A Novelist’s Guide for Side Characters to Survive

Chapter 19: “But Your Dad Has All the Fertile Soil of the Upper District.”

The ordinary community in the Upper District was as calm as ever.

Today was Data Liberation Day, and the community was adorned with small red electronic screens, flickering in sequence, forming a sea of lights even in daylight.

Hundreds of years ago, a major data leak led the major families to legally lock down patents and ban all open-source technology, claiming it was a robust measure to protect information freedom and privacy.

The incident caused an uproar, with protests flooding offline data encryption workshops and online forums, but they all dissolved into a bloody history.

The day the bill passed was designated as Data Liberation Day.

No one remembered what happened back then, only that Data Liberation Day, symbolizing family rule, persisted to the present.

Recently, school students organized promotional activities for Data Liberation Day in the community.

Boys and girls beamed with smiles, and even artificial children received a piece of hard candy from their hands.

Under a spotless glass window, Sidney, dressed in a white shirt, stood in the sunlight, watching children run and laugh outside.

He watched for about half an hour before Dai Xi’an approached.

“Do your eyes still hurt?”

Sidney turned back, his red pupils tinged with a faint purple.

“Not anymore.”

Chu Zu was “brought home” by Dai Xi’an, pushed in a wheelchair.

Half of him, the human part, was completely limp, while the mechanized half was unnaturally rigid.

The two were stitched together awkwardly, like a bizarre specimen crafted by an artist.

Sidney rushed to the man, half-leaning on the wheelchair to look at his face.

Chu Zu’s eyes were half-closed, a thin red, his pupils completely unfocused.

Even though they fully reflected Sidney’s face, his gaze held no direction.

“Dad…”

Sidney’s hands trembled on the wheelchair, looking helplessly at Dai Xi’an.

The woman shook her head.

Sidney cried for a whole day.

The boy couldn’t discern why he had to cry endlessly and tried hard not to look pathetic.

But whenever he saw Chu Zu’s vacant gaze, tears rolled down his cheeks in big drops.

Sidney wore colored contact lenses, and after crying too long, the lenses wrinkled and nearly scratched his eyes.

Dai Xi’an replaced them with an expensive pair. Sidney, red-eyed, said, “Dad didn’t allow me to buy these.”

Dai Xi’an shook her head again.

“No one’s watching us anymore. Put them on.”

She added, “Listen, Sidney. No matter who approaches you behind my back, no matter what they say, don’t listen. Trust no one but me.”

Sidney really hated this version of Dai Xi’an.

He preferred the woman who used to snap at him over trivial things.

Then Chu Zu’s gaze would drift their way, only to be glared back by Dai Xi’an, before he’d act like he saw nothing and ask, When’s dinner?

He ignored Dai Xi’an, climbed onto the bed, and lay beside Chu Zu, carefully hugging the man’s metal arm.

“What can I do for you, Dad?”

The man’s eyes were tightly shut, his now-gaunt body motionless, his bloodless skin stark against the black sheets.

Sidney wanted to cry again and hated himself for it, feeling no different from Brei.

During Chu Zu’s recovery, their usually quiet home of three suddenly became noisy.

Strangers visited Chu Zu daily, their faces plastered with smiles, bringing lavish gifts—one more expensive than the last—piling up outside when the house ran out of space.

Brei’s parents, who had been away on a business trip, returned and were stunned.

They kindly approached Dai Xi’an, saying the items outside were worth more than the house itself.

Though community security was good, it was better to store them away.

Dai Xi’an said, Thank you.

She opened the door with difficulty, letting Brei’s parents see the house overflowing with gifts.

They were speechless.

From that day on, Sidney stopped talking to Brei.

Even when they met in the community, the little girl would wave from afar, but her parents would quickly scoop her up, give Sidney a strained smile, and hurry home.

That day, Sidney returned and lay beside Chu Zu, whispering, “I don’t get it.”

