Pei Ran, however, had noticed a different pattern.
Shi Ge Ye dressed impeccably and had a personal assistant—he clearly came from a wealthy family and didn't need to earn a living. Yet his drawing skills were excellent, and he'd even published a graphic novel. It was obvious he genuinely loved comics. After becoming a fusion body, his special ability turned out to be… drawing.
The original host had graduated from a purely technical major—Intelligent Systems Engineering—but had secretly enjoyed jotting down poetry in her notes. Her special ability manifested as writing.
And Aisha—she formed hand signs with uncanny skill. Once she obtained the green light, she could use them to flip an excavator with a single gesture.
It seemed everyone's power had something to do with their personal interests.
Aisha performed another dazzling sequence of hand signs, ending by interlocking her fingers into the very first one she'd shown. She pointed it into the distance, mimicking a gunshot with the gesture.
Pei Ran understood—this was the only useful hand sign for now.
The power could grow over time. No rush.
Aisha pointed at herself, wiggled her fingers, then pointed at Pei Ran and tapped her own forehead.
She was saying: My attacks come from hand signs—yours must come from thinking, right?
After all, Pei Ran hadn't moved a muscle, and yet the mechanical beast had flown into the sky.
Not an unreasonable conclusion. Pei Ran nodded.
She pulled over Aisha's virtual screen and drew a mouth on it. Between the two lips, she added a jagged, wavy line in the shape of a hook.
W guessed, "A zipper? You're warning her not to reveal anything about your powers?"
"Correct," Pei Ran said approvingly. "You're getting better at this."
W replied modestly, "I'm just getting used to the way you think."
Pei Ran had gone through the trouble of drawing a zipper instead of marking an X over her lips—because she wasn't sure whether a symbol like an "X" might be recognized as a word by whatever mysterious force governed the attacks. There was no need to gamble with her life.
As it turned out, Aisha adapted to her style even faster.
She nodded immediately, then mimed zipping her lips shut.
Aisha then pointed at her own mouth, made a flurry of hand gestures like words spilling out, then pointed at Pei Ran again.
She meant: I only talk this much because it's you. I wouldn't say a word to anyone else.
Then she turned and pointed at the metallic sphere resting on the console, eyes full of curiosity. She must have noticed Pei Ran always carried it around.
Pei Ran, without a change in expression, raised her hand and slapped the sphere on the back of its "head."
A beam of light turned on.
W: "…"
W said coldly, now lit up, "Is it that strange to carry me around? Isn't she carrying a whole peace lily?"
"That's different," Pei Ran replied. "The flower is decorative. When it blooms, I bet it'll be beautiful. Like keeping a cat—it's not useful, but it's cute."
What she didn't say: this beat-up, dented little ball couldn't bloom or be cute. Since it lacked charm, the only justification for carrying it was practicality.
Like providing light.
W was silent for a beat, then shut his light off with a dramatic flick.
So even AI could throw tantrums.
Suddenly, there was a knock knock knock at the cockpit door—light, hesitant tapping.
Aisha quickly shut her drawing app and opened the door.
It was the group of college students they'd seen at the turnstile.
One tall male student rotated his wristband's virtual screen to show Aisha and Pei Ran what he'd drawn.
They'd come prepared. On the screen: two parallel train tracks stretching forward, a rectangular platform marked with a sign—clearly a station. The boy used his hand to mime a train pulling into the platform and stopping.
W said, "Look. He drew the two tracks converging at a point in the distance. If you extend the platform's edge lines, they meet at the same point. That's one-point perspective."
"So?" Pei Ran said. "Still just means: stop the train."
The tall boy's meaning was obvious—he wanted to get off.
W explained, "At this speed, in a few minutes we'll reach the next stop: a small town near Yehaishi called Xingtower. This boy is Jin Hejun, a senior finance student at Yehaishi University. His home isn't in Xingtower—he's probably getting off here to walk home."
The train had escaped burning Yehaishi and reached the outskirts. Now, someone wanted off.
No problem. Pei Ran nodded, and the students visibly relaxed. They retreated quietly, even shutting the door behind them.
Sure enough, two or three minutes later, the small town appeared.
It looked in much better condition than Yehaishi—only a few wisps of smoke in the distance, not engulfed in flames.
The tourist platform for Yehaishi Line 7 sat on the outskirts, open-air, seemingly untouched.
