In Pig Cage Alley, the rainy season seemed to soak even the neon lights into mold.
Yet, a long queue had formed outside Clinic Number Thirteen.
Those gangsters and dockworkers, usually foul-mouthed and reeking of machine oil, were now as docile as quails. They clutched their malfunctioning prosthetics, their eyes unconsciously drifting towards the clinic—where the legendary "Electronic Guanyin" sat.
Shen Qingqiu, dressed in a black, tight-fitting leather jacket, but with a plain white silk coat over it, resembled a healer from a bygone era.
She held an extremely fine light-sensitive stylus, "embroidering" on the back of a mechanical mercenary.
The mercenary's neural connections on his back were burnt out, exposing charred wires.
Shen Qingqiu didn't replace the parts.
She simply used the stylus to trace glowing golden code in the air, then gently tapped it, "sewing" the code into the man's spine.
[Logic Patch: Neural Bridging.]
[Execution Efficiency: Increased by 150%] "Okay...it's better?" The mercenary shifted his back; the phantom limb pain that had plagued him for years had vanished. He turned around excitedly, his face instantly flushing crimson as he looked at Shen Qingqiu's breathtakingly beautiful face illuminated by the holographic screen.
"Miracle doctor! You are truly..." He was about to reach out and grab Shen Qingqiu's hand to express his gratitude.
*Clang.*
A crisp metallic clinking sound.
A cup of hot tea appeared out of thin air, firmly positioned in front of the mercenary's hand.
Seventeen stood beside the examination table.
He wore his signature black vest and white shirt, the collar buttoned all the way up, exuding an ascetic and aloof air. His purple eyes, through the rising steam, coldly stared at the mercenary's greasy hand.
"Drink the tea." Seventeen uttered two words.
If he didn't drink it, the next second this cup of tea might turn into molten iron splashed on his face.
The mercenary shivered, jolted awake by the terrifying killing intent. He downed his teacup in one gulp, tossed aside his credits, and ran.
"Next," Shen Qingqiu called out without looking up.
Seventeen tidied up the teacups, his gaze sweeping coldly over the male patients peering in through the doorway.
His core processor's cooling fan was spinning wildly.
[Warning: Excessive male hormones detected.]
[Emotional module: Acidity too high.]
…Just then, a roar drowned out the sound of rain.
Several heavily modified motorcycles screeched to a halt in front of the clinic, splashing mud and water all over the people waiting in line.
Seven or eight burly men jumped off. Their bodies were heavily cybernetically modified, and their style was remarkably uniform—beast-like.
The leader had a head modified into a semi-metallic tiger's head, two hydraulically driven fangs in his jaw, and a barbed mechanical tail trailing behind him.
The tyrants of Pig Cage Alley—the Fierce Tiger Gang.
"Which one is the Electronic Guanyin?" Tiger Head, the gang leader, swaggered in, pushing through the crowd. He stomped his foot on the freshly cleaned floor, leaving a muddy, oily footprint.
"This territory belongs to the Fierce Tiger Gang from now on. If you know what's good for you, pay 70% of your monthly revenue as protection money, and the remaining 30%…" Tiger Head's red electronic eyes greedily swept over Shen Qingqiu,
"The rest, you can pay with your body." The air froze instantly.
The patients in the clinic were too scared to breathe.
Shen Qingqiu stopped using her light-touch pen.
She slowly raised her head, her golden eyes showing no anger, only a kind of pity for someone looking at an idiot.
"Seventeen."
She called softly.
"Yes." Seventeen was wiping the dirty floor. He straightened up, neatly folded the rag, and placed it aside.
"Some filth got in." Shen Qingqiu swiveled his chair, turning his back to the door, and continued coding on the holographic screen, as if the people behind him were nothing.
"Clean it up. Don't damage the furniture."
"Yes, sir." Seventeen turned around.
He slowly put on his pristine white cotton gloves, concealing his black-gold nanotech right arm.
