The abandoned district had no factories, and the sky was rarely shrouded in gloomy smog. Ivy's copper shoulder badge on her uniform was polished to a shine, like a soldier cherishing a hard-earned medal.
Yet, it was only the lowest-ranking badge.
Lorin looked at Ivy, her face earnest.
Sunlight illuminated her clear, unclouded eyes, revealing a transparency that left nothing hidden.
The expedition team had no gender discrimination, nor did it discriminate against minority groups, but it required individuals who were transgender, whose self-identified gender differed from their biological sex, or those with non-mainstream sexual orientations to truthfully disclose their status.
The physical examination followed a strict procedure, documenting every mole and birthmark on the body—including those on private areas.
Lorin no longer assumed that the "ta" Ivy mentioned referred to Song Xu.
Song Xu's physical examination results had no issues.
Lorin needed to confirm who the "ta" in her words referred to.
He switched to English: "He?"
Ivy, puzzled, replied firmly: "She."
All confusion was resolved.
Lorin fell silent.
To make it easier for Ivy to understand, their conversation had always been in her native language.
It was evident that the profound and intricate culture often led to harmless little misunderstandings.
Two slow breaths calmed his emotions, allowing him to quickly piece together another story from her words—the "trouble" she had caused.
Ivy and the "she" she was close to and wanted to apply to live with had once made a mistake;
The severity of this mistake was not trivial, at least not trivial enough for her to protest being transferred.
Lorin said calmly, "Let's temporarily skip the topic of pregnancy—how can I verify the truth of your words?"
His abrupt shift in topic completely threw off Ivy's rhythm.
Suddenly bringing up the possibility of her and Nana sharing a dorm and "getting pregnant" shocked her into a flustered explanation; now, he circled back to the original question, leaving Ivy utterly confused by the serious teacher's intentions. She could only be forced to follow his pace and reply, "I swear on my honor."
Lorin remained expressionless: "Are you sure you won't make the same mistake again?"
Ivy awkwardly replied, "...I don't have that level of hacking skills."
"Oh," Lorin said flatly, "hacking skills."
Ivy couldn't read his thoughts.
He was different from the types of men she was familiar with, seemingly devoid of the usual emotional dynamics between genders.
Ivy explained earnestly, "And the system used by the training camp is indeed a bit outdated."
Lorin nodded: "Invading the training camp's system."
Ivy: "..."
Lorin looked down at her: "Say it all together."
Ivy: "...Teacher."
"If you don't want to, forget it," Lorin said, "I can report this—"
"Teacher," Ivy surrendered, hesitating for a long time before gritting her teeth and enduring the shame to repeat, "I shouldn't have been curious about the training camp's system and violated the rules by peeking at the data."
"More details," Lorin said, "Why not mention Nana's system intrusion?"
Ivy pursed her lips, remaining silent from head to toe.
She wouldn't "sell out," only admitting her own mistakes.
Lorin suddenly said, "Forget it."
Ivy just breathed a sigh of relief when she heard him ask, "Tell me, why were you curious about the data?"
Ivy stammered, "...Sorry, I thought you were using a fake name."
"Fake name?"
Ivy: "Yes."
That simple "yes" left Lorin speechless.
Ivy braced herself: "Teacher?"
"Wait a moment," Lorin said, "I'm thinking."
Ivy: "Huh?"
She held her breath, cautiously noticing that he was staring intently at her.
An indescribable emotion, a mix of incredulity, astonishment, and shock—very complex.
"Ivy," Lorin called her name in an extremely formal tone, "The admission records show that you're married, correct?"
"Yes, teacher," Ivy asked nervously, "Will this affect my work? I can get a divorce."
Lorin fell silent again.
"Don't worry about me being preoccupied with family," Ivy, concerned it might affect her transfer, quickly explained, "It was... uh... arranged by my parents. I won't devote energy to this marriage."
Lorin said, "Unexpected, but makes sense."
"Yes, yes," Ivy nodded vigorously, "You're very understanding."
"So, you don't need to consider your partner's opinion either?" Lorin asked, "About the marriage—have you both reached an agreement?"
"Well... sort of," Ivy said uneasily. Lorin suddenly asking about her private life was unusual; typically, when a superior inquired about a subordinate's family, it was either a promotion or a layoff—Ivy hoped it was the former, preferably being transferred to the front lines.
"And I am me, he is he," Ivy said firmly, "Marriage won't affect me. You can treat me as a single, unattached soldier. You don't need to consider my family—as long as I can go to the front lines, I can send a divorce application letter right now."
Lorin said, "No need."
She stood straight, head held high, embodying the best posture of her class.
"Yesterday, I explained your specific situation to the principal, including the talent and courage you've shown," Lorin said, "He agreed to make an exception and let you rejoin the front-line soldier training program."
Ivy was both shocked and delighted: "Thank you, teacher!!!"
"Don't thank me yet," Lorin said, "I haven't said 'but.'"
Ivy grew anxious again.
