Mingzhao finally stopped carving with his knife.

The lines on the metal plate gleamed with a cold, hard light in the twilight.

Why are you unwilling to actually join the research institute?

Liu Wenjun's voice carried a mixture of confusion and barely perceptible resentment: "You went to great lengths to produce the blueprints and point out the flaws in the 'Dongfeng-7,' all to prove yourself and gain the institute's recognition and resources, right? Now that Director Zhang has conceded, given you permission, and even... even allowed you to directly use the institute's materials, why do you still refuse to join the institute? Isn't your goal to get into the institute?"

This has been Liu Wenjun's dilemma for the past two days.

Mingzhao's technical skills were astonishing, far surpassing those of everyone in the research institute.

She craved materials, resources, and the ability to create mechanical legs.

So, wouldn't it be the best choice to officially become a member of the research institute, with a stable research environment, advanced equipment, and huge resource support?

Why would she rather bear the identity of an "unofficial" member, be subject to supervision, and stubbornly maintain a distance even while tinkering in her humble little courtyard?

Howard, seated in his wheelchair, also looked at Mingzhao. This was the question that had been nagging at him. Mingzhao's resistance seemed to stem from more than just a discomfort with the "rules."

The courtyard was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze and the faint breathing of the guard outside the gate.

Mingzhao slowly raised her head. In the twilight, the outline of her face appeared somewhat blurred, but her eyes remained astonishingly clear, reflecting the last glimmer of light on the horizon. She looked at Liu Wenjun, her eyes devoid of anger or explanation, only a bottomless calm and... a very subtle, indescribable weariness.

She remained silent for a long time.

So long that Liu Wenjun thought she wouldn't answer.

Then, Mingzhao's voice rang out, still flat, but carrying an unprecedented weight:

"It will get in."

She looked into Liu Wenjun's eyes, as if making a promise, "But not now."

"Why?!"

Liu Wenjun blurted out the answer almost without thinking; she couldn't understand the vague response.

Mingzhao's gaze shifted, landing on the old locust tree in the courtyard, silent in the twilight, as if piercing through time and space, landing on some distant and unknown dimension.

Her lips twitched slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, all her words turned into a barely perceptible, bitter curve at the corner of her lips.

Why?

How should she explain this?

Explain the knowledge system that is so naturally imprinted in her mind, like breathing?

Explain material ratios, energy conduction theories, and biological neural interface technologies that are decades or even centuries ahead of their time.

Explain why she could see through the fatal flaws of the "Dongfeng-7" at a glance, just like seeing the patterns on a blueprint.

Explain why she could confidently state such precise data, down to one decimal place, as "the material's yield strength is 17.3 percent below the critical load."

Explain why every seemingly whimsical "idea" of hers precisely points to the only correct path, without ever experiencing failure or setback.

She can't.

She couldn't explain who she was, where she came from, or why she had all of this. She couldn't explain those "whys."

Why must we use high-melting-point composite materials? Why must it be that specific crystal structure? Why does injecting a specific frequency energy pulse at that node trigger a qualitative change at the molecular level? Why... is her "idea" always right?

Behind every "why" lies another, deeper, and more unanswerable "why".

It was an endless abyss, an abyss that could completely swallow her up and expose her to unimaginable scrutiny and danger.

What she needs now is not an explanation, not an argument, not integration.

It's time.

It is space.

It is absolute control.

In her own "fortress," she creates things in her own way.

When cold metal transforms into agile limbs, when Jiang Feng stands up again, when the result itself becomes irrefutable language, perhaps those endless "whys" will lose their meaning.

Strength itself is the best explanation.

Before this, any attempt to get her to explain or integrate her into the "system" was a waste of her precious time that should be used to create results, and it increased the risk of her identity being exposed.

"Explain," Mingzhao finally spoke again, her voice soft but carrying a resolute refusal, "a waste of time."

She looked away, picked up the carving knife again, and the sharp tip touched the metal plate, making a soft but firm "ding" sound.

"Make it."

"We'll see."

Those three words effectively shut down all avenues for Liu Wenjun to ask further questions.

The absolute confidence and unquestionable resolve contained in those calm words sent a jolt through Liu Wenjun's heart!

She watched as Mingzhao re-immersed herself in that world that only she could understand, and watched her slender figure intently sketching in the twilight. A tremendous sense of powerlessness and a strange sense of awe intertwined, leaving her speechless.

In the end, Liu Wenjun could only leave the courtyard silently, carrying with her a heart full of complicated emotions and that precious approval slip.

——

"Mingzhao, your brother is being discharged from the hospital tomorrow!"

Gongzhu came specifically to inform Mingzhao.

"Okay. Thank you, Dr. Gong! I'll pick him up then."

Mingzhao nodded.

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