bigabreads Chapter 201 The Unsent Message
Chapter 201 The Unsent Message
Vector sat in the corner of the bar.
On the small stage, the jazz musician is holding a Cybertronian trio.
The instrument was lighter than I had imagined, with slender strings and a row of built-in energy lights on the side that would light up gently with the frequency.
Jazz fingers plucked the strings, the notes sounding like crisp metal, clear and with a touch of jazz style.
The bar gradually quieted down.
The first song is very upbeat.
It's a song that used to be common in nightclubs in the old town. The melody is simple and the rhythm is relaxed, perfect for sitting at the bar at night and chatting casually with friends.
Someone tapped the rim of a glass to the beat at the bar, while someone else hummed a few lines quietly in the corner.
He played jazz with a relaxed, even carefree attitude, sitting there as his fingers nimbly swept across the strings, occasionally looking down and smiling.
Yin Xiang listened for a while, leaning back in her chair, and suddenly realized that today was probably the most leisurely day she had had in nearly a month since she woke up.
It feels good.
As the first song ended, scattered applause and the clinking of glasses echoed through the bar.
Jazz casually raised his hand in greeting, then his fingertips returned to the strings.
"Next song, an old song."
His voice was tinged with laughter.
"The Unsent Message"
A man at the bar paused slightly as he picked up a cup.
The two machines on the other side glanced at each other, then quickly looked away towards the corner.
The vector was completely unaware of this, only thinking that the name sounded quite nice.
The jazz began playing the second song.
This one is slower than the previous one.
The string tone started low, like a flight path being repeatedly calculated, but always stopped just before it was sent.
The melody is not passionate, but restrained, hiding many things in the twists and turns of the piece.
The song includes a message that was never sent.
A return route that is constantly saved and then canceled.
A name left unfinished in a newsletter draft.
It doesn't directly say "love," nor does it mention waiting.
It was only mentioned that a machine corrected many deviations back to the same direction.
It is said that even though a certain coordinate is not lit on the star chart, it can always help wandering signals find their way home.
I listened very attentively to the song and felt it was well-written.
The melody is good, and the lyrics are good too.
The Cybertronians in the bar had already understood most of what was being said.
The gazes of several cameras quietly shifted between the jazz and the corner a few times.
Organics lower the volume.
"He'll sing this song?"
"Shhh."
Did she understand?
"It doesn't seem so."
A brief silence.
"That's too tragic."
"Judging from his expression, that might not be the case."
As the jazz song reached its final verse, the optical mirror briefly passed over several small round tables and landed in a corner.
Yin Xiang sat there, his fingers resting on the table, his gaze fixed on the table.
She didn't understand, but it was enough that she was listening.
Jazz smiled faintly, his fingertips silencing the final note.
An unsent message flowed silently into the night.
When the song ended, the bar was quiet for two seconds, and then the applause was a little softer than before.
As the jazz man stood up, he gave him a short, knowing whistle.
He raised his hand and pointed in that direction, as if to warn, or perhaps to mock him.
Vector then snapped out of his daze, looked at the bar, and remembered that he still had a "mission".
"Boss."
"What would you like to drink?"
"A large glass of sweet beer, delivered to the judicial center."
The owner expertly took the order: "Who is this for?"
"BICk0".
The boss immediately understood: "Is the secretary working overtime again?"
"Appeasement payment"
The boss chuckled, "Understood."
Yin Vector glanced again at the jazz musicians who were packing up their instruments on stage.
"Another cup of chilled mineral crystals, please."
"For the jazz?"
"Um."
"And what about you?"
The vector remained silent, recalling the three "Final Battle" sparkling drinks he had made that day, and said earnestly:
"I've already experienced a beverage accident today."
Boss: "Understood."
The sweet wine was quickly delivered to the judicial center by a small drone.
Not long after, a message popped up from BICk0's private account.
Hehe, the temperature is just right, and the sweetness is perfect!
I'm going to bed now, goodnight! Don't be too late tomorrow.
Pointer vector: "..."
She typed slowly: [Goodnight. Drink yours.]
