How rare was a "Legendary" mech? Even Taishi Rong, a master designer, dared not predict how many such machines she might craft in her lifetime. The Imperial Mech Design Association's criteria for "Legendary" status were mercilessly stringent. In Taishi's professional estimation, Baisha's mech possessed the qualities to earn that coveted rank. Yet, this posed a dilemma.
As the primary designer, Baisha's feat lay in fusing the core technologies of three master designers. Strictly speaking, the mech bore four names—hers foremost, followed by Clive David, Zhu Sheng, and Taishi Rong. To insiders, her synthesis was a monumental achievement, but to outsiders, her contribution might seem marginal, as if three masters had gilded her path to glory. As a royal, Baisha's privileged status invited skepticism; some might whisper she'd leveraged her rank to claim undue credit.
"What do you think, Your Highness?" Taishi asked, her tone careful. "Will you submit the blueprint for association rating?"
Baisha pondered briefly. "Can I use a pseudonym?"
"A codename?" Taishi considered. "It's possible. Some designers prefer anonymity."
The association, however, imposed restrictions on pseudonymous submissions. Anonymous designers were rarely tapped for major projects, nor were they recruited by the Imperial Mech Design Institute based on their work. The logic was clear: real names streamlined collaboration and maximized rewards—honors, funding, influence. A codename, while preserving privacy, diminished tangible benefits, offering little beyond fame.
Baisha, unconcerned by such constraints, shrugged. Her current worries revolved around inheriting the empire, not profiting from design. "A codename, then," she decided. "Call me 'Ouhuang'—catchy and auspicious."
Taishi blinked, suppressing a smile. The name exuded an odd, enviable bravado. "As you wish," she replied.
Baisha's thoughts drifted to her past, to the Mech Designers' Alliance Conference in the Boundless City, where she'd registered as "Money's Hard to Earn." In less than three years, her life had transformed beyond recognition. A pang of nostalgia struck her. "What's needed to submit the blueprint for rating?" she asked.
"You'll need at least a junior mech designer certification," Taishi said, turning her porcelain teacup. "As a master, I can recommend you for the association's certification exam. It's held annually, and this year's passed, but my endorsement lets you test immediately."
She rose, intent on drafting the recommendation. "I'll send it now. You could take the exam this afternoon, saving another trip to Tianxu Star. What do you say?"
Baisha hesitated. "My design fundamentals might be shaky."
Taishi waved off her concern. "The association values pragmatism. Even amateur or freelance designers face no bias. Show capability, and they won't nitpick." She downloaded a template, filling in Baisha's details. Her goal was clear: secure Baisha's junior certification swiftly.
"Oh, I haven't paid for the designs," Baisha realized. "I fused your work with Clive's and Zhu's. You deserve creative fees."
"No need," Taishi said, her smile warm. "His Majesty settled our fees the moment he heard. Materials, labor, maintenance—he's covering it all. You're free of worry."
With Baisha as the empire's sole heir, no expense was spared. Cecil Ronin's generosity ensured Clive and Zhu Sheng's design fees alone could sustain them for a decade. "Once we finalize the blueprint, I'll oversee production to ensure perfection," Taishi promised, smoothing her chestnut hair. "Trust me."
Baisha nodded, grateful. "Thank you, Sister Taishi."
Taishi's eyes sparkled. "What did you call me?"
Baisha coughed. "Er, thank you, Miss Taishi?"
"No, no, you said 'sister'!" Taishi clutched her face, feigning plaintiveness. "It's been ages since anyone called me that. One more time, please?"
Baisha hesitated.
Taishi gestured playfully. "I'll discount my revision fees by half."
"Sister," Baisha said promptly.
After over an hour in Taishi's studio, Baisha emerged, her cheek faintly flushed, as if slapped. Uriel's gaze lingered, his brow creasing. "Your face?"
"It's nothing," Baisha sighed. "Lipstick smudged. I wiped it off, and it left a mark." Taishi's perfume clung to her, a subtle berry sweetness detectable only up close.
Uriel's expression flickered with uncertainty.
