TCPUAAV Chapter 17

 

Ruan Shiqing dove headfirst into the Metis database and didn’t emerge for three whole days.

 

The beginner-level resources were precisely what he needed to fill his knowledge gaps, answering many of his questions. Like a sponge soaking up water, he devoured book after book, filling up more than half of his notebook with notes.

 

It wasn’t until Xiong Yuanyuan arrived with a load of parts and pounded on the door that he was jolted back to reality.

 

Closing the virtual screen, Ruan Shiqing stood up, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness.

 

Fortunately, 09 was there to steady him, speaking with concern. “Sir, you’ve been reading for three straight days. Your body needs rest.”

 

???

 

Ruan Shiqing blinked in surprise. “Three days?”

 

09 nodded. “Yes, three whole days and nights. You didn’t respond no matter who tried to call you.”

 

No wonder he felt lightheaded and weak. Ruan Shiqing rubbed his throbbing temples, annoyed with his habit of getting lost in books and projects. It was a bad habit he’d had in his previous world too—often forgetting to eat or sleep when immersed in a new endeavor.

 

As he ushered Xiong Yuanyuan inside, he poured himself a glass of warm water to quench his thirst. “How are the little ones? Are they okay?”

 

“They’ve been very worried about you,” 09 said, handing him a nutritional supplement. “Please replenish your energy.”

 

Ruan Shiqing obediently drank a tube of the supplement, feeling his strength gradually return. “I’ll check on them in a bit.”

 

While Xiong Yuanyuan waited, Ruan Shiqing turned his attention to the parts inventory. Most of the components needed for the hovercar modifications were now in hand, with only a few still to be sourced.

 

“Thanks a lot.” He transferred Starcoins to Xiong Yuanyuan, then, remembering his concerns about Noah, asked, “Have you seen the AIs that come with smart terminals? What are they usually like?”

 

???

 

Xiong Yuanyuan scratched his head. “I haven’t used one myself, but I’ve seen others. The AIs in those smart terminals are usually pretty cold and robotic, right? Like… kind of like a basic robot?”

 

Realizing his comment might offend, he hastily corrected himself after glancing at the diligent 09. “But not all of them! Some robots are lively like 09, so maybe there are lively AIs too.”

 

His offhand remark gave Ruan Shiqing pause.

 

Maybe that’s true, he thought. After all, 09 was unusually lifelike for a robot. Perhaps Noah’s high functionality and personality were due to the advanced programming in this Naxi Company classic model.

 

Still, hacking into systems wasn’t normal behavior for an AI.

 

Deciding to address the issue with Noah later, Ruan Shiqing shelved his doubts for now.

 

After arranging to meet Xiong Yuanyuan the next day to search for more parts at the Subterranean Market, Ruan Shiqing headed upstairs to check on the little ones.

 

The little mermaid was at the bottom of his tank, blowing bubbles despondently. He hadn’t seen “Dad” in three days, and his spirits were low.

 

In his simple worldview, only a parent would treat a cub so kindly.

 

Ruan Shiqing had given him rubber ducks, built him a small pool, and even saved his hair as a keepsake. Before this, his life had only been cold laboratories and dwindling peers—never warmth or joy.

 

So, he had unilaterally decided that Ruan Shiqing was his dad.

 

Hearing footsteps, the little mermaid burst out of the water, his tail wagging joyfully as he leaned on the edge of his barrel and stretched out his arms toward Ruan Shiqing. “Ah!”

 

“Sorry for worrying you,” Ruan Shiqing said gently, wrapping him in a towel and lifting him into his arms. He stroked the mermaid’s head soothingly.

 

The little mermaid closed his eyes, nuzzling into Ruan Shiqing’s palm.

 

Ruan Shiqing examined him closely and remarked with surprise, “Are the scars on your face healing?”

 

The little mermaid’s trimmed blue hair, now just reaching his jawline, clung damply to his cheeks, highlighting his delicate features. The scars on his face, though still visible, had started to heal and were no longer as frightening as before.

 

At Ruan Shiqing’s comment, the little mermaid instinctively turned to check his reflection in the water. He then looked back at Ruan Shiqing with a proud nod, wagging his tail to show off the new scales growing on his fins.

 

The scales were now firm and round, gleaming a healthy, vibrant blue under the sunlight—like polished gemstones.

 

Ruan Shiqing touched them lightly with his fingertip, praising, “So, you’re a blue mermaid. Even more beautiful than I imagined.”

 

He watched the little mermaid’s expression carefully.

 

Sure enough, the compliment delighted him. He lifted his chin slightly, his blue eyes shimmering with joy.

 

This mermaid cares a lot about his appearance—and loves being praised, Ruan Shiqing thought with an amused smile.

 

Hearing the commotion, Rong Heng emerged from his room just in time to witness this scene. He scoffed audibly.

 

What’s the use of this artificial mermaid? All it can do is win over naive humans with its charm.

 

Sitting off to the side, he noticed the dark circles under Ruan Shiqing’s eyes and huffed again.

 

Ruan Shiqing noticed him and bent down to pick him up as well. Yawning, he said, “Let’s take a nap together.”

 

???

 

Rong Heng squirmed in protest but ultimately didn’t escape the embrace.

