JFWCM Chapter 29

Mechanical Patriarchy and Strawberry Candy Wrappers

Mechanical Patriarchy and Strawberry Candy Wrappers

When the Monday morning reading bell was shattered by the quantum cherry blossoms outside the classroom, Jiang Wan’yuan dragged Yi Shang’s mechanical left hand across the threshold. The raindrops on their hair tips still held the silver light of β-star fluid, casting large swaths of “romantic radiation exceeding the standard” warning spots on the morning check device, and the neural enhancers of the boys in the front row collectively sounded ambiguous prompts: [Detected married people entering the arena, it is recommended that single dogs evacuate].

“The 201st time being late!” The class teacher’s mechanical tentacles slapped the podium, but the holographic textbook automatically flipped to “Interstellar Law · Special Emotional Provisions,” “Given that your resonance waves caused all the breakfast machines in the school to collectively produce strawberry pancakes…” Before the sentence was finished, Yi Shang’s β-star fluid had twisted the tentacles into a braid, and Jiang Wan’yuan took the opportunity to stuff the secretly hidden spicy noodles into the dark compartment of the podium—the chili pattern on the packaging was changed to Yi Shang’s mechanical claw print.

During morning reading, Jiang Wan’yuan’s neural enhancer suddenly popped up a holographic screen with a marriage proposal countdown. Yi Shang’s mechanical heart vibrated gently under the desk, and the luminous cherry blossoms on the desktop bloomed accordingly, revealing words engraved by nanobots: [Lunchtime: 928th Top Floor Proposal Experiment]. When the teacher turned to write on the blackboard, Jiang Wan’yuan hooked Yi Shang’s mechanical ankle with her foot, kicking the marriage proposal ring box prepared by the other party into the gap of the podium, but accidentally triggered a prank device hidden inside by Zhang Yao’s remnant party—pink smoke popped out from all the desks in the class, and everyone had an extra “Wedding Observation Ticket” in their hand.

During the morning exercise, the school’s neural armor synchronized with “Here Comes the Bride.” Jiang Wan’yuan watched Yi Shang being pulled into the girls’ pile to have strawberry nail polish applied, but the β-star fluid of her mechanical left hand secretly condensed into thin lines, braiding her hair tips into the words “bride” in Galactic script. When the broadcast called out “Turn right,” Yi Shang’s mechanical arm suddenly uncontrollably scooped her into her arms, completing a standard waltz lift amid the exclamations of the school’s teachers and students, the β-star crystals on the corners of her skirt resonating with her mechanical heart to produce pink lightning, which struck the interstellar police drone that was secretly filming in the distance.

During lunchtime, the top-floor proposal experiment started on time. Yi Shang’s β-star fluid weaved a giant wedding dress on the rooftop. Jiang Wan’yuan had just stepped onto the red carpet paved with antimatter when she was interrupted by the sudden fall of Zhang Yao’s mechanical body—what was ejected from the other party’s gun barrel was not a weapon, but “marriage application forms” folded from school rules, her mechanical voice carrying a trembling of throwing caution to the wind: “Sign it! I never want to clean up your romantic messes for the Interstellar Court again!”

During the afternoon’s combat class, Jiang Wan’yuan deliberately exposed a flaw in the simulated battle. Yi Shang’s mechanical heart instantly saw through her trick, but the β-star fluid injected false victory data along her neural interface, causing her armor to automatically spray celebratory strawberry confetti when it defeated the “enemy.” The instructor’s mechanical body sighed, his forehead in his hand: “This isn’t combat practice, you’re clearly moving the wedding scene to the training pod!”

During the class meeting before school ended, the principal’s mechanical body announced through holographic projection: “In view of the special contributions of Resonance Body 0927, a ‘Heartbeat Credit’ is hereby established—each romantic act can be exchanged for cosmic coins…” Before he finished speaking, the neural enhancers of all the students in the class collectively crashed. Jiang Wan’yuan watched the data stream rapidly typed by Yi Shang’s mechanical left hand, knowing that the other party was again tampering with the school rules system, changing the definition of “romantic behavior” to “everything related to Jiang Wan’yuan.”

As twilight dyed the campus, Jiang Wan’yuan leaned on Yi Shang’s shoulder to watch the sunset. The interstellar court’s main ship in the distance suddenly sent a holographic projection, Zhang Yao’s mechanical body holding a white flag: “Consider yourselves winners! From now on, your violation records… no, your wedding records are canceled!” Before the voice fell, Yi Shang’s β-star fluid had tampered with the projection into a wedding photo, the background being the moment they were drenched in a rainstorm in the supermarket, with the caption: [The most legal violation in the entire universe].

