Ivy wanted to bury her face in the delicious squirrel-shaped mandarin fish.
Before this, she had never thought that "Little Treasure" was such a special nickname.
This affectionate term wasn't her childhood name but came from Yu Mo's parents—Sai Wen and Yu Tu.
Sai Wen ran a small private clinic, while Yu Tu worked in a repair shop for smart robots. Compared to Ivy's parents, who worked for the Song family, they had more free time.
Especially after Song Feng publicly insulted Ivy, calling her "genetically filthy" and insisting on expelling her from the manor, Sai Wen offered to let Ivy stay at the clinic when her parents were busy.
Thus, Ivy spent her childhood shuttling between the Song family's manor and the clinic.
Yu Mo, who was older than her, also got used to calling her "Little Treasure," just like his parents.
Sai Wen and Yu Tu had come from District 23. With their knowledge and skills, they found it easier to settle in District 1 than Ivy's family.
Unfortunately, this kind couple couldn't escape the grim fate of their D-level genes. In the year Ivy graduated from elementary school, they both died suddenly from unexplained heart failure.
At that time, Yu Mo was still studying at a medical university. He immediately dropped out and returned home. Ivy's mother, Irene, stepped up generously, helping Yu Mo settle his family affairs so he could return to school—she even offered to cover his tuition fees.
Fortunately, Yu Mo displayed remarkable talent and secured a spot at the Life Sciences Academy, earning a government scholarship that alleviated his financial worries.
The bond they shared throughout Ivy's formative years made their relationship inseparable. So much so that Ivy never found being called "Little Treasure" particularly special—until Lorin uttered the term "Little Treasure" in his icy tone.
Nana was surprised. "I didn't expect Professor Lorin to be so approachable in private, even cracking jokes. Have you heard? He almost makes several students cry every class. Remember that time a student was crying and running naked on the field at midnight? Rumor has it, it was one of Lorin's students, overwhelmed by the pressure..."
Yu Mo smiled, his gray-white eyelashes resembling the feathers of a silver tit. "I just arrived, so I'm not familiar with the details."
"Anyway, he's terrifying," Nana said seriously. "Ivy, are you close with him?"
"Huh? No," Ivy reflexively denied. "But he did help me."
—She had been caught sneaking into the adventure team.
Her initial plan was to ask for a leave of absence from her teacher and join the adventure team for practical experience, relying on her courage and improvisation.
This naive plan earned a cold sneer from Lorin, who asked if Ivy thought the base instructors were as foolish as her.
He revised the core logic of Ivy's plan, directly stating that he had permitted her to join the adventure team. As for her being removed from the team's roster despite her top grades, Lorin had already contacted the team's leadership, questioning whether they were aware of the genetic discrimination within the team.
These days, Song Feng had been swamped, all because of this issue.
The genetic discrimination within the adventure team was ruthlessly exposed by Lorin.
Song Feng couldn't understand Lorin's motives unless his own genetic evaluation was also low.
If he were a beneficiary of the system, enjoying special privileges without needing to compete for leadership... it was unlikely he would take such a stand.
Ivy didn't dwell on Lorin's motivations; she only cared about the outcome.
The result was that she not only secured her adventure team internship report but also received a Medal of Courage (though it was mostly symbolic and couldn't be sold).
Lorin demanded that she keep everything about the wasteland a secret, and Ivy complied.
Yu Mo turned to her, his gaze gentle. "But he seems quite strict... Do you want me to accompany you?"
Ivy was lost in thought and only realized after a moment that Yu Mo was asking if she needed him to keep her visit to Lorin's office confidential.
She shook her head. "No, thank you."
"Do you mind if I call you 'Little Treasure'?" Yu Mo asked softly. "Your teacher seems to dislike the nickname."
"Huh? Oh—it's fine," Ivy replied. "But if other classmates are around, it might seem a bit..."
She trailed off, unable to articulate.
"I understand," Yu Mo said considerately, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "It's fine. In public, I'll call you by your name."
"Ivy," he repeated, smiling. "It feels a bit unfamiliar, but it's okay."
