Film and Television: My Cheat Code is AI

An end is also a beginning

When Zhang Yang opened his eyes again, all he saw was a white ceiling.

The fluorescent tubes were embedded in the recesses of the ceiling, casting a soft, non-glaring light. He tried to move his neck, but the muscles were as stiff as rusted iron. His throat was so dry he couldn't make a sound. He pursed his lips, and the dry skin on his lips scraped against his tongue, tasting a mixture of disinfectant and blood.

Two people sat by the bed. Tian Rui held a half-peeled apple in her hand, the fruit knife hovering in mid-air, her eyes red. Chang Baole leaned back in his chair, dozing, his mouth slightly open, his chin almost reaching his chest.

Zhang Yang opened his mouth, the voice squeezed out from his throat, hoarse like sandpaper scraping against a sheet of metal: "What's wrong with me?

Tian Rui nearly dropped the apple in her hand. She smiled before wiping away the tears welling in her eyes, her expression a mixture of crying and laughing without any pretense: "You're finally awake."

Chang Baole was startled awake by the noise; the chair leg scraped against the floor tiles with a sharp sound. He glanced at Zhang Yang, said nothing, turned and rushed out, his footsteps thumping away in the corridor. He was going to call the doctor.

Zhang Yang watched Chang Baole disappear through the door, his mind a complete blank, as if stuffed with cotton. He slowly turned his head to look at Tian Rui again, his lips moved, and the first thing he asked was, "How's the case going?"

Tian Rui placed the fruit knife and apple on the bedside table, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and said in a steady voice, "You've been in a coma for a month. The case is closed, and all the money has been returned. Apart from the two drivers, only Wang Xianren and Liu Zhi survived; the rest are dead."

Zhang Yang's eyes widened when he heard "one month," and then his tense shoulders gradually relaxed as he heard that the case was solved and the money was recovered. He leaned his head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, and let out a long breath.

Seeing that he was still dazed, Tian Rui stood up and pulled the blanket up a little higher for him: "You should rest. Bao Le went to see the doctor. I'll go buy you something to eat."

Zhang Yang lay alone in the hospital bed, listening to the faint sounds of a trolley being pushed and the nurses talking in the corridor.

The deep blue panel in my mind lit up. It wasn't the usual flashing notification; instead, a whole screen of light slowly unfolded, and messages floated up one by one.

Zhang Yang lay alone in his hospital bed, seeing the information in his mind.

[The host has been in a coma for a month —]

[Analyzing in progress —]

[Access to the source information —]

[About to travel to the next world —]

There are 30 days left.

He finished reading the last line, then looked back at the ceiling without saying a word. He hadn't expected to go to another world, nor did he know what kind of world it would be. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was that he was alive, the case was solved, the people were caught, and the money was recovered. That was enough.

Ten days later, Zhang Yang was discharged from the hospital. Yang Zhen and Ding Jian came to pick him up. Ding Jian threw his luggage bag onto the back seat of the car and said, "You must be tired of eating at the hospital cafeteria for the past month. Let's go for hot pot tonight." Zhang Yang sat in the back seat by the car window, looking at the streets and pedestrians outside, and felt that everything was quite familiar.

The first thing Zhang Yang did upon returning to the Major Crimes Unit was to see Chief Zhou. He knocked on Chief Zhou's office door and reiterated the suggestion he'd been pondering in the hospital: to have all the officers in the bureau undergo physical examinations. Many of the officers in the bureau were older but hadn't retired yet; they'd spent their youth on the front lines and now worked in administrative roles, making their health conditions quite complex. Chief Zhou listened, took his cigarette from his mouth, paused for a few seconds, and said, "That's a good suggestion. I'll bring it up at the bureau meeting."

The second task was accomplished under the watchful eyes of the entire team. Zhang Yang's second second-class merit award was granted. For his fearless performance in the 815 case, his frontline role in the subsequent pursuit and firefight, and his killing of suspect Wang Xianmin, the Ministry of Public Security awarded him a second-class merit badge. Old Zheng pressed the badge firmly against his chest, saying, "Kid, you're tough." Yang Zhen stood beside him without speaking, only raising his hand to pat him on the back of the head. Ding Jian's arm, which Chen Feng had slashed, was fully healed. He gave a proper salute and said, "Zhang Yang, well done."

Zhang Yang glanced down at the badge on his chest, then looked up at the people around him. Old Zheng stood at the far end with a teacup in his hand, Yang Zhen still had a holster on his waist, Ji Jie leaned against the table with her arms crossed, Tian Rui stood next to Ji Jie with slightly red eyes, Chang Baole stood on tiptoe peeking through the gaps in the crowd, and Ding Jian hadn't lowered his hand after saluting.

So many people. So many things have happened. In this world, Zhang Yang has been an undercover agent, a policeman, solved cases, been stabbed, and shot. Memories won't disappear; they'll always be there.

Thirty days passed in the blink of an eye. Zhang Yang lay in bed when a flash of white light appeared—

When Zhang Yang woke up again, he looked down and saw that he was wearing the Air Force's Type 87 uniform, with a brand new insignia stripe on his shoulder.

[Memories are being instilled]

My mind went blank, and then information flooded in—not my own memories, but rather something that was imported, like data being loaded onto a hard drive.

