So-Called Karma 17

The Moon City base was no different from Nanjin City's—cold white metal walls, ceiling lights embedded above, and rows of unmarked doors.

But unlike the diverse crowd in Nanjin City, the faces here were mostly yellow-skinned, with Chinese features.

The moment they returned, the injured were taken to the medical department for treatment—ointments and shots where needed—while Yan Xianchuan was wheeled into the operating room.

Lu Mingqiu let go of her hand. "It'll be over soon," she said, then gave the doctor a look. The doctor closed the door and helped the patient onto the operating table.

"I'll give you anesthesia first," said the masked female doctor. "Local anesthesia. The procedure takes about an hour, and you'll have a pair of better-working eyes."

"How much better?" Yan Xianchuan asked.

"It's the newest model from the research department—I use it myself," the doctor replied with a smile. "As for the effect, you'll know once they're in."

As the anesthetic took effect, the constant stinging finally faded. Yan Xianchuan could feel her eyelids being held open and something scooping out the shattered eyeballs, but she felt no pain.

"Whoa, your eyes are pretty messed up. But no worries, I'll fix you right up," the doctor rambled, clearing away dead tissue. "Blue Whale was way worse—half his face was ruined, and I patched him up so nicely I even gave him a nose job. His face is even better looking than before!"

"But you've got a good base already—no work needed." She paused. "Want me to shape your eyebrows while I'm at it?"

"Oh, right—what color eyes do you want? Yellow, green, blue, purple, black, brown, gray—we've got everything."

Yan Xianchuan: ...

This woman was less like a doctor and more like a street vendor hawking wares under a bridge.

"You can see my face," Yan said flatly.

"Huh? Oh, don't worry, I won't tell." The doctor switched to smaller tweezers, her tone casual but earnest. "You can't judge people by who they are, but by what they do. I read that people who share the same ideals are called comrades. We're all comrades, fellow soldiers."

"But, um..." She lowered her voice. "Could you do me a favor and get me an autographed photo?"

Yan Xianchuan: "...Fine. I want black eyes."

"Great! No problem!" The female doctor beamed. "I'll make sure they're fitted perfectly."

"I'll grab a poster for you later—it's a limited collector's edition! I've been saving it for ages. If you don't know where the medical office is, just ask anyone for Jenny."

The sensation of nerves connecting felt like ants crawling.

That part was delicate work, and Dr. Jenny finally shut her chattering mouth.

Yan Xianchuan's ears were finally at peace; she had never met anyone so talkative. The woman rambled without any prompting, and within moments she had gossiped about nearly everyone who'd ever been treated at the base—how Blue Whale, after becoming better looking, got chased for his contact info so much that the socially anxious man bolted, how Lingdang had switched to a pair of mechanical hands not for missions but because he'd been knocked off the top of a game leaderboard and felt human hands just weren't agile enough...

Yan Xianchuan didn't tell her to shut up, because what she said was quite amusing. And despite appearing to be a blabbermouth, she truly knew how to keep secrets—she never revealed a single word about members' private matters.

After a while, the now-quiet Dr. Jenny clapped her hands. "Alright! Perfect!"

She removed the braces holding Yan's eyelids open, wiped the blood from her face with a cotton ball, and rubbed her hands together. "How about I do your makeup too? My fingers are itching."

Yan Xianchuan was still adjusting to the new eyeballs and the strange, novel field of vision. She paused mid-step as she was getting off the bed. "What kind of makeup?"

"But I just realized even if I do it, it'll be useless..." Dr. Jenny said with a hint of regret. "You'll have to use a projected fake face; you can't show your real features."

Yan Xianchuan, who had briefly considered using her looks to her advantage, fell silent for a moment and then said flatly, "Then give me the poster."

"No rush! Take a look in the mirror first!" Dr. Jenny unzipped her white coat, pulled out a handheld round mirror from inside, and held it up. "Look!"

Her reflection stared back—a pale face, lips devoid of color, and a pair of pitch-black, lusterless eyes that looked as real as human eyes.

But as Yan Xianchuan took in the image, a line of small text appeared beside the mirror: 【Zidai Company, 2133, Model YYN60375, Width 10 cm, Length 15 cm.】

Beside her eyeballs, similar text floated: 【Jingzhe Mechanical Prosthetic Eyes, Fifth Generation.】

She looked at the bed—it had a production model and manufacturer. She looked at the scalpel, the surgical light—everything she gazed upon displayed its own label.

"These eyes..." Yan Xianchuan said, her gaze shifting to the person beside her, instantly reading her prosthetic eye, her artificial limb, and even the mechanical lung piece.

"They're connected to the Think Tank," Dr. Jenny said proudly. "Cool, right?"

Think Tank? Whose Think Tank had access to private information? If it was hooked into the Federation's back door, that was absurd.

But credit where credit was due—it was indeed handy. Yan Xianchuan nodded.

"I'll go grab the poster. You get used to them, walk around a bit, see if there's any rejection reaction. Be right back!" With that, she pushed the door open and left.

Yan Xianchuan's gaze followed her; when she focused, she could even see the hem of her coat fluttering in slow-motion clarity.

Dynamic vision.

She looked down—the lines on her palm were distinct, like carrying around a magnifying glass. The scabbed scars, bruises, and purple ligature marks were equally clear in her view.

She wrapped the blanket around herself and sent Lu Mingqiu a message: 【Surgery's done.】

A moment later, the reply came: 【Good. Rest well. Feel free to look around the base. I'm busy now.】

So cold. Yan Xianchuan propped her chin on her hand. As expected, once you're no longer a patient, the special treatment ends.