BICk0 replied with a Cybertronian slingshot emoji.
Jazz stepped down from the stage, handed the sanxian to the bar owner for temporary storage, and walked to her small round table with the glass of chilled mineral crystals in his hand.
"For me?"
"Um."
"Performance tips?"
"It counts."
The jazz musician sat down with a smile.
His white, black, blue, and red armor, under the warm light, lost some of its battlefield sharpness and gained a more relaxed feel in the night.
The vector looked at him.
"You sang very well."
The jazz seemed to have been waiting for her to say that, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
"Just very good?"
"very good."
Jazz lowered his head and took a sip of the chilled mineral crystals:
"I heard you were defeated by the final bubble today."
"Almost."
"It's been broadcast on all public channels."
"I knew it!"
"They said the chief judge felt like he'd been stabbed in the back after drinking it."
Yin Xiang deliberately put on a serious face: "That drink was indeed unfaithful."
Jazz burst out laughing.
They started off chatting in a relaxed manner.
He said the bar had been closed for a long time during the war, and the owner owed him a night out.
She asked him if he had deliberately chosen the area near Crystal City, and the gentleman neither denied nor fully admitted it.
"I just chose a place you might pass by."
The vector looked up: "Just?"
"I didn't block the way or send out invitations; I've already been very restrained."
She didn't respond immediately.
Jazz swirled the glass, the cool light inside swirling gently with the liquid.
"I rarely let other machines know what I'm really thinking."
He spoke casually, as if it were just a casual remark, merely a side note to fit the mood.
"After a while, I've become too lazy to tell which words are true, which are false, and which are just meant to put the other person at ease."
The vector quietly watched him.
I automatically ignored the hushed laughter and chatter in the bar and the clinking of glasses from the bar counter.
"But you're a little different."
The hand that guided the vector was still resting on the table.
Immediately afterwards, the jazz hand covered it.
He moved gently, just getting a little closer to make sure she didn't object.
The vector did not pull its hand back.
She saw the jazz's fingers slowly close and grasp hers.
It carried a strange warmth.
The Cybertronian's body temperature was certainly not the warmth of human flesh and blood, but when his palm touched it, it still felt like something was coming from the fire.
The jazz man lowered his head and placed a light, short kiss on the back of her hand.
Like a lingering note that hasn't completely stopped.
The brain module of the vector pointer experiences a brief blank period.
She stood there, stunned, unable to immediately discern which type of etiquette this was.
Thanks? A tribute to the performance? Cybertronian bar culture?
Or is Jazz Native just coming up with another very jazzy way of expressing itself?
She was about to speak when the jazz priest looked up.
"Oh, by the way," he smiled naturally, as if nothing had happened, "did you order sweet beer for BICk0?"
She stared at him, the jazz looking completely innocent.
"I heard that one is very sweet."
After a moment of silence, he finally steered the conversation away from the topic.
"She ordered it herself. Have you had it?"
"I drank it when I was a child."
"When you were a child?"
"What, does the Chief Justice think I was like this from the moment I was manufactured?"
The vector imagined a small jazz jazz musician running around with a drink cup.
She remained silent.
The jazz could tell what she was thinking just by looking at her expression, and he laughed so hard he almost shook the cryo-mineral crystals out.
Don't think too far ahead.
The two machines talked for a long time at that small round table.
Talking about old bars, stages that were shut down during the war, reopening the East Side business district, and the pile of random eyewitness posts on the public channel today.
The jazz laughed for a long time when he saw "After-sales service of the judicial center".
"If you also want after-sales service, you can get in line," said the vector.
Jazz raised an eyebrow.
"Whom do we line up after?"
The vector thought for a moment.
"The entire Cybertron."
"Then I have to cut in line."
She looked at him and suddenly realized that jazz was indeed very suitable for sitting in a place like this, bathed in the darkness of night.
He is also suited to galloping across the battlefield, using a relaxed demeanor to conceal all his flaws.
But when he sits at the small round table, drinking an ordinary beverage, and saying a few meaningless words with a smile, he seems all the more precious.
Time passed little by little.
