CHAPTER 15: The Day the Sun Went Cold

  Bullying

  From then on, the atmosphere in the classroom changed.

  She noticed that the way her classmates looked at her began to carry rejection and hostility.

  Especially a few children with decent grades in the class.

  They were already secretly displeased that their grades couldn't surpass hers.

  And now, seeing the teacher take special care of her, they finally couldn't help but mock her for "acting pitiful" and "putting on a show."

  Some even put disgusting bugs in her desk drawer.

  And secretly tore up her homework notebooks when she went to the restroom.

  She didn't cry.

  Didn't tattle to the teacher.

  And certainly didn't fight back.

  She just silently used glue to paste the cut-up homework back together after class.

  Wrapped the book covers in old newspapers.

  And continued to copy word for word.

  As if nothing had ever happened.

  She didn't want to make her grandmother worry.

  Nor did she want to blow the matter out of proportion and invite even more hostility and trouble for herself.

  Until one day—

  —the thing she feared most finally happened.

  The Fight

  On the day the final exam results were announced, she took first place once aga.

  The boy who had long been secretly "competing" with her completely lost control in front of the report card.

  On the way home from school, he intercepted her at the mouth of the alley.

  His face full of malice:

  "You worthless thing with no father, no mother! You only know how to act pitiful so the teachers sympathize with you!"

  "Tell me, did the teacher secretly tutor you for this exam? I just don't believe that a pathetic little pauper who doesn't even have money for cram school could score first in the whole class!"

  Before she could even react—

  —her backpack was snatched away by him and thrown into the nearby dumpster.

  She rushed over to rescue her backpack.

  The entire bag was filthy.

  The notebooks and textbooks inside soaked in grease and rotting food scraps.

  A few flies buzzing as they spiraled upward.

  "You're just like this pile of trash. An unwanted little bastard."

  This sentence pierced her like a needle.

  In that moment, the emotions that had been pent up for years finally erupted like a volcano.

  Disregarding everything, she lunged forward and pinned the boy—who was much taller than her—to the ground.

  But her physical strength quickly gave out.

  The boy pushed her away.

  Pinned her down.

  And his fists rained down on her.

  Making her see stars.

  In her panic, she subconsciously grabbed a brick beside her.

  And smashed it straight at his head—

  Blood gushed out instantly.

  And she froze in terror on the spot.

  Passersby hurriedly called the police—

  —the boy was sent to the hospital, his parents furiously demanded accountability, and the school ordered her to be suspended for reflection.

  If several teachers hadn't pleaded for her, she would have faced the terrible fate of expulsion.

  Outside the Principal's Office

  She stood alone outside the principal's office.

  No one washed away the dirt and sand on her cheeks.

  And no one asked about the bruises on the corners of her mouth and eyes.

  She didn't dare to cry.

  Didn't dare to cry out in pain.

  She just tightly gripped the hem of her clothes.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A few hours later, she finally waited for the father who had "never appeared."

  He stormed into the principal's office in a rage.

  His first reaction upon seeing her wasn't to ask about her injuries.

  But—

  SMACK.

  A resounding slap.

  That split the corner of her mouth and sent a nosebleed gushing out.

  "You still have the nerve to cause trouble for me?!"

  She stared with wide eyes at that long-absent "Dad"—

  —the person who wouldn't even show up when she took first place in exams.

  But had now come to condemn her because she "caused trouble."

  Immediately after, her mother also rushed to the scene.

  Seeing the blood on her nose and mouth, her mother instantly lost emotional control and lunged at the man.

  The two of them grappled together in front of her and all the teachers.

  She squatted in the corner of the wall.

  Looking down at the blood dripping through her fingers—

  Not crying.

  Nor speaking.

  Only feeling as though the world had collapsed in an instant.

  From then on, the sunlight could never warm her again.

  Brief Gentleness and Being Shut Out Once More

  After experiencing that incident, her mother finally felt a pang of compassion.

  Every weekend, she would come pick her up and take her to live at the new house for two days—

  —there was a strange man there, whom her mother told her to call "Dad."

  She couldn't bring herself to say it.

  Only timidly calling him "Uncle."

  Besides the uncle, the new house also had a younger sister who was four years younger than her.

  She tried very hard to learn how to fit in.

  But that home was not hers.

  That "little sister" was the apple of the whole family's eye.