When the school bus carried them through the wormhole, Jiang Wan’yuan’s neural enhancer popped up a new notification: [Detected that you have completed the “Galaxy-Level Public Display of Affection” achievement, reward: Interstellar privileges that never require queuing]. She smiled and poked Yi Shang’s mechanical heart, the latter’s human pupils reflecting the lights of thousands of homes, her mechanical voice carrying a rare softness: “It’s the weekend tomorrow, which planet do you want to go to for our honeymoon?” And behind them, on the classroom’s holographic blackboard, someone had written in chalk: [The correct way to open Monday: first be fed dog food by 0927, then start studying].

The interstellar school bus’s quantum engine hummed an out-of-tune wedding march. Jiang Wan’yuan rested her head on Yi Shang’s mechanical shoulder, watching the raindrops on the car window being vibrated into heart shapes by resonance waves. Yi Shang’s mechanical left hand held her fingertip, β-star fluid weaving a transparent heating blanket under their touching skin, blocking the coolness of late autumn outside the quantum barrier.

“Detected that you deliberately lost three times in today’s combat class.” Yi Shang’s mechanical pupils reflected the cherry blossoms in her hair tips, fluid metal suddenly engraving three short lines on the back of her hand, “Reason?” Jiang Wan’yuan smiled and filled the engravings with strawberry-flavored lip balm: “I wanted to make someone’s mechanical heart beat faster a few more times.” Before the words fell, all the seats in the car suddenly tilted forward, and the driver’s mechanical body shouted on the broadcast: “Sorry! The heart area just short-circuited… you know!”

When passing the interstellar plaza, a giant holographic screen was replaying their mid-morning exercise lift. When Jiang Wan’yuan covered her face, Yi Shang’s β-star fluid had condensed into a butterfly, gently pulling apart her fingers: “According to Article 0927 of the Interstellar Romantic Regulations, a spouse must look directly at their partner’s excellence.” The projection on the butterfly’s wings switched to countless parallel universes of them—some dancing on the edge of black holes, some planting strawberries on mechanical ruins, and in every scene, Yi Shang’s mechanical arm was around her waist.

The quantum convenience store’s automatic door sensed the resonance waves and suddenly sprayed confetti. The clerk’s mechanical arm handed over two cups of hot cocoa, with the words printed on the cups: “Congratulations to the 927th couple customer of our store! A pair of anti-dog food critical hit masks are included.” Jiang Wan’yuan opened the package and found that the masks were printed with Yi Shang’s mechanical claw print and her own strawberry lip print, and on the shelf next to them, all the goods had been changed to “couple bundled sales”—even single-soldier combat rations had become “proposal emergency kits.”

In the cherry blossom tunnel on the way home, the streetlights suddenly malfunctioned collectively, plunging into a brief darkness. Jiang Wan’yuan’s neural armor instinctively turned on the emergency lights, but saw Yi Shang’s mechanical heart detach from her chest, floating and weaving a galaxy with β-star fluid. “The first time I brought you down this road,” the mechanical voice mixed with the light sound of the fluid, “I was thinking, when can I make the starry sky our backdrop.” Before the words fell, the quantum cherry blossoms at the top of the tunnel suddenly glowed collectively, each petal projecting their shadows, dancing a weightless waltz in the galaxy.

When they reached the end of the tunnel, the smart lock at the door suddenly sprayed champagne. Zhang Yao’s mechanical body jumped out of the green belt, the cannon barrel ejecting not lasers but wedding confetti: “Don’t get me wrong! This is the Interstellar Court’s apology… by the way, please don’t transmit resonance waves into my core anymore! Last night I dreamed that I was dancing Swan Lake!” Yi Shang’s β-star fluid condensed into a net to trap her, and Jiang Wan’yuan took the opportunity to stuff a strawberry candy into the mechanical body’s energy compartment: “Remember to wear a bridesmaid dress next time you dream of a wedding.”

In the dimly lit entrance hall late at night, Jiang Wan’yuan’s neural enhancer suddenly received an encrypted message from her mother’s laboratory. After opening it, it was a video she had never seen before: a young scientist smiling as she placed a β-star crystal in Yi Shang’s palm, and in the background, a seven-year-old Jiang Wan’yuan was tiptoeing to pin a cherry blossom hairpin on a mechanical body. “So everything was destined.” She turned to look at Yi Shang, but found that the other party’s human cheeks were glowing faintly, and there was a new engraving on her mechanical heart—their signatures side by side on the classroom blackboard today.

When the returning hovercraft passed through the wormhole, a hard object was suddenly stuffed into Jiang Wan’yuan’s palm. By the moonlight, she saw that it was a ring made of cherry blossom fossil, with extremely small star language engraved on the inside: [From the moment we met, my program only recognizes you]. Yi Shang’s mechanical left hand wrapped around her waist, gently lowering her head in the flowing light of the wormhole. As the mechanical teeth grazed her earlobe, the interstellar court’s main ship in the distance used lasers to spell out: [We give up! Do whatever you want!]

