Ziye felt profoundly wronged, unable to fathom how things had shifted so drastically when everything seemed perfectly fine just a day before. Where exactly had the process gone wrong?

Aix had already given up hope on Ziye’s dazed demeanor and addressed the doctor directly: “How long will the treatment take?” The doctor’s face remained impassive. “A female cannot undergo arbitrary treatment during her menstrual cycle. The efficacy will be poor, and it will harm the body. She must be nursed back slowly.” Aix conceded that made sense, but the prospect of brain damage was too severe. He quickly added, “Then expedite the fever reduction first; the rest can wait!” The doctor had Ziye placed inside the protective shield and wheeled into the treatment room. He then turned to Aix: “Medication cannot be administered haphazardly during menstruation. Fever is actually beneficial to the body; it can eliminate pathogens naturally. There is no need to suppress it, only to keep it from rising further. Letting it recede on its own is best.” Did that mean his visit was pointless? Aix gazed helplessly at Ziye’s medical file. It was the first time he had ever been to a hospital and received such preposterous medical advice. In the past, regardless of the ailment, one would simply lie in the shield, undergo a ray scan, or perhaps receive cellular reconstruction. He wondered if misfortune itself was a state of being. In summary, a woman’s menstrual cycle was nothing but trouble. This was forbidden, that was forbidden—yet the more technology advanced, the more physical ailments women acquired; even cellular reconstruction technology couldn't solve infertility. No wonder IVF babies were ubiquitous.

Having received the prescription and medicine, Ziye emerged from the shield. Aix used the hand balm to dry her hands and then asked, “The doctor asked if you wanted to undergo palm cellular repair surgery; it only takes a few minutes to restore the original skin texture.” Ziye, harboring no goodwill toward a doctor who insisted on keeping her feverish, snapped, “Quack! Don’t trust him!” Aix smiled, rubbed her head, helped her put on her hat and wrap her scarf. “Fine, we’ll ignore him. I’ll take you back to the apartment.” With her period arriving alongside a fever, the doctor ordered five days of rest. This would be directly reported to the Lingsi system, meaning Ziye wouldn't even need to request leave, allowing her nine days off total, including the preceding weekend!

Back at the apartment, Aix noticed everything in her unit was spotless. With the Omnipotent Robot taking care of chores, there was nothing for him to do. He asked, “Little Yezi, what would you like to eat? I can make something for you.” Ziye felt embarrassed to trouble him further, scratching her head. “The Omnipotent Robot is here, so don’t worry. Don’t you have two classes left? I think I’ll just sleep for a while.” Seeing her exhausted expression, Aix stroked her head, dissolved the medicine in water for her to drink, offered a few more instructions, and then left. Ziye lay on the bed, hugging her quilt, staring blankly. As she zoned out, she drifted off to sleep.

After an unknowable amount of time, she woke up chilled. Opening her eyes, she saw the quilt had slipped down past her waist. Little Sprout was using the tiny sprout on its head to tug at one corner of the blanket, pulling with all its might, but due to its small strength, it managed to move the corner forward only about four centimeters after much effort. What surprised her most was that Douzai had somehow made it onto the bed too, biting the other corner in its jaws and dragging with all its milky strength. Ziye genuinely worried it might accidentally chew two holes in the quilt. Still, she was quite touched. Although Douzai was a bit toxic, and Little Sprout was sometimes clumsy, when she was all alone, they not only stayed by her side but actively helped her with their tiny strength.

Little Sprout, busy with its monumental task, suddenly felt a hand reach out and grasp its body. Looking up, it hopped with delight. “Silly Little Yezi, you’re awake?” Ziye made a funny face at it, stuffed it under the covers, and reached out to pull the blanket higher. Douzai, not understanding what had happened, felt the blanket slip from its mouth, tripping it so it landed flat on its back, splayed out on the bed. Its body was round, and its limbs were particularly short. It rolled over several times before finally scrambling up, looking at Ziye dumbly. Ziye couldn’t help but laugh. Considering its hard work for her, she decided to forgive the offense of licking her palm. She extended her hand, intending to stroke its fur. Its nascent intelligence flared; very smartly, it placed one of its paws onto her palm. “Good child,” Ziye murmured, petting its paw. Its fur was sparse and black, but its four paws were white, making it look as if it were treading on auspicious clouds. Well, not entirely ugly. I’ll make it lose weight when it gets bigger. Little Sprout, dissatisfied with being ignored, wriggled out from under the covers and pounced onto Douzai’s shoulder, starting a game of human tower. Ziye played with them for a while, feeling she hadn't slept enough, so she burrowed back into the bedding to catch up on sleep.