With a soft sigh, Yu Mo added, "I'm surprised your teacher is so cold... You're going to have a tough time, Little Treasure."
She didn't have to wait long.
When Ivy hurried to Lorin's office, she immediately faced the consequences.
Lorin gave her a harsh lesson.
He refused all forms of auditing for his practical classes. Since the start of the semester, aside from the first class, Ivy hadn't attended any of his sessions or earned any credits.
Now, she had to make up for it.
"If you want to pass the final exam, you need to start working hard now," Lorin said. "I won't lower my standards for you."
His office was like a small arsenal, complete with a wall dedicated to target practice. Concerned about the noise unsettling students, Lorin closed the doors and windows before personally teaching Ivy how to use the new weapons—and how to deal with artificial intelligence in the wasteland, how to rescue herself if captured, and how to withstand forced interrogation...
As for resisting mind-reading, Lorin had a small device.
It resembled a headband, called a Truth Verifier. When worn, telling the truth caused no harm, but lying would result in a mild electric shock.
Ivy was startled by the description. "Do I have to try this too?"
"This is part of the practical training. Every one of my students has tried it," Lorin said. "If you don't need this part of the training—"
"I do, I do!" Ivy grabbed the device, uneasy. "I just want to confirm, Professor, will the 'shock' hurt?"
"No," Lorin replied calmly. "I don't have a penchant for torture."
Ivy hesitated. "Could it knock me out?"
Lorin said flatly, "Every punitive device here has been adjusted to low energy. The purpose is to familiarize you with it—it uses pulse voltage and won't cause any physical harm."
"Oh, you should've said so earlier," Ivy sighed in relief. "Then it's more like a... toy, right?"
Lorin was adjusting a silver climbing rope made of special material. At her words, he paused and looked at her.
His dark eyes were like a slowly spreading pool of ink. His military-style uniform shirt fit his frame perfectly, and Ivy noticed his prominent Adam's apple and the faintly visible veins running down his neck, disappearing into the restrained collar.
"Ah, I was just joking," Ivy quickly explained, putting the Truth Verifier on her head like a headband. "I actually don't know anything about... toys... Ah!"
—She was caught off guard by a sudden shock.
As Lorin had said, the pulse voltage from the Truth Verifier didn't harm her body or cause real pain. It felt more like a prick from a rose thorn, replaced by a tingling sensation that served as a warning.
Ivy froze, then slowly blushed.
She realized her lie had been exposed on the spot.
"You're wearing it wrong," Lorin said, putting down the silver rope and adjusting it for her. "If you're captured, they'll put it on you like this."
They maintained a certain distance. Lorin's body, from the neck down, was tightly wrapped in his black uniform. Even with gloves on, he avoided touching her skin or hair.
Ivy caught a whiff of his scent—clean, steady, and faint, like the metallic tang of silver submerged in ice water, cold and sharp.
"Statistics show that every captured human undergoes this kind of interrogation," Lorin explained. "Artificial intelligence tends to follow fixed procedures and angles."
His voice was low, with a subtle difference between his English and Chinese.
His English accent was a standard British one—deep, clear, and slow, like red velvet. When speaking Chinese, his pace was slightly faster, his pronunciation precise but devoid of emotion, almost robotic.
Lorin was currently speaking in English, explaining the various torture devices to her—during the first major war with artificial intelligence, the French had been captured in the largest numbers, and it was primarily the British allies who had rescued them. As a result, British scientists were the first to master the principles of these AI interrogation tools.
Ivy said, "It seems they're more rigid than I imagined."
She felt uneasy, wanting to shift her body.
Lorin's accent was undeniably sexy—a restrained, ascetic kind of allure. His perfectly pressed black suit, the sleeve garters tightening his arms through the white shirt, the neatly folded ties in the drawer. Ivy couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering. Lorin's voice was perfect for flirtation, but he only used it to calmly teach her escape techniques.
"Don't underestimate your enemy," Lorin said. "Stay still; I don’t want to hurt you."
There was no physical contact between them. Ivy glanced up slightly, then immediately lowered her head. Beneath her skirt, a tingling sensation crept up from her tailbone, as if a cluster of delicate spring flowers had blossomed.
