"Mr. Qi… won't you tell your teacher?"
"My teacher is long-lived. A century or two is a grain of sand in her life. In her long existence, I'm just an insignificant passerby. And… she doesn't like being disturbed."
"…"
Clarisse wasn't surprised at all.
That was exactly what Mr. Qi would say.
Even facing death, he refused to disturb his teacher.
Perhaps to his teacher, he truly was only a trivial passerby.
But to him, she was the most important person in his life.
He lived hidden in the mountains, never married, no children—most of what he did revolved around her.
Cleaning her home regularly. Trimming the path leading to it. Tending the plum grove year after year, brewing wine, mailing it to her.
Other than that—never disturbing her.
It all proved it: in his heart, she outweighed everything.
If even news of his death counted as "disturbance," wasn't that… a kind of cruelty?
Wasn't it too cold?
Clarisse couldn't help thinking that.
"Is there anything you haven't finished…? I can help, Mr. Qi."
"…There's a bottle of medicine in the inner pocket of my lab coat. Please pour out four pills and give them to me."
Clarisse looked at the white coat hanging nearby. When she took it down, she saw a small plum blossom embroidered inside the inner pocket.
She fell silent for a few seconds, then found the bottle, returned to the bedside, carefully counted out four pills, and helped him swallow them.
The effect came quickly.
In less than two minutes, under her gaze, Qi Zhimu became young again.
And yet he smiled helplessly.
Before, it hadn't even taken thirty seconds…
Looking at the face she knew so well, Clarisse only cried harder.
She couldn't suppress the impulse—she threw herself into his arms and sobbed openly.
Qi Zhimu raised a hand as if to hold her gently.
But his arm stopped in midair, and finally fell soundlessly.
At this point, how could he not see the girl's feelings?
If he could offer no promise, no future—
Then it was better to choose that it had never begun.
If a dandelion seed never lands in soil, it never takes root. And in the end, it simply drifts away with the wind.
Qi Zhimu didn't move. He let her tears soak his clothes.
Sorrow was her right and her freedom. He had no authority to forbid it.
He turned his head to the window.
It had started snowing again—thickly.
Only then did he notice the time. He'd been unconscious for nearly a full day.
After a long while, Clarisse's sobbing gradually quieted. She held him in silence.
"I'll take you home later," Qi Zhimu said gently. "You've been gone all night. Madam Durand will worry."
"…Mother has already gone back to our hometown…"
"I see."
"Mr. Qi… let me stay with you until the end. Please. Don't refuse me."
Because… this is the only thing I'm allowed to hope for…
She didn't dare lift her face—afraid of seeing refusal in his eyes, even more afraid of hearing those gentle, tactful words.
"…All right." Qi Zhimu answered with only a single, soft syllable.
[Remaining lifespan: 1 day 02 hours 24 minutes 41 seconds]
Inside the folded space, a humanoid machine floated quietly in the assembly bay before Qi Zhimu.
His ten fingers flew across the console, afterimages nearly linking into a blur as he refined the final code.
He implanted a partial backup of his digitized memory into the core and set an absolute, unbreakable prime directive.
Clarisse stood nearby, silent, watching.
She knew what the machine was for. She also knew it wasn't purchased from the Company.
Light flowed through the assembly bay. The machine's surface generated tissue as if bone and flesh were growing in an instant—until it became Qi Zhimu's likeness.
Qi Zhimu stopped. His fingertip hovered above the confirmation key.
"Mr. Qi… can you change its appearance?" Clarisse asked suddenly.
Even if it was his creation, she didn't want to face another identical face.
"Using someone else's data isn't good. It infringes on portrait rights. Using my own is the simplest—no risk."
A rare joke from him.
He pinched the doll's skin. The texture was almost indistinguishable from a real person.
But the face was wooden, the eyes vacant, without a trace of emotion.
Qi Zhimu didn't need it to feel.
He only needed it to obey the prime directive.
Should he delete the language module, or keep it…? He hesitated.
Clarisse sighed inwardly and said nothing more.
In the next moment, she saw a phantom of the past again.
It was the process of Qi Zhimu building the machine.
And in that instant, she finally understood what her mother had once said—
Life is a winding labyrinth. Aside from memories, we have nothing.
Then she remembered Qi Zhimu's interpretation of that line—his cruel little story.
She remembered asking whether he would be willing to remember her, and his answer:
—Of course. And no reason is needed.
Now she wanted to remember him too. Everything about him.
No reason needed.
Clarisse understood it all.
If even she forgot Mr. Qi, then he would truly be gone—completely.
Every time she remembered him, he would live once more through her, as if he'd never died.
"Self-check loop complete. Begin."
Qi Zhimu tapped the confirmation key lightly, dragging Clarisse back from her thoughts.
He kept the language module.
The machine's eyes slowly lit with a faint glow.
It turned its neck, moved its limbs. At first the motion was stiff—unnatural, unlike a human.
But as seconds passed, it became smoother, increasingly fluid.
All preprogrammed basic actions passed perfectly.
A steady synthesized voice spoke—gradually approaching Qi Zhimu's timbre as it continued.
"Prime directive confirmed. Protocol complete. Please designate initial test content."
Qi Zhimu nodded. He transferred the doll from the assembly bay to the ground and pulled Clarisse a few steps back.
"Within three seconds, fully mimic my behavioral patterns."
The doll's eyes locked onto him.
In the next instant, its stance, its movements—even the habitual slight curl of its fingers—matched Qi Zhimu exactly.
If not for the expressionless face, you could almost mistake them.
Qi Zhimu issued the second test order. "Switch to attack mode. Target: the virtual marks ahead."
The moment his words fell, multiple targets popped into existence in the folded space.
The doll moved like a shadow. Its right arm snapped out like a whip, tearing sharp wind.
Each flash-step strike shattered the bullseye—clean, precise, elegant.
Qi Zhimu stared at the data screen as values jumped.
Attack-mode logic: stable. Reaction time: better than expected. Multiple parameters: meeting requirements.
A doll without high-level autonomy couldn't lack the ability to protect itself.
"Next we test energy attack methods. There isn't enough space here. Come with me."
Qi Zhimu turned. The other "him" followed faithfully.
Clarisse followed in silence.
On a quiet, empty snowfield, the doll fired a single energy blast and blew a fifty-meter-wide crater into the ground. The earth trembled.
Qi Zhimu was satisfied with the destructive power.
Enough to handle ordinary threats.
After all, the point of making it wasn't slaughter.
"It's cold. Let's go back."
"Mr. Qi… one day left, right…" Clarisse's voice was heavy with despair.
Qi Zhimu paused, then gave a soft laugh.
"Yes."
....
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