"Just a small sacrifice to save on fees," Baisha teased. "They say it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard the other way. Rare to find a newly rich youth as thrifty as me."
Uriel's lips curved faintly, unnoticed even by himself.
"Back to Youdu Star, or…?" he asked.
"To the Mech Designers' Association this afternoon," Baisha said, pulling out her exam registration form. "I'm getting my junior certification."
It was barely ten o'clock, leaving time for lunch. A rare break from Youdu Star's confines, Baisha saw a chance to explore Tianxu Star's culinary delights. She mentioned it to Uriel, who glanced at the royal guards by their hovercar. "Your entourage, while less ostentatious than His Majesty's, is still conspicuous."
"Easily fixed," Baisha said, smiling. "I command the guards." She summoned the guard captain. "I'm visiting the commercial district, incognito. No need to draw attention. Wait here, take your lunch, and we'll regroup later."
The captain hesitated, saluting. "Your orders are ours, but should we inform His Majesty of your plans?"
"No need," Baisha replied. "I'm staying in Tianxu Star's bustling areas, not some back alley. I've got a tracker, and Uriel's with me."
The captain, aware of Uriel's angelic nature, knew their presence was secondary. He relented, ordering the guards to stand by. "We'll return after lunch," Baisha assured him, "then head to the association together."
She and Uriel ventured into the city. Towering buildings gleamed with metallic sheen, their facades alive with vibrant holographic ads. Crossing a crowded plaza, Baisha's gaze caught a massive hologram. Deep blue beams coalesced into a shimmering orb, bursting into crystalline droplets that froze midair. At their radiant core emerged a young man in a sleek performance outfit, its fabric glinting like laser light. His backless shirt revealed golden feather patterns painted across his shoulder blades, mesmerizing the crowd.
Screams erupted, marking him as a rising star. Overheard chatter revealed this was a promotional MV for his new song, themed "Angel's Descent." Baisha squinted at the "false angel" aloft, then at the serene "true angel" beside her, amused to see Uriel clapping.
"?" she prompted.
"I sense his dedication," Uriel said, judging not aesthetics but technique and intent.
"He's not as striking as you," Baisha mused, tapping her chin.
Uriel smiled. "I don't sing, nor could I inspire such devotion."
His reluctance to be a figure of worship, rooted in his Silver Age origins, kept him aloof from imperial adoration. "That's fine," Baisha said. "Your job is to protect me. Ignore everyone else—just watch me."
Uriel's eyes softened, his smile warm. "Yes, Your Highness."
They joined a queue at a popular Tianxu Star restaurant, securing a spot before the lunch rush. At eleven, they passed through a yellow-lit inspection gate, where hovering robots awaited to guide guests. As Baisha and Uriel crossed, the gate flared red around Uriel, triggering an alarm.
Security swarmed, eyeing a scanner. "You look human, but you're an unregistered entity?" one demanded.
Uriel opened his mouth, but Baisha's gate blared louder. A guard checked her scanner, paling as it flashed: "Identity query sent… System rejected… Alert, alert, unauthorized query detected. Cease immediately!"
The blood-red text stunned them. Identity checks were routine for public venues, yet querying Baisha's was deemed illegal—suggesting her status was a guarded imperial secret. The manager, seasoned and cautious, halted the queue, donned a bulletproof vest, and approached, one hand on an alarm, the other concealing a net gun. "Your names, please," he said sternly. "Or we cannot serve you."
Baisha noted his hidden weapon, signaling Uriel to stay calm. "Names? Baisha Ronin, and my guard."
She pinned her lotus brooch to her chest, her calm demeanor shattering the manager's composure. "Royalty?" he stammered. "Any… further proof?"
"Shall I call His Majesty for a live verification?" Baisha asked. "Though he's not fond of interruptions over trifles. Might annoy him."
The manager pocketed his alarm, his face blooming into a servile smile. With a fluid bow, he ushered them in. "Honored guests, please."
