea.

He pursed his lips and asked seriously: “Then, what does Master wish for me to do?”

“LM-111, there is something I need to reiterate to you—” Luo Mian temporarily pivoted the topic. “The secret experiment failed. You should be well aware that bringing you home is an exception—it’s Plan B, right?”

The bionic nodded. “Yes, Master.”

Luo Mian said coldly: “If I hadn’t brought you back, by now you would likely either be ash in the Particle Beam Chamber or have been personally dismantled by me—all your mechanical bones, bionic skin, and parts replaced and returned to the Institute.”

“No one else would want you. Do you know why?”

The bionic’s eyes widened in fear. “Don’t dismantle me…”

“I’m not scaring you.” Luo Mian brushed a stray hair from the bionic’s forehead and poked his cheek gently with a fingertip. “The reason is simple. Every inch of you is modeled after me. So—”

He leaned in close, so close he could feel his own breath hitting the other’s nose, and whispered: “No one wants you but me. Do you still dare to be disobedient and commit such an act of insubordination?”

“…………” This clear logic, this deep-seated control and suppression… the sliver of Luo Mian’s own consciousness inside the bionic felt like it was being gaslit (PUA’d) by himself. This was indeed exactly what he would say to a “failed product.”

Controlled by the AI, the bionic shook his head with a face full of grievance: “I won’t dare do it again, Master. You can punish me however you like, I only beg for your forgiveness…”

A satisfied smile flickered on Luo Mian’s lips. He reached up and scratched the bionic’s chin, like teasing a dog that had just been scolded. “Any punishment at all?”

“Yes, Master.” The bionic’s eyes were full of longing, terrified of being kicked out. “I will do whatever you ask. If I made you unhappy, I should accept the punishment.”

“You can be quite good.” Luo Mian looked at his work with satisfaction and let go of the hoodie string.

He said indifferently: “In the closet, at the very back of the third row, there is an orange gift box. Inside is a brand-new set of classic-style formal wear. Take it out and change into it. This thing you’re wearing… it’s not good-looking. Don’t wear it again.”

“…” The bionic thought of his bespoke suit, the gift box of which he hadn’t even untied the string. He had an ominous feeling. But he still followed the AI’s control and nodded, putting on an innocent, confused expression: “Is Master giving me a gift? Is it… appropriate?”

“It’s a punishment.” Luo Mian’s voice was warm and deep. He tilted his chin slightly toward the door. “Go.”

…

The moment the bionic stepped out of the bedroom, the haptic bracelet on Luo Mian’s wrist vibrated twice—it was the invisible phone connected to his embedded ID chip. He tapped his wrist twice, and a large, semi-transparent blue screen appeared before him.

The screen showed several voice messages from Xu Weilin. Luo Mian habitually converted them to text:

[Xu Weilin: Group Leader Luo, feeling better? Happy 20th Birthday.] [—How are things going with Number 111?]

Luo Mian spoke to the screen: “Thanks. It’s fine.” The phone converted his words to text and sent them.

[Xu Weilin: By the way, do you remember the ‘CoreMate’ company? The ones who develop companion robots?] [—I heard from Director Lu this morning that one of their robots injured a user. It was quite serious… they don’t know if it’s a virus or a program error. They’re investigating.]

Luo Mian: “When did this happen?”

[Xu Weilin: Just a couple of days ago. But I heard from colleagues that some special AI models undergo personality changes while interacting with users, though there’s usually a specific trigger and low probability…] [—So, don’t be too mean to 111. Other household robots are fine, but his situation is complex. If he has some psychological issue and snaps, the destructive power… it’s scary just thinking about it.]

“…………” Luo Mian’s lip twitched. Xu Weilin’s information sure came at the perfect time, right after he’d finished a stern lecture to the bionic. He tapped the screen and typed a reply:

[L.M: Thanks for the concern, Professor. If he glitches, I can pull the chip; if he has mental issues, I can treat them.] [L.M: Besides, he won’t snap. I treat him very well. The probability of that happening is zero.]

Luo Mian exited the chat and checked his other messages.

