Bursting Tomato 8

"Hahaha!" Atmore burst out laughing, as if he'd just heard a joke. But Lu Mingqiu's expression didn't change; she simply smiled at him. After a while, his laughter died away.

Atmore coughed a few times. "I'm really not a spy."

"I'll be the judge of that," Lu Mingqiu said.

Since the Stinger incident, Lu Mingqiu had developed a certain distrust of her esper power. For a long time, she had relied on it as naturally as she'd rely on her own hands and feet, never imagining that there could come a day when it would fail her.

But Stinger had served as a wake-up call for her and a lesson for the organization. The device they'd dug out of his head had turned out to be a memory-forging device.

Human memory, in fact, is highly subjective. If a person is hypnotized and fed memories that don't belong to them, making them subconsciously believe they've led a different life, the images in their mind will change accordingly. The brain will weave together a memory that fits the fiction.

But determining whether someone is lying doesn't rely solely on reading memories—the simplest and most convenient method. There are other techniques.

Not everyone in this world is an esper.

The polygraph had been invented centuries ago, and micro-expression observation was practically a required course for every criminology student.

Lu Mingqiu had studied it too—she was someone who pursued perfection. Looking back now, Stinger's behavior had indeed been abnormal, but she had been too reliant on her ability, trusting its verdict while ignoring what her eyes were telling her.

Atmore rubbed his hands together. "Alright, then what else do I need to join? Any special skills required?"

Lu Mingqiu looked him in the eyes, her tone still gentle. "Tell me about your abilities."

"I can handle just about any firearm on the market, and my aim is decent. I know Night City inside and out, and I've got a decent network. Um... let me think... oh, and—" Atmore paused, thinking, "I'm a great driver. Motorcycles, cars—I can drive any model. I can fix simple furniture, fix cars too. Oh right, I can cook."

"And! This—does playing cards count? I'm pretty good at poker and mahjong. My friends say I could make a living just by gambling."

"We can play cards together," Yan Xianchuan said, then added sincerely, "if you're still alive later."

Atmore's expression turned complicated. "Thanks. I'll try my best."

"Even though you might already have some expectations, I want to reiterate: if you join us, it means you'll be opposing the most powerful people in the world," Lu Mingqiu said. "The Resistance has no retired members—only casualties. Do you understand?"

Atmore smiled nonchalantly. "That doesn't worry me. Everyone dies sooner or later. I'd rather my death count for something. Anyway, being a bounty hunter isn't exactly a walk in the park—lots of money, but plenty of enemies too. Guys who mess with the wrong target because they can't read the room end up dead more often than not."

He sighed, half with feeling. "After all, in this world, the cheapest thing is a human life."

That wasn't quite right, Yan Xianchuan thought. At least the lives of the upper class were still quite valuable. After all, who knew how many people had died for Dongye Zhengqi's delusion of immortality. The lives weighing on his shoulders numbered in the hundreds, at least.

"There's one more condition," Lu Mingqiu said softly. "A mental imprint will be placed in your mind. If you betray the organization, I'll know—and you'll die."

"You're an esper?" Atmore asked, taken aback. He muttered to himself, "No wonder the two of you dared to break into Warren Tower."

"Wait—are you one too?" He turned to look at Yan Xianchuan.

"Nope," Yan Xianchuan said, propping her chin on her hand. "I'm the same as you—an ordinary person with nothing special."

Lu Mingqiu: ...

She wondered if the woman had ever heard the phrase "protesting too much," or its Chinese equivalent about there being no silver three hundred taels buried here.

Atmore wore an expression that said he didn't quite believe her but would go along with it for now. Still, she had no reason to deceive him—whether it was one or two didn't make a difference. Ordinary people were helpless against espers.

"Alright, no problem," he said. "How does this work? Do I need to take a nap, or... watch a swinging watch or something?"

"It's already done," Lu Mingqiu said, blinking.

"What? When? I didn't even notice!" Atmore instinctively touched his head.

"When we met for the second time," Lu Mingqiu said, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You're now a peripheral member of the Resistance. There's a probationary period. When you pass it, I'll let you know."

The second time they met... that would be at the abandoned processing plant where they'd agreed to talk! He hadn't noticed a thing!

Atmore's mouth fell open, his face a picture of bewilderment and disbelief. "Wait," he suddenly realized, turning to Lu Mingqiu, "does that mean Harper...?"

Lu Mingqiu nodded. "It was just to prevent you from leaking information. It won't cause her any real harm. Once Harper leaves Night City, I'll retract the imprint."