“Before, I thought if they found out I was from the Lower District, Brei wouldn’t talk to me anymore. The Upper and Lower Districts are two different worlds. The Lower District is dirty and chaotic, everyone’s unreasonable. In Brei’s words… very ‘low-class.’”

“But I’m wearing clean clothes, eating three meals on time, and so many people are sending gifts. I’m a popular Upper District person, right? So why won’t she talk to me?”

Chu Zu remained silent, eyes closed, unable to answer.

Sidney wasn’t too upset this time.

Even if Chu Zu were awake, he’d likely brush him off, maybe tell him to ask Dai Xi’an about such trivial questions.

Sidney didn’t really need an answer from Chu Zu; he just wanted to talk to him more.

While helping bathe Chu Zu, Sidney climbed into the tub, hugging him tightly as before, his cheek pressed against the line dividing metal and flesh.

He could barely hear a heartbeat, and the man no longer looked at the moon through the narrow window.

“I know you don’t want to be my dad,” Sidney whispered.

“But what’s wrong with having such an awesome son like me? You raise me now, and when I grow up, I’ll give you all the best things.”

Chu Zu’s gaze remained lost in some unknown void, but his body twitched reflexively, lips parting slightly.

Sidney leaned in excitedly, trying to hear what he said.

It was only an unconscious gasp, caused by pain.

Sidney jumped out of the tub, dripping wet, and rushed out of the bathroom.

“Dai Xi’an! Dai Xi’an! He made a sound!! He made a sound!!!”

Dai Xi’an was knocked into, and after hearing him, she lowered her eyes, tossing a towel from the sofa over his head.

“Don’t leave him alone in the bathroom.”

Under the towel, Sidney blinked his vivid red eyes—the high-end custom contact lenses were spot-on, matching the exact color desired—and smiled.

The Lower District was a place where death came easily, but Upper District people were hard to kill.

With that thought, Sidney felt Chu Zu wouldn’t die either.

Not dying was the best news.

So he stopped crying, started learning to read, and exercised.

He asked Dai Xi’an, “What did Dad know how to do at twelve?”

Dai Xi’an: “A lot.”

“Then I’ll learn too,” Sidney said.

“When he’s better, I’ll spar with him. This time, I won’t get beaten to a pulp.”

Outside, Data Liberation Day activities were in full swing.

Sidney stepped away from the window.

“Is it lunchtime already? I’ll put a nutrient patch on Dad… He’s been on patches for over three months. When can he sit up to eat?”

Dai Xi’an: “After the patch, can you take Chu Zu for a walk? I need to meet some people.”

Sidney agreed readily.

“Remember my warning,” Dai Xi’an called to his back from the window.

It was less a warning and more a prophecy.

Because when Sidney was pushing Chu Zu’s wheelchair through the community, a man who’d once visited with gifts approached.

Sidney was a bit annoyed.

He’d just snagged a bench in the crowd, perfect for him and Chu Zu to rest, when the man’s shadow loomed over, blocking the sun.

Couldn’t they sunbathe in peace?

“Is Ms. Dai Xi’an not here today?” The man bent down kindly to Sidney. “Tired? Need a break? I remember your name’s Sidney, right? Nice name.”

Sidney first moved Chu Zu’s wheelchair to the side, ensuring he stayed in the sunlight, before looking up.

“Hello, if you’re looking for Dai Xi’an, she’s at home.”

The man chuckled lightly, “Oh, oh,” his tone cheerful, smiling at the boy. “I came to see Mr. Chu Zu, and you, by the way.”

“Oh.” Seeing the man wasn’t leaving, Sidney scooted over, making room.

“When I was your age, I’d run around excitedly on Data Liberation Day. If you go to the streets near the four families’ buildings, it’s even livelier.”

The man pointed at Sidney’s bulging pockets.

“Not just candy—you can get better things, stuff you’d never get otherwise.”

Sidney seemed intrigued. “Like what?”

“A piece of open-source code.”

Seeing Sidney’s expectant look turn confused, then disinterested, the man continued, “I heard you love mango pie.”

Sidney: “…Yeah.”