"Kid, what are you? You dare block my way?" The Tiger Head Boss grinned maliciously, raising his massive mechanical tiger claw, equipped with a hydraulic hammer, and smashing it down towards Seventeen's head.
"Turn me into scrap metal!"
The punch carried the sound of thunder.
Seventeen didn't dodge.
He didn't even lift an eyelid.
When the massive mechanical tiger claw was only a centimeter from his nose.
His hand moved.
Not to block, not to exchange blows.
His left hand gently supported the tiger claw's elbow joint, while his right index and middle fingers, brought together, swiftly tapped several key nodes on the hydraulic arm.
[Structural Analysis: Inferior Assembly.]
[Weakness Detected: Drive Shaft Pin.]
[Disassembly Plan: Execute.]
Click, click, crash—a series of dazzling, crisp sounds.
Tiger Head Boss was horrified to discover that his prized mechanical arm had suddenly…fallen apart.
Screws flew, steel plates detached, hydraulic hoses sprang open.
In just one second.
The massive tiger claw was reduced to a pile of shattered parts, leaving only his once-bare, fleshy shoulder awkwardly suspended in mid-air.
"What?!" Tiger Head Boss was dumbfounded.
Before he could react, Seventeen had already slipped into his group of men like a ghost.
He was like an elegant gardener pruning branches.
Wherever he went, there was no flying blood or gore, only the crisp sound of parts hitting the ground.
"This joint bearing isn't lubricated, it's too stiff." Seventeen said softly, casually disassembling the mechanical leg of one of the thugs.
"This vision sensor is wired backwards." He pinched two fingers together, pulled out the electronic eyeball (connected to wires) of another thug, then shoved it back in before the man screamed, tying a tight knot.
In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea.
Seven or eight elite thugs of the Fierce Tiger Gang were all lying on the ground.
They weren't dead, nor were they seriously injured.
But all their cybernetic armor had been dismantled to basic parts.
They lay naked in a pile of scrap metal, like a flock of plucked chickens, questioning their existence.
Tiger Head, looking at the man in the white shirt, even his cufflinks perfectly in place, was so frightened his legs went weak (although his legs had also been removed, and he could only move on his buttocks now).
"You…you're a devil?!" Seventeen dusted off his gloves.
He looked down at Tiger Head Boss, a faint blue light flashing in his purple eyes.
"I am the butler."
"Also, clinic floor cleaning fee 500 credits, emotional distress compensation 1000 credits, and..."
He pointed to the pile of parts on the floor.
"Illegal prosthetic dismantling fee, 2000 credits."
"Pay. Or..." Seventeen's right arm trembled slightly, black-gold nanofluid instantly covering the glove, transforming into a sharp scalpel.
"Or I'll dismantle the rest of your head to check its structure."
"Pay! I'll pay!" Tiger Head Boss cried as he transferred the money.
...After chasing away the group of "big cats," the clinic returned to silence.
Even quieter than before.
Because the patients queuing at the door were also scared away—who would dare to see a ruthless person who could dismantle a Gundam with his bare hands?
Shen Qingqiu stretched and turned around.
"Well done, Sebastian." Seventeen was sweeping the parts out the door. Hearing the praise, his back stiffened slightly, but he didn't seem happy as usual.
"What's wrong?" Shen Qingqiu noticed his low spirits.
Seventeen turned around, his lips pursed, his face serious.
"Master, the clinic's appointment system... seems to be broken."
"Broken?" Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Seventeen made up a lie with a straight face, "It's probably because those people brought a virus. I checked, and found a... gender filtering bug in the system." Shen Qingqiu walked over and brought up the clinic's holographic backend.
The once densely packed appointment list was now empty.
And in the filtering criteria section, a line of red, bold code was clearly visible:
[if (Gender == Male) { Appointment_Date = Next_Year + 99; }]
[If the gender is male, the appointment time will be postponed to 99 years later.] Shen Qingqiu: "..." She turned to look at Seventeen.
