With the assistance of the European Union, Firefly quickly completed her travel arrangements. The very next day, she boarded a flight to Longcheng, Dragon Nation.
As she stepped off the plane and took in the Chinese signs and shops lining the airport, she couldn't help but think to herself, "Chinese is so much better."
In Europe, she couldn't understand any of the signs. Trying to find a decent meal was frustrating; she couldn't even tell if a place was a restaurant or not.
Though the Chinese signs felt familiar and comforting, Firefly wasn't foolish enough to buy anything from the airport shops. She knew the prices would be outrageously inflated, and even with her newfound wealth, she refused to waste money on such pointless extravagance.
After retrieving her checked luggage, Firefly walked straight out of the airport. The moment she emerged, a slightly balding middle-aged man approached her.
"Taxi? Where to?" As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Firefly's silver hair. Recalling that her flight had originated overseas, he pulled out a translation earpiece and put it on. "Visiting Longcheng? Traveling alone?"
The man didn't seem particularly malicious. After all, who would be foolish enough to attempt a kidnapping in a busy airport?
This was just a typical unlicensed taxi driver at the airport, the kind who preyed on out-of-town passengers with exorbitant fares.
In a relatively ordinary city like Longcheng, it wasn't too bad. But in some tourist destinations, these drivers would even recommend shady shops. While driving passengers, they'd constantly chatter, relentlessly touting local "specialty foods" and "must-visit shops."
Most taxi drivers are known for their gift of gab, and these drivers considered their "mission accomplished" once they'd persuaded a passenger to visit one of these so-called "specialty shops."
These drivers had arrangements with the local shady businesses, earning extra commissions for each group of customers they brought in. This created a vicious cycle where tourists were doubly exploited—first by the taxi drivers, then by the unscrupulous shop owners—a full-service ripoff.
While pondering this, Firefly spoke in flawless Chinese, tinged with a hint of Longcheng's local accent: "Sorry, I won't be taking a taxi."
The balding unlicensed taxi driver trailed behind her, mumbling a few more lines before suddenly realizing, "Wait a minute... she's not wearing a translation earpiece. And she spoke perfect Chinese?"
The unlicensed taxi driver froze in his tracks, momentarily bewildered. Wait, is she really a foreigner?
He had to admit, her flawless, idiomatic Chinese had completely deterred him, instantly killing any desire to press the matter further.
The driver felt neither embarrassed nor discouraged. After all, this was his job. What was there to be embarrassed about? He returned to the airport entrance, resigned to waiting for his next unlucky fare.
Firefly, meanwhile, wheeled her luggage a short distance before hailing a ride through a ride-sharing app. After an hour-long drive, she arrived at the gate of an ordinary-looking residential complex.
Perhaps its only distinguishing feature was its location: right next to Robin's apartment complex, separated by only a thin wall.
Firefly could easily have gone straight to Robin's place. Sharing an apartment between her two bodies wouldn't have been an issue for her personally. But she hesitated. While she herself saw no problem, wouldn't it seem rather odd to others if a foreigner moved in with Robin right away?
Even if they were close friends, moving in together immediately would raise eyebrows, wouldn't it?
After careful consideration, Firefly abandoned the idea of her two selves living together. Robin had purchased a nearby apartment long ago, and Firefly could simply move in.
She arrived on the sixth floor of Building 3, walked straight to the left-hand room, lifted the corner of the rug, retrieved the key she had hidden there, and unlocked the door.
After a quick tidy and a bit of lazy phone-scrolling, evening arrived. Firefly, who had been lying on the bed kicking her legs restlessly, suddenly sat up as if receiving some kind of "signal" and rushed out the door.
At the same time, Robin emerged from the recording studio, bid farewell to her staff, donned a hat and sunglasses, tucked away her feathered ears under a coat, and headed in a specific direction.
In reality, it was just a casual dinner date.
Normally, when inviting a friend out to eat, you'd discuss the time and place. But Robin and Firefly didn't need to. After all, they were essentially the same person. When it was time to leave, they both naturally set off. As for the destination, there was no need for discussion—it was already clear in their shared consciousness.
Soon, the two "people" met at an intersection. It was an indescribably strange sensation, seeing herself in this way—nothing like looking in a mirror. She struggled to put the feeling into words.
After their encounter, they exchanged no words, walking side by side toward the restaurant they had planned to dine at that evening.
What had started as a spontaneous idea—grabbing a meal together—now revealed a multitude of problems.
For instance, they didn't appear to be close friends at all, but rather strangers.
What kind of friends would meet and silently walk on without exchanging a single word? Wouldn't it be perfectly normal for two close female friends to hold hands or walk arm in arm?
But for Robin and Firefly, this felt bizarre. Holding hands with each other felt like her left hand clasping her right—not impossible, but who would idly stroll around holding their own hands for half an hour or an hour?
This won't work, she thought. If we run into anyone, our "best friends" act will be exposed immediately.
With that thought, Firefly took the initiative and grasped Robin's hand.
Hmm... not bad, no major problems so far. But the real challenge lies ahead: how to actually have a conversation? What's the best approach?
Or rather, how does one even converse with oneself?
Conversation is essentially a discussion revolving around a specific topic. Most people don't deliberately choose topics when chatting; they simply say whatever comes to mind. That's why they often forget what they talked about within half an hour to an hour after the conversation ends.
Talking to oneself, then, is like having a "self-dialogue" or soliloquy once a topic has been identified. Firefly and Robin simultaneously said, "Perhaps we could take turns voicing our thoughts aloud, one sentence at a time, to simulate a conversation?"
Of course, this was just a theory. They'd need to test it to see if it would actually work.