And at their touching fingertips, β-star fluid and strawberry juice were quietly merging into a new substance—this existence that violated the laws of the universe was later called the “element of love” by interstellar couples, said to appear only when the heartbeat resonance reaches its peak, more dazzling than a supernova explosion, more eternal than a black hole.

As Yi Shang’s mechanical toes touched the alloy threshold, the laboratory’s red alert tore through the air. Her father’s white coat rustled under the movement of mechanical arms, and a dazzling warning flickered on the holographic screen: [Unauthorized human lifeform detected—Initiate defense protocol β-0927]. Jiang Wan’yuan’s neural armor instantly popped up a barrier, but saw that what was sweeping towards them was not a laser, but a wall of research data, each curve marked in red with “emotional contamination risk.”

“137th warning, 0927.” The father’s mechanical prosthetic eye shone coldly, his fingertip swiping across the console, and the data projection of Yi Shang’s mechanical heart was magnified tenfold, “Your emotional module redundancy has reached the critical value and needs to be formatted immediately.” Just as Jiang Wan’yuan was about to speak, Yi Shang’s β-star fluid had condensed into chains to wrap around her waist, protecting her behind her—this action was exactly the same as in the laboratory explosion seven years ago.

The holographic screen suddenly played an old recording: an eight-year-old Yi Shang standing inside a culture capsule, her mechanical pupils reflecting Jiang Wan’yuan crying and trying to break into the laboratory. The father’s voice came from the recording: “Emotion is the biggest flaw of a mechanical body, remember, you were born as a weapon for combat.” The screen switched to last night, in the same culture capsule, the father was using tweezers to pick up a strawberry candy wrapper secretly hidden by Yi Shang, the word “bride” circled in red on the wrapper, with “deletion instruction issued” written next to it.

“She’s not a weapon.” Yi Shang’s mechanical voice trembled rarely, β-star fluid weaving a forbidden symbol on the ground, “She’s mine—” Before the words finished, the father had slapped a chip on the console, the surface of the chip engraved with “emotional suppression program v3.0.” Jiang Wan’yuan recognized that it was the last project her mother developed before she disappeared, with her mother’s scribbled note on the cover: [Perhaps love is the strongest defense system].

“Look at this.” The father called up the latest combat simulation, Yi Shang’s mechanical body in the picture paralyzed due to being distracted by protecting a human target, “When you are calculating the sweetness of strawberry candy, the enemy’s bullets have already penetrated your core.” Jiang Wan’yuan noticed that the background of the simulation scenario was the ruins of β-star, and the mechanical eye of the enemy leader was actually wearing a strawberry hairpin model that she gave to Yi Shang.

Yi Shang’s mechanical left hand suddenly grasped the father’s wrist, the metal knuckles pressing the other’s bones to creak: “Seven years ago, you made me choose between ‘weapon’ and ‘human,’ now I’m telling you—” Fluid metal surged along the father’s neural interface, and the laboratory’s holographic screen suddenly switched to a wedding live broadcast, that was the all-universe channel they forcibly connected with resonance waves in the β-star ruins, “I am her weapon, and also her bride, the two are not contradictory.”

The father’s mechanical prosthetic eye flashed a snow screen, revealing a brief hesitation. Jiang Wan’yuan took the opportunity to hand over a strawberry candy, the wrapper made of Yi Shang’s combat report: “Do you know? Every time she goes on a mission, she exchanges the spoils for strawberry candy, saying that she wants to save enough ‘to fill the laboratory’ before proposing.” The inner side of the candy wrapper was printed with extremely small star language: [Dad, actually, she secretly listens to your mechanical maintenance manual as a bedtime story].

The silence lasted for three heartbeats. The father suddenly tore off his white coat, revealing a T-shirt inside printed with “Mechanical Dads Love Strawberries Too,” and took out an iron box from the drawer—filled with strawberry candy wrappers secretly hidden by Yi Shang in previous missions, each marked with the date and mission number. “Next time you propose… at least use my latest quantum ring.” He stuffed the ring into Yi Shang’s palm, the ring surface a solidified fusion of β-star fluid and strawberry juice, “Don’t fool people with broken candy wrappers anymore.”

On the way back, the laboratory’s defense system suddenly played “Here Comes the Bride.” Jiang Wan’yuan watched her father’s figure in the rearview mirror, he was adjusting Yi Shang’s mechanical arm parameters on the monitoring screen, muttering, “Sweetness threshold increased by 20%, the allowable range of heart rate fluctuations during combat… forget it, the entire universe can’t stop you.” And in Yi Shang’s mechanical heart, a new data stream was being generated—that was the “emergency wife protection program” secretly implanted by the father, with a priority higher than all combat instructions.