Pei Ran pulled the lever, slowing the train. The Yehaishi-7 glided into the station.
The platform was empty. Silent.
Once the train stopped, Pei Ran grabbed the wrench, opened the cockpit door, stepped halfway out, and clanged the wrench on the side of the train car.
DONG—
DONG—
A signal to the passengers that they'd arrived.
W asked, "Are you enjoying this whole train conductor thing?"
Pei Ran: "No."
W patiently exposed her: "I noticed your eyebrows lifted, your forehead smoothed. You're in a good mood."
Pei Ran didn't respond. Truth was, driving a train, shuttling people from place to place, letting them off at their stop—yeah, it was kind of fun.
Carriage doors opened one by one. Families got off.
W said, "A lot of them are Yehaishi residents, fleeing the city's fires."
Now that they'd escaped, no need to stay on the train.
The college students were the first to disembark—only Jin Hejun had a backpack, the rest looked like they'd just come to see him off.
He hugged each friend goodbye, waved at Pei Ran too, then turned and walked toward the station exit.
But just a few steps in, he slowed.
Then stopped.
A moment passed. He suddenly bent down.
His backpack slipped off and hit the ground with a heavy thud that echoed across the silent platform.
Everyone turned in shock.
Jin Hejun ignored the bag. He crouched like a shrimp, hunched and shaking, hands clawing at his face with such force his knuckles turned white.
He was gasping, trembling—and then he suddenly arched backward and dug his fingers into his eyes.
Blood streamed out.
Whether because of tape over his mouth or sheer willpower, he didn't scream.
At that moment, someone in the crowd pointed at the station exit, face frozen in horror.
Everyone—on the train and off—followed their gaze.
Pei Ran looked too.
There was a row of turnstiles, all neat and square. No trace of fusion. The street outside was quiet—gray roads, gray buildings, gray sky. A dead city in grayscale.
Pei Ran asked W, "What do you see over there?"
The metal sphere still sat on the control console. W answered, "My angle's limited—I can't see that side."
He paused, then said, "But Pei Ran… look at the buildings."
The town didn't have many high-rises, nothing like the skyscrapers of Yehaishi. Just mid-rise buildings, spaced out.
And then Pei Ran saw it.
Every single building was… subtly moving.
She remembered once, years ago, going topside on a rare sunny day. The blazing sun had made the air ripple like water, and the whole abandoned city had looked alive, the buildings swaying in the heat haze.
Now, even without sunlight—under a cold, gray sky—the buildings were undulating, like living things.
The crowd had noticed. After just a beat of hesitation, they turned and ran.
Only Jin Hejun remained, clutching his ruined eyes.
Two of his friends—a girl in a red knit cap and a boy with a navy scarf—ran to him, grabbed his arms, and hauled him back.
Apparently clearer-headed after his injury, Jin Hejun stumbled with them toward the train. His friends shoved him back inside in a panic.
At that moment, Pei Ran finally saw Yulianka again.
He'd exited one of the rear cars and was now helping people into the forward ones. A frail old woman couldn't climb the high steps—Yulianka dashed over, lifted her up, helped a child in, closed the door, and sprinted to the next car.
His white coat flared like a banner.
People reboarded in a rush. The platform cleared. Pei Ran returned to the controls and pushed the lever. The train roared out of the station.
Buildings that size… Fusion bodies?
The world was spiraling into madness.
The train sped away from Xingtower and its monstrous fusion creatures. Pei Ran stared silently at the single vanishing point ahead—the "one-point perspective" W had mentioned.
W whispered in her ear, "Pei Ran, something's wrong."
Pei Ran answered in her mind, "Yeah. I thought so too."
W continued, "I think someone onboard used an ability—at the station entrance, and just now—to lure others toward the fusion turnstiles. That person is still on Yehaishi-7."
Pei Ran agreed. "It happened again just now."
Jin Hejun had slowed, dazed, and turned his head—exactly like the man who got split in two by the turnstile, and two others before him.
Pei Ran murmured, "It felt like… hypnosis."
W asked, "But why? What's the goal?"
In Yehaishi, it was easy to understand—someone wanted to pass the turnstiles safely, so they sacrificed others.
But here, why force Jin Hejun to gouge his own eyes?
If they wanted to warn people about the danger, there were far less horrifying ways.
