Chapter 2: Not of the Same World

The next morning, Jude woke up earlier than Clara. Following his routine, he went downstairs to bring back two servings of soy milk and fried dough sticks. The breakfast shop owner called him "Little Jiang," and the neighborhood security guard referred to him as "Clara's younger brother." Everyone simply regarded Jude as Clara’s distant cousin who had come to stay with her—a relative suffering from a chronic illness that forced him to wear a mask year-round.

Jude Evans. He didn't like that name.

Clara’s cousin. He didn't like that identity either.

"Where did you go?" Clara’s tone softened as she saw what he was carrying. "...At least let me know before you head out next time."

"I didn't want to wake you," Jude said, pouring the soy milk into a bowl. "If you don't want me going out, I just won't from now on."

"That's not what I meant," Clara said, smoothing back her hair. "I didn't mean it like that, Jude. Julian returned to the country as the heir to the Hayes Group; the news was everywhere. I’m just afraid that if you go out right now, someone might mistake you for him..."

"Don't Julian and I look alike?" Jude stirred the soy milk, his bangs obscuring his eyes, making his expression unreadable. "I was pieced together by you, bit by bit, to look exactly like him. Other than you, who else in this world could tell us apart?"

"Jude?"

"It’s nothing," Jude looked up and smiled. "I’m just talking nonsense. I know you're looking out for me. If some criminal discovered I was a robot and sold me to some shady scientist, it would be a disaster. Hurry up and eat, or you'll be late for work."

Clara awkwardly picked up a piece of fried dough, her mind feeling clouded throughout breakfast.

Around noon, she ran into Seraphina Quinn at the cafeteria. Facing this beautiful senior who was as gentle as a spring breeze, Clara had always been an open book. Sera was also one of the few people who knew Jude’s true appearance. Sucking on a yogurt, Clara asked Sera about the temperature-sensing system she was researching; the latency was too high, and she wasn't sure if it was a material issue or an algorithmic one. Hearing this, Sera fell into thought for a moment.

"Clara, you’ve already met with Julian, haven't you?"

Clara froze for a second, then nodded.

"Then is there a need to continue the research on Jude? This time it's body temperature; next time, do you plan to give him an artificial heart? Clara, with temperature and a heartbeat, he will practically be a complete human being."

"Sera, I admit I started developing Jude because I couldn't let go of Julian. But you should understand how great the future prospects of AI are. This has been my passion since my student days. Jude can no longer be considered a mere replica of Julian; he can think independently, converse, and interact. Aside from lacking human organs and senses, he is indistinguishable from an ordinary person on the outside. If I can successfully give Jude temperature and a heartbeat, think of what a monumental step that would be for the development of humanoid robotics."

"But no two leaves in the world are exactly alike, Clara. You know what I’m worried about."

Clara leaned back against her chair and shrugged helplessly. "I know, but I don't want to stop my research because of it."

Sera gave her forearm a reassuring pat and offered a few more words of comfort. Perhaps neither of them knew if the current choice was right, or if opening Pandora's box would bring a blessing or a curse, but as a researcher, maintaining a spirit of persistent inquiry was always a virtue.

Near the end of the workday, Julian arrived. When her colleagues saw the incredibly expensive car parked outside the institute, one ran up to Clara, jokingly bowing with clasped hands, implying that once Dr. Evans became wealthy, she shouldn't forget her old friends. He suggested that if she ever "made it big," she should come back to rescue those of them who were still corporate slaves. Clara threw a piece of scrap paper at him, refusing to say who was waiting downstairs, eventually losing a hotpot dinner as "hush money."

When she got downstairs, Julian noticed Clara was frowning and asked what was wrong. Clara tucked her face into her scarf, looked at Julian’s face—flushed red by the cold wind—and said coolly, "Beauty doesn't just ruin nations; it’s expensive too." Julian was utterly confused, thinking Clara had seen something she wanted but couldn't afford. Before she got out of the car, he secretly slipped his supplementary credit card into her bag.

Clara only discovered it when she got home to change. She called Julian, asking if he’d learned nothing in his years abroad except how to throw money at people. Julian laughed softly on the other end.

"Clarie, I’m not the same as I was before. The password to that card is your birthday."

"Yes, yes. The former 'Young Master Julian' was a rich kid with zero freedom, but the current 'Mr. Hayes' is answerable to no one in the world."

"There’s still someone who can manage me," a cat’s meow came through Julian’s end of the line. "Clara Evans can."

"You're so cheesy."

"You don't like it?"

"Watch your phrasing,

ex-boyfriend

," Clara said, sprawling across her bed. "You bought a cat? I thought your mother didn't like them."

"You like them. I’m not living with her; I moved out. Clarie, giving you that card isn't about compensation or anything like that. I just want to tell you that I’m different now. I can be your safety net, and I can be your pillar of support."

"Julian," Clara curled into a ball, her eyes filled with a tenderness that wouldn't fade, "but I’m growing too. I’m not the same as I was before, either."

Hearing those words, Julian remembered the day he woke up in the hospital. Clara had sat by the bed, her face ghostly pale. Even though her voice was trembling, she had tried to stay composed while explaining the post-op care and medication rules to him. He had seen his mother’s silhouette outside the room and understood that the girl’s grief came partly from him, and partly from his family. Young lovers always think love can conquer all—even when their families cut off all financial support or warn them that they won't even find a job if they don't come home. At that time, Clara had just started working; her meager intern salary was barely enough for the two of them after rent. To ease their predicament, Julian had spent his time interviewing and delivering food, eventually crashing his scooter in a deserted alleyway on a snowy night. By the time a kind stranger found him, Julian had been burning with a fever for nearly half an hour.

Unable to afford the surgery fees, Clara had no choice but to call Julian’s mother, waiting powerlessly outside the operating room.

When Eleanor Hayes arrived, she didn't say much. She efficiently coordinated everything with the hospital and had Julian transferred to a private hospital under the Hayes family name. Clara sat beside Eleanor in the back of the car, dazed. In her peripheral vision, she saw that the elegant, poised woman was finally showing a hint of exhaustion and anxiety; she was hurting for Julian just as much as Clara was. Finally, Clara spoke.

"I’m sorry, Mrs. Hayes."

Eleanor remained silent for a long time before replying, "It’s fine. Accidents happen; no one wanted this."

"Mrs. Hayes..."

"Clara, you are a good girl. There are some things you should be able to understand without me saying them. You and Julian... you simply aren't of the same world."