Atmore let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

He breathed in and out, as if steadying himself, then couldn't help muttering, "Espers... you're really something. Impossible to guard against."

Lu Mingqiu had been watching his expression the whole time. With a hint of apology, she said, "I owe you an apology. I did it without your permission..."

"It's fine, I understand," Atmore waved a hand dismissively. "I mean, you lot—ah, I suppose it's 'us' now—were just thinking about mission security."

"If only I were an esper too..."

"Are you two still leaving, then?" Atmore rubbed his face, dispelling the brief flash of dejection, and perked up again.

"That's right."

Before they left, Lu Mingqiu reminded him, "It won't be very peaceful around here lately. Be careful."

The two of them left the two-story building and walked down the street. On the way, Yan Xianchuan asked, "Are we just leaving him like that, free to roam outside?"

"Hei Ge is watching him, and I didn't just place a single imprint," Lu Mingqiu said. "As I said, if he leaks information, he'll die."

"Is that another use of your ability?" Yan Xianchuan said, impressed. "It really is handy."

"Speaking of which, when did you awaken your ability?" she asked curiously.

The streets weren't too crowded—half the people in the West District preferred to be active at night. A thin mist drifted through the air, carrying a faint scent of oil mixed with the aroma of food from the breakfast stalls at the alley entrances.

The two walked side by side, as relaxed as friends out for a morning stroll. The atmosphere was pleasant.

"When I graduated from high school. By law, omegas come of age at seventeen, which happens to be the year they graduate. Most omegas get engaged around that time and marry by twenty."

"I had a friend at school who didn't want to get married—or rather, didn't want to marry so young—but her family wouldn't allow it."

Lu Mingqiu's eyes were half-lowered, her voice even softer than the morning mist. "I went to her engagement party. The next day, I attended her funeral."

"Her family said she fell from a building by accident, but I didn't believe it. I pulled some strings at home, had her fiance brought in, and got the truth out of him."

"She died in bed. Death by sexual abuse."

"I'm sorry," Yan Xianchuan said, with genuine concern.

Lu Mingqiu suddenly smiled, then shook her head. "No, you're not."

She pressed her lips together, then said lightly, "Actually, we weren't that close. She was a third-class citizen, poor, and somewhat ostracized at school. I helped her out a few times now and then. That was all."

"But in that moment—that man, that alpha—he showed not an ounce of remorse. He yelled that she was his property, that he could do whatever he wanted with her. And her family had taken his money, tacitly approving, telling me to mind my own business."

"I looked at him and thought: why don't you just die?"

"I'm guessing he died," Yan Xianchuan said.

"Correct. After that, I ran a fever. The doctor said it was due to shock, but actually, I had awakened my esper power," Lu Mingqiu said. "The process was sudden, with no warning."

Perhaps it was because her desire in that moment had been too intense, or perhaps the countless unanswerable questions and grievances burning inside her had ignited her soul. The flames were fierce enough to forge a blade capable of satisfying her ambition.

Yan Xianchuan didn't offer an opinion. Instead, she stopped and bought two strawberry soft serves from a fast-food joint selling burgers and fries, handing one to Lu Mingqiu.

"Eating sweets can improve your mood," she said.

"Do I look like I'm in a bad mood?" Lu Mingqiu glanced down at the pink ice cream in her hand.

"Not really, but when people mention the deceased, they always feel a bit heavy," Yan Xianchuan said with a sigh, as if she were truly grieving. "Poor thing. May she have the right to choose her own path in the next life and live a happy, blessed one."

The ice cream was full of cheap artificial flavoring, cloyingly sweet, yet Lu Mingqiu ate it all. She said flatly, "Let's hope so."

She didn't think the woman actually felt grief for the deceased.

But she was thoughtful, in her own way.

"Why do we have so many safehouses?"

Standing in a new, two-bedroom apartment, Yan Xianchuan asked the question with genuine puzzlement.

"We have them when we need them," Lu Mingqiu said, her eyes curving in a rare, genuine smile. "That's another member's job."

After saying this, she realized with a jolt that her recent genuine smiles had all been connected to the person in front of her.

She'd said it was to soothe the other's nerves, but she herself had been a little too relaxed, letting all kinds of private things slip. She hadn't told Su Hong any of this—not even the other members of the organization. They didn't even know her real identity.

There was some kind of magic to Yan Xianchuan. Precisely because she seemed to care about nothing, Lu Mingqiu had let her guard down. Wasn't that why people liked confiding in strangers?