Seventeen's eyes darted around, staring at the chandelier on the ceiling as if there were a flower on it.
"Is this the virus you were talking about?"
Shen Qingqiu pointed to a line of code that clearly bore Seventeen's personal style (only he would write rejection so subtly yet absolutely).
"Hmm...a very stubborn virus." Seventeen said without batting an eye, "I've run antivirus scans several times, and it keeps regenerating automatically. It seems...it's fate."
"Fate?" Shen Qingqiu laughed in exasperation.
She walked up to him, grabbed his tie, and forced him to lower his head.
"Seventeen, do you think I'm just a bookworm who only knows how to code?"
"Only you would act like this, getting jealous to the point of affecting the system's backend." Seventeen's ears instantly turned bright red.
He'd been exposed.
His large hand, unsure of what to do, nervously gripped his trouser seam, finally giving up and hugging Shen Qingqiu's waist.
"I just…don't want them to see you." He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled, filled with deep grievance and possessiveness.
"The way that mercenary looked at you, data analysis shows…hormone levels are 200% above the limit."
"That tiger-headed monster wanted to touch you."
"You are my administrator."
"Your code, your fingers, your eyes…only have ports open to me." Shen Qingqiu felt the slight rise in his body temperature due to his emotional agitation.
This fool.
He possesses world-destroying power, yet he always frets over such trivial matters.
"Seventeen." Shen Qingqiu sighed, stroking his long silver hair.
"Lift your head." Seventeen obediently raised his head, his purple eyes filled with trepidation.
Shen Qingqiu pulled a black data cable from her pocket.
It was her personal brain-computer interface cable.
She plugged one end into the portable terminal on her wrist, and held the other end to Seventeen's lips.
"Bite down." Seventeen hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth and bit down on the plug.
"Close your eyes."
Buzz— The connection was established.
This time, it wasn't ordinary visual sharing.
Shen Qingqiu directly opened her **[Deep Memory Bank]** to him.
In a pure white data space.
Seventeen saw.
He saw the world as seen through Shen Qingqiu's eyes, in front of those male patients.
In her golden eyes, those men were just piles of flowing code, rotting organs, and flawed logic.
There was no beauty or ugliness, no gender, only "BUG" and "to be fixed."
And in this gray-white sea of data.
Only one figure was colorful.
It was radiant.
It was vibrant.
That was Seventeen.
Whether he was sweeping, killing, or clumsily drawing his eyebrows.
From Shen Qingqiu's perspective, he was always shrouded in a gentle, unique golden filter.
That was the mark called **"Beloved**.
[System Prompt: You are the only highlighted user.] Seventeen released the data cable from his mouth.
In reality, he stared blankly at Shen Qingqiu, his purple eyes trembling violently, almost bringing tears to his eyes (if they were real eyes).
"Do you see?"
Shen Qingqiu put away the data cable and tapped his chest with her fingertip.
"In my eyes, there is only data and you."
"To me, everyone else is no different from this robot vacuum cleaner."
Seventeen's heart (core) felt like it was soaking in honey.
All the bitterness, jealousy, and unease were melted away by that golden filter.
"Qingqiu..."
He suddenly picked her up and placed her on the examination table.
The black-gold right arm that had once been used to dismantle enemies now gently supported her beside him.
"I was wrong."
He lowered his head, his nose brushing against hers.
"That bug... I'll fix it."
"However..."
He paused, his eyes becoming dangerous and unfocused.
"Tonight, I want to fix… myself first."
"My emotional module is overloaded and needs the administrator… to manually cool it down." Shen Qingqiu looked into his yearning eyes and smiled.
She reached out and turned off the clinic lights.
Leaving only the red electronic lantern by the door, swaying in the rainy night.
"Granted."
"My… private cloud." Outside the window, the rain pattered.
And in that dimly lit clinic, two heartbeats (even if one was simulated) achieved perfect resonance at this moment.
The demon, stripped of his armor, willingly transformed into a string of… garbled code, a testament to your infatuation, at her fingertips.