Carl's hand froze in mid-air.

The vine trembled slightly, not because of the wind, as there was no wind at all in the corridor.

He withdrew his hand, his shoe sole scraping against the ground twice, as if he had stepped on something slippery.

“It just moved,” he said.

Nobody paid him any attention.

Chen Hao stared at the culture tank, his brows furrowed. Susan had already opened the recorder and started writing data. Nana stood beside her, her eyes gleaming, scanning the darkened section of vine.

"Don't take it apart," Chen Hao suddenly said. "Let's see how long it can last."

“But it’s no longer working.” Carl pointed to the cracked gel. “Look at this crack, the water is almost all leaking out.”

“There’s no water leak,” Nana said. “The humidity is normal. The problem isn’t with the casing.”

She pulled up a set of numbers and projected them onto the wall. The oxidation rate dropped from 100% to 63%, and then decreased very slowly, but didn't stop.

"It's still dropping," Susan read out the numbers, "but the rate has slowed down."

"That means it's not death," Chen Hao said, stroking his chin. "It's just exhaustion."

"Plants get tired too?" Karl looked up.

“You carried oxygen cylinder casings eight times yesterday, and you still collapsed on the ground, unable to get up.”

Carl didn't say anything, but looked down at his pants, which still had black spots left by welding slag.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

"Find the cause," Chen Hao said. "We can't just move to a different place every time something goes wrong; we're not a moving crew."

Nana restarted the detection program. This time, she used a finer wavelength, scanning the inside of the vines layer by layer. A few minutes later, a heat map appeared on the screen, with a small area in the center that appeared cool in color, as if it had been frozen.

“The current is abnormal,” she said. “The electron transport chain in this section has broken down.”

"What do you mean?" Carl leaned closer. "Does it have a rhythm in its mind?"

"Its luminescence relies on a stable flow of chemical reactions," Susan explained. "It's like water flowing through a pipe; if there's a blockage in the middle, the supply to the rest stops."

"What's causing the blockage?"

Nana didn't answer. She pulled up the entire corridor's electrical diagram and overlaid it on the building structure. A red line ran right through this spot; it was the main power line leading to the east storage room.

“The voltage fluctuations here are too large,” she said. “It’s done once an hour, in sync with the lighting system.”

"So it's electrical interference?" Chen Hao asked.

“Electromagnetic fields affect cell membrane permeability,” Nana nodded, “causing ion channels to temporarily malfunction and interrupting the reaction.”

“In other words—” Chen Hao looked at Karl, “when you were cursing yesterday, you accidentally extinguished its engine.”

“What does this have to do with me!” Karl’s voice rose. “I was cursing that pile of scrap metal, not this broken vine!”

“But sound waves are also vibrations,” Susan added. “Combined with the slight oscillations of the wire itself, they may create resonance.”

"Then let's try cutting off the power," Chen Hao said. "Let's see if that can stabilize the situation."

Nana immediately shut down that section of the line remotely. Five minutes later, the cold spots on the thermal image began to warm up, and the oxidation rate rose back to 78%.

“It works,” she said.

"That's easy." Chen Hao laughed. "From now on, anyone who dares to set off loud firecrackers around here will have to sleep in the warehouse in the west district."

Carl rolled his eyes, but didn't argue further.

The story doesn't end here.

The next morning, Chen Hao went into the kitchen and found the light too bright, making it hard for him to open his eyes. That night, lying in bed, he felt it wasn't bright enough, making it difficult to read.

"Can't this thing adjust itself?" he complained.

“Currently, it’s a constant output,” Nana said. “Once activated, it stays lit.”

“That won’t do.” Chen Hao sat down at the table. “People aren’t machines. They can’t be the same day and night. They need to sleep in the dark and work in the bright. They have to be obedient.”

"You want it to obey?" Susan asked.

"Otherwise what?" Chen Hao shrugged. "Do I have to coax a lamp to be happy?"

“We can design a control system,” Nana said, “which can adjust the reaction speed using external signals.”

"How do we do it?"

“Simulating changes in the deep-sea environment,” she said. “For example, pressure fluctuations and water flow frequency. These are the very ways it regulates its metabolism.”

