Data

Looking at An Shiyu, who was now as small as a thumbnail, Ye Shuang’s heart was still filled with shock, but he instinctively spoke: “005.”

The little girl called 005 just looked up. Perhaps having been trapped in this pure white room for too long, she couldn’t find words for a moment. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Ye Shuang walked over, gazing at the frail little girl before him, and simply asked, “Is there anywhere that feels uncomfortable?”

“No…” she finally managed to utter a single word.

Then she said nothing more, giving off an empty, hollow feeling.

Yes, hollow.

Though she was a living person, she sat there like a lifeless puppet, motionless.

Just then, a speaker system in the corner of the room crackled to life: “Shanxia, take the subject’s measurements.”

“Oh…” Ye Shuang noticed his own body beginning to move on its own.

He grabbed the little girl and walked straight into an adjacent side room. There were many instruments here—complex devices Ye Shuang couldn’t understand, though simpler ones like a scale were also present.

“I need to draw blood,” Ye Shuang said, his voice sounding somewhat mechanical as he seated the girl.

Hearing this, she extended her arm, which was covered in dense pinpricks.

Ye Shuang’s pupils contracted slightly, but his body already pushed the needle in. To the girl, this was routine; she seemed utterly numb, as if she felt no pain at all.

Next came the measurements for weight, height, and so on.

After the round was complete, Ye Shuang led her back to her room.

She returned to her bedside and sat down, motionless, staring blankly at the pure white floor—just like her world: a vast, empty white.

Regaining control of his body, Ye Shuang reached out and took her arm.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, frowning at the pinpricks.

She gave no response, merely watching him calmly.

Her hand was cold. Ye Shuang was about to say something when the speaker crackled again:

“Shanxia, report the data to the lab after measurements and do not interact with the subject.”

Once more, Ye Shuang’s body rose automatically, left the room, and closed the door behind him.

Seeing the shut door, the girl seemed to react, lifting her head for a moment, but in the end, she remained silent.

…

Later, Ye Shuang found himself in a lab filled with dozens of people. As soon as he appeared, someone approached:

“Make sure you compile and send me 005’s experimental data.”

“Okay.”

While mechanically organizing the data, Ye Shuang overheard chatter nearby:

“Will Subject 005 survive tonight?”

“Who knows? Compared to the deformed ones that came before, this one seems the most promising, right?”

“At least physically, okay. If her organs don’t fail, she might be considered as a vessel.”

Ye Shuang: “…”

Could it be that 005 was Anshi Yi?

Mulling it over but finding no answer, Ye Shuang was about to explore more of the lab when a colleague said, “Shanxia, let’s go grab a meal?”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

Ye Shuang now understood that the body he inhabited was named Shanxia. As for his full name… Ye Shuang glanced at his nametag, but it only showed the surname. Strange.

After a meal with his colleague, Ye Shuang realized the lab was huge—just getting to the cafeteria required a considerable walk. There was no way out, and he had no phone.

Over the next few days, Ye Shuang stayed in the lab. His daily routine was measuring data on 005: drawing blood almost every day and feeding her strange liquid meals that looked unappetizing, yet the little girl always finished them.

Each time he left the pure white room, Ye Shuang would try to talk with her, though most of the time, he was just talking to himself.

…

Days later, Ye Shuang pushed open the door to find the girl waiting. “You came,” she said.

Waiting, but still just sitting by the bed with a simple greeting. Yet Ye Shuang was surprised—her face seemed to have gained a bit of life.

“I’m here,” he said with a faint smile, then proceeded with the daily measurements.

What struck him as odd was how fast the girl grew; in just a few days, she had become several centimeters taller.

“Story,” the girl said suddenly after the measurements.

Over the past few days, before leaving, Ye Shuang had told her short stories—brief, but as lively as he could make them.

“Alright, today I’ll tell you ‘The Ugly Duckling,’” he smiled.

But before he could finish, the speaker summoned him to leave.

“Got it,” he said, resigned, about to stand and head off. This time, though, a tug on his sleeve stopped him. He looked down—the girl was holding him.

“Tomorrow. Story.”

“Deal.”

With that promise, Ye Shuang left.

But the next day, as he was about to go measure her data, a colleague said, “Shanxia, no need to go today.”

“Why?” Ye Shuang remembered his promise to the girl who looked so much like An Shiyu.

“Five passed away last night from organ failure. You need to test the other subjects.”

At those simple words, Ye Shuang’s hand trembled involuntarily. A sense of disbelief washed over him, but his body automatically nodded and headed toward another room.

Over the following days, he encountered several more little girls resembling An Shiyu, each one ultimately dying too soon from organ failure.

Ye Shuang: “…”

Finally, however, the clock resumed ticking.

…

…

Back in the hotel room, Ye Shuang found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. Before him were the two fish again.

An Shiyu and Anshi Yi looked confused.

“Uncle, are you… okay?”

“Is it really that intense?”

For in their eyes, Ye Shuang’s eyes were red.

“Why do this?” Ye Shuang finally understood why An Shiyu had been so angry with Grandpa An Shi.

To save one person, they sacrificed so many living souls.

“Hey, you okay? Angry?” An Shiyu leaned forward slightly, speaking softly. And Anshi Yi, reaching over, unhooked the handcuffs for him.

“Oh, forget it, no more playing,” she said.