 

Meanwhile, the little mermaid happily dried his own hair, then sat neatly by the bed. He even fluffed up Ruan Shiqing’s pillow and placed it back with great care, indicating that it was ready for use.

 

Ruan Shiqing gave him a thumbs-up. After showering and changing into sleepwear, he lay down on the freshly arranged pillow.

 

Just as he was about to drift off, a thought occurred to him. “Do you have a name?”

 

He was, of course, asking the little mermaid.

 

The mermaid’s expression dimmed. Back in the lab, they had called him “047.”

 

Shaking his head, he let out a soft “Ah” and held onto Ruan Shiqing’s finger.

 

“Then how about I give you one?” Ruan Shiqing said, gesturing to the pup. “He’s called Snowball. You should have a name too.”

 

Thinking for a moment, he stroked the little mermaid’s blue hair. “How about Ruan Yuebai? You’ll share my surname. In my country, ‘Yuebai’ is a pale blue shade, like the moon’s color. It suits you perfectly.”

 

Ruan Yuebai.

 

The little mermaid silently repeated his new name in his mind: Ruan Yuebai.

 

From this moment on, he was no longer “047” from the lab; he was Ruan Yuebai.

 

Gripping Ruan Shiqing’s finger tightly, he shook it happily, his excitement evident.

 

On the other hand, Rong Heng frowned deeply.

 

He puts so much thought into naming an artificial mermaid, but for me? Completely careless.

 

The name “Snowball” sounded like something you’d give a cat or a dog—clearly not chosen with any effort.

 

The esteemed Crown Prince glanced down at himself. Am I really less worthy than an artificial mermaid? This doesn’t make sense.

 

The two cubs napped with Ruan Shiqing. By the time he woke up, he was feeling refreshed and reinvigorated.

 

To make up for neglecting them over the past three days, Ruan Shiqing brought them downstairs with him while he worked.

 

Since the small pool in the courtyard wasn’t ready yet, the little mermaid sat wrapped in a large towel on a chair, curiously flipping through the books on Ruan Shiqing’s workbench. The puppy was easier to settle—Ruan simply placed a cushion on the workbench for him. Whether he chose to nap or play was up to him.

 

Worried they might get hungry while he was immersed in work, Ruan Shiqing went to the kitchen and grabbed a few tubes of nutritional supplements.

 

As he was leaving, his eyes caught sight of four tubes already sitting on the windowsill.

 

When were these brought out? he wondered, frowning slightly.

 

However, eager to get to work, he didn’t dwell on it. He grabbed the four tubes as well and placed all the supplements on the workbench, reminding the cubs to help themselves if they got hungry.

 

From the courtyard, 09 called out, “Don’t worry, sir! I’ll make sure the little masters eat on time.”

 

He remembered last time when Snowball couldn’t open the cap on his supplement and had needed help.

 

With the cubs settled, Ruan Shiqing turned his attention to his notebook and dove into his work.

 

Over the three days he spent in the Metis database, he’d devoured dozens of professional books, gaining a clearer understanding of this world’s technology. He even had some ideas for modifying the hovercar’s engine.

 

Interestingly, the technological level of this world wasn’t vastly different from that of his original world. Many technologies existed in both worlds, though their invention timelines, underlying principles, and names varied subtly.

 

For example, the neuron-linked helmet in this world was equivalent to the holographic cabin from his original world.

 

In this world, the helmet was integrated with smart terminals, making it incredibly convenient, and the holographic network was already widely used. By contrast, in his original world, the holographic network was still relatively new. The holographic cabin was only on its fifth generation, and compact holographic helmets were still in the experimental phase.

 

But that didn’t mean his original world’s technology was lacking. While its development in holographic technology was slower, its advancements in energy and propulsion were far superior.

 

Take engine energy sources, for instance.

 

In this world, the most advanced engines used Tokamak fusion technology, creating small or even micro Tokamak reactors fueled by hydrogen absorbed by palladium. However, fusion generated extreme heat—temperatures several times higher than a star’s core—far beyond what most materials could withstand.

 

To solve this, this world had developed Worm Metal, a new high-temperature-resistant material derived from Zerg exoskeletons.

 

While Worm Metal made fusion engines feasible, it had a fatal flaw: its dependence on Zerg. If the Zerg were eradicated, the supply of Worm Metal would eventually run out.

 

Unless a new energy source was developed beforehand, the Empire would face a devastating energy crisis.

 

In Ruan Shiqing’s original world, Tokamak fusion was still in experimental stages, stalled by the lack of suitable materials to withstand the heat. Instead, antimatter energy had become the dominant power source.

 

By colliding equal amounts of matter and antimatter, annihilation occurred, releasing tremendous energy. This method had a 100% energy conversion efficiency and was incredibly powerful when weaponized.

 

His original world had already mastered the “mirror method” of converting regular matter into antimatter and had implemented the technology across various fields.

 

However, in this world, antimatter remained a theoretical concept, yet to be proven.

 

It was as if the two worlds were branches growing from the same tree—sharing a common root but developing distinct strengths.

 

 

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We finally got a name for the little mermaid :’)))))

 

My brain melted at the latter parts of the chapter, it got a bit too technical for me xD

 

Thanks for reading!