Zhu Man had never done this kind of thing before, at least not in his dwindling two years of memories.

It’s not that he hadn’t tried, but it was quite embarrassing to admit. He had explored various types of content—Western, Eastern, involving all sorts of props—but nothing seemed to stimulate him.

Returning home in the middle of the night, he ceremoniously took a bath. When the little hedgehog attempted to climb onto his bed for warmth, he heartlessly threw it out the door and locked it.

Turning on his computer, he logged into the Anti-Intelligence Alliance’s dark web, clicked on the “Learning Materials” channel, and randomly selected one.

The next moment, holographic images played on the screen, sending a chilling sensation through him.

Zhu Man involuntarily twisted his features, then forced himself to look again after a short while.

On the screen, two masses of white flesh were entangled. For some reason, Zhu Man recalled the memories from the black chip he had accessed earlier—a congested Human Pool, naked men and women crowded together, fighting over a piece of bread, resulting in a fatal trampling.

Zhu Man forcefully hit the holographic keyboard with a “pa,” closing the playback window, and commanded, “Call Jiang Huai, or Fan Zimo, or Tang Yuan.”

He couldn’t handle this mission. F***, whoever likes doing it can go ahead.

Suddenly, he paused.

If he refused to do this, the three of them would know—He’s impotent.

“Hey, God Man?” Tang Yuan answered the phone enthusiastically, “What’s up—”

Zhu Man directly ended the call.

Sitting in the chair, he calmed down for a moment. Zhu Man ordered himself to forget the recent images, shut down the computer, turn off the lights, and lay down on the bed.

He curled up in a ball.

He knew that it was abnormal for him to be like this.

In the Human Pool, before being taken for memory editing experiments, what had those AIs done to him? He had lost the functions a normal 21-year-old man should have, all thanks to those AIs.

If it weren’t for He Feng Hui bringing him home from the Human Pool to be a pet, he might have died there long ago.

He Feng Hui…

The spring tide had not yet receded, and the fragrance of orchids outside the window permeated the room, filling the air with a delicate scent. Blending with the dense night, it suddenly sank into the lower abdomen.

He Feng Hui’s face was exquisitely handsome. Being an AI, looking good was normal for him. Most AIs that Zhu Man had encountered in Mirage were attractive; they could choose their own appearance, selecting the most beautiful shell.

Yet, Zhu Man felt that He Feng Hui was different from other AIs.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made him different. It was just that every time he straddled He Feng Hui, draped in a bathrobe, he could feel He Feng Hui’s synthetic skin, smell the restrained scent of cold spruce on him and sense the faint electric current passing through his body as He Feng Hui’s large hand supported his lower back—from tingling skin to bones, to every heartbeat.

At the head of the bed lay his just-discarded coat—neatly folded by He Feng Hui.

Zhu Man grabbed it, burying his face in the soft fibers and inhaling the scent.

There was a faint scent of cold spruce, and Zhu Man knew it was left behind by He Feng Hui’s fingertips stroking the fabric.

He Feng Hui’s fingers were attractive too, with large, warm palms and distinct joints. In Zhu Man’s imagination, those fingers, which quickly moved over this coat, changed from this coat to his skin—from the back of his neck to his lower back, descending further and further, to the place soaked in the fragrance of orchids…

The spring breeze lifted the sheer curtains behind the window. In the dim light, a beautiful human figure blushed, lips slightly parted. Eventually, he, together with the spring breeze, melted into a sigh.

This week, Zhu Man’s schedule was extremely fixed.

In the morning, he got up and called He Feng Hui, pretending to say he missed him. Then, he went to the base to threaten Fan Zimo into developing chip decryption software. In the evening, he would go to Mirage to have a drink of the special cocktail Ye Ying made for him, and return home in the middle of the night, intoxicated and dreaming.

He had never been a drinker before, but he was extremely frustrated with the idea that only by thinking about He Feng Hui could he succeed in that department. So, he decided to numb himself with alcohol—after drinking, he could blame it on the alcohol-triggering thoughts of He Feng Hui, not himself.

Just like every night, he vowed not to indulge so much tonight, but his body, pent up for two years, surged like a tidal wave, craving the He Feng Hui in his fantasies.

In the end, Zhu Man abandoned himself, succumbing to instinct, and not feeling ashamed.

However, he would never admit that He Feng Hui was the main contributor. At most, he could attribute it to being a normal man.

En, that was all.

A week later, He Feng Hui, back from a business trip, pushed open the door to the villa.

