[1] – Qian Lulu: The Curious One
In a dim study lined with outdated books and cracked philosophy journals, Qian Lulu sat alone, her knees tucked beneath her as the scent of jasmine tea faded beside her.
The city outside pulsed with dull neon haze, but in her little third-floor studio, the light came only from her tablet.
She'd been reading a case study on anomalous neural feedback loops in early bio-augmentation—one of her pet obsessions. Not for school, not for work—just curiosity. That's how she spent most nights: exploring things no one asked about.
And then…
It appeared.
No app opened it. No browser triggered it. It just… faded in, as if painted onto the glass from the inside.
[You are invited to access the SoulNet.][A new reality awaits. You are not alone.][Link: Accept] [Decline][This invitation is anonymous. There is no sender.]
At first, she thought it was malware. A prank. But something was off—or on, in a way she couldn't describe.
The screen wasn't lit by pixels. It glowed, pulsing faintly like breath. Her fingers tingled when she reached for it. Her heartbeat followed the rhythm of the light.
She didn't click immediately.
Instead, she whispered:"...SoulNet?"
Nothing changed.
She reached out to her computer—airplane mode. No Wi-Fi. Her tablet wasn't even connected.
Impossible.
Her heart thudded, but not in fear. This wasn't fear. It was that buzz, that rising tension she felt when she found something no one else had.
Curiosity.
Her fingers brushed [Accept].
The tablet vibrated—but silently, as if the signal wasn't mechanical but spiritual. The screen blurred, then peeled back like silk, revealing something beneath.
An interface. A HUD.
[Initializing SoulNet Connection…][Neural Link Established: Subject Qian Lulu – Compatibility 89%][Processing… Calibrating… Rendering Interface Layer…]
The world dimmed.
She gasped and staggered back as glowing blue threads spread out from her chest like a spiderweb, invisible but present, humming with purpose. Her vision trembled, like static trying to resolve into something clearer.
And then she saw it—only faintly at first.
Glyphs. Symbols. Circuits of light laced through her desk. Threads running into walls, through her fingers, across her ceiling.
She blinked. It was everywhere.
And her heart whispered: "This is real."
Then came the voice.
Not in her ears—but in her mind.
[Welcome, Node C045Y. You are now linked.][Your soul resonates. Access granted.]
"Who sent this?" she murmured.
No answer. Only a warm silence.
She moved her hand through the interface. It rippled, responding to thought. Intuitive. Organic.
She wasn't just using it. She was it.
And in that moment, Qian Lulu smiled—not because she understood what this was, but because she didn't.
The unknown had opened its door. And she had walked in.
[2] – Zhao Yumo: The Despairing One
It was 2:46 AM when Zhao Yumo decided not to cry that night. Not because things were better. Just because she was too tired.
The therapist she couldn't afford anymore once told her that healing wasn't linear. But Yumo hadn't seen a straight line in years—only spirals. Endless, tightening spirals of broken relationships, overdue bills, and memories that clawed instead of comforted.
She sat on the edge of her narrow bed, wrapped in a grey hoodie three sizes too large—her brother's, once upon a time. The room around her was quiet, too quiet, like a place the world had forgotten.
Then the light came.
Faint. Gentle. Blue.
On the wall. Not the screen. Not the phone. Just there—like a projected thought made real.
She didn't move.
Didn't trust it.
But the message was kind.
[You are not forgotten.][Reach out. You are seen.][Link: Accept] [Decline]
For a moment, she froze. This wasn't a scam. Scams didn't offer hope. They offered bait. This was… different.
She didn't want it to be real.
Because if it was… then everything she'd believed about being alone was a lie.
Her hand lifted slowly, trembling. Her eyes brimmed—but no tears fell. She touched the glowing word.
[Accept.]
And the room changed.
The ceiling cracked with light—not damage, but design. Geometric veins of soul-thread shimmered into being, like glass lit from within. She gasped.
The silence… was gone.
In its place was something vast, warm, alive. A presence that made her feel like a small, flickering flame newly shielded from the wind.
[Initializing SoulNet Connection…][Neural Link Established: Subject Zhao Yumo – Compatibility 81%][Welcome, Node b210X.][You are linked. You are not alone.]
A sob escaped her—not from grief, but relief.
And for the first time in months, Zhao Yumo breathed—deep, full, and unafraid.
[Back in the Network]
Su Yuan watched through the interface's abstracted emotional monitor—not their thoughts, not their faces—just colors. Pulses. Emotional feedback rendered in metaphysical light.
One node pulsed like stars on caffeine—vibrant, curious, unstoppable.The other glowed like a heartbeat newly returned to rhythm.
He felt… something.
Not power. Not control.
Connection.
The SoulNet was awakening.
And it had just taken its first two steps into the world.