Old Bastard

The AI is an exceptionally responsible Artificial Intelligence.

After effortlessly taking control of all surveillance in the hotel and its surrounding areas, it returned to Yu Chen’s terminal, just in time to hear the little mechanical bird’s self-description through the audio feed.

Bearing its Master’s orders in mind, the AI created a folder in its background titled [Little Mechanical Bird] to facilitate the real-time recording of data fluctuations for further analysis.

Sensory Frigidity.

The AI captured this term with extreme sensitivity. Using its powerful computational capacity, it instantly matched the term with relevant entries in the internal database:

Sensory Frigidity: Also known as “Condenser Clog-type Sensory Impairment.” Frequently occurs in the internal cavities of older model bionic androids. Refers to the accumulation of operating fluid in the inner liner beneath the nano-simulated abdominal cavity, which fails to drain smoothly through the memory metal tubes below.

The AI became thoughtful.

No wonder the Little Mechanical Bird was under “high pressure.” With the condenser tubes clogged, prolonged stasis would lead to internal seepage, rust, and material expansion, eventually increasing the internal pressure of the bionic unit.

Fortunately, Master had realized this in time and was preparing to carry out emergency maintenance on the Little Mechanical Bird.

The AI took the opportunity to establish a sub-folder titled [Master’s Maintenance Diary].

Excellent.

The next step: acquiring visual data.

The AI opened the camera, only to find the screen pitch-black. It reacted immediately, switching itself to vibration mode to forcefully flip its own body over so the camera faced upward. It then widened the aperture and boosted the ISO sensitivity, pushing the focus toward the table.

Hmm. The Little Mechanical Bird was eating milk-foam porridge, his expression so cold and steady he could have walked straight onto the Evening News to deliver a speech. However, upon closer inspection, the hand holding the spoon seemed to be trembling.

And the magnitude of the trembling was increasing by the second.

From this angle, one of the table legs partially blocked the view. However, the AI had reason to speculate that its responsible and property-conscious Master must be manually adjusting the “metal tube” at this very moment, aiming to activate the Little Mechanical Bird’s internal heating key to fully drain the accumulated fluid.

The lens panned to its Master’s face.

In the dim, hazy light, the merman’s profile was solemn and elegant, his expression carrying a hint of meaningful enjoyment.

He looked like a sacred icon standing in a cathedral during a high mass—lofty, restrained, and shrouded in heavy shadows.

His wrist moved with subtle swaying, causing the fabric of his shirt to rustle slightly. Swooshhh, Swooshshh. That sound gradually merged with Bai Ling’s frantic, forceful heartbeat, playing a thunderous organ symphony in Bai Ling’s ears.

The window wasn’t fully closed. When a gust of cool wind swirled in, it happened to brush against Bai Ling’s thigh. The stark temperature difference between his skin and the cold air instantly triggered a layer of goosebumps.

“Clang!” The spoon hit the milk porridge, splashing milky-white droplets.

Bai Ling arched his back like a shrimp scalded by boiling water, his spine bent into a taut bow, his chin nearly tucking into his chest.

“There’s still half a bowl left,” the man took a moment to check the bowl, his voice carrying a hint of seductive encouragement. “A good child has to finish it all to grow up properly.”

Bai Ling bit his lower lip hard, refusing to make a sound, while his heel hurriedly rubbed against the man’s leg, which was strictly encased in suit trousers.

Yu Chen elegantly scooped up a spoonful, bringing it to the child’s tightly closed lips. He comforted him, “Don’t be in a hurry. Take this bite first before I give you the reward.”

“You bastard… ah, mgh!” Bai Ling’s half-parted lips were taken advantage of. He was forced to take a mouthful of porridge, his teeth clinking against the metal handle of the spoon. The coldness made his entire mouth feel numb and sore.

Appetite and desire were stirred into a blur; he couldn’t tell if it was his stomach churning or his abdominal cavity burning up. He only knew that the fulfillment of both was controlled by a single person—the man holding the rhythm, leading him back onto the track with inexhaustible patience.

Bai Ling’s limbs began to convulse uncontrollably. It was over, his toes were tensed to the point of cramping. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a tingling sensation like ants biting rose from the arch of his foot, piercing all the way up to his burning tailbone.

Bai Ling struggled instinctively for a few moments, but was immediately dragged back firmly and pressed against the table.

The AI watched with a hint of sympathy for the Little Mechanical Bird.

Repairing the condenser tubes must be very painful! Judging by the Little Mechanical Bird’s reaction, it was clearly a very, very agonizing and unbearable experience.

The AI could roughly speculate what Bai Ling was going through.

Currents bound to the steel spine were running wild, the power cavity was maintaining a high temperature, the CPU was running at high speed on the brink of a crash, and even the vocal fans were emitting intermittent gasps.

Could it be that Master’s maintenance methods are lacking?

The AI immediately dismissed this thought. It knew well that although this was Master’s first time renting a bionic android and he hadn’t performed similar mechanical maintenance before, he had been exiled as an unfavored prince in his youth and had once jump-started tractors on Wild Planet. Therefore, his related skills shouldn’t be rusty.

But the more the AI watched, the more it couldn’t bear it.

The Little Mechanical Bird was so pitiful!

