As he gradually relaxed, Old Qiao felt new sparks jumping between his logic chips. Loose, pleasant nerve impulses spread through his body, while a drowsy murmur carried the warmth of a borderland between sleep and wakefulness. He felt as though he had gained some new inspirations and ideas—some new... processing plans and processing objectives.
He seemed to have forgotten the damage to this shell, as well as the matter of repairing his body.
Old Qiao's vigilance slowly wore away in this "comfort" that felt like it was lulling him to sleep. After a while, he suddenly heard some noises in his half-dreaming state.
Rustling sounds came from across the room, and a figure moved before his eyes.
Old Qiao struggled to open his eyelids. At some point, protrusions resembling blood vessels had appeared across his living-metal face, while a membrane resembling skin covered the surfaces of his ocular monitors, blurring his vision.
A figure with loose blond hair and a white dress slowly walked between the display cases and biomass storage tanks. The spinal-bone specimens hanging from the ceiling clattered against one another like wind chimes stirred by the breeze, swaying behind her.
She turned to look at Old Qiao. The white dress still seemed to bear the mottled bloodstains left behind by the previous surgery.
"Lo..."
A hoarse syllable was forced from Old Qiao's throat. He sat half-reclined on the sofa, his chest rising and falling rapidly as hissing air flowed through his trachea.
"Old Qiao, long time no see." The blond figure in the white dress spoke, but her voice drilled directly into his mind. "Your taste is still as awful as ever..."
"The biggest mistake I ever made was letting you leave the laboratory alive..." Old Qiao mumbled as if sleep-talking. He felt that he should get