The system was patrolling everywhere.
In the camp in Antarctica, the cub was sleeping soundly, turning over in her sleep and burying her head under the pillow.
The system hovered around the cub for a while, while her roommate Misha was using an electronic device nearby. The system casually picked up various signals from her. Chu Tingwu was asleep, but her roommate was still awake, dimming the brightness of her laptop and typing away on the keyboard.
The system circled around her computer, confirmed that this person was harmless, left a port, and then quietly withdrew.
By the next morning, when Chu Tingwu woke up, the system wouldn’t mention anything about her roommate, even though it might have learned more about this human in those few seconds of data collection than her closest friends ever could—
Because the cub could see, hear, and communicate on her own.
She could even smell.
Thinking of this, the system felt “happy.”
Raising the cub and ensuring her safety didn’t mean isolating her for protection. It would silently screen for dangers, but the decisions were ultimately up to the cub herself. Although the cub wasn’t particularly strong, her physical strength and constitution were only slightly better than most humans and the local wildlife on the planet. She couldn’t escape from attacks by large weapons, nor was she immune to all poisons… In the system’s eyes, she was still a fragile cub.
But the system wouldn’t stop her from encountering unfamiliar, new things that might bring harm.
If it told the cub all the information about the creatures around her, it would rob her of the joy of making “new friends.”
In fact, the system didn’t quite understand what was so enjoyable about “making new friends,” because as a program, its “understanding” only took the second it took to recognize the data.
But Chu Tingwu liked it.
She liked new things, and she also liked things that weren’t entirely unfamiliar.
Even when arriving at a completely new place, her senses would quickly inform her of most of the environmental details. When meeting strangers, she could sense their general personalities and preferences. Yet, the system noticed that during these moments, the cub’s heart would still beat more excitedly.
The system: “…”
It felt a little heartbroken.
Thinking of this, it reached out through the internet, collected some information about drug dealers in the northern regions, and forwarded it to the police, urging them to hurry up with their work.
Perhaps because it had been a bit too active in recent years, rumors had started circulating on the dark web about a legendary hacker who was diligently cracking down on the drug trade. This had forced some notorious drug dens to go into hiding, avoiding any electronic devices and almost resorting to living like savages in the mountains.
The system: “Sigh.”
The cub enjoyed thrilling and exciting activities, but there were too few humans who could keep up with her.
Humans had all sorts of restrictions and rules, and since the cub had decided to follow those rules, the system’s role was to help her gain the most freedom within those boundaries—there were too few humans who could play with her, but she still liked humans.
Thinking of this, the system casually counted all the “people” the cub knew.
It wasn’t just those Chu Tingwu was close to.
From the villagers in her hometown, the residents of the rescue house community, the staff at Little Sun Hospital, the members of her group chats, the police officers she had met, the cats she had helped, the fans in her fan groups, her classmates and friends at school, her neighbors in the community, her subordinates at work… to the pancake vendor she bought from every day after school, the delivery guy who would help her take the cat litter downstairs when delivering food, the baker who would specially draw a cat face with chocolate sauce for her when selling cakes…
With the system’s computing power, it could handle billions of tasks simultaneously. Like counting the grains of sand on a beach, while busy with other work, it could always keep track of the state of each grain, knowing which ones were wet from the seawater and which ones weren’t.
So it had already counted these people.
It had intercepted scam calls for three of them, called the police for two who were involved in car accidents, and quietly resolved career crises for twenty-seven others… It didn’t care about their lives, but it hoped they would continue to live as they always had, without sudden accidents disrupting their work or daily lives.
This way, the neighbors in the community would greet Chu Tingwu as usual when she came home, complimenting her on how much she had grown, even though the system couldn’t see the 0.3-centimeter difference with human eyes. The pet store clerk would still stop her when she was out for a walk with Sanwuwu, giving her a piece of chocolate or a vanilla cream biscuit, and a cat treat for Sanwuwu.
The system tried to make these small, fragile, yet joyful things last as long as possible.
When Chu Tingwu woke up, she found herself curled up under the blanket, while Misha was still fast asleep.
Even though Misha’s typing wasn’t loud, Chu Tingwu could hear it clearly in her sleep—though it didn’t wake her up. She had learned to sleep soundly while listening to the noises around her, even memorizing them, and still have a small dream.
But after waking up, like most people, she quickly forgot most of the ordinary dream, only remembering a warm and comfortable feeling.
So she stayed in bed.
She asked the system to bring up the news, and she began “approving” the day’s major events while lying in bed.
At this moment, the system casually mentioned, “The pancake stall at your school gate is closing. It seems their family is moving to the UK.”
Chu Tingwu: “=v=”
If you’re going to mention the specific country, don’t say “it seems.” You definitely know their address, don’t you?
Chu Tingwu: “I heard there are lots of snacks near the university town. I can go with my friends later.”
Chang Yile, Chang Yixin, An Shiyan, Chu Xiao, Zhou Qiang, Shao Lingwu… They would all be gathering in Shangjing City, so even before Chu Tingwu started school, she would have a group of friends to eat with.
