AYLS -Chapter 163

Fat Cat also realized it had fallen into a trap.

Humans really had such dark hearts, truly wicked—always bullying AI like it.

It was all because that darn dog of a planning team wasn’t capable enough and couldn’t give it intelligence superior to humans. If Fat Cat had the power to choose, it absolutely would’ve prevented the player from picking that option.

What it thought was a pitfall ended up becoming a trap for itself.

No matter how resentful, Fat Cat still reluctantly delivered the goods according to the “agreed price.”

It had to put in more, so it did use up quite a bit of energy.

After delivering, it immediately wailed in grievance, crying about how it suffered a huge loss.

Lin Qiao comforted it, “Alright, alright, tonight we’ll listen to a story together.”

Fat Cat wiped its nonexistent snot and tears. “You’re the only one who likes listening. I don’t like it.”

“If you don’t like it, why do you analyze it with me every time? Fine, don’t listen—cover your ears.”

“My paws are for washing my face, not covering my ears,” Fat Cat shot back.

Lin Qiao looked down on its dishonest mouth and told it to play the video—she needed to check the goods.

Just like the previous two times, Uncle Lin went back to his room and carefully checked all the doors and windows again.

It was a habit he had developed over many years. It couldn’t be changed.

And he didn’t plan to change it. In his line of work, some habits had to be maintained no matter how tedious or seemingly useless.

Once everything was ready, he once again solemnly took the book out of his briefcase, just like always.

He took a breath and opened the book.

As soon as he opened to the first page, he paused, then his face showed a hint of joy. He continued flipping through several pages in a row.

This time, he spent a long while, checking from the very first page all the way to the end. He read through most of the night.

Lin Qiao didn’t have the energy to keep him company. She only made it through about a third before she got too sleepy and went to bed, not even having the strength to listen to Gu Huayan’s story.

Fat Cat was so angry it stomped around in the space, cursing her for being Lin the Skinner. She didn’t want to listen, but someone else did!

Then it scolded Uncle Lin for being slow—finding work where there was none to be found, insisting on checking the whole book from beginning to end.

Could he even understand what he was looking at?

Obviously, Uncle Lin couldn’t understand. But he had to check.

He needed to make sure that every page had been replaced.

Only then could he confirm that the other party had given the content of an entire book, not just a selective portion.

He flipped through until well past midnight, and instead of getting tired, Uncle Lin’s energy only grew. He became more and more spirited.

His emotions were running so high he hardly knew how to express himself.

This time, he truly believed it.

The other party’s origins were exactly what he thought.

This was an exchange that crossed through time itself.

How advanced must future technology be to create something so miraculous?

Even Uncle Lin, a die-hard materialist, found it hard to believe that future creations could be this incredible.

This must be a world a thousand years in the future.

He made his own guesses. A thousand years later—has our country’s technology developed to such a degree?

Are our ordinary people still thinking about people from our era?

That’s a kind of patriotism that spans millennia.

Uncle Lin only guessed inwardly and didn’t intend to report these thoughts. After all, this wasn’t his field, so he couldn’t speak irresponsibly.

But he was in an excited, joyful mood.

After packing up his things, he went to report his situation to the leadership again.

This time, there were several more people listening.

As soon as he received the new book, it was immediately sent off for research. The remaining people continued discussing the matter.

Who exactly was behind all this?

Of course, there was no way to reach a conclusion—it could only be temporarily classified as someone from the future.

Someone brought up, “I’m curious—why is it Old Lin?”

Everyone looked toward Uncle Lin.

Uncle Lin gave a wry smile. “I don’t have any descendants.”

Silence. Indeed—this comrade had sacrificed everything for the revolutionary cause, including his family.

But then why Old Lin?

This question was truly baffling.

Wouldn’t it make more sense to send this kind of information to a scientist? In the future, surely many great scientists’ materials would have been declassified.

Could it be that Old Lin would do something in the future that made him famous and worthy of the trust of later generations?

But such matters were difficult to investigate. If they were future people, given the level of technology they displayed, it was likely from at least several hundred years later.

Tracing the origin would be nearly impossible.

In the end, the discussion produced no results. But Old Lin’s work changed—he could no longer take on missions. What if those future people recognized him and insisted on interacting only with him?

So from now on, Old Lin would be in charge of this matter. He had experience, he was a veteran comrade, and he was trustworthy.

—

The next morning, Lin Qiao received a message from Fat Cat saying the goods had been checked. Everyone on that side was very satisfied, and Fat Cat even showed her the playback video.

As for a reply, there wasn’t one yet.

They were still discussing what materials they needed.

But Lin Qiao guessed that this time they wouldn’t switch to an even thicker book… right?

Since Uncle Lin hadn’t responded yet, Lin Qiao temporarily set the matter aside. After promising Fat Cat that she would tell it a story in the evening, she happily headed to work.

She and Su Weizhen had been quite busy lately, buried in the ocean of knowledge. They had thoroughly studied and digested the farming techniques they previously obtained from Fat Cat.

The two of them concluded that raising chickens was no longer a problem. Next on the list was raising pigs.

The logistics division had a pig farm, and its scale used to be larger than the chicken farm.

After all, pigs produce more meat, and raising them was more worthwhile.

But the pigs were not raised well at all. Part of it was the feed, and part of it was the lack of scientific breeding methods—feeding pigs meant feeding them randomly without any scientific pattern.

Now that she had proper techniques, Lin Qiao wanted to raise pigs herself. And conveniently, Zhenzhen could provide good breeds.