Lorin looked both serious and handsome when focused on teaching, and she didn’t dare look at him too much.
"You don’t need to make any noises to remind me," Lorin adjusted the verifier and took two steps back, clasping his hands together as he looked down at her with a hint of arrogance. "Just say something—anything—but don’t make strange sounds. Call me when you're done."
Ivy replied, "Ah, yes, Professor."
She hesitated, "What do you mean by 'when it's over'?"
"Up to you," Lorin said without looking up. "I don’t have strict requirements for students' 'interrogation practice.' You can decide the duration and frequency yourself. But if you have any... particular preferences, let me know in advance."
"Of course not!" Ivy nearly jumped out of her chair. She gripped the verifier, carefully moving it away from her head without touching her skin, then declared firmly, "I don’t have any particular preferences."
"Good," Lorin said coldly. "I don’t want to see students getting addicted to using interrogation tools, nor do I want to waste time explaining to doctors how you managed to break yourselves."
Ivy sat back down.
She muttered a few ordinary things, like how she enjoyed drinking pu-erh tea and eating chocolate, then tentatively told a few harmless lies—such as her sexual orientation being towards women and how much she hated joining the exploration team.
Each time, she was met with a mild electric pulse.
Panicking, Ivy tried to remove the device, calling out, "Professor!"
Lorin walked over. She noticed a notebook on the desk with dark blue ink marks.
He was grading her performance.
Even remedial lessons were still lessons.
"Put it back on," Lorin said. "I’ll teach you how to deal with the verifier."
"What?"
"Lying," Lorin said, his gloved hand gripping Ivy’s fingers and guiding them to touch a cold, hard metal plate on the side. "Use your nail to press here, then..."
He explained in detail how to fool the device.
Ivy was already flustered. Lorin’s grip was strong, and when he held her fingers, the restraint made her feel like a fish caught on a hook.
Still, she followed Lorin’s instructions, using a strand of hair to block the sensor, and lied, "I really love eating carrots."
Lorin interrupted her childish lie, "Say that you’ve never made a mistake since coming to the base."
"I’ve never made a mistake since coming to the base."
No electric pulse.
Ivy let out a soft sigh of relief.
Lorin took the strand of hair and asked, "Are you and Dr. Yu Mo like siblings?"
Ivy said, "Yes—ah!"
—Zap.
She shuddered, looking at Lorin in shock.
Lorin had already removed the verifier, his back turned to her as he said calmly, "Your practical session is over."
"Next remedial lesson is after dinner next Saturday," he added. "Don’t be late."
Ivy thanked him repeatedly. She couldn’t see Lorin’s face clearly, only his uniformed back—steady, tall, reliable, and meticulous.
She asked softly, "Can I know how many points you gave me for the session?"
"Don’t push your luck," Lorin said. "If you insist on knowing, I’ll have to change your score to zero."
Ivy quickly said, "Thank you, thank you, but never mind," and dashed off, afraid he might change his mind.
As she hurriedly opened the door, Lorin called out, "Ivy."
Ivy stopped, "Yes, Professor?"
"Take the apple on the table," Lorin said. "I can’t finish it. Share it with your roommate."
Ivy looked closely.
It was one of the fruits distributed to the base’s teachers and officers. Resources weren’t as abundant as they were a century ago—back then, apples in northern China cost only a few to a dozen yuan per pound.
Now, even the cheapest fruits cost a hundred or two per pound.
Ivy guessed Lorin might be allergic to apples. Many A-level individuals couldn’t be rated S due to 'allergies.'
Or perhaps he simply didn’t like apples and was generous enough to give them to students.
She picked up the apple, "Thank you, Professor."
Lorin didn’t respond, gesturing for her to leave quickly.
The apple earned Nana’s utmost praise.
"Crisp and sweet," Nana said between bites, telling Ivy, "You know, the apple that the serpent tempted Adam and Eve to eat? That’s why apples are seen as symbols of breaking taboos—forbidden fruit."
Ivy was focused on drafting her divorce application, carefully choosing her words to make it both formal and amicable, preferably without losing politeness.