She slept wonderfully—until she was jolted awake by the Intercom! One ring, two rings, three rings—Ziye ignored them all. On the fourth ring, Ziye irritably climbed up, glaring furiously at the Intercom sitting on the table. Being woken up from sleep was the worst! She stared at the ringing device until it climbed to the bedside, about to press the silencing button, when it automatically stopped. Which bastard! Ziye was grinding her teeth with anger. She opened the Intercom interface to see which inconsiderate person had called, just as the Silver-link suddenly lit up. Ziye grumbled, “Who is so annoying?” Little Sprout immediately jumped up: “Ziye, it’s the Silver-link! The Silver-link is ringing!” Ziye was initially unconcerned. “It’s just the Silver-link… Wait? The Silver-link?!” She reacted belatedly, exclaiming in shock, “The Silver-link is functional again?” Did A’can finally fix it? It must be internal personnel looking for her! Ziye frantically opened the Silver-link interface and saw that it was An Junlie. Instantly, all complaints and fatigue vanished, replaced only by overwhelming delight. An Junlie had contacted her proactively—she was so happy. Since she had slept quite enough anyway, she answered while placing a plush toy behind her for cushioning, preparing for a long conversation. Unexpectedly, An Junlie spoke immediately: “Little Sister, open the door quickly.” Ziye was astonished. “Open the door for what?” On the screen, An Junlie sounded slightly helpless. He shifted his body slightly, allowing her to see clearly behind him: “Tell me, whose door is this?” Behind him, clearly written were the words: Guard against fire, guard against theft, guard against Senior Brother. This phrase was the motto of all female freshmen at Lingsi University, posted on every floor. “Ah, why are you at my apartment?” Ziye shouted, jumping off the bed. Thump-thump-thump, she rushed to the door and yanked it open. An Junlie was actually standing right there. Impeccable military boots, rugged attire—the combination of low-key colors with high-profile tailoring—if not for the slight fatigue from a long journey, he looked like a deity descended from heaven. For a moment, Ziye thought she was dreaming! An Junlie gazed at her—her hair was a mess, her face flushed, her eyes glazed over, and she was barefoot. He quickly scooped her up, saying helplessly, “Why won’t you ever listen? You must wear shoes when you go out.” Ziye looped her arms around his shoulders, pouting playfully. “I was just excited!” An Junlie helplessly rubbed her head. His touch felt unnaturally warm against her skin, and he frowned slightly. “You have a fever?” Ziye shyly buried her head into his chest, whispering, “I’m almost better.” An Junlie looked at her steadily. Without another word, he stepped inside, closed the door, carried her to the sofa, and sat her down. His tone grew more serious. “Ziye, have you been taking care of yourself at all?” Ziye avoided his gaze, rubbing against his chest, complaining, “I didn’t want this to happen.” His chest was broad and radiated intense warmth; snuggling against him felt incredibly comforting. Ziye, relying on the fact that she was sick, unleashed all her spoiled petulance, determined not to leave his embrace. It felt amazing, didn't it! An Junlie was powerless against her antics. If she were a boy, he would have given her a severe lecture, telling her that before a man establishes his career, he must secure his health first, otherwise, no amount of talent would matter. But she was a girl. Master always said girls needed to be cherished delicately; they couldn't be hit or scolded. After several internal reminders, he managed to swallow back all the rebukes he wanted to deliver. He slightly adjusted his posture, settled her in his lap, and asked softly, “Have you seen a doctor?” Ziye, realizing he wasn't pressing the issue further, was secretly delighted. She replied obediently, “I have.” An Junlie’s expression softened slightly. He then asked, “Did you take the medicine?” Ziye nodded so vigorously her head bobbed, “I did.” Not wanting him to ask more, she countered, “What about you? Where did you come from? Have you eaten? Are you hungry?” An Junlie smiled. “It’s fine, I’ll get something to eat later.” Ziye jumped down from his lap. “You definitely haven't eaten. Go prepare something quickly.” An Junlie immediately lifted her up again. “The shoes? Where did you put them?” Ziye pointed towards the room. “They’re inside.” An Junlie twisted her cheek with exasperation, decisively picking her up and heading into the room to find her shoes. His arms weren't overly thick, but they felt incredibly strong. Held securely by him, Ziye felt no fear of falling and resolutely buried her head into his chest. Entering the room, An Junlie set her down gently on the bed, settled her, and asked, “Do you want to sleep a little longer, or…?” Ziye immediately sprang up and slipped on her shoes. “I’ll go make food with you.” This child’s temperament seems to deteriorate daily... An Junlie shook his head resignedly, letting her have her way. She very directly hugged one of his arms, resting her head on his shoulder; wherever he went, she followed. The student apartment had a kitchen, but it was small, usually used only by F431. An Junlie entered the kitchen and found a few vegetables in the refrigerator that had been there for several days; they had lost some moisture but were still marginally edible. He glanced at Ziye’s hands. Ziye immediately understood, let go of his arm, and instead jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, hanging onto him entirely. “Little Sister?” “I’m right here,” Ziye replied with a broad smile. An Junlie thought about telling her to get off, but seeing her puffed-out cheeks, his heart softened instantly, and he allowed her to trail him like a little tail. Little Sprout heard the commotion and, seeing the little tail attached to An Junlie’s back, found it hilarious. It promptly latched onto Ziye’s waist, starting to swing. One tail dragging another, wherever An Junlie walked, the tails followed. Douzai discovered the room was empty and crawled out using its short limbs, huffing and puffing. Seeing the train of tails in the kitchen, it opened its mouth and let out a small, high-pitched squeak: “Jee—” -RS