But watching the woman wander around, inspecting her new territory like a cat marking its space, picking up an empty biscuit tin and shaking it, testing the softness of the sofa—the wariness that had risen in Lu Mingqiu slowly dissolved.

She carried too many secrets, like a swamp pulling her down. To have someone she could confide in, someone who wouldn't judge or lecture, was a rare luxury.

"Don't tell anyone about my matters," Lu Mingqiu said nonetheless.

"I'm a very trustworthy person," Yan Xianchuan said, making a zipping motion over her lips. "This is our little secret."

"As an exchange, I suppose I should share one of my own," she said seriously. "A relationship where both parties hold each other's secrets is the strongest kind."

"And what secret do you have?" Lu Mingqiu's eyes flickered, as if asking casually.

"I..." Yan Xianchuan opened her mouth, then drew a blank. "I" dragged on for a while before she finally squeezed out a few words: "...I don't know."

"I'm an open book. I have no secrets," she concluded, as if awarding herself a trophy.

Lu Mingqiu: ...

"Normal people all have their own little secrets. How can you not have any?" Lu Mingqiu coaxed gently. "Think again, carefully."

"You make a good point." The woman was deeply persuaded. Yan Xianchuan thought it over. "I do have secrets, but I need to think about it."

She couldn't tell them that she wasn't the original owner of this body. That was a genuine secret, but Yan Xianchuan would rather share something more personal.

What counted as a secret? Something unknown to others, even to one's closest friends or lovers, even to parents who shared the same blood.

Strictly speaking, she had no friends. Oh, she had some "friends," but that was what the other party assumed. She never acknowledged it.

Lovers? Even less so.

As for parents...

"I do have a secret," Yan Xianchuan said, nodding to herself. "No one knows about this."

"There was a boy in the neighborhood who kept insisting on talking to me. Even after I'd flat-out refused, he wouldn't stop pestering me to play with him. Immature. Annoying. His parents indulged him too, saying stupid things about how kids should be close to each other."

In a flat, emotionless tone, she continued, "He was like a frog in a pond, always croaking loudly. So I pushed him into the pond."

"Don't worry, he didn't die," Yan Xianchuan said, the corners of her mouth curling up as if she were pleased. "There were adults nearby. I went over and called for help, said he'd slipped and fallen in."

"Poor thing. When they fished him out, he was trembling, wailing like a little rat that was about to die." She clicked her tongue. "My parents took me to visit him. I told him privately, 'If you come bother me again, next time I won't bother calling for help.'"

"He never came near me again. Seems he wasn't that dense after all."

Her parents had clearly told her that deliberately hurting others or small animals was wrong, so she'd hidden it from them. In fact, she'd even been praised for a good deed and treated to a nice meal.

"Ah," Yan Xianchuan sighed. "I really do love doing good deeds."

She spoke sincerely, with no trace of lying.

Lu Mingqiu also believed she wouldn't lie about such a thing—which meant the content was worth examining.

Leaving aside her classic, unadulterated malice, "neighbors"? How could the Yan family have neighbors?

Yan Xianchuan wasn't an illegitimate child. She'd grown up in the Yan family's tower. The only "neighbor" she could possibly have was the clouds outside the window.

And wasn't she suffering from amnesia? How could someone with amnesia so precisely recall events from childhood?

If she was Yan Xianchuan, then what were these memories? Was she making them up? People with dissociative identity disorder could have different personalities with different experiences, but she wasn't that.

And if she wasn't Yan Xianchuan, why did the DNA comparison say she was?

Lu Mingqiu stared at her, suddenly wanting to ask aloud, "Do you realize how riddled with holes your own words are?"

Their eyes met. She swallowed every question that rose to her lips.

"Now we're even—one secret each," the other said, looking rather pleased.

She wasn't pleased because they were even. She was pleased because she'd found a secret that a normal person would have, proving that she was "ordinary."

Lu Mingqiu knew that well.

But she forced herself to overlook the irrational details. She couldn't explain why, perhaps because she too wanted someone to whom she could confide without reservation.

"Oh, I just remembered—you still owe me something," Yan Xianchuan said, sitting on the sofa and looking up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Wha—ah, the dessert, right?" Lu Mingqiu said. "But there aren't any high-end dessert shops in the West District. The ingredients here are cheap, and the products aren't as good as those outside. How about we wait a bit?"

"But I want to eat it now."

Alright, now she was fully behaving like a child begging for candy.

There was a theory that psychopaths were more childlike than ordinary people—perhaps because they were missing something, the remaining traits became more pronounced.

