Susan stared at the faded words on the back of the journal, her fingers hovering over the edge of the page.

Chen Hao was still writing down the key points of the process from memory, the pen tip scratching across the paper. Carl turned to a new page of the record, and Nana's projector was still looping the entire process of mycelial activation.

"They're getting more and more active." Chen Hao looked up. "Isn't that a bad thing?"

“Ecological change itself is neither good nor bad.” Susan closed her notebook. “But it’s happening faster, and we have to keep up.”

Nana's optical module flickered slightly: "I suggest initiating species-level follow-up research. We have already grasped the environmental triggering mechanism; the next step should focus on biological response patterns."

"I don't understand." Chen Hao put down his pen. "Speak like a human."

“Look at the plants,” Nana turned to him. “How they’re coping with this change.”

"Oh." Chen Hao nodded. "You mean, don't just study why the ground shakes, you also need to see why the grass is growing so well."

"That's roughly it."

“Where to begin?” Carl asked.

Susan opened the map: "First, we need to set a target. We can't just grab a handful of leaves and start testing them."

“Choose the most eye-catching ones,” Susan said. “The colors are especially easy to observe the reaction to.”

“No,” Carl shook his head. “We should choose the fastest growing one. The data updates quickly, the cycle is short, and it’s suitable for building models.”

“I disagree with all of them.” Chen Hao raised his hand. “The one closest to the base will do. I don’t want to run around, it’s too tiring.”

The three of them looked at him at the same time.

“You always give the same reason for saving trouble,” Susan said.

“This time is different.” Chen Hao straightened his back. “Sampling nearby is a basic principle of scientific research! It’s written in the textbooks!”

"Which textbook?" Carl asked.

"I...I forgot." Chen Hao scratched his head. "Anyway, I have it."

Nana didn't say anything, but pulled up a vegetation distribution map of the western region and overlaid it with parameters such as historical activity frequency and ease of collection.

Three candidate species popped up on the screen.

The first type is a purplish-red vine that attaches to the rock surface and closes its leaves during the day; the second type is an umbrella-shaped fungus that grows in clusters and is highly dependent on humidity; the third type is a grayish-green low shrub whose stems and leaves emit a faint blue light at night and is widely distributed. The sampling point is an eight-minute walk from the base.

“This one,” Nana pointed to the third one, “is the most frequent, highly adaptable, and has observable physiological characteristics—it glows at night.”

“Nightgrass,” Susan read out the label. “I’ve picked it a few times, thinking it was just a common companion plant.”

“But it glows,” Chen Hao said, pointing to the image. “That’s not scientific.”

“Luminescence occurs in many plants,” Nana explained. “It is usually related to the oxidation of metabolic byproducts.”

"But doesn't it only light up at night?" Chen Hao pressed. "Is it afraid of the dark?"

No one responded.

“That’s it,” Susan decided. “Our primary research subject: Miscanthus sinensis. It has a simple structure, stable distribution, and observable indicators.”

“The name is too formal,” Chen Hao said. “We need to change it to something more down-to-earth.”

"What's your name?" Carl asked.

"A night light." Chen Hao grinned. "How apt."

“No change,” Susan said. “It will still be called Night-blooming Grass.”

The decision was made, and the four of them got up and headed to the test area outside the base.

The experimental area was a semi-enclosed open space with a simple fence and marker posts. Several Miscanthus sinensis plants had been transplanted in advance to different soil conditions and were marked with numbered wooden tags.

Chen Hao squatted down and looked closely at one of the plants.

The leaves were grayish-green with fuzz, and the stems were thin and hard, feeling a bit prickly to the touch. He reached out and brushed the leaves aside, then looked up at the sky.

"It's daytime now, why isn't it bright?"

“It’s speculated to be related to light intensity,” Nana said, standing beside her. “Similar to the day-night rhythm of the mimosa plant on Earth.”

"So you're sleeping?" Chen Hao said. "Quite regularly."

“Prepare the observation plan.” Susan took out a blank form. “We need to record the changes every day.”