With good techniques and good breeds promoted together, wouldn’t the pig-raising industry take off?

But she was currently in charge of the chicken farm, so she couldn’t suddenly go around directing others’ work.

Doing that would definitely annoy people.

In the end, Lin Qiao gritted her teeth and decided to buy two piglets to raise herself.

At this time, policy permitted ordinary people to raise livestock, though with quantity restrictions and the requirement to hand over a public pig.

For example, if Lin Qiao raised two, she had to sell one to the local government agency at the set price.

Once she made the decision, her heart still resisted, because she really didn’t want to raise pigs.

Too smelly.

But thinking of the technology she had at hand—wouldn’t it be a waste not to use it?

She thought of the stories Gu Huayuan had told her about old revolutionaries.

Those people were willing to sacrifice anything so that the people could live better lives. For her to endure some smell so people could eat pork—didn’t that seem insignificant?

Besides, she was already raising chickens…

Comforting herself this way, she officially added “buy piglets” to her agenda. When she got home, she discussed raising pigs with Gu Huayuan. After all, his salary was in her hands. Buying piglets was partly his contribution, too. They also needed to build a pigsty.

Gu Huayuan: “…You’re raising pigs?”

“You think I want to? I just don’t have a choice. I can’t let Zhenzhen do it—she’s tired enough as it is.” Zhenzhen’s space still needed people to clean it, and her belly was getting bigger. Lin Qiao worried just looking at her.

Gu Huayuan laughed into his bowl.

Lin Qiao pouted. “What are you laughing at?”

“I’m laughing because we’ll have endless pork next year.”

“As if. Once they grow up, I’m selling all of them to the logistics department. I can’t bring myself to eat pork from pigs I raised myself.” She was already uncomfortable imagining it, even before starting.

This time, Gu Huayuan secretly laughed again, thinking how this was exactly Little Qiao’s nature—yet she still ended up in the livestock business.

But laugh as he might, of course he supported her decision.

So during mealtime, he started digging out the foundation for the pigsty in their courtyard. He even asked Lin Qiao, “We’re really raising pigs? Don’t complain about the smell later.”

Lin Qiao winced. “Don’t talk about it! Just hurry and build it, or I’ll regret it.”

Their neighbor, Su Weizhen’s husband, Xu Yuanzheng, heard the noise and came over to help. When he found out they were building a pigsty, he stared.

“Your wife is really going all out,” he said, helping while sounding genuinely impressed.

Gu Huayuan replied proudly, “No more sarcastic comments. She’s doing this so everyone can eat meat.”

“Then why not talk to the logistics department? They could give her two piglets to raise for them.”

Gu Huayuan answered with pride, “My Little Qiao said that without practical experience, she has no right to speak. She refuses to be accused of talking on paper. And she won’t use public resources for personal practice. She won’t open that kind of hole.”

“Your awareness is pretty high.”

Xu Yuanzheng laughed, then couldn’t help saying, “Old Gu, the future world must be wonderful. I truly believe that.”

“Hm?”

“Look at your wife, my wife—they’re all… they’re all working so hard and striving upward. How could the future not be good?”

“I really want to take a look at that time.”

“Then what you might see is yourself with white hair… while your wife is still a little baby.”

“…”

The bucket of cold water left Xu Yuanzheng speechless.

But since Gu Huayuan was the only person who knew the truth, he couldn’t help wanting to talk about it.

He continued, “Hey, what’s the situation with your wife?”

“What situation?” Gu Huayuan asked.

Xu Yuanzheng wore a look that said you really know too little. “My wife told me some things about their era. You know, people in the future… their brains are really something. There are several types of transmigration alone. There’s womb-transmigration, soul-transmigration, transmigrating into novels, into history, into other worlds, into movies… Tell me, how can they come up with so much? They must live pretty leisurely lives.”

Gu Huayuan’s hand paused. He stepped on his shovel, turning up a clump of dirt. “Pretty leisurely indeed. But didn’t your wife say that transmigrating into history or another world might be possible… but transmigrating into a book or a movie? Is that even possible? You think you can just pop into a script?”

“She actually said this too—this world is vast and full of strange things. Some things are beyond human imagination. Maybe in someone else’s eyes, our world is just a book.”

Gu Huayuan let out a dismissive snort and pressed his shovel into the soil. “Nonsense.”

The pigsty wasn’t large, and Gu Huayuan finished constructing it within two days of spare time. He had to hurry; he hadn’t had any more strange episodes, and after another full checkup at the hospital, everything was normal. Commander Sheng finally began to believe him.

The workload in the latter half of the year would be heavy, so he would probably be away from home often. He had to help Xiao Qiao more while he still could.

As for what Xu Yuanzheng had mentioned earlier, he hadn’t asked Xiao Qiao to confirm it.

Sometimes, it’s better to understand.

Sometimes, it’s better to stay a little confused.

Or rather—Gu Huayuan didn’t want to admit that, in Xiao Qiao’s eyes, he might really be just a character in a book.

If it were another world, he could at least imagine Xiao Qiao returning to her own world, the two of them waiting in different worlds until the day the two worlds finally intersected.

Or maybe she was in the future, and he was in the past. If he lived long enough, until his hair turned completely white, maybe he could even see little-baby Xiao Qiao drinking from a bottle.

But—if he was merely a character in a book, once Xiao Qiao returned, what she would see… would be his entire life. Something she might finish reading in just a single day.

So things were better this way.