"But," he said, "in the short term, we can't find another teacher to take over my duties, so I'll have to continue teaching a few more classes for your batch. To be fair, another teacher will be responsible for your class participation grades, and the same goes for the final evaluations—besides me, three other teachers will grade you, and we'll remove the highest and lowest scores to take the average."
Ivy didn't understand: "Huh... why? What does this have to do with me directly?"
"It does," Lorin lowered his gaze, "You'll understand later."
...Later?
Ivy couldn't figure it out, so she decided to put it out of her mind.
All she knew was that she could be a front-line soldier again!
This incredible news made Ivy want to share it with Yu Mo immediately, but halfway through drafting the message, she realized he was also in training—
She silently deleted the half-written text.
The last time she saw Yu Mo was at the wedding.
He didn't speak to Ivy privately, only smiling and congratulating her.
It had been so long since they last met; Ivy only heard from others that he was now fully focused on researching bionic prosthetics and organ regeneration—a field that, if it made a significant breakthrough, would free humans with physical disabilities from the constraints of imperfect bodies.
Ivy believed he would succeed.
In her heart, there was nothing Yu Mo couldn't accomplish.
Yu Mo seemed born with the duty to save humanity, but unlike Hector, who fought wars to secure humanity's survival, Yu Mo healed and saved lives.
Staring blankly at the wall, Ivy suddenly remembered the results of her and Yu Mo's genetic compatibility test.
Zero.
From any angle, neither would be attracted to the other.
No wonder, back then, Ivy had pursued Yu Mo for so long, and he had declined multiple times before finally accepting... Later, it was Yu Mo who initiated the breakup.
He had gently said that they weren't suited to be lovers.
Perhaps they really weren't compatible.
In this afternoon, Ivy felt a strange, inexplicable emotion. She zoned out for a while, then received another round of promotions for the Marriage Intention Survey. This trendy matchmaking method, based on genetics and questionnaires, faced less resistance this year compared to the last.
Everyone uploaded their detailed information, blood samples, and hair samples to the database, filling out their partner preferences.
Big data would first filter out individuals who met their criteria, then further assess compatibility through genetics. In the vast sea of people, only those who met each other's requirements and had a certain level of genetic compatibility would be matched and provided with each other's contact information.
Big data pushes the things you want to buy right in front of your eyes, surrounding you with "potentially interesting" news, trending topics, discussions, and communities. Capitalists are eager to fill every inch of what the human eye can see with advertisements. People no longer care about sincere love, yearning for a soulmate while simultaneously refusing to understand another person's soul...
Can the genetic compatibility detected by data really be called eternal love?
Ivy didn't understand.
Fortunately, this feeling didn't trouble her for long. After a short rest, she was back in high spirits, resuming her routine patrols and searches.
Since there were still trainees in the team, this expedition didn't last long, nor did they venture deep into the core areas. Surprisingly, they encountered very few ambushes from artificial intelligence along the way. Several bomb defusals and server removals went unusually smoothly—and there was the half-successful spatial transfer that Ivy managed to organize.
After returning safely to the training base, the team was required to undergo routine physical examinations at the base hospital.
Artificial intelligence had mastered some of the techniques for creating androids. There had been a tragic precedent in history where a member of an expedition team was captured by AI in the wasteland. The AI used android technology to create a "human" with identical appearance, personality, and behavior, secretly infiltrating the safe zone.
It wasn't until a later medical examination, when the individual failed the genetic test, that the truth was fully exposed.
By then, the imposter had already leaked a significant amount of information to the AI.
Since that incident, everyone returning from the wasteland to the safe zone has been required to undergo blood sampling and physical examinations to confirm they are still the original "person."
While waiting for her blood sample to be taken, Ivy stood behind Lorin.
Blood sampling technology had made a qualitative leap compared to a century ago. Nowadays, only a tiny drop of blood from the fingertip is needed. However, military protocols are stricter, requiring a slightly larger sample.
Ivy counted—she had already had four tubes of blood drawn in the past three months.
She frowned in frustration.
Lorin, who had just finished his blood draw, was already putting on his gloves.
He stood up, offering his seat to her, and unexpectedly asked, "Are you afraid of blood draws?"
"Ah, no," Ivy replied, taking off her jacket. Her veins were thin, making fingertip sampling inconvenient, so she was used to having blood drawn from her arm. She began to explain, "It's because recently—"
"Because she's on her period, and excessive blood sampling can cause mild dizziness and nausea," the masked military doctor interrupted her gently, asking, "Isn't that right, Xiaobao?"
Lorin's gaze shifted to the doctor in charge of the blood draw.
The doctor was new, with long, silver-white hair and skin as pale as snow, even revealing a faint bluish-purple vein on their forehead.
Beneath their silver-white eyelashes were light green eyes, the faint color of tsavorite, focused intently on Ivy. "Long time no see."
It was the first time Lorin had seen Ivy so happy. She looked as if she couldn't wait to hug the other person. "Yu Mo!"