"Then let's make a switch." Chen Hao slammed his hand on the table. "Press it once to make it brighter, press it again to make it dimmer."

“A non-invasive device is needed,” Susan cautioned. “It must not damage the tissue.”

"Make a vibrating pad and stick it on the outside." Chen Hao gestured, "Vibrate it gently, so it feels like a fish is swimming by."

“Theoretically feasible.” Nana began modeling, “Low-frequency pulse signals control oxidase activity.”

For the next three days, the laboratory was transformed into a modification workshop.

Nana was in charge of programming, Susan adjusted the properties of the gel waveguide to make it easier for vibrations to travel. Carl was brought in to weld the support frame and fix the miniature vibrator to the side of the culture tank.

During the first test, Karl's hand slipped and he over-adjusted the power.

The entire corridor went dark instantly.

All seven groups of vines were wiped out.

"It's over!" he jumped up. "I've killed them!"

“No deaths.” Nana checked the data. “They’ve all entered a dormant state. The reaction has paused, but cell activity remains.”

"Then hurry up and save them!"

“Wait five minutes,” she said. “They will recover on their own.”

Sure enough, five minutes later, the blue light gradually brightened, first faintly, and then returned to normal intensity.

"That scared me to death." Carl wiped his sweat. "I thought I was going to be blamed."

"Be careful next time." Chen Hao glared at him. "This isn't a toy."

The second test reduced the power. They used the controller to emit a slow waveform, as steady as a heartbeat.

The brightness of the vines gradually decreased to about 30% of its original level and then stabilized.

Even if you go up higher, you can keep up.

"Alright." Chen Hao looked at the readings. "As long as it can be adjusted."

“It’s not just about adjusting.” Susan pointed to the growth data. “When the intensity changes, the consumption rate also changes. Under low light conditions, sulfides decompose more slowly, and the lifespan can be extended.”

"Energy-saving mode?" Chen Hao laughed. "This light can save energy?"

“You can set scenes,” Nana said. “The brightness will automatically adjust to 20 lumens during sleep, 80 lumens in the work area, and 60 lumens in the emergency exit.”

"Then let's arrange it." Chen Hao stood up. "Let's install one in my room first."

That night, Chen Hao lay in bed and pressed a button on the wall.

The light in the room gradually dimmed, until only a small patch of soft blue remained by the bedside.

He closed his eyes and pressed it again.

The light was bright enough that I could just see the pages.

"That feels so good," he muttered.

The next day, Susan raised a new question: "Different areas have different needs. The lab needs stable, high-intensity lighting, while the storage room only needs occasional illumination. Using the same program for everything is not suitable."

“Then let’s control it by zones,” Chen Hao said. “Each slot can be adjusted individually.”

“We need to install sensors,” Nana said, “to monitor usage frequency and adjust automatically.”

"We also have to watch out for clumsy players like Carl," Chen Hao added.

Carl, who was debugging the third controller, heard this, turned around and said, "I didn't do it on purpose."

"You almost turned the light into a vegetable last time."

"That's because the button is too big."

“Then make it smaller,” Susan said. “Add a confirmation button.”

So we spent another day working on it, replacing all the controllers with new panels, and now the operation only takes two seconds to take effect.

The final test was conducted in the living area corridor.

Chen Hao stood at the starting line and pressed the remote control.

The first set of lights slowly rose, from dim to bright.

The second group remains unchanged.

The third group gradually darkens, entering night mode.

Nana synchronously uploads the protocol to the main control system and sets it to automatically switch between morning and evening.

"It's done." Chen Hao put his hands in his pockets. "I won't have to fumble for my slippers in the dark anymore."

“My slippers were already on my feet,” Carl muttered.

"Then why did you squat on the ground for half an hour last night searching?"

"That was... me picking up screws."

Nobody believes it.

Susan closed her notebook, preparing for the full-area assessment tomorrow. Nana went into standby mode, leaving only one indicator light flashing.

Carl stood in front of the last culture tank, looking at the vines inside.

Suddenly, he noticed that the color at the bottom was a little off.

It's not a pure blue; near the base, it has a grayish-blue tinge.

He reached out and touched the gel.

There's a new fine line on the surface, shorter but deeper than yesterday's.