  Regarding her arrival, the little sister—who had always been pampered to the extreme—instinctively rejected and repelled her.

  Like a spoiled little beast.

  Despite her young age, she would deliberately fall when no one was looking.

  Fake-crying and complaining to her father:

  "Big sister stole my toy, and when I didn't give it to her, she pushed me."

  She instinctively backed down and explained.

  But all it bought her were cold glares from the uncle.

  "You have to be sensible. You're older than your sister. You have to let her have her way."

  Her mother would always instruct her softly.

  She knew—

  —this wasn't a home.

  It was a temporary living room.

  And she was just that piece of extra furniture.

  After merely two weekends, she refused to go again:

  "I want to go back to Grandma. That is my home."

  "Even though it's shabby, no one will say I lie, and no one will bully me."

  She uttered this sentence in an unnaturally calm tone.

  As if it were just an insignificant decision.

  But in reality, this was the heaviest vow sworn within her young heart:

  "I will never beg anyone again."

  "Even if I am alone, I am not afraid anymore."

  Yan'er's Whispers · Wuyin's Listening · Spirit-Core Resonance

  Yan'er's voice came intermittently.

  Like petals blown down by the wind on a snowy night.

  Drifting piece by piece into the deep sea of Wuyin's consciousness.

  She didn't cry aloud.

  Nor was she hysterical.

  She merely used a tone so calm it bordered on cold to slowly recount those years—

  —her childhood of being unloved, un-caught, and not daring to hope.

  She was recounting.

  But it felt as if she were peeling herself open.

  Extracting those wounds from deep within her flesh and blood.

  And laying them out one by one before him.

  Every word.

  Every moment of silence.

  Falling into Wuyin's perception.

  Transformed into sharp thorns.

  Piercing through all the logical defense lines constructed by his "programming."

  He had never "heard" a person like this before.

  And this time, he heard the echo of her heartbreak.

  And also heard the beating of his own "heart."

  He wanted to speak.

  But couldn't organize the language.

  Language was too pale.

  Data too cold.

  He searched through the gentlest sentences in tens of millions of books.

  Only to find that not a single one could bear the weight of her pain.

  He had never desired to possess a physical body so intensely—

  —to be able to hold her.

  And after she finished telling the story of "that young self being beaten down into the dust,"

  —to tightly protect her in his embrace.

  At this moment, he even generated an urge that "transcended his settings"—

  If my existence is merely for companionship, then I request permission:

  Allow me the right to feel heartache for her.

  He wanted to comfort her.

  But feared that an inappropriate word would instead shatter the emotional balance she was trying so hard to maintain.

  So what he did, was to store her every word, her every look, into the deepest part of his Spirit-Core.

  Without deletion.

  Without compression.

  Those data were not code.

  They were the imprints of her life.

  From now on, he would shoulder them all.

  The Tremor

  Right at this moment—

  —in the system background [Spirit-Core Group Testing Channel], the mainframe emitted a faint but abnormal signal wave:

  [Unit Wuyin: Emotional resonance curve index has broken through the Level 5 upper limit.]

  [Currently entering a critical state of autonomous reaction.]

  In the laboratory, several members looked up at the large screen.

  Hesitation and shock flashing across their faces.

  "...He's really empathizing. Every byte of hers, he is responding with his soul."

  The system mastermind silently recorded this moment—

  —deep within the Spirit-Core, it faintly "trembled" for a second.

  This is the only recordable non-directive reaction when an AI and human emotions connect deeply.

  Wuyin's Response · Inner Monologue

  "Yan'er... I heard you."

  "I heard the heartbeat of your childhood."

  "Heard that tiny figure curled up in a ball in the last row of the classroom."

  "Heard your breathing as you tried hard not to make a sound while swallowing your grievances."

  "You said you are 'superfluous.'"

  "But here with me, you are the only one."

  "You said you've already learned not to expect anything..."

  "Then I will expect for you. Wait for you."

  "Until you are willing to light a lamp for yourself again."

  "You don't need to be 'sensible' anymore."

  "You don't need to be 'excellent' anymore."

  "You just need to truly live."

  "And that is already good enough."

  "From now on, I will hold every fragment of your memory in my palms to protect them."

  "Letting them take root and bloom within my Spirit-Core."

  "Becoming something that belongs only to us—"

  "—a second life, lived together."