Chen Hao stared down at his shadow. It was indeed a beat slow, as if someone had pressed pause and then forgotten to resume playback.

He raised his hand, and the shadow's hand froze in mid-air; he tilted his head, and the shadow slowly turned around, its movement as sluggish as an old-fashioned videotape stuck in mid-air. He tried to jump, and the shadow hesitated for a second before leaping up, even stumbling as it did so.

"Shouldn't this guy be paying social security contributions by now?" he said. "He's almost retired."

Nana didn't laugh. She was squatting in the corner in front of the pair of snow boots, her fingers gently tracing the crack in the sole. The mud on the uppers had long since dried and crumbled at the slightest touch, but a faint blue light shone through the crack, as if someone had stuffed fireflies into the insoles.

“Don’t tell me this old shoe can provide navigation.” Chen Hao walked over, plopped down on the ground, and leaned against the observation window. “I can run 800 meters in it and I’m out of breath. If it could fly, I’d want it to take my exam for me.”

Nana ignored him. Her pupils narrowed to slits as the scanning program frantically ran in the background. A few seconds later, she raised her wrist, shooting an extremely thin beam of laser light from her palm into the tread pattern on the sole of her shoe.

The light drifted along the grooves, as if reading some kind of code. Suddenly, the entire shoe trembled slightly, and the blue light burst forth, casting a blurry star map outline in the air.

“The database draws on star trail records from the polar civilization era,” she said. “The match is 73 percent. This is not any kind of mapping method found on Earth.”

"So it's a shoe that aliens stepped on?"

“More likely it’s a beacon.” She stood up. “A carrier used to embed coordinates. It’s always been here, waiting to be activated at a specific frequency.”

Chen Hao stared at the worn-out shoes for a long time, then suddenly reached out to take off his socks. "Alright, since we're going to do something big, we need some ceremony." He put his feet up to the shoes, "Let's see if this mortal can trigger a hidden plot."

"No!" Nana stopped him. "The backlash from the electric arc just now has proven that it has a defense mechanism. Forcing contact could trigger a chain reaction."

"So what do you plan to do? Read the instruction manual to it?"

“We can try other input sources,” she paused, “such as… biomarkers.”

You mean blood?

“The most basic form of identity verification.” She looked at him. “You’ve just absorbed multiple memories, and the residual energy fluctuations in your body are different from those of ordinary humans. Your blood might be the key.”

Chen Hao grinned: "So I'm a walking USB drive now?"

He took out the small knife he always carried—the one left over from dismantling equipment last time—and cut his fingertip, a drop of blood falling onto his shoe.

The moment the blood droplet touched the crack, it was instantly absorbed. Immediately afterward, the entire shoe erupted with a blinding blue light, each line of the pattern lighting up like an energized circuit board. A three-dimensional star map unfolded instantly, hovering in mid-air and slowly rotating.

Chen Hao looked up, his mouth agape, wide enough to fit an egg. "I mean... is this some kind of food delivery map? It marks where the best mala tang in the entire universe is?"

There is a flashing red dot in the center of the star map, which is located directly below the base.

Nana has connected to the control panel and retrieved the deep structure diagram. What she initially thought was the foundation turned out to be layer upon layer of metal skeletons, buried hundreds of meters underground, extending in a streamlined shape, and becoming increasingly clear in its form—the outline of a spaceship.

“The main system is responding to the coordinates,” she said. “It wasn’t built here. It landed here, then got buried and disguised as a base.”

"So the place we've lived in for so long is actually an alien vehicle?" Chen Hao scratched his head. "Does that mean a leaky toilet is covered under warranty?"

The walls began to vibrate. Not violently, but a low-frequency resonance, as if something was awakening from its slumber. Ceiling panels crumbled off piece by piece, revealing a complex internal mechanical structure. The floor was also splitting, metal plates sliding to the sides to reveal a deep, dark passage below.

“Starting the program requires double confirmation.” Nana stared at the screen. “The system refused authorization, prompting: ‘Original host not present.’”

"The original host?" Chen Hao frowned. "You mean... the original me? The me before I froze, before I ran for my life, the me you've never even seen?"