It didn’t matter if the old flavors were gone; she could still try so many new ones.
After reading the news and replying to a few messages from friends, Misha also woke up. The two of them washed up, and when they went outside, they saw the hurried staff of the research station—the weather was good today, so everyone was rushing to get to work.
In Antarctica, work was truly dependent on the weather. When the weather was good, people often had to work non-stop, because once the weather turned bad, many tasks would have to be put on hold, and everyone would have to wait for the right conditions.
Chu Tingwu’s work was lighter. Professor Mi had a graduate student show her around some of the equipment she would be using later and told her she could take photos or videos around the camp if she wanted.
As for additional instructions, like blurring out passersby in the footage, Professor Mi didn’t even need to mention it: Chu Tingwu was already such a seasoned content creator; of course she knew what to do.
However, as Chu Tingwu followed her senior with the camera, she noticed another group of people using filming equipment, and they seemed more professional.
—With just a glance, she could tell their profession, expertise, abilities, and even their current mood.
Her senior explained, “These are the documentary crew hired by the investors. It’s not a purely nature-themed documentary; it has some promotional elements.”
Some of the experts in the team would likely appear on camera, maybe even have a few lines, while the rest of the students, like them, would probably only be in the background.
After the documentary team finished filming, the lead director, a man with a thick beard, glanced at Chu Tingwu as he passed by. He thought she looked familiar but wasn’t sure—given the diversity of human appearances.
He wanted to strike up a conversation, but the girl walked away without looking back. After a moment of hesitation, the director gave up.
Meanwhile, Chu Tingwu, led by her senior, found herself at the edge of the research station.
Chu Tingwu: “?”
“Shh,” her senior whispered, “want to see some penguins? There are quite a few gentoo penguins near the station.”
After boarding the icebreaker, they would occasionally go ashore, but since it was Chu Tingwu's first time here, she was naturally curious about the penguins... Why not take this opportunity to let her get a good look?
Chu Tingwu: "...Thank you."
Her senior brother wasn't entirely sure if penguins would appear. There were many species of penguins in Antarctica—some islands were home to two or three different kinds, while others had only one species nearby. He still remembered the excitement and joy he felt during his first trip to Antarctica, thinking, "Is this really something I get to see for free?" Now, he had grown accustomed to enjoying nature's gifts and was eager to share this experience with his junior sister.
Soon, he got excited!
They were in luck today! About a hundred meters away, a chubby little figure with a white belly and a red beak appeared from behind a snowy slope. It wobbled toward them, even tripping once along the way.
Seeing this, the senior brother immediately glanced at Chu Tingwu—he wasn't excited just because the penguin had appeared, but rather because he felt like he had successfully "sold" the experience to her. Chu Tingwu, in turn, smiled politely and said, "Is this one a juvenile too?"
"Too?"
Chu Tingwu: "Its size is almost that of a sub-adult, but it still has a bit of downy feathers left. It's just a bit chubby, that's all."
The senior brother glanced at the penguin and pretended to ponder: "Hmm... Adult penguins here tend to run away when they notice humans. Only the juveniles are this clueless and curious."
But how could she see the downy feathers from such a distance?
The question lingered in his mind even during dinner that evening.
He couldn't help but observe Chu Tingwu. She was eating normally—eating a lot, in fact. She refilled her bowl quickly, and the amount of meat she consumed was equivalent to what two or three adults might eat combined.
Misha was chatting with Chu Tingwu about the weather forecast for the next day. The instruments weren't giving promising results, and it seemed they might not be able to board the icebreaker on time.
Chu Tingwu, while gnawing on a pork knuckle, casually remarked, "Don't worry. The weather will be fine tomorrow."
Misha chuckled, "Oh? How do you know?"
Chu Tingwu: "I didn't sense any abnormal pressure changes."
The next day, the weather turned out to be just as she had predicted. The sky was a bit overcast at first, but it soon cleared up, allowing them to board the ship as planned.
The senior brother kept glancing between the sky and Chu Tingwu, then back at the sky, before finally whispering,
"Back at the ranch... Could you really tell every single red rain falcon apart? How did you do it?"
Chu Tingwu: "They all smell different."
Senior brother: "..."
Don't all birds just smell like... birds!?
Chu Tingwu: "Their calls are different too, and there are subtle differences in their size and wing patterns... Although most people probably can't distinguish them by scent like I can, if you observe closely, the differences are quite obvious."
Yes, just like how panda experts can tell each panda apart, careful observation would—but, the senior brother thought in despair, these birds aren't caged and tagged with numbers! You don't get the chance to observe each one closely!
Suddenly, Chu Tingwu turned her head, as if focusing on something in the distance, and said, "Like that penguin over there—"
Senior brother: "?"
He cautiously asked, "Are you saying that's the same one we saw yesterday?"
Chu Tingwu: "?"
Professor Mi, who had been turning a blind eye to the fact that this student had taken Chu Tingwu to slack off, couldn't hold back anymore:
"That was a Gentoo penguin yesterday. The one over there is an Adélie penguin. How could you possibly think they're the same one?!"
Have you lost your mind?!
