The Test

{Morning}

Thung! Thunk! Thud!

I jolt up in bed like someone fired a starting pistol next to my ear. "What the heck!?"

Blanket—off. Feet—on floor. Dignity—left behind.

I stumble out of the bedroom, hair a mess, eyes half shut. "Jiang, what are you—"

I stop.

Dead.

In.

My.

Tracks.

The kitchen looks like a war zone. A very domestic war zone.

Cups shattered on the floor. Water tap running like it's trying to flood the apartment. Sugar, salt, and flour all spilled and mixed together on the counter, on the floor, and somehow... on the ceiling?

He stands in the middle of it, looking so proud.

"What the hell are you doing!?" I march closer, stepping over a broken cup like it's a landmine.

He turns to me, beaming. "I'm making elixir."

"Elixir?" I blink. "Wait—you guys can make elixirs?"

He tilts his head. "No. Your kind makes it. I saw it on TV. When girlfriend wakes up from sleep, boyfriend gives her this elixir. It's made of white water, regular water, white stuff, and brown stuff."

I squint at the mess on the counter. Milk. Water. Sugar. Coffee beans?

I bury my face in my hands. "Ughhh… it's coffee you idiot!"

He gasps like I just revealed the secret to immortality. "So coffee is the sacred elixir of love!"

God, why—why didn't I tell you in the last chapter before sleeping not to repeat this!? I groan, arms flailing at the disaster zone formerly known as my kitchen.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Okay… listen, Jiang. You know what makes a good boyfriend?"

His antennae perk up instantly, glowing and twitching like excited little glowsticks. "What? What is good boyfriend?"

I point at him, dead serious. "A good boyfriend is one who listens to whatever his girlfriend says."

He nods, attentive. "Listens."

"And follows it."

He blinks. "Even if it is… don't turn kitchen into battlefield?"

"Especially that one!"

He salutes like I've just given him a top-secret mission. "Understood. I have to do what you say."

"Yes, yes, yes! Finally, you're learning fast!"

I point dramatically toward the living room. "So now, first order—go sit on that couch. Do not move. Not even a twitch. Just go, sit, and watch your weird dramas."

He nods with the seriousness of a soldier. "I will become one with the couch."

"Exactly! Couch fusion! Just—go!"

He marches off like he's about to save the world by watching a love triangle unfold.

Sigh... It's already 6 in the morning. I rub my eyes and stare at the disaster zone that used to be my kitchen.

"Gotta take care of everything before heading to the research center…" I mutter, grabbing a mop like it's a weapon.

But then I glance toward the living room.

Jiang is sitting there, exactly where I told him to be. Eyes glued to the TV, antennae flickering, a cushion on his lap like he's pretending to be a responsible house pet.

"Is it really okay to leave this idiot here alone?"

I sigh again, louder this time. "But I can't take him with me. No way. That's way too risky. What if someone sees the antennae?"

Groaning, I start cleaning up the sugar-flour-salt-water-cupageddon he left in his wake. "Why do I feel like I adopted a six-foot-tall alien golden retriever with a TV addiction?"

I finish scrubbing the last sticky patch of sugar off the counter, toss the cloth into the sink, and stretch my back with a loud groan.

I glance at the couch.

There he is. Still sitting. Still watching TV. Antennae twitching now and then. Eyes wide like he's studying for an exam on human emotions.

"Well, would you look at that," I mutter. "I finally figured out how to tame him. Good obedient alien. Like a well-trained golden retriever… with wi-fi."

I check the clock. 6:40 AM. Ugh.

"Alright. Shower time. Then I'll figure out what to do with you." I grab my towel and clothes, heading to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I step out, fresh and dressed, towel-drying my hair.

I peek into the living room.

Still there.

Still watching.

Still not burned the place down.

"...Good boy," I whisper, half-proud, half-afraid to jinx it.

I glance at the clock again. Still an hour and a half left until 9.

Plenty of time… for panic.

I walk into my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me. I crouch near the shelf, reach into the back of the drawer, and pull out the tiny glass container—the one with that weird potato slice soaked in alien blue blood.

sample from the last night. Still weird. Still glowing. Still probably illegal.

I carefully wrap it and tuck it into my bag.

"Okay… sample secured."

Maybe I should try calling Mr. Xian again. Just in case he finally decided to not ghost me.

I grab my phone, dial his number.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

No answer.

I try again.

Still nothing.

"Oh, come on! Are all researchers emotionally unavailable or just the ones I need right now?"

"Ugh… whatever," I mutter, brushing it off. I fix my makeup, smooth down my hair, and head into the living room. I place my bag beside the table and sit down next to him on the couch.

"Jiang?"

His antenna twitches like a radar picking up my voice.

"Ah, right… you can move now."

