Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Registration

Registering identities for two young ladies who might not even count as people was new to Yu Sheng. But the moment he sat down with Foxy’s form, he realized it probably wasn’t new to the Special Operations Bureau at all.

Because the first line on the form read:

If the registrant is a long-lived species (average lifespan 1K or above, including 1K), the age field should be filled as a percentage, and the species’ average lifespan should be written after the blank. If the registrant’s species does not have the concept of gender, black out the gender field. If the registrant cannot use pen-like tools to write, or uses pheromones or other special secretions as primary identifying features, staff will assist with sampling or filling.

Other special cases may be explained in the appendix and must be reviewed and signed by staff.

After that came a long disclaimer that could be summarized as: The Bureau knows this place has all kinds of weird things. They’ve tried as hard as possible to account for countless life forms and taboos. If you’re still offended, go find a councilor.

Yu Sheng stared at it for a while, then flipped to page two and finally found normal fields like name, gender, age, and address.

He looked up at Ren Wen Wen. “…Ordinary person registration for an ID card in Boundary City definitely isn’t like this, right?”

“Of course not,” Ren Wen Wen said quickly. “The ordinary person form is much simpler. This one is specifically for guests who need to live long-term in the Borderland but aren’t human. The identification cards we’ll make for the two ladies here are special versions too. They look like normal IDs, but they also record info that only specific departments can read with specific devices.”

She paused, then added, as if rehearsed, “If you run into trouble in the future, it’s also a way for special residents to ask for help and receive preferential treatment.”

“Do you handle this kind of business often?” Yu Sheng asked.

“It’s far less common than ordinary resident registration, but we still add a few thousand to ten thousand new files a year,” Ren Wen Wen said frankly. “In the Borderland, there are always travelers from everywhere who apply to stay for all kinds of reasons.”

Something stirred in Yu Sheng as he listened. This bizarre form, full of impossible scenarios, made the Borderland—the world behind the everyday—feel suddenly real.

Nearby, Irene was gripping a ballpoint pen that looked absurdly thick in her tiny hands. She lay over her form and filled it out with fierce concentration. The pen was almost as long as her arm, and the A4 page was nearly half her height, but she refused help. She looked serious—almost eager.

Yu Sheng lowered his head and carefully wrote “Foxy” on the line in front of him.

Then he got stuck at the next field.

“Benefactor?” Foxy noticed immediately and asked, curious.

Yu Sheng stared at the blank, then looked up with a strange expression. “…How old are you this year?”

The moment he said it, he realized he was asking the wrong question.

“No. First I need your species’ average lifespan… no, that’s not it either,” he said, rubbing at his temple. “When you say one year, is that the same kind of year as in the Borderland?”

Foxy tilted her head, ears twitching. She looked honestly confused.

After a moment, she said hesitantly, “Probably… over two hundred? We become adults at one hundred eighty, but I don’t know how long we can live. Dad and Mother said that when you don’t want to live anymore, you go return to the Great Dao. But they said that isn’t dying. It’s becoming one of the skyfolk…”

Yu Sheng went silent and looked to Ren Wen Wen for help.

Ren Wen Wen pointed at the age field. “Just write ‘very long-lived.'”

Yu Sheng stared. “…That’s allowed?”

“If that feels too informal, you can write ‘don’t know,’ too,” Ren Wen Wen said, deadly serious. “Lots of people do. Some species live forever and don’t have a clear lifespan concept. Others are born and die in fast cycles of a few years, so their age isn’t marked by years and months at all—it’s marked by generations. They can’t figure it out themselves.”

Yu Sheng opened his mouth, then looked down at the next field. “…What do I put for birthplace if I don’t know where it is?”

“Then write ‘out of town,'” Ren Wen Wen replied, just as matter-of-fact. “If they’re from outside the Borderland and their origin is unknown, we file them under that.”

Yu Sheng nodded slowly, still a little stunned. “…What about species?”

Ren Wen Wen tapped the page. “Check the box in the appendix area and flip to the last page. There’s a table. See if anything feels like it fits.”

Yu Sheng flipped to the back. A dense wall of options slammed into his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a note under Remarks: If your species has mutable traits, please select mimicry family. If your species is not listed, please write to be added, and we will create a new category for you as soon as possible.