“Here’s the problem.” Carl looked around. “We don’t have the equipment. We can’t measure light intensity, temperature, humidity, or soil conductivity in real time.”

“Manual recording.” Susan picked up her pen and drew grids. “Divided into time slots, once each in the morning, noon and evening, plus supplementary recording at night.”

"That would be such a hassle," Chen Hao complained. "Would I have to get up in the middle of the night every day to check the grass?"

“You’re in charge of taking the photos.” Susan shoved the portable terminal into his hand. “Take three photos at the same time every day: a front view, a side view, and a close-up. And tell me what you see.”

"Like writing a diary?"

"It's about writing a diary."

"Can I write 'The nightlight is in a bad mood today, the light is very dim'?"

“Write ‘fluorescence intensity decreased’,” Susan said. “No anthropomorphism allowed.”

"How boring," Chen Hao muttered.

Nana opened the database, retrieved the research template for bioluminescent plants on Earth, and reconstructed the observation system by combining it with local environmental parameters.

The new table includes five core indicators: light intensity range, relative humidity, soil moisture content, fluorescence visibility time, and plant height change.

Carl took the printed copy and compared it to the existing list of tools.

Only two units of the sensor remain usable: a humidity probe that is aging and a photosensitizer that is slow to respond.

“It can be repaired,” he said. “We can piece it together with scrapped parts from the control room.”

Twenty minutes later, he returned with a modified device: the casing had a crack, the wires were exposed, but the display screen was lit.

"It'll do." He fixed it to the test pile, "It will record data automatically once an hour."

"The dual-track system is established." Susan said with satisfaction, "Manual and mechanical checks will be performed on each other."

At the end of the first day, Chen Hao handed over nine photos and a voice message.

"Grass #1 looks yellowish today, not as blue as it was yesterday. There's a rock next to Grass #2, I wonder if it was blown there by the wind. Grass #3... I think it's crooked."

“Describe objectively,” Susan cautioned. “Don’t add your personal feelings.”

"I'm stating the facts!" Chen Hao argued. "It really is crooked!"

“We’ll measure the angle tomorrow,” Carl said.

The record continued on the second and third days.

Nana imported the data into the analysis system and plotted the trend curve.

Fluorescence intensity fluctuations are positively correlated with nighttime surface temperature decreases, but with a lag. Soil moisture affects growth rate but has no direct effect on luminescence.

“It doesn’t conform to conventional metabolic models,” Nana pointed out. “Preliminary judgment suggests that there may be an independent regulatory pathway.”

“Translate,” Chen Hao said.

"Its bioluminescence may not be solely for heat dissipation or to attract insects."

"Then why?" Chen Hao asked.

"I don't know yet."

A week later, the team compiled the information.

Chen Hao flipped through his notebook, which contained many simple sketches and a few sarcastic remarks.

“I discovered something,” he said. “Once I cut my hand and touched a leaf, and the bleeding stopped very quickly.”

"Are you injured?" Susan frowned.

"Just a little bit." Chen Hao held out the back of his hand. "I scratched a small cut, applied some herbal juice, and it stopped bleeding in ten minutes."

“Sample contamination,” Carl said, “will affect subsequent analyses.”

"I didn't do anything reckless!" Chen Hao exclaimed anxiously. "I just accidentally bumped into it! Besides, don't you guys think this grass is a bit strange? It grows slowly, but it's incredibly resilient. I stepped on it, and it perked up again the next day."

Susan paused for a moment, then took out a sampling bottle.

“Extract a little juice,” she said. “To do a basic reaction test.”

Nana started the micro analyzer and entered the command to search for plant chemical components.

Initial results showed that the main components were cellulose, water, a small amount of polysaccharides and unknown organic acids, with no significant pharmacological activity.

“Normal,” she announced. “No unusual substances were found.”

“But it stopped the bleeding,” Chen Hao insisted.

“Perhaps it’s physical coagulation,” Nana said. “Plant mucus mixes with blood to form a barrier.”

“Try different parameters,” Susan said.

