"Information trade, huh, interesting."
Qiao took the severely corroded chip, scrutinized it for a moment, and then his expression suddenly turned grim.
John was close by.
He even saw Qiao's pupils involuntarily contract, his emotional fluctuations affecting the state of his implants.
"You... uh, where did you get this? What exactly is your job?"
Qiao became proactive.
John shook his head helplessly. He couldn't possibly say he found it at a scrapyard, so he vaguely said,
"I'm a mercenary, it's a confidential commission."
Qiao got a bit anxious, trying repeatedly to inquire about the details, but after several unsuccessful attempts, he sat on a half-broken bench by the roadside and started talking.
John noticed:
When Qiao referred to himself, he sometimes used "he" instead of "she."
"Wow, you can just ask directly, no need to beat around the bush. It's not a secret in the community or the camp."
