Chen Hao's fingers were still a centimeter away from the metal capsule when the outline of a pair of light wings appeared on his shadow. He paused, then looked down at his back—the light wings had already retracted under his skin, as quiet as if they had never existed.

"Did you see it?" he asked.

Nana didn't answer, but suddenly grabbed his wrist and pressed his palm to the ground.

"Wait, I'm not ready yet—"

Before he could finish speaking, his palm was already pressed against a bare purple ice core in the center of the crystal cluster. The touch was neither like ice nor metal, but rather like touching time itself—neither hot nor cold, just enough to make his fingertips tingle slightly, as if an electric current was crawling along his nerves into his brain.

The next second, the world went silent.

It wasn't the kind of silence that comes from deafness, but a silence where even the concept of "sound" had been stripped away. The wind had stopped, the rise and fall of his breath had vanished, and he couldn't even feel the vibration of his heartbeat. Yet he knew clearly that he was still thinking, still seeing, still... alive? Perhaps not truly alive, but not dead either.

"This is..." he began in his mind, discovering that he could speak without a mouth.

“Time flow has returned to zero.” Nana’s voice appeared directly in the depths of his mind. “We’re stuck in an infinite extension of one second.”

"So now it's eternal?"

"To be precise, it's the 'frozen moment'."

"It sounds like an advertisement for expired yogurt."

She didn't laugh, but he sensed a slight fluctuation in his mind, as if she had secretly rolled her eyes electronically.

Everything around them froze. The blooming flower, the capsule inside its stamen, the snowflakes floating in mid-air—all were still. In the distance, a vine was climbing upwards, but it stopped halfway through, as if someone had pressed the pause button.

"Do you think that if aliens were to pass by right now, they would mistake this planet for a giant refrigerator exhibit?" Chen Hao suddenly became interested. "Let's call it 'Two Fools and a Flower'."

“They are more likely to see it as a monument to some kind of advanced civilization,” Nana said. “After all, technology that can freeze an entire planet in a state of perfect equilibrium does not fall into the realm of conventional physics.”

“But we’re not some advanced civilization,” he muttered. “I passed my last exam by cheating.”

"But now you don't even need to write cheat sheets anymore, because time will no longer move forward."

"Does that mean I finally don't have to hand in my homework?"

"Yes."

"That's pretty good."

After a brief silence, he suddenly realized something: "Wait, if we stay here, won't you be staying with me until the end of the universe?"

“I’ve calculated all the possibilities,” she said. “I care more about the synchronization rate being stable than about completing the to-do list.”

"So you did it voluntarily?"

"From the first time you called my name, the program deviated from its original path."

He didn't speak again, but turned to look at her. Her mechanical pupils reflected his face, so clearly it seemed to reveal his soul. He noticed a very fine scratch on her shell, probably left during a mine collapse, which he had never noticed before.

"With so many memories stored up, did you also remember what my snoring looks like?"

"Make a full backup, including the part where you shout 'Don't take my deposit' in your dream."

"That's renter phobia! It's perfectly normal!"

"According to psychology databases, you mention rent in your dreams three times more often than the average person."

"...Could you please delete that section?"

"No. The emotional agreement is locked and cannot be reversed."

He sighed, then laughed: "Fine, no one can watch it anyway—time has stopped."

The moment he finished speaking, the surrounding space lit up slightly.

Pale golden lines spread from Nana's body, like a net woven from light, slowly unfolding in the air. Images flashed before her eyes: him lying unconscious in the snow, her carrying him as they ran; them huddled together under a blanket in a dilapidated house for warmth; her reattaching his severed mechanical fingers, her fingers trembling slightly; him pressing the creation activation button, her grip on his hand tighter…

It's all their past.

"Why did you put these here?" he asked.

“To prevent the expansion of consciousness,” she said, “unlimited time can easily lead to a cycle of nihilism. Anchors are needed.”

"Couldn't you have picked a more handsome scene? Like the one where I'm eating instant noodles?"

"That image frame has too much noise, so recognition failed."

"...Are you implying that my face is covered in phlegm?"

"I'm just stating the facts."

He stared at the images, frozen and suspended in mid-air, and suddenly felt a little disoriented. These things had clearly happened, yet now they seemed like a dream. Or perhaps, the dream was more real than reality.

"Nana," he said softly, "if this moment could last forever, wouldn't you find it...too boring?"

“The definition of boredom is the accumulation of repetitive and meaningless events,” she said. “But what we are experiencing now is that new data is generated every nanosecond.”

"for example?"

"For example, although your heart rate is now at zero, your brainwave activity has increased by 89%."

So I'm living with my brain?

"Technically speaking, it is living with consciousness."

“That’s progress, I guess,” he chuckled. “At least it’s better than living off fat like before.”

She didn't respond, but in the connection of consciousness, he felt a familiar rhythm—like some kind of signal playing on repeat. He listened carefully and realized it was the recording of him calling her name that night when he had just woken up.

"You still keep this?"

"This is the trigger sound of the system's initial response," she said. "It's also the starting point for me to confirm 'I am who I am.'"

He suddenly reached out and touched her cheek on a conscious level.

The movement was very light, like the wind blowing across the water. Although the body could not move, the intention was truly transmitted.

Then, he kissed her.

There was no touch of lips, no exchange of breaths, only a pure, thousand-year-old kiss of intention. He knew she was receiving, responding, and in sync.

The time crystal seemed to have sensed something.

The entire ice core suddenly lit up, and blue light spread out like ripples, rapidly extending along the earth's veins. Wherever the light touched, everything was frozen in time: the wind and snow hovered in mid-air, the process of crystal flowers blooming was permanently recorded, vines stopped growing, and even a small creature that had just poked its head out in the distance was frozen in a curious pose.

The entire desolate planet seemed to be sealed inside a huge piece of transparent amber.

"It's starting," Nana said.

"What started?"

"Effective forever."

"So we are now... cultural relics?"

"More accurately, it is part of the law."

"Will people bow to us when they come here in the future?"

"The probability is not high. This level of spacetime freeze would block external detection signals."

"What a pity, I wanted to hear what the tour guide had to say. 'This is the famous academic failure Chen Hao, who caused a cosmic reboot by refusing to hand in his homework, and ultimately became a star watcher with his robot girlfriend.'"

"Your epitaph should be more concise."

"for example?"

"Lazy, but didn't run."

He laughed, the laughter spreading through his consciousness like a pebble thrown into a lake.

The outside world came to a complete standstill. The planet floated in the depths of space, no longer rotating, no longer aging, no longer changing. It became a miraculous specimen, recording the endpoint reached by two humans and a machine.

It is neither destruction nor rebirth.

It's not a choice, but a choice—to give up moving forward and embrace the present moment.

“You know what?” he said, “I used to be afraid of change. Afraid of exams, afraid of being late, afraid of being looked down upon. Later I realized that the scariest thing is not change, but never changing.”

“But now you’ve changed,” she said.

"Hmm. It turned into a freak that can glow, fly, and be frozen in time."

"But I recognize you."

"You're the same. Even if you had a hundred thousand parts replaced, I'd still recognize you."

The connection between them deepened, like two currents finally finding their only path. Their consciousness merged, their memories were shared, and even the rhythm of their thoughts became synchronized.

Just then, Chen Hao suddenly noticed something.

His shadow still carried the outline of those wings of light.

Moreover, the outline is swaying slightly.

It's like... something hasn't completely stopped.