There were fewer machines in the bar, so the owner dimmed a few of the lights.
The streetlights outside have been switched to a low-brightness mode, and there are only a few pedestrians left on the street.
The vector looked at the time; it was very late.
According to human terms, it was probably around two or three in the morning, a time when all normal life should despise those who are still awake.
"Are you going back to Iron Fortress?"
The jazz man glanced outside.
"In theory."
"What does 'theoretically' mean?"
"It means that theoretically it's possible to go."
Vector frowned: "It's too late."
The jazz singer looked at her: "Are you worried about me?"
"More or less."
Jazz's smile deepened.
Yin Xiang thought for a moment: "My home isn't far from here."
Jazz's finger hovered over the rim of his glass: "Your place?"
"Newly bought."
"I know," Jazz said with a laugh. "The public channel knows, Megatron knows, Optimus Prime knows, and maybe even Insectoid knows."
The vector-directed optical mirror was closed, or rather:
"You can stay here for one night and go back to Ironburg tomorrow."
The bar was "coincidentally" quiet for a moment.
The bartender was a beat slow in wiping the cups behind the counter.
At the next table, two people were simultaneously looking down at their drinks, pretending they hadn't heard anything.
The jazz man suddenly fell silent, then chuckled softly.
"The phrase 'vector reference' is easily misunderstood by machines."
"Huh? I meant the guest room."
"…Um."
Judging from his expression, Yin Zong felt that he seemed to be thinking about something he shouldn't be thinking.
"Are you going to stay here or not?"
The jazz agreed not quickly, but not too slowly either.
"live."
-
The new house is very close to the judicial center.
The streets are much quieter at night than during the day, with streetlights forming neat lines of light along the main road.
The judicial center remained brightly lit even in the darkness, like a giant metal mountain that would forever stand tall into the sky.
The jazz band entered the mansion, and the interior lights came on one by one.
The house is very big.
The living area is usable, the guest room system is ready, the underground maintenance room is still under renovation, the document room is very empty, and the docking platform still needs calibration.
The Jazz looked around and said, "You're really efficient. Did you hire the repair team recommended by the Thunder Rescue Team?"
How did you know?
Jazz shrugged: "Public channel."
The expression on the vector instantly died.
-
She led him into the guest room:
"The cleaning area is over there. There are basic energy blocks in the supply cabinet. Don't touch the document room; it's not fully encrypted yet."
The jazz raised an eyebrow: "You trust me that much?"
"If you dare touch it, I'll let you ride a high-altitude flying car, the magnetic version."
"Then I will definitely behave myself."
As the jazz man walked to the door of the guest room, he turned back to look at her, his smile even more ambiguous than it had been in the bar.
Goodnight, Vector.
The guest room became quiet.
The jazz didn't immediately go into hibernation.
The outer armor he had cleaned grew cold in the night wind, and the room smelled of her—the new walls, the lighting, and the access control system.
Everything is related to the index vector.
He stared at the ceiling, and after a while, chuckled softly.
-
The next morning, Yin Vector was woken up by the doorbell.
She sat up, and the optical mirror flickered on and off for a long time; the brain module was not yet fully online.
The doorbell rang again.
Yin Vector rubbed his temples.
"Who is it...?"
She turned on the home security camera.
Megatron was standing at the entrance.
Vector tried to search his recent memories and remembered the "urgent matter" in the communication.
Great, the emergency has grown legs and come running to me.
She went to open the door.
At the same time, the guest room door also opened.
As the jazz emerged from inside, adjusting his misaligned wrist armor while casually asking:
"Good morning, what's wrong?"
The vector's hand had already pressed the open button.
The door opened, and Megatron stood there.
The jazz musician looked up from the end of the hallway inside the house.
All three machines went silent at the same time.
Megatron's red optical mirror slowly moved from the vector to the jazz.
Jazz glanced at Megatron, then at the vector, his optics behind his goggles squinting innocently.
The vector stood in the middle, belatedly sensing a subtle, unsettling atmosphere.
Megatron was barely suppressing the urge to crush the door frame and take the machine away.
"explain."