She sat on the operating table, swinging her legs, and sent Hei Ge a message: 【Comrade, do you know where the cafeteria is?】

Hei Ge replied at the speed of an AI—a route map popped up instantly, with an arrow connecting the operating room to the cafeteria.

Yan Xianchuan: 【Thanks.】

She hadn't eaten in over a day, and healing wounds drained a lot of energy. Her stomach felt hollow; if she didn't get something in soon, her stomach might consider digesting her liver.

"I'm back!" Dr. Jenny pushed open the operating room door with a beaming smile. "Here you go."

Yan Xianchuan unrolled the poster—a model shot of Lu Mingqiu in a dress dark as night, the skirt spreading out like ocean waves, and stars clustered around her like foam. She reached out with one hand, cradling a full moon. Her back was bare, sheer scarves half-hiding the dimples at her lower back, and a white veil covered her face, leaving only blurred facial features.

It was beautiful—so beautiful that Yan Xianchuan almost wanted to keep it for herself.

"Pretty, right?" Dr. Jenny said, clearly fishing for agreement.

"Pretty," Yan Xianchuan admitted.

"See!" she said smugly. Then she changed tack, leaning in conspiratorially. "Just a gossipy question—you two, is it real, or...?"

"Fake," Yan Xianchuan said, rolling up the poster, her expression unreadable. "A business marriage."

Dr. Jenny clutched her chest. "And here I was shipping you for real! Ugh."

"You can't just sit around in that blanket. Come on." She slapped her thigh. "I'll take you to the lounge to change."

Yan Xianchuan said a listless thanks and followed her to the rest area.

Dr. Jenny swiped the door open. "I won't go in. Give yourself a good scrub—pink bottle is shampoo, blue is body wash. Don't mix them up."

Yan Xianchuan said thank you again politely.

The restroom was laid out much the same. She set down the poster, then went into the shower and washed off all the sand and dust.

The first rinse ran black-red.

The shallower scabs she scrubbed off one by one; the deeper ones, she peeled back slightly, and a mix of pain and blood beads welled up.

Pretending nothing had happened, she pressed them back down. After three washes, she came out and casually found a bandage to cover the wound near her collarbone—it was in a spot that was hard to hide.

Moon City's clothes were also modified traditional-style: a cotton-linen shirt with knotted buttons and light cyan wide-leg pants with a nice drape.

Yan Xianchuan tousled her hair in the mirror without bothering to blow-dry it, then stepped out half-damp, still wearing that golden-haired, blue-eyed face—a mix of styles that somehow worked.

The cafeteria here was easily the largest she'd ever seen, with the most variety.

Sweet, spicy, salty—they had everything. As soon as she sat down, someone sidled up to her. "Sis! What flavor do you like? Let me hook you up. Trust me—spicy rabbit head! One word: amazing!"

"Thanks. One spicy rabbit head, and one fruit pizza." Yan Xianchuan had barely finished speaking when the person's eyes went wide, as if he'd been electrocuted, his hands trembling.

"You! You eat fruit pizza with spicy rabbit head?!" He clutched his chest, looking like he was about to faint.

Yan Xianchuan: ?

Uninterested, she looked away and stared at her chat for a long while before sending another message: 【I'm at the cafeteria eating.】

No reply—like a stone dropping into the ocean.

It wasn't that Lu Mingqiu didn't want to reply; she genuinely had no time.

Back at Moon City base, while the wounded went for treatment, she had real work: interrogating the Church prisoners. With the hemostatic gel, none of them would die, so she might as well squeeze out intelligence quickly.

The first she questioned was the doctor, who was dressed differently from the others.

When he was roused, his face was cold as stone, no trace of fear. "Give up. I serve only the Mother Goddess. You'll get nothing from me. No matter how you torture me, I won't break!"

"You heretics! Infidels! You'll be punished for your disrespect to the Mother Goddess!"

Standing beside Lu Mingqiu was the chief of Moon City base, Grey Rabbit, who wore a comical rabbit mask. He muttered, "Why do they always give the same speech every time? Did they take a course?"

With Oriole presiding, consent didn't matter, nor willingness.

Locking eyes with the doctor, Lu Mingqiu activated her esper power, sending her psychic tendrils into his mind.

The doctor's early life was unremarkable. Born to a third-class citizen family, he went to school, graduated, worked, and married. Then one accident—an electrical fire—burned his entire family to death. Only he survived, because he was on a business trip.

After that, he fell into despair, quit his job, and drifted through life until one day he wandered into a church. A priest stopped him and asked what troubled him.

He somehow blurted out his pain, saying he saw no meaning in living, and the priest counseled him. Slowly, he came to the church more often, and eventually became a believer.

Later, a bishop found him and asked if he was willing to dedicate himself to the Church. He agreed and followed the bishop to the church's courtyard, through corridors lined with murals and scriptures, under painted domes and the colorful, dreamlike sunlight.

A hooded figure approached, bathed in the glow of the Mother Goddess's statue, his face unseen. Only his smooth hands were visible, clasped before him.

He stepped forward, placed a hand on the doctor's forehead, and spoke in a voice as soothing as a cello: "Believer Borner, do you, from the bottom of your heart, fully devote yourself to the Mother Goddess and follow the doctrine?"

The doctor answered, his voice distant: "I do."

The man spoke again: "Raise your head. Look at me."

The doctor lifted his head. Lu Mingqiu, following the gaze in his memory, looked up, up—and saw a flash of white light.

That white light struck her like a scorching whip, a bolt of lightning, in an instant.