The old man approached An Junlie, his eyes narrowing as he meticulously scanned him—his head, his chest, his abdomen... The path of his gaze felt as if it could pierce right through An Junlie. Finally, he reached out to pinch the young man’s arm.

An Junlie blocked his hand and articulated each word slowly: “I! Am! Human!”

“Hahaha, human! Hahahaha, marvelous!” The old man threw his head back and laughed for a moment, then suddenly seemed to recall something, snarling viciously, “Damn it! That brat got here first! Has he forgotten that the primary choice for humanity rests in my hands?”

The old man’s face flushed a deep crimson with frustration, yet An Junlie’s expression remained utterly unreadable, making the suppressed anger churn even more fiercely within him. He turned his head and saw G438 looking at him with wide, innocent eyes, and his fury instantly erupted. He slapped 438 across the face, shouting, “Bitch, all of you are bitches! This one is the real prize! Damn it, brat, you dare steal my property!”

When An Junlie saw 438 fall to the ground, five vivid red finger marks starkly visible on her cheek, he felt a surge of profound annoyance. Even though 438 was a robot, she was still a little girl, and treating her this way seemed excessive.

However, a robot is just a robot. No human would view a robot as a person, and as an outsider, he had no standing to criticize. Moreover, the old man was cursing him. He decided not to leave; he would stay and see what spectacle the old man intended to cause.

The old man stared at him, and An Junlie stared right back.

The old man clenched his fingers, a tempest of fury brewing inside him, threatening to burst into an outright tirade. But the old man had lived too long to be unable to contain this much anger. He turned, looking at the small robot girl standing side-by-side with the flower house. Inside the flower house were a dozen robots skilled in attack—should he summon them to destroy this intruder?

What he cannot have, no one else shall possess!

“Daddy, aren't you going to examine the mutated genes of the gray-black rose?” 438 asked softly, picking up the rose that had fallen to the ground. Her voice was clear and gentle, like a stream of pure spring water flowing into the old man’s heart.

The old man started violently, snapping back to reality.

If he beat up An Junlie, it would inevitably mean tearing faces with Ziye. He could create the most beautiful and perfect physical specimen himself, but he could not fabricate a robot. He needed Ziye’s technology.

Only by perfectly integrating the machine into the biological body could the most flawless creation be achieved.

Once he realized this truth in his mind, the anger dissipated by more than half. He stood there with his hands on his hips, huffing petulantly, his sparse hair entirely falling over his forehead, looking utterly disheveled no matter how one viewed him.

An Junlie stood there with elegant leisure, towering a full head over the old man, his aura so commanding it was difficult to meet his gaze. Compared to him, the old man appeared utterly weak.

“Young people these days are far too unpleasant!” The old man glanced sideways at An Junlie, seeking an easy exit. “I have other matters to attend to; I won’t waste words with you. The red roses here are blooming perfectly; take a bouquet back for that brat.”

An Junlie waved his hand dismissively. “Unearned favor is not accepted.”

The old man snorted through his nostrils. “If you don't take them, then you can stay and help me examine the rose genes.”

Not wanting to spend any more time with him, An Junlie accepted the red roses and took his leave. Along the way, holding the roses, he mused gloomily that red roses seemed quite expensive—certainly more so than a steak dinner at the Legion Headquarters cafeteria. Could the old man be trying to bribe Ziye with these flowers? Was he destined to be manipulated by a perverted old man at will?

No! No matter what, he absolutely could not let Ziye agree.

He did not know that behind him, the old man allowed a smile of utter certainty to grace his lips. Hmph, the brat will personally deliver you to my doorstep then. Young man, try not to be so arrogant!

It was around three or four in the afternoon when An Junlie returned to Ziye’s residence. Ziye was still busy deep inside the warehouse. He looked at the 48 roses in his hand, took a deep breath, and spoke, “Excuse me for interrupting.”

Ziye, who had been deep in data analysis, was suddenly pulled from her concentration. She looked up, a bullet-sized metal testing chip still clamped between her lips. She resembled a weasel that had just pilfered food; as she opened her mouth, the chip fell to the floor with a sharp clink.

With both hands full of components, she had no way to retrieve the chip. She stared blankly at An Junlie walking toward her, backlit, for a long moment, before remembering that this particular person existed in her home. Even stranger, he was holding a bouquet of vividly lush, fiery red roses, their petals monstrously large and red.

Ziye was startled into a harsh shock, her hands trembling so that the components she held gracefully landed as well. She glared at An Junlie defensively. “What are you trying to do?”

“I mean nothing by it.” An Junlie tucked the flowers under his arm, spread his hands open, and took two steps back, signaling he had no hostile intent. This was a reflex ingrained from his long tenure in the mercenary corps. However, this very reaction always disadvantaged him when dealing with women. Ziye completely ignored the gesture, turned her head sharply, and walked toward another workbench.

He paused in momentary confusion and followed her out.

After taking a few steps, Ziye suddenly stopped, recalling the intentions of an unreliable neighbor, and spun around to ask, “What happened?”

An Junlie glanced at the flowers, then looked at her. “Oh, these are for you. An old man just said you would like them.”

Although he paid the old man’s words little mind, roses were universally beloved on other planets. Every time he returned to his office in the Legion, he saw roses in vases, roses placed on desks, and often roses delivered by strangers for reasons he still did not understand. He figured the people of Silver Rune Planet were no different, otherwise, there would not be such a vast sea of roses.

Ziye looked at the flowers, which were so intensely red they seemed ready to bleed, with a look of utter horror, her hair seeming to stand up even straighter and stiffer than before. “You’re giving these to me?”

An Junlie nodded. “Thank you for repairing my mech and providing me breakfast. I apologize for yelling at you yesterday.”

Ziye felt a profound sense of futility. “So you brought me red roses to add to my meal?”

An Junlie watched her, confused. “Add to the meal?” Weren’t red roses meant to be put in a vase? He had only ever seen red roses displayed in vases.

Such a simple man, so simple I almost want to smack him senseless! Ziye mentally rolled her eyes. “What else would you do with roses if not cook with them?”

Well, this time it was An Junlie’s turn to be speechless. Cooking with roses—that was a concept entirely new to him. Though he disliked roses, who on earth came up with the bizarre idea of using them for cuisine?

Both of them felt deeply conflicted by the utterly mismatched conversation. Ziye decisively pulled off her gloves and walked outside, deciding she needed to ‘have a proper talk’ with him.

An Junlie was more than willing, and he followed her out readily.

Outside the warehouse, Ziye found a place to sit down and pointed toward the flower house. “You ran into the old man in the rose garden over there, didn’t you?”