“That code is like a mango seed. You know what a seed is?”

“I know. Plant it in soil, water it, give it sun, and a mango grows.”

“So, getting the seed isn’t enough—you need to plant it. But the Upper District has little arable soil. A gram of soil costs more than all the mangoes in the pies you’ve eaten.”

“Can’t I just buy mangoes?” Sidney muttered.

“Dad would buy them for me.”

The man laughed.

“But your dad has all the fertile soil of the Upper District.”

Sidney, thoughtful, glanced aside, lightly shaking his head, unsure if he understood.

The man didn’t push with more complex talk, just sat with the father and son, basking in the sun.

In the distance, Sidney saw their door open, Dai Xi’an ushering out several men and women.

The man beside him stood, waving goodbye to Sidney.

“Nice meeting you, Sidney. I’m Lazar, your father’s friend,” Lazar said. “I sincerely hope Mr. Chu Zu recovers soon.”

*

“Lazar, a personnel manager, came to sweet-talk a kid. Isn’t that a bit like using a cannon to swat a mosquito?”

Chu Zu grumbled to the system.

“He says he’s my friend? Since when do I have friends?”

The system had been busy lately, giving its boss a hard time, and with Chu Zu’s taught rhetoric, it actually secured some benefits.

A side-effect-free painkiller, though only effective for three hours and limited in quantity, worked so well that Chu Zu felt like he had his painless condition back.

He only used it when fully conscious.

When dizzy or in deep sleep due to his condition, he left it alone.

He was mostly fine now, with his body’s rejection of cybernetics gradually decreasing.

Still looking like a half-human, half-metal abstract art piece, he remained “paralyzed” because the mute penalty hadn’t expired, and the visitors’ status wasn’t high enough yet.

He needed to wait.

Lingering like this was quite leisurely for over two months.

The system, fresh from its latest showdown, returned gleefully with a stack of painkillers.

It administered one to Chu Zu before saying, “Anyway, Sidney doesn’t like soup, and soup doesn’t fill you up.”

“…Jeeves has been AWOL lately… Lazar’s coming straight to the door. Looks like Little Luci’s really done for… Didn’t he still want to kill me?”

“Because Jeeves executed a core directive and acted against you without Little Luci’s order, it’s been stripped of all your-related permissions. Little Luci sent people to monitor you directly, but Dai Xi’an and Lazar handled it.”

“Without you, the tireless, capable, complaint-free workhorse, Little Luci can’t handle the Lower District riots. Tang Qi reclaimed his Tang Family heir status, shifting from targeting the Upper District to a softer approach, winning over a lot of people.”

After Chu Zu’s arc in Lower District 18, the main plot stayed mostly intact, but many details subtly shifted.

“His slogan changed too. Wasn’t it ‘Take back our sun’? Now it’s ‘We don’t accept, we choose.’”

Their resolve to switch bosses was clear, and the boss himself was too overwhelmed to reach far.

Overall, it was great news—a total winning streak.

Chu Zu was more concerned.

“He’s plagiarizing my line… and even tweaked it?!”

“The author says it’s just Tang Qi borrowing. He can’t control plot changes now either,” the system said, smoothing things over, knowing creators were sensitive about this.

“Of course, I protested the moment I found out. The author’s willing to split the royalties proportionally!”

“I can’t use his stinking money!” Chu Zu was still fuming.

“Convert it directly to credit points, 10:1 ratio, not tied to task ratings, settled after Neon Crown wraps. It’s second on the gold list now, raking in cash daily. Your cut won’t be small!”

The system, acting like it struck gold, started giggling, fantasizing about its rich future.

“I’ve got my eye on ‘Master Wang’ in the shop. It’s not just for one task—it’ll be useful forever… Gotta stock up on ‘Physics Beast’ too… And painkillers, clear out the store!”

As a principled novelist with professional integrity and reverence for literature, even facing a “money” offensive, Chu Zu displayed his inherent… gentleness.

He instantly didn’t care if his original line was borrowed, looking at the system like a foolish son.