Yu Sheng actually felt a surge of admiration. When he looked up at Ren Wen Wen, there was even a hint of respect in his expression.

“Your daily work must be… complicated.”

“It’s okay. I’m actually in logistics,” Ren Wen Wen said. “The Special Archives Division handles these directly, and they really are busy. Male or female, they don’t have much hair.”

She pointed at one option. “Pick this one: beast spirit or humanoid shapeshifting species.”

Yu Sheng frowned slightly. “Why not immortal-spirit oddfolk? That seems like it fits too…”

“There are group benefits,” Ren Wen Wen said casually. “You get half-fare on the subway. And her tails look more like beast spirit anyway. But it doesn’t matter much. If you think it doesn’t fit, pick something else under humanoid. Usually no one digs too deep.”

Yu Sheng kept writing, growing more amazed by the minute. He even craned his neck to peek at Irene’s form.

The doll had carefully checked advanced doll or alchemical humanoid, and in the remarks she’d written: from Alice Little House.

At last, the forms were done.

Honestly, it wasn’t any easier than doing homework for Little Red Riding Hood. The chaotic, bizarre content was overwhelming. There were fields Yu Sheng couldn’t even imagine being used on an identity form. No wonder the Bureau sent someone to assist on-site. Without help, just the thinking type and neural evolution classification sections could have eaten his entire day.

And yet, oddly, other parts were unbelievably lax. For anything he truly couldn’t fill, Yu Sheng simply followed Ren Wen Wen’s instructions and wrote things like don’t know, random, and whatever. By the end, he found himself doubting the Bureau’s professionalism.

“You really don’t need to worry,” Ren Wen Wen said patiently, as if she could read his thoughts. “This form was designed on the principle of maximum adaptability. Generally, when an outsider registers an identity in the Borderland, even filling in a quarter of the form is enough to accurately describe their origin, purpose, and traits.”

She adjusted the pile of papers and continued, steady and practiced. “We can’t expect a single form to bind an outsider strongly. The Borderland has stayed stable until now because a massive, effective management system supports it.”

As she spoke, she placed a small device on the table. “Next is collecting biological info. Since both of you are humanoid type, we’ll collect fingerprints?”

“I don’t have fingerprints,” Irene said, lifting a hand.

Ren Wen Wen froze. “…Then blood—”

She glanced at Irene again and corrected herself, looking lost. “Dolls don’t have blood either. Then hair?”

Irene’s face tightened in immediate resistance.

Ren Wen Wen hesitated. “Uh… then scrape some surface flakes? The arm is fine.”

Irene sighed. “If you scrape it off, it turns into lotus root powder.”

Ren Wen Wen stared. “…?”

“That’s a long story,” Yu Sheng said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Her body right now is temporary. You should probably just skip it. You won’t get anything useful anyway. It’s all materials bought from the supermarket.”

“Then… that’s fine,” Ren Wen Wen said, expression twitching in a way that suggested she was carefully filing this under Things I Don’t Get Paid Enough For. “The director said we can be flexible.”

She skimmed the forms again, sighed, and looked at Irene. “Miss Irene, you can’t write ‘good-looking’ in the standard form or appearance traits field. You should write humanoid…”

She paused, then gave up. “Forget it. I’ll rewrite this whole page for you, and you can sign to confirm at the end.

“Also, you two get ready. I’m going to take your photos in a moment. Miss Foxy, can you hide your ears?”

Foxy casually reached up, removed her ears, and tossed them into her tail.

Ren Wen Wen went stiff.

The next second, the young clerk finally processed what she’d just seen. She turned to Yu Sheng, stammering, “M-Mr. Yu, she she she just took took—”

“Calm down,” Yu Sheng said, unsurprised. Now he was the one soothing her. “You work at the Special Operations Bureau. You should broaden your mindset.”

Ren Wen Wen stared at him, speechless.

After forcing herself to breathe for a while, she finally got her face under control. Then she pulled out another stack of forms and handed them to Yu Sheng.

“Uh, these are the registration documents you need. Before the two ladies’ identification cards take effect, you can fill this out first.”

Yu Sheng’s heart stirred. He took the pages at once.

Borderland independent operating organization/team/agency general registration form.

A smile spread across Yu Sheng’s face.

Finally, it was his turn.