Nana adjusted the algorithm, disabling Earth analogy restrictions and enabling cross-planetary fuzzy matching mode.

The system restarted.

Ten minutes later, the alarm sounded softly.

"Trace components detected: 7 flavonoid derivatives." Nana read out the result. "The database identifies it as a potential anti-inflammatory and tissue regeneration promoter. The theoretical model exists, but the carrier has not been confirmed in reality."

"What do you mean?" Chen Hao asked.

“It means,” Susan said slowly, “that we may have found the first organism that naturally contains this substance.”

"A night light?" Chen Hao's eyes widened.

“Nightgrass,” Susan corrected.

"So it really is a medicinal herb?" Chen Hao exclaimed excitedly. "Holy crap, the grass I just randomly touched turned out to be a living Band-Aid?"

"This is only for preliminary matching," Nana cautioned. "The content is extremely low, and it is necessary to verify whether the extraction process was contaminated."

"Do it again," Susan ordered immediately. "New sampling, aseptic technique, and video recording throughout."

The second extraction begins.

Cut the plant at the base, collect fresh leaves using sterilized scissors, crush and filter them in a sealed container. Separate the liquid through three layers of filter paper, and inject the clear portion into the testing tank.

The analyzer restarted the scan.

The curve rises slowly, with the peak value locked at the same position.

“Confirmed,” Nana said. “Concentration: 0.003 mg/g. No other interfering components were detected.”

The room fell silent.

Chen Hao opened his mouth, unable to speak for a long time.

“We need to expand our sampling area,” Susan said, “to see if other areas of silvergrass also have the same characteristics.”

“We also need to test the performance at different growth stages,” Carl added. “We take samples at the seedling stage, maturity stage, and senescence stage.”

"Let's add one more thing," Chen Hao suddenly raised his hand, "Could we try the effect of topical application?"

“Human experimentation must be approached with caution,” Susan said.

"Use myself!" Chen Hao rolled up his sleeves. "Make a small cut, apply some juice, and see how long it takes to solidify. Fair and reasonable."

“You always offer yourself willingly,” Carl said.

"Because I'm the least afraid of pain," Chen Hao grinned. "Besides, what if it really works? Then we won't have to look for medicine for anyone who gets a cut."

"Write down the record first." Susan handed over the form. "Fill in the experimental objective, operating procedures, and expected results."

"Do I have to write so much more?" Chen Hao wailed.

"Otherwise it doesn't count."

Chen Hao hesitated before putting pen to paper, reading aloud as he wrote: "Experimental Project: Observation on the hemostatic efficiency of night-blooming jasmine juice on superficial skin wounds... Subject: The author... Risk assumed by the author."

After writing it down, I signed my name and casually drew a smiley face.

Susan took the form for review, Carl began preparing the sampling toolkit, and Nana continued running the background program to monitor the computational load.

“We need to stay on duty all night,” she said. “The data volume is huge, so we need to prevent interruptions.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Chen Hao said. “Anyway, I can’t sleep, so I can continue writing my diary of great discoveries.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Susan warned.

"I'll just tell the truth!"

"Then you need to learn what it means to tell the truth first."

The laboratory lights were steady, and waveforms and numbers scrolled across the terminal screen.

Susan posted a third hand-drawn illustration on the wall: a structural breakdown of the night-blooming jasmine, highlighting the areas where sap is concentrated.

Carl, who was calculating the itinerary for tomorrow, suggested adding a sunshade to eliminate light interference.

“I agree.” Susan nodded. “Variables must be strictly controlled.”

Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, flipping through photos from the past few days.

Suddenly he stopped.

Zoom in on an image taken at night.

“Look,” his voice changed, “isn’t the edge of this leaf a little reddish?”

The three people surrounded them.

Against the blue light background, the edge of a leaf did indeed show a faint dark red tinge, as if something had seeped into it.

“Not before,” Susan said.

“It only appeared today.” Nana pulled up the timestamp. “The phenomenon was first captured fifteen minutes ago.”

Chen Hao reached out to touch it.

Susan stopped her.