He perks up immediately, turning to me like a kid who's been let out for recess. "Yunhua! You see in this TV, the girlfriend—"

"Wait wait wait, Jiang, hold up," I cut him off, raising my hand. "Hear me first, okay?"

He blinks, then nods seriously. "Right. Good boyfriend listens to girlfriend. You speak, I listen."

"Yeah, yeah… great. Now listen carefully." I point at his face for extra emphasis. "I'm going out for work. Very important human job. I'll be busy all day and come back late at night."

He nods, antenna glowing faintly.

"So. I want you to stay here. In this house. Do. Not. Open. The. Door. Do not go anywhere. Do not break anything. And especially do not go near the kitchen. Just sit here on this couch and watch your TV dramas. Got it?"

His eyes go wide. "Understood. Couch jail. Drama jail. No explosion."

"Exactly. No explosions. That's the dream."

He blinks. "What do I eat if I don't go in kitchen?"

"Right, right—don't panic," I say, getting up and grabbing a bag of snacks from the cabinet. "I'll put these here on the table."

I drop the bag dramatically in front of him like I'm feeding a zoo animal. "You eat only these when you feel hungry, okay? And please—please—don't waste anything. I have no money."

He tilts his head. "No money like no credits?"

"No money like no food if you mess this up again. I already wasted half my savings the day before yesterday, remember? Now I gotta go buy all the groceries you turned into ceiling décor."

He looks at the snack bag like it's a sacred treasure. "Understood. Treasure food. Eat with respect."

"Good. That's the spirit."

"And yeah," I add, pointing a dramatic finger at him, "if any neighbor comes by, do not answer the door. Just stay silent. Pretend you're asleep."

He blinks. "But I don't sleep."

"Yeah, but they don't know that. I said pretend."

He nods seriously. "Understood. I will become fake sleeper."

"Good. Also, do not open the door. But if—and I mean if—by any cursed chance someone does see you…"

"I have to change my eye color, alter my facial structure, and hide my antennae," he recites like a student ready for an exam.

I stare. "Okay... wow. Look at you. Learning fast."

He beams proudly, antennae twitching like happy little noodles.

"Yunhua," he says suddenly, like he just remembered something super important.

"Yeah, what is it?" I mutter while checking my phone.

"Where do I… proceed to dispose my waste?"

I freeze. Blink. Slowly turn around. "Wait. What kind of waste are we talking about here?"

He stares at me, dead serious. "The biological one. That humans release after food digestion."

My soul leaves my body.

"…You mean—you need to poop?"

He nods. "Yes. That."

"Oh my god, why are you saying it like you're about to launch a missile!?"

"I was unsure. Your species treats this process with extreme privacy and shame."

"Well, yeah! Because no one wants to hear alien poop talk at seven in the morning!"

"So… do I go outside? Behind the building?"

"NO! Use the toilet! The bathroom! The porcelain throne!" I jab a finger down the hall.

He squints. "That water bowl?"

"IT'S NOT A BOWL! It flushes! You sit, do your business, press the button, boom—gone!"

He looks skeptical. "And I just… sit on it?"

"Yes! Please don't hover. And don't touch anything weird. And for the love of Earth, DO NOT try to dismantle the flush mechanism again!"

He nods slowly. "Understood. Biological waste goes in the porcelain bowl. I will do it with honor."

"…Please don't say that again."

Ugh... I really don't want to imagine this Greek-god-looking, walking sculpture of handsome actually pooping. Just—no. My brain refuses.

Anyway. Time to head out.

I have to get to the research center early and run some secret tests on that glowing alien blood before anyone notices.

I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. "Okay, Jiang. Stay quiet. Don't leave. And yes, use the toilet. If you don't, you're banned from moving."

He gives a serious nod. "Understood."

I turn to the door.

But then—"Yunhua! Where is my goodbye kiss?"

I freeze mid-step. One foot out the door. My soul visibly detaches from my body.

I turn around like a rusty door hinge. "…What did you just say?"

He's standing there by the couch, all serious, all sparkly-eyed, antennae gently pulsing like it's romance o'clock. "The TV showed it. The girlfriend leaves. The boyfriend receives a goodbye kiss."

My brain glitches.

"You… want a goodbye kiss?" I squint.

He nods solemnly. "Yes. To complete ritual. I am ready."

"Ready?" I choke. "What do you mean ready!?"

He closes his eyes and puckers his lips like a kid trying to blow up a balloon with no air. Arms slightly out like he's expecting divine love to descend upon him.

I stare at him. I stare at the door. I stare at the cilling.

"Jiang," I sigh, walking back and gently poking his forehead. "No kiss. Not happening. If you want ritual, you can settle for this."

I pat his head twice. Firmly. Like I'm sending off a golden retriever to doggy daycare.