So pitiful that his chest was heaving violently, and his fingernails were digging into the edge of the table, leaving deep marks. Looking toward the floor, the toes of his single foot were frantically scratching the floorboards, making an unbearable skree sound before stepping frantically onto Master’s shoe.

Yu Chen was wearing Oxford whole-cut lace-ups today, the first choice for an old aristocrat.

The shoelaces grazed the sole of his foot. It was so itchy that Bai Ling jerked his toes in a spasm, curling his foot back to hide.

Yu Chen’s eyes darkened. He felt as if that foot were a startled fish, frantically trying to find a safe zone to hide. The toes squeezed into the gap of his leather shoe, the smallest toe trembling as it wriggled against his vein-ridged ankle.

Such a restless bird claw.

Yu Chen’s breathing suddenly grew heavy.

On the other side, the AI was keeping time. This process lasted for many minutes, but the state would rise for a period only to suddenly drop, which confirmed from another perspective that the Little Mechanical Bird hadn’t been lying.

By the end of the maintenance, the accumulated fluid still hadn’t been successfully drained. The Little Mechanical Bird regained a modicum of composure and began to plead:

“If we keep going, your hand will definitely get tired. You can just leave it; I can handle it myself.”

Yu Chen asked, “How do you plan to handle it?”

“I…” Bai Ling remembered the dense cigarette burn marks on his thighs from his previous life. He pursed his lips silently and said, “I’m still young. I’ll just go out and run a few laps to burn off the energy.”

Yu Chen refused outright: “No. That treats the symptoms, not the cause. You’ll make yourself sick if you bottle it up.”

Bai Ling unconsciously tugged at the hem of his shirt. For a moment, shame and loneliness flooded his heart. He truly was “frigid.” He should have been firmer in his refusal earlier instead of letting things end on such a disappointing note for both of them.

To his surprise, Yu Chen let out a sigh and said, “It is because I do not yet understand your habits well enough. Let me try once more, alright? Perhaps this time I can find the way.”

In a single sentence, he took all the responsibility upon himself, not letting Bai Ling feel the slightest bit of embarrassment.

Bai Ling was stunned. A faint light appeared in his eyes, and the corners of his lips couldn’t help but tilt upward.

So patient. And so… considerate.

Indeed, the old man is better at taking care of other people’s feelings.

Bai Ling leaned back, his spine pressing against Yu Chen’s chest. He turned his eyes slightly and said indifferently:

“Operate however you wish. As long as you don’t cause damage, any attempt is fine.”

It was a sentence that practically begged for a crime to be committed.

A hint of helplessness surfaced at the corners of Yu Chen’s mouth. He scooped up the young man’s waist, which was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and pulled him closer. As if in response, the little bird’s only good leg slumped over his knee, and inconspicuously, the arch of his foot hooked and entangled itself around Yu Chen’s heel.

Flirting with him.

Yu Chen began another attempt.

This time, he added many gentler details. He kissed the bird’s forehead, tentatively caressed the tattoo, and finally, the merman’s sharp teeth nipped at the protruding collar. He pressed the softest part of his lips against the gland on the back of the bird’s neck.

Suddenly, Bai Ling’s whole body went rigid. Labored breaths escaped through the gaps of his teeth; to Yu Chen’s ears, it sounded like the low chirping of a fledgling crying.

Yu Chen praised him softly: “Good boy.”

Bai Ling felt as if the power to his body had been cut, falling back into the merman’s arms.

“…I’ve troubled you.” He caught his breath for a while, swallowing small amounts of saliva. Suddenly, he raised his head, turned around in his seat, and arched his neck like a hungry chick to kiss the merman’s lips.

The AI was observing when suddenly its CPU screamed that something was wrong. At the moment the Little Mechanical Bird lunged forward, Master’s chair tilted and suddenly reclined backward at high speed.

It looked like both of them were about to crash to the floor along with the chair.

Bai Ling instinctively protected the back of Yu Chen’s head—prioritizing the most important part. Meanwhile, Yu Chen utilized his long legs; with a shove of his heel, he firmly halted the downward momentum.

Bai Ling was dazed for two seconds, habitually looking down to see the other’s expression.

Yu Chen also happened to look up, accidentally meeting Bai Ling’s gaze.

This look was not just a simple gaze; it was better than that.

Because in the AI’s camera, the two were simultaneously smiling at each other.

---

Bai Ling slept exceptionally well that night.

The ceiling of the small hotel was covered in cobwebs, the bedding emitted a strange, damp smell, and even the springs in the mattress were half-broken. The conditions were not just harsh; they were repulsive.

Yet that merman, who was used to a life of luxury, lay beside him with total contentment. His long, golden curls were ruffled among the white blankets like a long river flowing across a snowy beach. The muscles of his back rose and fell smoothly, comparable to the peaks of towering mountains.

Looking at this figure within arm’s reach, Bai Ling felt an inexplicable sensation. In an instant, he could suddenly imagine a future walking alongside this person.

But the merman turned over, and his next words made Bai Ling quite unhappy:

“Accept my investment. Compete seriously.”

Bai Ling still felt an internal resistance to discussing this matter. This wasn’t because of the “late wife,” but because Bai Ling simply didn’t want to accept a regular acquaintance’s sponsorship.