She was eager to dissolve this marriage, which was only recognized by law.
"...Professor Lorin seems to have British ancestry? Judging by his accent, did his ancestors live in southern England?" Nana said. "There are so many English proverbs about apples, like 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away,' or 'you are the apple of my eye—'"
"Nana," Ivy interrupted, rubbing her temples in distress, "I really don’t want to talk about apples right now..."
Nana leaned in, "Do you want to talk about Lorin instead?"
Ivy’s expression turned complicated, "Stop it. Don’t say things like that. I don’t want to get expelled."
Relationships between teachers and students were strictly prohibited at the base.
Not to mention, she hadn’t even ended her current marriage.
Ivy buried herself in her writing, typing haltingly and sighing repeatedly.
This divorce application had been tormenting her for nearly two months.
Two months later, she finally produced a draft as dry as a baguette left out for seven days.
Exhausted from endless classes, Ivy had no idea how to refine it further. She had completely drained any literary flair from her mind.
Dr. Yu Mo, who came for routine student check-ups, noticed her unusual state.
"Your weight is down by 2kg, and your heart rate is elevated," Yu Mo said. "Are you under any stress lately, Ivy?"
"Ah... no," Ivy stood up, shaking her head. "I’m just really tired."
She was thinking about finally sending the divorce application to Hector—her mysterious husband. She got up and left.
Yu Mo stopped her under the plane tree at the corner, "Xiao Bao."
Ivy looked up, "Yu Mo."
"Is the coursework too much? Or is something bothering you?" Yu Mo asked. He had hastily removed his white coat, now in a white shirt and black pants, looking gentle and unassuming. "You’re not in a good state."
Ivy looked into his concerned light green eyes, unable to bring herself to mention the divorce.
It felt disrespectful to Hector.
This was between the two of them; no one else should be involved.
"It’s fine, probably just seasonal sensitivity," Ivy said seriously. "I’ll feel better in a few days."
Fifty meters away, Lorin stopped in his tracks, catching the familiar scent.
His sensitive period was approaching, and the effectiveness of his suppressants was waning while his resistance to them grew stronger.
Xin Lan had warned him that, based on calculations, the suppressants would completely fail within four months at this rate.
He needed to make a decision soon.
Either send Ivy away, far enough that he’d never see her again, or—
Under the warm afternoon sun, Ivy and Yu Mo stood facing each other beneath the plane tree.
The wind carried her words to Lorin, who clearly heard her say, "I’ll feel better in a few days."
Xin Lan asked, "What is your wife discussing with her first love?"
Lorin replied calmly, "I don’t know. I’m not familiar with her."
And indeed, he wasn’t.
These days, aside from classes, Lorin did not initiate conversations with her. As a teacher, he strictly adhered to the principle of treating everyone equally, offering her no special attention.
Xin Lan squinted, his crystal-implanted blue eyes magnifying everything in front of him, accurately recording the interactions between Ivy and Yu Mo. He asked, "General, aren’t you curious? They seem quite happy together."
Lorin turned and walked in the opposite direction. "Not curious."
He appeared utterly indifferent.
Night fell.
Lorin, who was unfamiliar, uncurious, and uncaring, unexpectedly received an email from Ivy.
He put down his coconut water and carefully read the subject line three times.
**"To the Esteemed Mr. Hector"**
This was the first time she had actively reached out to him since their marriage.
Lorin looked at the familiar subject line and suddenly remembered something she had been editing in the cafeteria nearly two months ago—likely this very letter.
The one her classmate Nana had teased her about, calling it a "love letter."
He chuckled and opened the email.
The full content was laid out clearly before Lorin.
**"
Esteemed Mr. Hector,
Greetings!
Given the prolonged separation since our marriage, I believe our marital relationship has become a mere formality.
Therefore, I am writing to inquire whether you have any intention of proceeding with divorce proceedings. I am about to embark on my first long-term expedition with the exploration team and would like to formally dissolve our marriage before then.
I look forward to your reply.
Sincerely,
A member of the expedition team, currently still your spouse, and equally deserving of your respect,
Ms. Ivy
"**
