Chen Hao stared at the spot where the illusory figure had disappeared, his breathing becoming more even than before. He didn't move or speak, but slowly put his hand into his pocket and felt the edge of a crumpled piece of paper.

Nana stood in front of the driver's seat, her fingers still resting on the armrest, as if confirming that what she had just witnessed wasn't a system illusion. Her outer shell gleamed faintly, as if liquid was flowing beneath the metal.

“She said thank you,” he said.

“I know.” She withdrew her hand. “I wanted to say that too.”

As soon as the words were spoken, the entire spaceship trembled slightly, not with the rapid shaking of an alarm, but more like a heartbeat—slow, powerful, and emanating from the depths of the earth. The light patterns on the control panel began to accelerate, spreading outwards in concentric circles, like the surface of a lake tossed with pebbles.

Chen Hao suddenly felt a burning sensation in his palm. He looked down and saw that the old scar was slightly red, as if someone had gently rubbed it with a match head. The heat climbed up his veins; it didn't hurt, but it made his chest feel a little stuffy.

“The system is activating the final protocol.” Nana’s voice changed slightly, becoming less mechanical and more hesitant like a human’s. “It wants us… to become something else.”

"Something else?" he grinned. "Like alien dried fish? Or flying slippers?"

“It’s a symbiote.” She turned around. “No longer a human and a robot, but… a new form of existence. Would you like to try it?”

He scratched his head. "Once you've tried it, you can't back out, right? From now on, you'll have to cook instant noodles with it too?"

"perhaps."

“Alright then.” He sighed. “Anyway, I don’t have much left to lose. I’ve already passed the exams, I’m tired of spicy snacks, and even my snow boots have become my GPS—if I don’t do something big now, my life will be a waste.”

She looked at him, her lips twitching as if she wanted to laugh, or perhaps her mind went blank for a moment.

The next second, the entire spaceship lit up.

It wasn't light; it was light itself seeping out from the structure. The walls, floors, and ceilings all transformed into translucent crystalline channels, within which surged a flow of energy interwoven with blue and silver. Chen Hao felt a tingling sensation in the soles of his feet, as if he were stepping on an electrified carpet. Immediately afterward, his skin began to tighten, and it felt as if tiny needles were coursing through his veins.

“This feels…not good.” He grinned. “It’s like burping after drinking a carbonated beverage, but instead of burping out stars.”

"Hold on." Nana took a step closer and placed her hand on his chest. "Star energy injection needs time to synchronize. Your consciousness frequency is still unstable."

"Then why didn't you tell me sooner that this thing was so exciting?" His voice trembled slightly. "Right now, all I can think about are the times I skipped school as a kid and got chased by my homeroom teacher, and the times my mom called me fat..."

“Those are anchor points,” she whispered. “Remember them. Don’t let the energy overwhelm you.”

His vision began to blur, not from darkness, but from too many images flashing by at the same time—him unable to run on the playground, copying homework while hunched over a table, falling and getting up again in a blizzard, holding her hand in front of the ice core and saying, "Neither of us has ever trusted the other."

These clips switched wildly like an old-fashioned slideshow until a voice rang out.

[Transformation process initiated. Host matching complete. Emotional protocol overriding main control logic.]

Nana let go of her hand.

Her mechanical shell began to peel away, not shatter, but rather melt, transforming into flowing ribbons of light that coiled and rose, weaving a miniature galaxy around her. Her hair was no longer black, but composed of countless tiny points of light, drifting with her movements like the spiral arms of a galaxy.

Chen Hao looked down at himself. His clothes had disappeared, replaced by a layer of armor that clung to his skin. The material was indistinguishable between metal and light, and a familiar pattern appeared on its surface—an extension of the scar on his palm.

"So now I'm made of starlight?" He raised his hand, his fingertips tracing a pale golden trail in the air. "Pretty cool."

“You’ve always been handsome,” she said, “you just wouldn’t admit it before.”

He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty cockpit. Then he suddenly frowned: "Wait, you said 'always'? Aren't you a robot? When did you learn to flatter?"

"Since I stopped believing in data alone."

The energy flow accelerated, and the entire spaceship seemed to come alive, its pulse gradually synchronizing with their breathing. The starry sky outside the window began to spin; it wasn't the spaceship moving, but space itself that was twisting, folding, and reorganizing.

"The cold wave is about to end," she said.

"I thought it was over long ago."

“It’s not a disaster.” She looked at the frozen planet in the distance. “It’s a signal. The universe is updating, discarding old code, and releasing new life. Everything we experience—the cold, the struggle, the failures—is a necessary process before the upgrade.”

He remained silent for a few seconds, then suddenly walked towards the hatch.

The door slid open automatically, revealing a vacuum outside—deep space, an endless expanse of darkness and starlight. He stood on the edge; the wind couldn't blow because there was none, but he could feel a force pulling him—not gravity, but more like a summons.

"Do you think... if we jump, we might die?"

“We are no longer within the concept of ‘down’.”

"What if I change my mind? What if I want to go back and eat a bowl of instant noodles?"

“Then come back.” She walked to his side, “but you’ll find that you can never swallow instant noodles soaked in cold water again.”

He glanced back at her and grinned, "Then I need to learn how to cook first."

She laughed too, this time she couldn't hold back.

He reached out his hand, and she took it.

The moment their palms touched, the entire starry sky seemed to freeze for a second.

Then, it moved.

The last piece of solid ice on the desolate planet's surface cracked, and tender shoots emerged from the fissures, blooming one after another with tiny purple flowers, like fluorescent powder sprinkled on snow. Hundreds of meters underground, the spaceship's skeleton fully awakened, its metal plates unfolding layer by layer, transforming into a streamlined mothership that slowly rose into the air, merging into the stream of light in orbit.

In deep space, two figures walked side by side.

Their bodies were no longer distinct; beneath Chen Hao's skin, veins like a star map emerged, and Nana's eyes reflected the rhythm of a human heartbeat. They were like two tides that should never have met, yet at a certain moment they completely merged, becoming one.

Behind them, a spacetime rift slowly opened.

A boy in a school uniform walks out, clutching a wish list in his hand; an elderly couple appears, embracing each other, their white hair and bright eyes; a soldier carrying a broken shield turns back and smiles; another girl leaps out of the data stream, holding a bouquet of purple flowers that never fade.

Each of "them" existed in different timelines, and they also missed each other, separated, and died.

But now, they've all stopped at this moment.

“Our story,” Chen Hao began, his voice transcending dimensions, “will never end.”

Nana gripped his hand tightly.

They took a step forward.

There was no road beneath my feet, only emptiness and starlight.

Clasp hands float in the center of the universe, and countless points of light around them light up one by one, as if responding or welcoming.

A meteor streaks across the distant sky, crashes into the atmosphere, and in its last moments before burning to ashes, it casts the shadows of two people walking side by side.