“Buy it, buy it all. Just remember to buy yourself back first.”

The system turned into a goose-yellow chick, happily flapping its wings in Chu Zu’s mind for two circles.

Chu Zu remembered something and asked, “What’s with the open-source code Lazar mentioned?”

The system rifled through the setting notes, combining them with the text to answer.

“Data Liberation Day was created by the four families to lock down patents and monopolize tech. They leaked a ton of data themselves, then caught hackers—setting the fire and putting it out.”

“Back then, opposition was strong. Some realized it was a capital's game. Some were sent to the Lower District in the so-called ‘Great Purge,’ some died, and some were absorbed by the families.”

“The dissenters knew dissent best. They suggested a commemorative day, releasing trivial low-level code on it.”

“If someone could build something from that code, it’d be their best post-grad resume. The four families’ doors would open to them.”

Chu Zu: “Carrot and stick, but pure exploitation—very capitalist… Still, I’m technically Esposito high-up. How’d I not know about this?”

System: “Because you’re a BOSS direct hire, the backdoor of backdoors, the insider of insiders.”

Chu Zu: “…”

“I’ve been watching. Now we just wait for Luciano Esposito to send someone after you. Dai Xi’an and Lazar have the cryosleep pod ready for your fake death. Might not even need the ‘Physics Beast.’”

The system was basking in the joy of completing most key plot points, especially since the rest were barely challenging.

“Once you wake, start going wild on Tang Qi, show readers your ambition, get defeated by him, and the task’s done!!!”

Chu Zu nodded in agreement but said, “Before I die,’ I need to check on Sidney.”

“You really like that kid…”

“You’re still my favorite.”

The system’s chick forms spun circles again.

*

Logically, Lazar’s half-true, half-false promises should’ve tempted Sidney.

People start with survival needs, then chase other things once fed.

When Sidney first arrived, he ate anything given.

Didn’t he later blow up the kitchen?

“Chu Zu” was the same.

At the train accident, how could he know what the “best things” were?

But as the system said, Sidney didn’t like soup.

The boy, now picky from being spoiled, still clung to habits from younger days, needing his stomach stuffed full to feel secure.

Soup doesn’t fill.

The kid wasn’t interested.

He told Dai Xi’an everything about the conversation, then forgot it, fussing over Chu Zu.

By the time Sidney recognized most of the conspirators who’d plotted together, Dai Xi’an approached him.

The woman had changed greatly over the three months, though Sidney couldn’t pinpoint how.

She stopped caring about his daily needs or even Chu Zu’s, spending more time navigating crowds.

Her work seemed no different from her intelligence-dealing days, but she was sharper, more commanding.

Sidney overheard her snap at Lazar several times: “Shut up.”

Lazar, embarrassed, didn’t get mad, coaxing her gently. Others didn’t see Dai Xi’an as rude, instead blaming Lazar like he’d done something unforgivable.

Eventually, Dai Xi’an softened.

“I can’t persuade Chu Zu. You know his personality. Unless that man dies.”

“And don’t target Sidney. He’ll recover soon. You can’t, and shouldn’t, mess with his kid.”

They all agreed.

Dai Xi’an didn’t care if Sidney overheard or what he thought.

But now, past 9 p.m., she urgently pushed Sidney toward the door.

“Go to Brei’s house.”

Dai Xi’an blocked the doorway, giving him no chance to resist, her voice colder than Chu Zu’s ever was.

“Don’t come back until I come for you.”

Those adults yielded to Dai Xi’an, but Sidney wasn’t scared.

He even thought the old Dai Xi’an, who’d get annoyed over him snooping through intel, was more intimidating.

“Brei doesn’t welcome me,” he said stubbornly outside, his black hair darker than the night.

“I should be with Dad. Move.”

Dai Xi’an was silent for a few seconds, prying Sidney’s fingers off the doorframe one by one.

“If they don’t welcome you, I’ll kill their whole family.”

She spoke clearly, word by word.

“You’re familiar with corpses, right? Corpses welcome everyone equally. Go or not, it’s your choice.”