Pei Ran thought aloud: "Maybe someone doesn't want people to leave the train."
Frighten them hard enough, and they'll stay.
W said, "Maybe. But keeping everyone on board—what benefit would that bring?"
Pei Ran didn't know either.
She said, "W, I've noticed that fusion powers usually match their host's personal interests. Can you scan everyone onboard? Look for someone whose hobbies might relate to hypnosis, mind control, things like that?"
She added, "I know you have access to their data files, but can you find out what their hobbies are?"
W replied, "Official records don't log that kind of thing. But I might find clues from their history. I'll need to scan their faces one by one."
Pei Ran stood up, slung the metal sphere over her shoulder by its strap.
"I'll carry you through the cars. I want to ask Jin Hejun what he saw. Why he clawed his own eyes out."
W sounded uncertain: "He can't talk, can't write. His eyes are damaged. How are you planning to communicate with him through hand signs and drawings?"
Pei Ran answered honestly, "I have no idea."
W: "…"
Well, the road will reveal itself to the traveler.
Aisha was still standing at the cockpit door, gazing at the receding outline of Xingtower and its towering fusion giants.
Pei Ran gave her a pat on the back and pointed to the driver's seat.
Aisha's eyes widened immediately, sparkling with excitement. Her expression said it all: Really? You're letting me drive?
Everyone thought being a train conductor was fun.
Pei Ran brushed her hand over the control lever and glanced at Aisha, silently asking: Do you know how?
Aisha nodded without hesitation.
She slid into the driver's seat, quickly formed a hand seal with her fingers, then gave a thumbs-up—signaling that her seals were functional again.
If anyone could flip a train with a single seal, it was Aisha. Handing the train over to her was the best choice right now. Pei Ran pointed toward the rear, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and opened the door leading to the next car.
Between the two cars was a short, swaying connector passage. Once she crossed it, she stepped into the next passenger car.
The car was filled with four-person booths, with two seats facing two, separated by a small table. The seats were covered in thin blue floral slipcovers that didn't look particularly comfortable.
In this era of hovercrafts cruising through the skies, traveling slowly along the ground on a train had become something novel. Some even paid money just to experience this kind of "suffering."
Jiang Gong was in one of the front booths. On the little fold-out table in front of her sat Aisha's pot of lush peace lilies.
Jiang Gong leaned into the corner where the seat met the carriage wall, eyes closed, seemingly asleep. A thick blanket was draped over her legs, and she was clutching a fluffy, overstuffed pouch—probably the kind that emitted heat.
Next to her was Aisha's large bag, now slightly deflated—likely where the blanket had been packed.
Aisha hadn't just carried a pot of soil—she'd also brought everything to keep her grandmother warm.
Pei Ran didn't disturb her and kept moving forward.
The carriage wasn't crowded; passengers sat scattered throughout. For safety, everyone was trying to keep some distance—only sitting next to their own companions.
The same was true in Car No. 2.
What had just happened made it clear the world outside the train was no longer safe. Terrifying monsters lurked everywhere. Many passengers who'd planned to disembark were now frozen in place, staring anxiously out the windows, gripped by fear.
Then Pei Ran's gaze landed on a young man who caught her attention.
He was sitting by the window—and had something very strange on his mouth.
In situations where speaking could be dangerous, people had come up with all kinds of ways to seal their mouths: duct tape, clips, scarves, surgical patches, even stuffing their cheeks to keep them puffed out, or Aisha's quirky method—biting down on a stick.
But this guy was different. He had a ball gag in his mouth.
It was a small ball held in place by straps that wrapped around the back of his head. It looked surprisingly professional—adjustable holes on the strap, and breathing holes on the ball itself.
Pei Ran stared in fascination and asked W, "What kind of equipment is that? It looks really professional."
The young man flushed instantly, averting his eyes.
W sounded slightly exasperated: "Pei Ran, stop staring at him."
"Why?" she asked, confused.
W replied, "That's a ball gag. It is a professional tool... in certain contexts. For me, it's not much different from a mask. But I didn't want to explain it outright and risk damaging our relationship."
Pei Ran blinked. "Certain contexts? What kind of contexts?"
W fell silent, clearly at a loss.
Then she suddenly put two and two together.
She glanced again at the young man with the ball gag and sighed, "W, you really are full of knowledge."
W choked a little and muttered, "No kidding. I'm an AI."