(1)
Anjing had been very sleepy these past few days, and the more she slept, the more tired she felt.
Thanks to this fatigue, she felt that this period wasn’t too unbearable.
However, so many things had happened recently that she felt so fulfilled it didn’t even seem like less than a week had passed.
Even if someone told her three months had gone by, she wouldn’t be surprised.
Instead, when she learned today was only Friday, March 5th, a hint of surprise flashed across her expression.
The research institute really was efficient.
That morning, she had been pushed out of that pure white room — the Nursing Room that had felt so unfamiliar before, but now seemed so warm and welcoming.
“Going back already?”
The petite girl hugged her knees with one arm, lightly raising the clipboard in her hand, tilting her head as the loose patient gown slipped down her shoulder, revealing a stretch of fair, smooth skin and a delicate, slender collarbone.
Yu Minghui, who was brushing Anjing’s hair behind her, smiled quietly and took the clipboard from her hands, writing another line: “That’s the plan, but I heard there will be big waves today.”
Anjing pressed her small face against her knees, puffing out her cheeks as she looked at the sea outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
Even from here, she could see the waves tossing the small cargo ships tied to the dock.
These waves were still passable for travel, but surely there would be bigger ones later.
The research institute was taking extra precautions to ensure safety when sending her back.
“Where are your parents?”
“They’re studying in City B and can’t come back for now.”
Anjing nodded thoughtfully, pointed at Yu Minghui, then drew a large circle in front of herself, as if to indicate ‘all of them.’
Yu Minghui stroked Anjing’s head gently and nodded.
Her parents must have learned everything over the phone and entrusted full responsibility to Yu Minghui.
In every sense, they truly trusted her.
As Anjing drifted off in thought, a young nurse gently pushed open the door, waving at her with a smile.
Like teasing a child, she pinched Anjing’s cheek.
Anjing puckered her lips and gave the nurse a helpless glance.
The nurse then looked up and said something to Yu Minghui.
No need to ask, it was probably about making Anjing go somewhere to do something —
Either a physical checkup or a quick chat with Dr. Ye in the office.
Human adaptability was really strong; she was beginning to get used to being the “Little White Mouse” every day like this.
Of course, it helped that everyone at the institute treated her kindly and almost all her requests were met, which gradually eroded her inner resistance.
“What do you want to wear today, Anjing?”
Anjing didn’t write a reply but bent down to rummage through her overstuffed suitcase, then pulled out a blue-and-white jacket and a pair of loose black casual pants.
That was right—her only outfit here that wasn’t a skirt was her School Uniform.
Many people hated wearing their School Uniforms, but she actually liked it.
Mainly because it was comfortable and she didn’t have to worry too much about getting it dirty.
The white base with blue stripes looked fresh, and most importantly, she had already gotten used to it.
As a middle schooler, sometimes on holidays if she didn’t wear the uniform, she even felt a little out of place.
Perhaps this simple School Uniform represented a kind of identity and belonging.
***
(2)
The floor-to-ceiling windows in Dr. Ye’s office were even wider than those in the Nursing Room, bathing the room in bright, warm sunlight that made one naturally calm.
Inside the glass cabinet in the office was a newly added, uniquely shaped Aircraft Carrier Model.
Even though the country didn’t have an aircraft carrier yet, a bright red national flag was printed on it.
Anjing was already familiar with this office, so as she entered, she couldn’t help but glance at the model twice.
Dr. Ye was as relaxed and cheerful as ever.
He gestured for Anjing to sit down, then sat himself and brewed a pot of clear tea for Anjing and Yu Minghui at the coffee table.
As for himself—he didn’t drink tea but took out a can of cola from the cabinet and gulped down two big mouthfuls.
Anjing’s gaze momentarily froze.
He grinned, pointed to the cola, and said something.
Yu Minghui covered her mouth and shook with laughter beside him.
Unfortunately, Anjing couldn’t hear anything.
But she instinctively felt those were playful words, and so she smiled faintly as well.
Soon after, a middle-aged woman whom Anjing had met once before handed over a small booklet still warm with the scent of ink.
The cover had a color photo of the water-drop core, with the classic large black characters “Instruction Manual” beside it.
Anjing flipped through it. It thoughtfully included a directory guide, solutions for abnormal situations, scheduled check-in dates, and a very detailed analysis of what her current superpowers could accomplish.
It even had lengthy rules like legal clauses explaining usage.
But rules were just rules.
There was no method to restrict her abilities yet; how she used them was up to Anjing.
If it were someone else, they might have rebellious feelings or ignore it altogether, but Anjing was different.
She thought the rules were well-written and she agreed with many of them at first glance.
