After finishing the meal at the castle, Ziye noticed the late hour and, not wishing to return too late, bid Tang Wen farewell, cradling the raven-model modified by Bran as she left.

Tang Wen had intended to accompany Ziye, having stayed home for quite some time, but was stopped by Stath. Once Ziye departed, Stath dropped his usual flippant demeanor, his gaze sharp and piercing. "Coffin Face, why didn't you ask her where her grand-uncle is?"

The accusatory tone felt like the sharpest knife plunged into Tang Wen's heart.

Tang Wen's fingertips trembled, and he didn't answer immediately, instead clutching the throw pillow on the sofa to his chest.

Stath knew Tang Wen well.

He only behaved this way when he felt vulnerable, grasping something as if to draw strength from it.

Stath suddenly craved a cigarette.

He placed the cigarette between his lips, took out a match, and just as he was about to strike it, Stath abruptly froze. Relying on cigarettes to stimulate his nerves when helpless—what difference was there between that and Tang Wen hugging a pillow?

He let out a sigh of defeat, tossed the cigarette away, and leaned back against the sofa.

Tang Wen glanced at him, his tone already returning to normal. "I thought about asking once."

Stath raised an eyebrow. "And then?"

Tang Wen managed a bitter smile. "There was no 'then'."

When he discovered her connection to Tang Shan, he had indeed impulsively wanted to question her—ask where Tang Shan was, how he was doing now. He had even investigated her residence on Kira Star, but he couldn't find a trace of Tang Shan.

Tang Shan was more than just his grandfather; Tang Shan was the goal of his entire life's struggle.

He was suddenly gripped by fear—the fear of hearing bad news from Ziye's lips...

Afterward, he took Ziye on as a student. If Ziye still had contact with Tang Shan, Tang Shan would certainly know about him, and perhaps then Tang Shan would emerge on his own initiative.

A semester wasn't a short time; even if Tang Shan was in seclusion, he should have come out by now.

No news meant the situation was dire.

It wasn't that Tang Wen didn't want to ask; it was that he dared not.

He preferred to hold onto a sliver of hope, a fantasy, in his heart forever, rather than have Ziye tell him a truth he couldn't bear.

Stath watched Tang Wen's fragile expression, quickly grasping his thoughts. He sighed silently, sat up straight, and rallied his spirits. "Brother, it's been ages since we had a mech battle. How about a round for fun?"

Ziye returned to the school utterly chilled, shivering uncontrollably.

"It's all Tang Wen's fault; why does he have to live in such a cold mountain area!" Ziye muttered as a complaint while sending a message in the competition team chat, delegating the task of finding the mentor to Ekesbente, and then rushing back to her apartment for a hot shower.

Although Kaga was only 15°, it was a full 30° warmer than the castle's temperature. After showering, she finally felt alive again. Blowing warm air, she went to check on Douzai.

Sometimes she truly feared that little Douzai would be spoiled by being raised by a robot.

Seeing that it had grown considerably larger, Ziye felt a measure of peace.

The Douzai incubation tank was anything but placid; it kept extending its claws to scratch the box walls and had even chewed through the Trititanium alloy cup used for its metallic fluid.

When Ziye arrived, she found the cup was only half there, clamped firmly in its mouth. It was gnawing back and forth, the metallic edges ground down smooth and polished brighter than any buffing could achieve.

Seeing her approach, it immediately dropped the cup and scrambled upward, its two amber eyes fixed on her, looking utterly famished.

Its form was becoming clearer. Its two horns were not true horns but branched out like antlers, separating into several small tines. Its canine teeth were quite long, and whether due to recent heavy feeding or something else, its body was round, its little feet almost buried by its bulk. When sitting up, it was just a sphere.

It wasn't cute at all. Ziye puffed out her cheeks and picked up a dropper to give it two drops of metallic fluid.

It opened its mouth, caught the drops precisely, swallowed them instantly, and then kept its mouth open, waiting for more.

It wasn't growing well, yet it consumed so much metal—how much money would that take? Ziye counted as she dripped, administering half a bottle. Seeing no sign of it stopping, she stopped out of fear of overfeeding it, sat down beside the incubation tank, and sighed to Little Sprout, "Sprout, how long do you think it will take for him to grow up?"

After a moment of silence without a reply, she tried again, "Great Grandpa Dou?"

"Dead!" came a wronged voice from the bag she had placed on the sofa. Little Sprout whined, "You only remember me when you need something, and when you don't, you stuff me into the darkness. Ziye, you're a scoundrel!"

Ziye wiped her brow. "Weren't you almost frozen solid? Who was shivering like crazy in the snow?"

Little Sprout, realizing it was in the wrong, fell silent.

After a while, it suddenly remembered something and asked, "Ziye, Ziye, is Douzai lonely in there by himself?" As if it couldn't stand being stuffed away by Ziye either.

Ziye glanced over at Little Douzai. Although it seemed expressionless, she could sense the happiness it derived from consuming metal. Perhaps it hadn't yet understood the feeling of loneliness.

Maybe when she was rich later, she could ask the weirdo to cultivate another one; at least it would have company.