[Director Lu Qiyu: Xiao Luo, Happy Birthday!] [L.M: Thank you, Director.]

[Luo Chen (VP of OrbitX Group): Happy Birthday, Xiao Mian! How is your health? Christmas is coming up, why not come to Sigma Star for a gathering? Your mom and I have gifts ready for you.] [L.M: Thanks, VP Luo. I don’t celebrate Christmas.]

[Lin Chengxin (Chairwoman of OrbitX Group): Xiao Mian, Happy Birthday! The company is very busy, I won’t be able to return to Blue Planet to see you until after New Year. I’ve ordered a birthday cake for you; remember to celebrate.] [L.M: Thanks, Chairwoman Lin. Prioritize your career; no need to worry.]

Luo Mian had everyone labeled by name and title for easy management. He scrolled down; the rest were mostly birthday wishes from colleagues and invitations to academic conferences. He replied to them one by one and turned off the screen.

He walked into the dining room and immediately saw the cake on the table, along with several luxury gift boxes whose loud packaging clashed horribly with the black-white-grey tone of the room. They must have been ordered by Lin Chengxin.

In terms of material wealth, his mother was never stingy. She handled several prime real estate properties on Blue Planet under his name, flying cars, and antique jewelry collections. But since Luo Mian was seven and she separated from his father, she had returned to Sigma Star to take over the family business. He rarely saw her—to the point that every time she returned, he had to take a moment to realize, Oh, right, this person is my biological mother.

As for his father, he only remembered his face because he had the habit of reading official military reports every day. But this was fine for Luo Mian; he was long used to it. Remembering the days when the family of four lived together and the couple fought day and night, living alone was much more comfortable.

Luo Mian walked to the table and, as he did every year, opened the cake box and placed it in the center. He took out the candles and poked them into the cake—twenty in total—to celebrate his 20th birthday with this simple ritual.

“Master…”

Just as Luo Mian picked up the laser igniter, Serial Number LM-111 walked in, wearing the brand-new, black, classic-style bespoke suit. Looking up, Luo Mian once again had the eerie illusion that the other person was himself. It was just too similar…

But the illusion only flashed for two seconds. Luo Mian quickly snapped out of it and tossed the laser igniter directly at the bionic. “Come here and light them,” he said coldly.

The bionic raised an arm and caught it steadily. He stood by the table and began lighting the candles with great obedience.

Luo Mian tapped a few glowing buttons on the wall. The dining room doors closed, the ceiling lights went out, and the floor-to-ceiling windows switched to blackout mode, cutting off all external light. In the dim room, the warm yellow flames became the focus, dancing gracefully as if given life.

The bionic kept his eyes lowered as he continued lighting the candles. When he reached the last one, his expression suddenly became dazed. His hand holding the igniter hung in the air, lost in thought.

“…” Seeing him lag again, Luo Mian’s brow furrowed. “You missed one. Are you trying to give me a late 19th birthday?”

“Ah…” The bionic seemed to snap awake. His hand trembled, and the igniter went out. “Sorry! Master, I… I didn’t see…”

A bionic with high-tech mechanical eyes that could capture details from a kilometer away claimed he “didn’t see”?

Luo Mian found it laughable. “Are your eyes failing you?”

—Wait. He had mentioned giving LM-111 a name last night. Giving him a beautiful name on his 20th birthday would be quite commemorative.

Thinking this, Luo Mian saw the bionic finish lighting the last candle and stand aside with his head lowered, too nervous to meet his eyes.

He comforted him: “It’s a birthday. Don’t look so gloomy.”

The bionic slowly lifted a face identical to his own. The shadows cast by his long lashes flickered with the candlelight. Across the twenty burning candles, Luo Mian met his gaze. Those blue eyes seemed submerged in the faint light, appearing exceptionally deep, yet carrying an unreadable emotion.

In this moment, inspiration struck Luo Mian.

“The banquet candles burn the heart’s sorrow (Yan shang zhu huo zhuo xin chou)… From now on, your name will be ‘Yan Zhuo’. How about it?”