Since meeting Yan Xianchuan, Lu Mingqiu had been reading up on psychology whenever she had free time. Her head was full of theories, and this woman was her practical subject.

Yan Xianchuan stared at her, pitifully, like a hungry bird. She knew exactly which expressions made her look most endearing. Whenever she'd done something wrong or wanted something, she'd put on that face, and it worked every time.

This time was no different. She hadn't even lasted a minute before the other woman gave in.

"Come on, let's go out," Lu Mingqiu said.

Both of them had changed their faces—not the ones they'd used for infiltrating Warren Tower. The projection device stored three faces, all designed to perfectly match their bone structure, flawless and handsome, yet all sharing one trait—utterly unremarkable.

Being beautiful and attention-grabbing was fine in daily life, but for special operatives like them, it was a liability.

The two walked out of the West District on foot. The checkpoint on the main street was still there. The sharp-tempered Captain Hill stood by the roadside, watching her subordinates check every passing vehicle and person.

They were naturally subjected to a check as well. Neither carried weapons, and their new identities were clean, so they were let go quickly.

Only after leaving the West District did the faint, lingering odor of filth finally disappear from their noses.

Yan Xianchuan had gotten used to it, almost forgetting what clean, fresh air smelled like.

She couldn't expect the homeless and drunks to have manners, nor could she stop every one of them from vomiting on the roadside or turning to the wall to relieve themselves.

As they walked into the increasingly bright streets, Yan Xianchuan took a deep breath. "Can't we switch safehouses? Go back to the previous place."

"We can move out of the West District," Lu Mingqiu said. "But not back to the old place—we'll get a new one. When we went to see Atmore, we didn't hide our identities or route. The old safehouse is compromised."

"Why do so many people just... go wherever they please? Don't they have any manners?" Yan Xianchuan couldn't help complaining. "They live in the West District too—can't they take care of the environment? Anyone who's been to primary school knows not to relieve themselves in public."

"They never went to school."

"Huh?"

"Tuition is expensive. Only a small fraction of fourth-class citizens choose to send their children to school, and even then, the cost of education alone can ruin a family. Textbooks have to be purchased, the dream-reading devices must be a specific model, uniforms are custom-made, and the cafeteria is separate—each item costs more than a month of their income."

Lu Mingqiu looked at the bustling crowd, her tone distant. "The less they learn, the harder it is to escape their circumstances. They can only repeat their parents' lives, stuck at the bottom forever—scavenging, stealing, or joining gangs to do illegal things."

"Isn't basic education free?" Yan Xianchuan asked, confused.

When she was alive, that had been the case. Extra-curricular classes cost money, but basic education was free, and children of appropriate age were required to attend and learn to read and write.

Here, with more advanced technology, there was no such provision.

"Free?" Lu Mingqiu laughed as if she'd heard a joke. Her tone wasn't fierce, just lightly mocking. "Do you know what kind of people are easiest to control? Fools."

"Even the most useless knowledge broadens one's horizons. The more you know, the more mature your thinking. Those in power don't need smart people. They're smart enough themselves."

Lu Mingqiu said coldly, "They only need fools. Only fools are obedient."

"So even though people are divided into classes, the lower-class residents don't think it's unfair. They just complain about their own bad luck for being born poor. They don't think it's wrong for the tycoons to hold all the money and power. Isn't it natural for the upper class to own these things? Their businesses span every industry. It's only right that they're rich."

"But the tycoons' money is earned with the blood of the lower class."

"What a terrible world," Yan Xianchuan said. "But at least the food is good."

Lu Mingqiu let out a soft laugh, exhaling gently. "Yeah. What a shithole of a world. Sometimes I just want to burn it all down."

"You swore!" Yan Xianchuan turned, stunned, as if she'd seen a flying sheep. "You actually swore!"

"Everyone swears sometimes," Lu Mingqiu said. "Is it really that surprising?"

"But you swore," Yan Xianchuan said, looking at her with eyes full of novelty, more amazed than when she'd first met her.

"If you keep staring at me instead of watching the road, you're going to walk into that lamppost," Lu Mingqiu said helplessly.

It wasn't until they were seated in a cozy, bright dessert shop, on a warm yellow sofa, with a tiramisu in front of her, that Yan Xianchuan finally stopped staring at her—though she still kept glancing over occasionally, with that look reserved for flying sheep.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Lu Mingqiu sighed.

"I'll eat," Yan Xianchuan said, still staring.

"How about we go home, then? You don't seem interested in the food at all," Lu Mingqiu said.

Yan Xianchuan immediately turned her head and fixed her gaze on the dessert, not moving.