Zhang Yang, seventeen years old, had just enlisted for three months and was assigned to the cooking squad of the air force's airfield service company right after basic training.

The reason for the assignment was simple and practical: he could cook. During basic training, he once helped in the kitchen, and the potato shreds he cut were so fine they could be threaded through a needle. The quartermaster immediately spoke to the company commander. As for what kind of place the airfield company was, it involved runway maintenance, bird control, firefighting, and...

The guards were in charge of almost everything at the airport, except for flying planes. The cooks were responsible for preparing meals for the workers.

Zhang Yang looked at his hands. They were young hands, with distinct knuckles, but thinner than he remembered. There were no calluses on the base of his thumbs.

I'll be reporting to the field service company soon, and I feel inexplicably excited. It's not the nervous excitement of a new recruit, but the feeling of starting anew.

Someone outside shouted, "Zhang Yang, come out here, we're going to the field management company."

Zhang Yang slung his packed backpack over his shoulder, pushed open the door, and went out. Standing in the doorway was his political instructor from basic training, a man in his thirties.

He was thin and bony, standing with his hands behind his back under a poplar tree in the yard.

Zhang Yang stood at attention and saluted: "Reporting to the instructor, recruit Zhang Yang is ready."

The instructor looked him up and down, nodded, and said, "Let's go. It just so happens that your company commander, Wang, is also going back together. We'll ride in the same car."

An old-fashioned 212 jeep was parked on the parade ground, with two people already sitting in the driver's seat. The driver was a soldier from the motor transport unit, with a dark red face, one hand on the steering wheel and smoking. In the back seat sat Company Commander Wang, who was thirty-five or thirty-six years old, with a square face and his collar buttoned up tightly. The political instructor opened the passenger door and let Zhang Yang get in first, then went around to the other side to sit in the back with Company Commander Wang.

As the car exited the recruit training camp, the poplar trees on both sides of the road rushed past. The political instructor spoke first, chatting about things in the army. Company Commander Wang didn't say much, only occasionally responding. Zhang Yang sat in the passenger seat without interrupting, listening attentively while keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror.

Company Commander Wang suddenly asked, "I heard that all the good soldiers you parachuted in have been selected?"

Upon hearing this, the instructor's face changed, and he said with a wry smile, "I get angry just thinking about this. Why would an army special forces unit come to our air force to select people? The regimental commander was really something, actually letting people go. I complained to the regimental commander a few times, and I never expected that I would be assigned to the recruit company as an instructor."

The two continued chatting, and Zhang Yang heard two words: "Old A".

Zhang Yang's eyes lit up. So Old A really existed. So Old A was in this world. He controlled his expression and didn't turn his head, but his mind was already racing.

"Report."

The instructor chuckled from the back row: "Zhang Yang, relax. If you weren't so skinny, we'd all want you."

Zhang Yang turned around and leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face: "Company Commander, is it easy to join a special forces unit?"

Company Commander Wang raised an eyebrow: "You haven't even stepped through the gates of my field service company yet, and you're already planning to go to the special forces?"

Zhang Yang said with a grin, "Reporting, Company Commander, I was just curious."

The instructor smiled, pointed at Zhang Yang, and said to Company Commander Wang, "This kid is quick-witted. He got first place in the entire company in theory during the recruit training assessment, but his physical fitness is a bit lacking." He then turned to look at Zhang Yang, "Practice hard, and maybe you'll be selected next year. There will be a big competition across the entire army next year."

Company Commander Wang nodded, his tone becoming more serious than before: "That's right. Our company's reading room also has some materials, you can take a look. If you want to join the special forces, you need to have a good brain and a good physique."

Zhang Yang sat up straight: "Yes, thank you, Company Commander."

It was already dark when the jeep drove into the airfield gate. Rows of runway lights were lit up in the direction of the runway, and several J-7 fighters were parked at the hangar entrance in the distance. The instructor took Zhang Yang to the company headquarters to complete the handover procedures. He signed the required documents and stamped the necessary seals. The instructor patted Zhang Yang on the shoulder, said "Do a good job," and left.

The quartermaster was a veteran in his early forties who spoke slowly and deliberately. He led Zhang Yang toward the mess hall, which was a row of bungalows behind the company headquarters. The quartermaster pushed open the screen door and called out, "Squad Leader Hong, the new recruits have arrived."

Zhang Yang looked up and saw a chubby cook, wearing an apron, emerge from behind the stove, carrying a spatula. He had a round face, and his belly stretched the apron into a rounded arc. When he smiled, his eyes narrowed into slits.

Zhang Yang looked at the chubby squad leader and his heart stirred. He recognized the figure and the face. It was the chubby squad leader, Squad Leader Hong. So this world wasn't just about the Old A; there were these old acquaintances too.

Squad Leader Hong said with a grin, "They were assigned to our squad? Welcome, welcome!"

The cooks all came out and started clapping.

Zhang Yang stood at attention and saluted: "Reporting, squad leader, recruit Zhang Yang is reporting for duty."

Squad Leader Hong said, "Great, great, that's perfect, we're short-staffed in the mess hall. Can you cook?"

Zhang Yang said, "Reporting to the squad leader, I learned to cook before I joined the army."

"That would be even better, come in quickly!"

The quartermaster said, "Sergeant Hong, I'm entrusting the man to you. You'd better take good care of him."

"Yes."