Little Sprout waited for Ziye's reply for a long time and grew anxious. "Ziye, Ziye, where are you?"

Ziye replied, "I'm here."

Little Sprout's tone brightened again. "Ziye, do you think Douzai will grow up to be as handsome as me?"

Ziye looked at the little ball in the incubation tank, picturing Little Sprout's small horns, and couldn't help but laugh. "You'll know when you come out to look, won't you?"

As soon as she finished speaking, Little Sprout shot out of the bag with a swoosh and landed on the incubation tank. Upon seeing its own clumsy, simple appearance, it dramatically covered its face. "Oh my god, how did I give birth to such an ugly son!"

Ziye caught it. "You are forbidden from looking down on your son."

Little Sprout was on the verge of tears, whining pitifully, "But Mama Ziye, he doesn't look like me at all! He doesn't even have fuzz!" Douzai had sparse, fine fur. Little Sprout poked its soft body with the tiny sprout on its head in disdain. "Why is this happening?"

Ziye's face darkened. "Stop calling me Mama!"

If that title were valid, she would be Little Sprout's mother, and Little Sprout would be Douzai's father. That would make her Douzai's grandmother? That made no sense!

However, why Douzai lacked fuzz—she wasn't a bio-expert, so she didn't understand either. By the genetics of fuzz-beasts, Douzai should have fur, but who could explain mutation? In truth, she thought it was quite good that Douzai hadn't turned into a monster; she couldn't demand too much.

Little Sprout puffed out its cheeks. "I like the feel of fluffiness."

Ziye patted its head. "Are we going to ask the weirdo to change its genes? I think natural is better."

Little Sprout poked Douzai again. Douzai shifted unhappily, and in the process, accidentally sighed like an adult. "Sigh, such a dull and ugly son."

Ziye couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Little Sprout really was a good father.

Even if it thought Douzai was neither good-looking nor smart, it wouldn't reject him.

Little Sprout played with Douzai for a while. Seeing that it just stared blankly, it felt an inexplicable sense of superiority and spread its wings, circling the incubation tank.

It flew round and round, and Douzai followed, spinning until it got dizzy and smacked right into the tank wall.

Ziye watched their interaction, finding it amusing and relaxing. She simply grabbed a blanket, covered herself, and watched them play.

Little Sprout, having fun, lifted the lid of the incubation tank and used its wings to hug Douzai, trying hard to fly him out.

The idea was nice, but it failed to account for one thing: its wings couldn't support that mass of flesh. As soon as it flew out of the box, it lost support, dropping Douzai from mid-air.

Ziye reacted with lightning speed, catching it and setting it back on the ground.

Little Sprout dove onto it, attempting to lift it again, but couldn't budge it. Instead, it began rolling on the ground, wrapping its wings around Douzai. Since Douzai was shaped like a ball and Little Sprout was shaped like a melon, at first glance, they looked like two spheres tumbling on the floor.

Ziye smiled and shook her head, walked over to the sofa, sat down, and then scooped them both onto the sofa. She took a photo of Douzai, sent it to the weirdo to ask about its condition, and then took out the incubation cycle chart to check Douzai's growth stage.

Comparing them, she was startled.

Douzai was currently still in the embryonic stage and shouldn't be moving around freely.

She quickly scooped Douzai back into the incubation tank. Little Sprout complained, "Ziye, you stole my toy!"

Ziye spoke soothingly, "He's too fragile; you'll play him to death."

Little Sprout immediately became melancholic, lying down on the sofa and looking at Ziye with very sad eyes. Ziye couldn't worry about that now. She settled Douzai in place. Douzai, thinking she was playing with it, opened its mouth and licked her palm—wet and warm.

Ziye paid it no mind, pulled her hand back, and closed the lid.

Little Sprout was persistent, flying back to guard the incubation tank.

"Be good, watch your son," Ziye said as she headed toward the bathroom to wash her hands. Just then, she felt a searing pain in the palm of her right hand.

Flipping it over, she saw her palm was bright red.

The skin looked as if a layer had been scraped off. She poked it with her left hand, wincing from the sharp sting.

She hadn't touched anything unusual on the way back—how could her hand be like this?

She turned back, looked at Little Douzai in the incubation tank, and felt a jolt. Could it be him? She abandoned washing her hands, immediately snapped a picture, sent it to the weirdo asking for an explanation, and then called out to Little Sprout, "Little Dou, come here."

Little Sprout didn't respond, but its body slowly deflated as if all the air had been sucked out.

Ziye thought it had been affected too and rushed over, pulling it back. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Little Sprout asked mournfully, "Does Douzai dislike me?"

It turned out nothing was wrong.

Ziye stroked its head. "How could he?"

Little Sprout puffed out its cheeks. "He doesn't dislike me, so why won't he answer me after I've said so much to him? He won't even move a bit."

Ziye was exasperated. How could an embryo answer you? Besides, he was in an incubation tank! Was this the legendary 'pregnancy brain' taking effect?

Ziye touched her hand, covered her forehead, and sighed.

So Little Sprout also possessed latent cute-stupidity?

-RS