Dai Xi’an stared into Sidney’s eyes.

“Chu Zu only taught you one thing, Sidney: you’re responsible for your choices.”

*

At 9 p.m., before visiting Chu Zu, Luciano Esposito stopped by Neander Florist.

The shopkeeper didn’t recognize him but inferred his wealth from his attire.

Instead of pitching 3D-printed items, they handed over a list of exorbitantly priced flowers.

“For a friend,” Luciano Esposito said, eyes glued to his terminal, fingers tapping nonstop, ignoring the shopkeeper.

“A sick friend. Wrap a bouquet, any kind, and bill me.”

He never handled these things himself.

Even gifts for Chu Zu were usually picked by Jeeves, using algorithms to guess his preferences.

No one knew if Jeeves got it right.

Chu Zu always received gifts with the same blank expression.

Quantum AI assistants and personalized holographic art were stored in the Esposito estate.

Smart contract assets sat untouched for years.

Only small, inconsequential gifts were kept on Chu Zu, like commemorative bills.

And other miscellaneous things.

At that thought, Luciano Esposito’s tapping fingers paused.

Wait, where did those things end up?

Jeeves had said Chu Zu’s bedroom was used as a storage room years ago.

He hadn’t asked what was stored there.

Esposito revered classicism, with countless collectibles.

The main estate had a dedicated building for them.

There was no way they’d be casually tossed into Chu Zu’s room.

So… his gifts had pushed Chu Zu out of the room that should’ve been his?

“Sir, asters okay?”

“Sir?”

Luciano Esposito snapped back, taking the flowers from the shopkeeper.

The small blooms had green-yellow centers, petals purple on the outside, fading to white near the core.

Frankly, their aesthetic value didn’t match the shopkeeper’s price.

But that reflected the shopkeeper’s professionalism—or rather, the typical Upper District mindset Luciano Esposito knew.

Even unremarkable things gained value from scarcity.

Merchants jacked up prices, reaping profits in a near-monopolized market.

No demand? No matter—most human desires were manufactured.

Not like Chu Zu, foolishly accepting whatever was given, indifferent to what he couldn’t use.

In the Upper District, he was an anomaly among anomalies, a freak among freaks.

It wouldn’t be surprising if he got screwed over and died one day.

Luciano Esposito left the shop.

Night had fallen, Neon City cloaked in lights and sounds, the moon dim in comparison.

The hovercar entered the aerial communication zone, where giant projections of seductive women blew kisses along the lanes.

Buildings receded, and the red dot of his destination on the navigation grew closer.

“Jeeves,” Luciano Esposito asked, “Is the press conference ready?”

“The press conference regarding Mr. Chu Zu’s death will be held at 12:00 p.m. tomorrow, broadcast on all channels, communication calendar 274-311-1,” Jeeves said.

“Are you sure you don’t want regional restrictions? The impact on the Lower District is incalculable.”

Luciano Esposito sat expressionless in the back, holding the flowers.

“I want Tang Qi to know he’s also responsible for Chu Zu’s death. He knew I could hear their conversation, knew the countermeasures I hold, and still tried to force Chu Zu to betray me again? That’s not something a saint would do.”

Jeeves remained noncommittal.

At the destination, Dai Xi’an was waiting at the door.

“Chu Zu can hear sounds and is aware of his surroundings, but he may not respond,” Dai Xi’an said slowly, her words cold like Jeeves’.

“Please don’t stimulate his nerves.”

Luciano Esposito handed over the flowers, graciously ignoring her harsh tone.

“Looks like he’s recovering well.”

There was only one vase in the house, holding 3D-printed cornflowers from who-knows-when.

Luciano Esposito didn’t need directions, heading straight to Sidney’s bedroom.

After the door closed, Dai Xi’an stared at the asters in her hand for a long moment before tossing the entire bouquet into the trash.

In the underground chamber, where Chu Zu’s small bed once stood, a cryosleep pod was on standby, next to a half-human, half-metal spare corpse.