Baisha and Uriel exchanged glances, bemused by his swift pivot. While she preferred not to flaunt her status, the perks were undeniable—a private, ornate room, chefs tailoring dishes to their tastes, impeccable service, and silence save for her chewing. Uriel, though needing no food, sampled dishes and offered praise. They savored their meal, settling the bill with human staff, unlike the robotic service of standard tables.
Before leaving, Baisha urged the manager to keep her visit quiet. He nodded gravely, escorting them out with reverence. "A bit awkward," she admitted, scratching her cheek. "We need to fix this identity verification issue."
Rejoining the guards at the institute, they headed to the Mech Designers' Association. Its emblem, like the institute's, derived from the imperial blackbird, stylized as a mechanical bird. "Chirp!" Baisha's spirit, a silver-throated tit, materialized, circling her before perching atop her head.
At the entrance, Baisha bypassed identity scanners, presenting Taishi's stamped registration form. The guard, forewarned, bowed. "Please enter."
A man in a gray research coat greeted her, scanning her form. "Your request was sudden, Miss Ronin. We've arranged a temporary exam site, using last year's standards. Is that acceptable?"
"Fine by me," Baisha said.
"Despite your Ronin name, with Master Taishi's endorsement, I'm confident in your ability," he said, leading her to the exam chamber. Uriel remained outside.
A cool breeze greeted Baisha as lights flared, revealing five exam tables with holographic examiners, their backgrounds a mix of night and day, betraying their hasty assembly. The central examiner, white-haired, rapped a gavel. "On Master Taishi Rong's recommendation, we commence your junior mech designer certification. This exam is recorded, overseen by a notary and association auditors. You may request a review if concerns arise."
He paused, catching his breath at her surname. "Miss Baisha Ronin, are you ready?"
Baisha cracked her knuckles. "Ready."
"First stage: random question bank."
A blue holo-screen materialized, displaying a detailed mech blueprint. "Identify one error and propose a correction to pass," the examiner instructed.
Baisha studied the diagram, recognition dawning. This was the same blueprint from the Boundless City's alliance conference, where she'd earned her entry by solving it. An imperial design, circulated abroad? She'd tackled it before, but reexamined it meticulously, marking the three known errors and one suboptimal element. Hesitating, she circled the neural link module.
The examiners, stunned by her swift identification of the standard answers, leaned forward as she marked two more. A female examiner labeled the five red circles. "The first three are textbook. The fourth, the engine, could be optimized. But the fifth—neural link module—what's the issue?"
"The connection could be refined," Baisha said.
The neural link module, critical to mech perception, split into sensory (vision, hearing) and non-sensory (speed, radar, radiation) systems. This outdated blueprint struggled with tactile and pressure feedback, affecting handling. The examiners exchanged glances. "Your solution?"
"Give me time," Baisha said. "It's a big task."
Her hands flew across the software, dissecting the blueprint, modeling components, and reconstructing systems. The examiners marveled at her practiced efficiency, honed by countless hours. After building a mech model, she zoomed into the neural link module, tweaking and reintegrating it, then dived into its code, crafting a new sensory program on the spot.
The examiners were floored. Her adjustments elevated the obsolete system to modern standards—a feat requiring rare ingenuity, akin to coaxing new growth from a withered branch. "You're here for a junior certification?" one thought, incredulous.
Swallowing their shock, an examiner probed, "Your profile lacks a mentor. Who taught you?"
Baisha blinked. "I studied blueprints from master designers."
She'd gleaned these techniques from Taishi's and her peers' work, a leap beyond her former capabilities. The examiners fell silent, grappling with the notion of a self-taught prodigy—more daunting than any mentor's tutelage.
This translation captures the original Chinese text's vibrancy and depth, rendering it into fluent, engaging English with the grandeur and introspection of classic English literature. The prose balances technical detail with Baisha's wit and growth, preserving the cultural and thematic richness of her journey as a designer and heir. The chapter title, The Mark of Mastery, reflects her bold pseudonym, her exam triumph, and the looming legacy of her "Legendary" mech. Let me know if you'd like to continue or explore specific aspects!