When the truth dawned, some went mad like the doctor.
Others, like Linda’s friend Mary, vanished without a trace.
In a way, it was a rather "interesting" thing—when your body had perished and only your consciousness remained in this world, could you still be considered alive?
Xia Miao had never pondered this question before. Now, confronted with this reality, she was plunged into profound confusion.
"Miao Miao, death is the ultimate fate of humans. They’re too fragile. But think of it this way—you’re still alive, and you can live for a very long time. We can be together just like before, isn’t that good?"
Compared to the Serians, human lifespans were indeed pitifully short.
At first, preserving human brains this way had been nothing more than an amusing experiment to him, a role-playing game he could abandon whenever he grew bored.
But later, he found himself grateful for that choice—because he had fallen in love with Xia Miao. Had he not "met" her as "No. 13," their paths in the vast universe would have remained parallel, never intersecting.
And she would never have loved someone as grotesque and terrifying as him.
Now, he could keep her safely by his side. She wouldn’t wither away like other humans, reduced to dust after a mere century.
Her consciousness could endure alongside his. They didn’t need the "lifetimes" humans spoke of—this one existence was already so long that no matter how the universe changed, they would remain bound together forever.
Yes, her brain rested in his embrace, and she could never escape him.
Xia Miao’s silence unsettled him. He stepped forward, and from the shadows, a black claw, gnarled like dead wood and exuding an aura of cold death, reached out cautiously to "touch" her cheek.
The absurdity of the scene was overwhelming—a massive, twisted being and a fragile human, as incongruous as the sky meeting a fish or a bird descending into the abyss. When the natural order of things was shattered so blatantly, all that remained was a sense of sheer absurdity.
"Miao Miao, I despise humans... but you’re different."
Seris, like many undeveloped planets in the universe, had been deemed devoid of exploitable resources by human survey teams and turned into a wasteland for dumping garbage.
Since the last century, humans had been tinkering with genetic engineering—reshaping and reprogramming DNA strands in hopes of creating a "perfect" next generation.
Naturally, the experiments produced countless failures, and those discarded specimens were hauled away in bio-waste transports and dumped onto this barren planet.
Over time, life emerged from the refuse. That was why Serian embryos bore such striking resemblance to human ones.
Even in the realm of consciousness, "doctors" were conducting experiments to reverse-engineer Serian embryos back into humans—just another one of his macabre amusements.
Originally, it had all been a game to him. But then, against all odds, he had fallen in love.
How ironic.
An observer who kept humans like livestock had fallen for one of his own captives.
"Miao Miao, we can go back to how things were. I’ll always be your No. 13."
Back to how things were?
Though Xia Miao appeared human now, it was merely a holographic projection. She felt nothing, could touch nothing—like a ghost.
But when her gaze inevitably fell on the glass jar in his arms, at the brain floating inside, she was brutally reminded that she wasn’t even a ghost.
He refused to accept that she was dead, but by human standards, this wasn’t living.
He wasn’t human, so he saw nothing wrong with this arrangement.
And so, he couldn’t understand the agony of a human confronted with the sight of their own disembodied brain—a reality that became a thousand blades, shredding her sanity and emotions.
Xia Miao staggered back. "I don’t want this..."
The claw reached for her but passed through her incorporeal form. "Miao Miao."
Her composure crumbled. "I don’t want to exist like this!"
She remembered boarding the train that day, heart full of hope for the future. How had she woken up to this nightmare?
Humans only accepted two states of existence: alive or dead.
Not this grotesque limbo. She felt like a monster.
Bubbles surged in the green liquid of the jar as the brain inside showed signs of disintegration.
Her rejection was quite literally burning her mind away.
"Miao Miao, you mustn’t panic!"
Her projection flickered erratically, cracks spreading across her form like static on an old television screen.
Clutching her head, she screamed through tears, "I refuse this!"
"Miao Miao!"
The lights cut out. Darkness swallowed everything. The moment she lost consciousness, it all stopped.
---
Today was a busy day.
Linda stood at the train door, ushering passengers aboard. She prayed no troublemakers would show up—dealing with them was always a hassle. Fortunately, the crowd was thin today, and no incidents arose.
Then she frowned. Why did she feel so certain there’d be trouble?
The passenger count was lower than usual, and everything seemed peaceful.
As a ticket was handed to her, Linda snapped out of her thoughts, quickly inspecting it. "Mr. Gou Dejiu, welcome aboard the Galactic Express."
Gou Dejiu nodded and stepped inside, casting a wistful glance outside.
His graduation internship required him to travel to Rose Planet in the Virgo system, but all his classmates had secured better assignments. He was the only one boarding this train.
"Miss, let me help with your luggage."
The young woman carrying the suitcase glanced at the man approaching her, noting the number "6" on his uniform. "Thank you," she said gratefully.
No. 6 smiled. "No trouble at all. Where are you staying? I’ll escort you."
Behind them, a group of men in black uniforms watched.
No. 7 muttered, "Look at No. 6, always sucking up to pretty girls."
No. 8 chuckled. "That girl’s in first class. Rich or noble, I bet it won’t work out for him."
No. 10 chimed in, "If we're talking about the one with the best luck with women here, it's gotta be No. 13. I still remember that time a female passenger threw herself at you. No. 13, why did you turn her down?"
No. 13 remained silent.
His teammates found it odd. In their memories, No. 13 was usually the most cheerful and talkative, but today, something seemed off about him.
Just before the doors closed, a passenger in high heels stepped onto the train.
"So this is the so-called most luxurious train in the entire universe?"
Her voice was dripping with disdain, her expression haughty, her appearance impeccably polished. The beautiful girl looked down on everyone and everything around her with equal measure.
Then, her gaze swept across the cabin and locked onto a pair of eyes that had been waiting for her.
No. 13 stared at her. After a long moment, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and he flashed a bright, sunny smile. Step by step, unhurried, he walked toward her.
"Miss, do you need any help?"
She gave him a once-over, from head to toe. "You're from the armed unit, aren't you? I’ve heard your team is formidable—that even if aliens invaded, you’d charge to the front lines to protect the passengers. Is that true?"
"Of course," he replied with a grin. "Long before any alien invasion, I’d already be there to protect you, Miss Xia."
The train named "Galaxy" raced onward into the deepening darkness. Rumor had it that in just one more year, the train would reach its final destination—the planet known as "ROSS," colloquially referred to as "Rose."
Yet, after countless "one more years," the passengers would only wake to the same cycle, reset again and again.
What did the planet called "Rose" truly look like?
At the very least, the passengers aboard the train would never find out.