Zhu Man’s room was on the first floor. He had been engaged in a solo struggle on the bed for a long time with no results. However, the moment he heard the “clack-clack” of He Feng Hui’s dress shoes on the floor, his free hand clenched the sheets, and in an instant, his whole body went limp.

He felt that he should go out to greet He Feng Hui, but he really didn’t have the strength.

Anyway, He Feng Hui will come to him.

Soon, the slender joints he had just fantasized about knocked on the door.

“Zhu Man.”

His voice was still cold and deep, but in the lingering echoes, Zhu Man unexpectedly found it magnetic and quite pleasant to hear.

Perhaps it had been too long since he received a response from Zhu Man; He Feng Hui directly controlled the smart system to open the door, walked in, and saw him—

Completely naked.

Zhu Man saw He Feng Hui’s synthetic pupils rapidly contract.

He thought that he, with his newly dyed light chestnut hair, lying on the bed completely naked, legs spread and damp, with probably some lingering redness on his face and in his eyes, presented quite an impactful scene.

So, he maintained this posture, lazily saying, “Master, welcome… home.”

He Feng Hui stood in place, looking at him. His eyes showed no emotion, yet seemed somewhat complicated. But Zhu Man didn’t bother to think about it; he was still enjoying himself.

After a while, He Feng Hui finally said, “I brought you mousse cake.”

The fully satisfied Zhu Man lazily thought that the mousse cake was overly sweet, wondering who would want to eat it ah. He responded with a nonchalant “en,” still lying motionless on the bed.

He Feng Hui subtly furrowed his brow, remained silent for a moment, and then said, “The business trip went smoothly, no troublesome matters at work, and the Central Office seems satisfied with my performance.”

Zhu Man was puzzled for a long time before he figured out why He Feng Hui had told him all of this.

It was because he had previously said things like “I want to be good friends with Master” and “I want to be the Master’s trash can,” so this foolish AI was now fulfilling his requests just like giving a work report.

AIs were really easy to deceive ah.

Zhu Man stretched lazily, propped himself up, and crawled to the end of the bed like a cat, leaning against He Feng Hui. In a reluctantly praising tone, he said, “Hmm, Master is so amazing ah.”

The tone was still lazy—not pretending, just going with the flow.

He Feng Hui visibly tensed for a moment at Zhu Man’s tender skin. He helped Zhu Man sit up, reached for the white bathrobe that had fallen on the floor, and draped it over him.

The covering of the bathrobe brought He Feng Hui back to his senses. He helped Zhu Man fasten the robe’s belt and asked, “Why dye your hair?”

“Ah…” Zhu Man was shocked, not intentional.

He lifted his eyes and saw the composed AI’s jaw clenched, finally coming back to his senses from the satisfaction.

A new round of tug-of-war was about to begin.

Like a child who made a mistake, Zhu Man lowered his head and mumbled, “Saw someone dyeing their hair at Mirage and thought it looked good…”

He knew He Feng Hui was already displeased, but he insisted on lying. He just wanted to wait for that moment when the lie would be exposed and watch He Feng Hui go crazy.

“Dye it back,” He Feng Hui commanded.

Zhu Man pouted, “Why ah?”

He Feng Hui lifted his pitch-black, profound eyes, staring at him, and said, “No reason.”

It must be because of that “Zhu Man.” Thinking of this, Zhu Man slightly pursed his lips. Just because that “Zhu Man” had light chestnut hair, he couldn’t dye his hair?

He Feng Hui asked again, “What have you been doing at Mirage this week?”

“Just the same as before, dancing ya, chatting ya, playing guessing game ya, just…” Zhu Man deliberately avoided his gaze, “just like that.”

“Just like that?” He Feng Hui glanced at his naked legs under the bathrobe and the stickiness on it.

“If you don’t believe me, ask Ying-jie.” Zhu Man glared at him angrily, then buried his face in the bed, “The moment Master returns, you start questioning me, misunderstanding me. I… I’m a human; What’s wrong with me solving my normal physiological needs? And you…”

Half of the words were smothered in the pillow.

He Feng Hui raised an eyebrow. Although he had already guessed the answer, looking at that light chestnut hair, the bathrobe sliding off the shoulders, and the butterfly bone on the back faintly showing beneath the bathrobe, he still asked, “And me?”

He just wanted to hear Zhu Man say it himself.

The fragrance of orchids from outside drifted in at the right moment. Zhu Man, buried in the pillow, made a small noise and whispered, “You don’t help me…”