Without any constraints, if left entirely to one’s own will, one day the power meant for justice would be corrupted by evil.
Anjing didn’t intend to challenge human nature—she couldn’t even believe she could absolutely uphold her own bottom line without falling.
So she would never take a single step toward that bottomless abyss.
“This bracelet is made of special material. Please accept it and keep it close. Unless necessary, it’s best not to take it off casually.”
She glanced at the words on the large screen, then at a plain wooden box.
There was no decoration on it; the craftsmanship was rough, as if it had been made directly by the lab equipment…
The box was slowly opened, revealing a platinum-colored bracelet roughly the width of Anjing’s finger—or maybe a little slimmer.
She gently picked it up, feeling some weight but not heavy.
The bracelet was very plain—just a rectangular band, seemingly custom-made to fit her wrist size, so it couldn’t be resized.
A blue crystal was embedded on the bracelet; on close inspection, it was only an outer protective cover, with the blurry water-drop core hidden inside.
Other than that, it didn’t look special at all.
It felt less like jewelry and more like an experimental tool…
For a girl’s delicate, slender wrist, it seemed somewhat coarse.
“You can put it on now.”
Reading that, Anjing had already raised her left hand with the bracelet on.
In the sunlight, it reflected a faint silver light.
The blue crystal, though stylistically unlike the bracelet itself, showed a unique delicate beauty.
After getting used to it, it didn’t seem that unattractive…
She didn’t ask what material the bracelet was made of.
Anything coming out of the research institute was certainly not ordinary, and this was probably the best solution they had come up with in recent days.
As for making it prettier… that was obviously not on the researchers’ list—they cared more about practicality.
“Can I go home today?”
Anjing lowered her head and wrote a few words on the whiteboard, then raised it gently.
“The waves and wind are very strong today. Look outside.”
Anjing tilted her head and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window.
The towering waves looked like mountains in the sea, surging as if they could overturn the entire island.
The sea was very rough today.
It was easy for ordinary ships to get into trouble, so obviously, she would have to stay one more day.
If no one had told her she would be going home soon, she might have endured another month or two, but now—she couldn’t wait another second.
She couldn’t help but think of the Great Sea Goddess Anhai—if only she could, like the legends, use telekinesis to push the tsunami away.
Her wish wasn’t high; she didn’t need to push away a giant tsunami, just calm the huge waves on the sea…
“Great ocean, I want to go home,” Anjing thought silently.
***
(3)
The seaside of a small city.
Due to the big waves today, most boats couldn’t sail; only large cargo ships chose to set out. Because of this, many boats of all sizes were docked near the shore.
Zhao Lao’er walked a long way and finally reached the end, finding a spot with no boats moored around.
He wore a brand-new pair of black leather shoes that creaked loudly as he stepped on the wooden planks of the dock.
“Uncle Zhao, will my mom come back to see me?”
“No, she won’t. Once a person dies, they’re gone. They don’t come back.”
Zhao Lao’er sat down hard—his suit still didn’t make him seem any more elegant.
“Your mom is dead, and no one wanted to bury her. The village cemetery won’t let her be buried.”
“But the elders say people still have souls after they die.”
“No, there’s no soul. When a person dies, they’re dead, got it?”
“I don’t get it…”
The little girl in red shoes pouted, her voice trembling with tears.
“Zhao Lao’er, can’t you speak gently to kids?”
Li Fayuan, smoking a cigarette, squatted beside the little girl and rubbed her head.
“Ningning, don’t cry. If you scatter these ashes into the sea, your mother will travel far with the water. When you grow up, she’ll visit you in your dreams.”
“Only… only in dreams?”
“Not even in dreams,” Zhao Lao’er said, clutching the ashes and scattering them bit by bit into the sea.
“The waves are really big today. Wonder if any fish would come out to eat the ashes.”
“Maybe the sea feels unfair for her young life.”
“Nonsense. It’s just bad weather today, and your mom’s just unlucky…”
The little girl cupped her hands, tears welling up in her big eyes, sobbing as she prayed:
“God of the sea… can you let my mom… leave peacefully…”
The towering wave rushing toward the shore suddenly crashed back into the sea.
The stormy ocean quickly calmed, and even the seabirds began fluttering their wings, circling above the water.
“Uncle Zhao, Uncle Li, the waves! The waves really stopped!”
“Alright, now’s the time!”
Zhao Lao’er stood up straight and emptied the rest of the ashes from the red plastic bag into the sea, some blowing away with the wind.
The little girl waved vigorously toward the distant ocean and sky:
“Mom! You must remember to come back and see me!!”
“She won’t come back.”
“She will.”
“Mom—please remember…”—the girl smiled, but tears streamed down her cheeks—“Remember to… come back… see me—!!”
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