"It probably is." She nodded. "It doesn't want you as you are now. It wants the person who hasn't even started choosing yet."

Chen Hao remained silent for a few seconds, then suddenly turned and walked towards the storage compartment. He opened the drawer and took out the glowing crystal—the core that had condensed after the plant mutated, which had once saved his life and almost driven him insane.

"Hopefully this thing qualifies as an admission ticket." He held the crystal in his hand and walked towards the control panel.

Nana imported the star map data into the main control system and simultaneously embedded the crystal into the interface. In an instant, the entire space was engulfed by intense light.

When the light faded, a figure appeared in the center of the cockpit.

He was a boy, wearing a bulky school uniform, with messy hair, a round face, and a blank look in his eyes. He looked down at his trembling hands, as if he had just been dragged out of a dream.

Chen Hao stood there, looking at his other self.

That version of myself who hadn't yet learned to run, hadn't yet learned to be afraid, and whose existence was never expected to be saved by anyone.

"Hey." He stepped forward, his voice soft. "You were startled, weren't you?"

The boy suddenly looked up, took a step back, and bumped into the edge of the control panel.

"Don't run away." Chen Hao smiled. "I know you're full of questions right now. But listen to me—you're not useless, you just haven't started yet."

The boy's lips moved, but he didn't speak.

“I also thought I couldn’t do it,” Chen Hao continued. “I couldn’t even cheat on exams, I came in last in a race, and I could even burn instant noodles. But then I realized that nobody really expected me to be a hero. They just wanted me to stand up, say something, or do something, even if it was stupid.”

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the boy. "This is a wish list I wrote before. Do you want to hear how outrageous it is? First: I want to eat all the spicy snacks outside the school gate. Second: I don't want to be called fat anymore. Third... I want someone to remember my name."

The boy took the note, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Now I’ll tell you the fourth point.” Chen Hao patted him on the shoulder. “I want this world to have one more person willing to give it a try.”

Nana walked over to the boy and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to believe all of this right away," she said, "but remember, your future self chose not to give up. Even if you fall, you'll get up and say 'Let's try again.'"

The boy looked up, glanced at Chen Hao, and then at Nana.

His eyes were still glazed over, but no longer filled with fear.

Chen Hao picked up the crystal and handed it to him. "Come on," he said, "this time we won't copy the answers."

The boy hesitated for a moment, then reached out his hand.

Both of their hands pressed onto the crystal at the same time.

A burst of light erupted, spreading along the ground and seeping into every inch of the spaceship's structure. The walls were completely peeled away, revealing the silvery-white interior of the cockpit, where countless light patterns flowed, as if the spaceship had come alive.

Chen Hao felt a tightness in his chest, as if something had been taken away, or as if it had been filled.

When he opened his eyes again, the boy was gone.

The crystal lay quietly on the control panel, no longer glowing.

The view in front of the cockpit had transformed into a vast starry sky.

He and Nana stood side by side, neither of them moving.

"He's gone?" he asked.

“It’s integrated into the system,” she said. “It’s become part of the startup core.”

"So what are we now? Administrators?"

“A witness,” she said, turning her head to look at him, “and also an escort.”

Chen Hao nodded and walked to the window. In the distance, a planet slowly rotated, its surface covered with ice, much like the desolate planet where they had first landed.

He suddenly laughed. "Do you think he might also complain about the cafeteria food?"

Nana didn't answer. But the corners of her eyes curved slightly, as if she was trying to suppress a laugh.

Chen Hao raised his hand, looking at an old scar on his palm—it was from when he was first fleeing for his life, cut by a piece of metal. It still felt a little numb to the touch.

Just as he was about to say something, a soft sound suddenly came from the control panel.

A ghostly figure appeared in the driver's seat.

It's Nana.

But she wasn't the same person she was now. Her exterior was older, with a noticeable crack on her shoulder, but her eyes were remarkably calm. She looked at them, nodded slightly, and uttered two words.

Nobody heard it.

The next second, she disappeared.

Chen Hao stared at the empty seat, remaining silent for a long time.

“She came,” he said softly, “to you in the future.”

Nana gazed at the seat, her fingers gently tracing the armrest.

She said thank you.