Chapter 143: The Day the Code Fell in Love (13)

The gunpowder that had been buried for so long suddenly ignited like a fuse, setting off an uncontrollable chain reaction.

There was no need for too many questions or explanations. Even if it had started out of impulse, once he responded to her emotions, it was no longer just a matter of impulse.

Shi Jiu’s incomplete body and shocking wounds were like poison, stirring up all the inexplicable feelings deep within Bai Yao’s heart. These overwhelming emotions could no longer be summarized by the mere phrase “suspension bridge effect.”

Bai Yao held Shi Jiu in her arms, noticing the deepening red glow of error messages flickering in his eyes, and the growing panic reflected in her own gaze.

Though she was no expert, she knew that with such severe damage, even the most advanced synthetic being would shut down.

Shi Jiu grasped her hand gently and said softly, “There’s a recycling room on the ship with plenty of tools. I can find replacement parts there.”

Bai Yao wiped her tears haphazardly with her hand, then struggled to carry his body, following his directions toward the recycling room.

No matter how much she repeatedly reminded herself to stay strong, tears still welled up uncontrollably in her eyes.

Drop after drop fell onto the floor, and Shi Jiu’s only relatively intact hand slowly wrapped tightly around her.

No matter how frequently error messages flashed before his eyes, he ignored them all. With his deep crimson gaze, he looked at her profile and even managed a faint smile.

He said, “When I boarded this ship, I established a connection with its system. That’s how I scanned and found some discarded, scrapped synthetics still in the recycling room.”

His tone was light, and his soft voice carried a hint of pride. “Miss Bai, I’m quite lucky, aren’t I?”

Those were words she would have said before; he spoke them now to divert her attention.

Bai Yao chuckled softly. “Yes, we’ve always been lucky.”

They arrived at the recycling room, where indeed lay a heap of scrapped, outdated synthetics—male and female, old and young.

Of course, that was merely an external design; after all, they were machines. How could they truly possess gender?

Bai Yao gently set Shi Jiu down. He leaned against the wall, sitting on the floor, while she crouched beside him and asked, “How can I help you?”

Shi Jiu shook his head. “Miss Bai, you can’t help me. I have to do this myself. Please wait outside.”

Bai Yao was about to say something more.

He lowered his eyes and smiled softly. “I’ll be fine. I promise you, I won’t die.”

Bai Yao pressed her lips together but decided to respect his wishes. She stepped out of the recycling room and closed the door behind her, waiting just outside.

Shi Jiu slowly crawled over to a synthetic of the same series as himself, removed its arm, and spent some time connecting the circuits from his severed limb to this new arm. The replacement fit securely, becoming his own.

With two hands again, he had greater ease. Among the discarded synthetics, he found more parts: severed legs, torn skin, and bite marks—all of which provided suitable replacements.

He didn’t want Bai Yao to witness this.

No synthetic would ever repair themselves using parts from another. More precisely, their programming only allowed for simple self-repair, not full physical restoration.

What Shi Jiu was doing was nothing short of “creation.”

Humans were the creators of synthetics, the only beings capable of bringing them into existence. If synthetics could piece together new synthetics, their actions would amount to a form of “reproduction” unique to their kind.

If synthetics learned to “reproduce,” humanity—having lost its position as creator—would plunge into unprecedented fear.

Shi Jiu never considered that he was engaging in a kind of “creation” forbidden to synthetics. He only saw Bai Yao crying, and the system’s analysis told him she wept because he was injured.

Since the day he had grasped the hem of her skirt, breaking past his code’s limitations hadn’t seemed so difficult. Moreover, he had learned much that his previous databases would never have allowed him to access.

Love.

What a miraculous word.

Whenever it was mentioned, the code running through his body would leap uncontrollably. Even when Bai Yao wasn’t before his eyes, his visual system would constantly project her image in front of him.

Perhaps this irrational operation was what humans called “longing.”

Every moment, he “longed” to see her, recording every second of her changing expressions into his memory chip.

Shi Jiu closed his eyes, leaning against the corner. His body was fully restored, and he had even found clean clothes from an unknown synthetic and changed into them.

After the system confirmed that all parts were successfully connected, he opened his eyes, eagerly rose, and hurried toward the door.

Hearing the door open, Bai Yao, crouching outside, stood and turned around. Their eyes met—his black eyes restored to normal.

He stood before her, his body whole, clothes clean, with only faint abrasions on his pale face reminding her that his earlier broken appearance had not been an illusion.

Shi Jiu’s brows and eyes held a smile, his lips curved upward in a radiantly youthful grin. Yet those scars seemed deliberately placed, silently urging her to love him even more.

Bai Yao leapt toward him, and he lifted her into his arms.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs entwined around his waist, her face buried in the hollow of his neck. Synthetics had no scent, yet she felt as if she recognized a familiar fragrance—a strange sensation of something lost and found again.

Shi Jiu cradled her body with one hand, gently stroking her back with the other. He soothed her, whispering in her ear, “I’m fine now, Miss Bai. I’m really okay.”

Bai Yao looked up, examining the wounds on his face closely. “What about these injuries?”

Although she clearly knew his synthetic identity, in moments like this, she completely forgot.

In her eyes, he seemed even more fragile than a human.

Shi Jiu replied softly, “Those small wounds will heal over time.”

Synthetic skin had self-repair functions. While large-scale injuries couldn’t be mended, minor wounds posed no problem.

He gazed into her eyes and said gently, “Miss Bai...”

She interrupted, “You don’t have to call me that.”

He paused briefly, then said, “Yao Yao.”

No trace of annoyance or dislike appeared on her face.

Shi Jiu said, “Yao Yao, your adrenaline levels are rising abnormally.”