He opens one eye. "So… this is the goodbye ritual?"

"It is now."

He beams. "Understood. Head-patting bonding complete."

"Great. Now go poop and watch TV. I'll be back at night."

"Farewell, my Yunhua."

"Don't make it sound like I'm going to war."

"I'm leaving now."

He stands by the couch, eyes wide, antennae softly glowing. "Be safe. I'm waiting for you."

I pause at the door, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. "Huh? What?"

"Boyfriend said this to girlfriend in TV," he says, so serious it makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

A small chuckle escapes me. "Yeah? Thanks."

I step out, pulling the door shut behind me with a soft click. The hallway feels colder than usual.

God, I hope he doesn't blow up the apartment while I'm gone.

I start walking, then pick up pace—half jogging, half power-walking down the street. Gotta get to the research center before anyone else. I need to run that blood sample as soon as I can.

My breath puffs out in the morning chill, but all I can think about is what he said.

It's... the first time in years—honestly, I've lost count—that someone said they were waiting for me at home.

And weirdly... it makes my steps feel a little lighter.

The security scanner lets out a tired beep as I swipe my ID at the research center entrance. I nod at the half-asleep guard, who barely lifts his head from his thermos, then slip inside.

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Everything smells like stale coffee and disinfectant. Home sweet lab.

I head straight to the biochem wing, glancing over my shoulder just to make sure no one's around. It's early—way too early for even the overachievers to show up.

Perfect.

I lock the lab door behind me, place my bag on the counter, and carefully unzip the front pocket.

There it is. The tiny tube of strange blue blood, still sealed. I hold it up to the light. It glimmers faintly, like it has its own pulse.

I lower the lid of my tiny centrifuge like I'm arming a nuclear device. Inside, Jiang Yu's suspiciously blue blood sits in a clear Eppendorf tube, ready to take a spin. Literally.

"Okay, Mister Extraterrestrial Mystery Fluid," I mutter, jabbing the speed dial to 13,000 RPM. "Let's see what you're hiding."

WhrrRRRRRrrrrrRRRR—the machine roars to life like a mini jet engine. My coffee cup rattles on the bench. I lean back, arms crossed, trying to look professional. Like I didn't just test alien blood in a glorified kitchen blender.

Five minutes later, it slows with a dramatic purr.

I lift the lid, carefully pluck the tube out—and stop.

"...What."

There's a clean separation in the tube, alright. But instead of red plasma and clotting sludge like normal human blood? This has layers.

The bottom is a thick, metallic silver jelly that jiggles like Jell-O on steroids. The top is a semi-transparent fluid glowing faintly blue-green, like bioluminescent algae in a science fair rave.

And between them?

A shimmer. A faint, electrical pulse dancing at the interface.

I blink. "Excuse me?"

I turn the tube. The glow moves with it, like it's alive. The silver part clings to the bottom as if it weighs five times more than it should.

This isn't separation. This is some kind of organization.

I grab a pipette and try to draw the top layer for a slide sample. The moment the tip touches it, the liquid twitches.

"Okay, no. Nope. Fluids should not twitch."

Still, I dab it onto a slide and slap it under the microscope. Cells appear in view—elongated, glassy things... and they're moving. They're not just alive—they're doing synchronized swimming. Spinning, shifting, multiplying.

"I didn't ask for Cirque du Soleil in a blood sample," I whisper.

My eyes flick to the centrifuge tube again. The silver jelly still pulses gently at the bottom like it's breathing.

One thought rings out clear in my head, dry and sharp as a scalpel

This isn't blood. This is a system.

I slowly pull back from the centrifuge. My stomach does a little turn. I need to run more tests. I have to run more tests.

"Okay, Jiang Yu," I whisper to the tube, "what the hell are you?"

I lean over the screen, watching the second test load. The interface hums softly, the machine beginning its analysis. This one should tell me if those twitchy cells can generate energy on their own.

"Alright, let's see what kind of freaky sci-fi rules you're breaking now," I mutter, tapping the keyboard.

Then—footsteps.

I freeze.

They're coming down the hallway. Close. Too close.

My heart jerks into my throat. Shit. Someone's coming. Someone's here.

I shoot up from the chair, rip the tube from the dock and shove it into my lab coat pocket. The screen is still lit. Test results halfway in. My entire search history open.

I dive back in—keyboard smashing under my fingers. Delete. Clear data. Wipe the logs. Close the tabs. The machine whirs loudly as I punch the power button.

Another step. Louder. Just outside the lab door.

I nearly drop a whole tray of backup samples, my elbow knocking them sideways. I catch two, shove them into the drawer, kick it shut just as the machine powers down with a click.

I spin around, chest rising fast.

Then—

"Yunhua?"