No. 13 knocked on the door and, after receiving permission, stepped inside. The first thing he saw was the girl sitting in the chair.
The young lady sat with perfect posture, holding a cup of expensive black tea in her hands. Perhaps the flavor pleased her, as her beautiful, radiant face carried a look of contentment. Every fold of her skirt seemed meticulously arranged, and her entire demeanor exuded an almost excessive elegance and nobility.
She lifted her gaze, revealing no discernible emotion.
No. 13 approached with a smile. "Miss Xia, Linda mentioned you’d like me to brief you on the security measures in your room."
Xia Miao nodded. "Yes. Since we still have a year’s journey ahead, I’d like to familiarize myself with my living quarters. In case of any emergencies, I want to be able to protect myself."
She embodied the archetype of the wealthy who prized their lives above all else—even aboard the so-called "safest interstellar train in history," she couldn’t feel entirely at ease.
No. 13 showed no trace of impatience. Instead, he maintained a cheerful demeanor. The young man, with his golden hair and blue eyes, radiated a sunny, clean-cut charm, his demeanor refreshingly upright.
"The door is equipped with biometric recognition technology and an alarm system. Without your iris pattern or fingerprint, it cannot be opened normally. If subjected to forced entry, we’ll receive an alert."
"Since the room is designated for your exclusive use, hidden infrared sensors will detect if a second life form enters. If that additional presence remains for more than five minutes, we’ll be notified."
"And if someone somehow manages to slip inside undetected and poses a threat, you can activate the security measures by speaking a safe word."
At this, Xia Miao’s eyes flickered with interest. "Safe word?"
No. 13 quickly clarified with a light laugh, "Miss Xia, don’t misunderstand—I’m referring to a verbal trigger for the security system, nothing else."
Xia Miao blinked, feigning innocence. "Does 'safe word' have another meaning?"
No. 13 tugged awkwardly at the corner of his mouth. "Probably not."
Xia Miao took a sip of tea and responded with a bland, "Oh."
They were both adults—how could she not know what a "safe word" implied?
The interstellar web was flooded with adult pay-per-view channels, each more varied than the last. All it took was identity verification and a facial scan to confirm the viewer wasn’t a minor sneaking in with an adult’s credentials. Then, with AR glasses, one could indulge in a vividly immersive experience.
Such channels were not only accessible but entirely legal. In this era, it would be strange not to have encountered such content.
No. 13 cleared his throat and continued, "Once you speak the safe word, all security protocols will activate. For example, the bathroom over there is constructed with bulletproof-grade materials, effectively turning it into a panic room."
Xia Miao still seemed uneasy. "But what if the intruder has advanced tech that can breach the bathroom door?"
"No need to worry," No. 13 reassured her with a bright smile. "By then, we’d already be here to protect you."
The armed security team consisted of individuals trained to exceptional standards, their strength and speed far surpassing ordinary humans. Few would dare cross them—some even instinctively faltered at the sight of their black uniforms.
Even the most paranoid individual would sleep soundly after No. 13’s thorough explanation.
Yet Xia Miao remained poised, her expression unreadable, leaving it unclear whether she was satisfied or not.
After a pause, she looked up at him. "Why are you still here?"
No. 13’s blue eyes flickered briefly before he smiled. "Of course. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave. Rest well, Miss Xia."
As he stepped out and the door closed behind him, exactly five minutes had passed.
Glancing back at the sealed door, No. 13 pressed his lips together slightly.
He’d half-expected the young lady to keep him longer—she’d seemed interested in him, after all. Yet after barely a few words, he’d been dismissed.
Rubbing his chin, he murmured, "Now I’m a little curious."
With this odd sense of intrigue, he turned and walked away. As he rounded a corner, he brushed past a tall, imposing man in a tailored suit.
The man’s frosty demeanor exuded natural authority, an aura of dominance radiating from him effortlessly.
Sunflower Company, abbreviated as SU, was—like Huaxia Heavy Industries—a legacy brand that had endured since the 21st century.
SU specialized in biotechnological advancements, and rumors claimed they’d recently made a breakthrough in synthetic human research. The news sent SU’s stocks soaring, and Long Shenting, the company’s heir, became a figure of immense public interest.
Yet whispers persisted that no SU heir had ever lived past thirty. The Long family married and had children early, desperate to prevent their lineage from dying out.
Some speculated a genetic flaw, but given the era’s advanced gene-editing technology—a mature and accessible science—such a defect should have been correctable. Yet the curse of early death remained unbroken.
Then, through data analysis and algorithmic modeling, scientists proposed a solution: if a Long heir were to marry into the Xia family, their genetic deficiencies might be mitigated, breaking the cycle.
Thus, the Longs extended an olive branch of marriage to the Xias—a union that would also consolidate their power. But the Xias’ response remained ambiguous, offering no definitive answer.
Judging by Long Shenting’s direction, No. 13 guessed he was heading to meet the Xia family’s young lady.
He was right. Long Shenting soon stood before Room 444.
Xia Miao opened the door, arms crossed, her expression unimpressed. "What do you want?"
Long Shenting’s voice was icy. "Xia Miao, I’ve told you before—I don’t believe in any of that. I will not marry you."
Ever since the algorithmic prediction surfaced, many had insisted Long Shenting and Xia Miao were destined for each other. His mother had even begun dragging him to frequent encounters with Xia Miao.
But Long Shenting despised the idea.
As he grew older, his mother’s anxiety deepened, fearing the family’s curse would soon claim him.
Yet Long Shenting refused to accept fate. A curse? Nothing but baseless superstition.
