Chen Hao closed the terminal and tapped his fingers twice on the edge of the podium.

The speakers weren't working.

He looked up at Susan. Susan was sitting in the front row adjusting her headphones. Hearing the noise, she immediately took them off and shook her head at him.

“No sound,” she said.

Chen Hao turned and walked away, taking a few steps to the control panel and pressing the power button. The indicator light flashed briefly, then went out again. He pressed it again, but there was no response.

“Karl!” he called out.

Carl stood up from the back row and strode over, still clutching the stack of printed documents. He crouched down, opened the side panel of the computer case, touched the motherboard area, and then withdrew his hand.

"It's burning hot," he said. "The chip is burnt out."

Can it be repaired?

“We need to replace it.” Carl shook his head. “We don’t have this model in stock.”

Susan came over, took out her portable terminal, connected it to the audio output, and pressed play. The sound coming from her device was barely audible, like a mosquito's hum.

“That won’t work,” Chen Hao said. “There are over a hundred people; those at the back won’t hear us.”

The three people stood in front of the control panel, and no one spoke.

Time is running out.

The audience had begun to enter; some were looking down at their watches, others were looking for seats. The curtains were hanging, the paper lanterns were lit, the chairs were arranged in an arc, and the atmosphere was just getting warmed up when the microphone went silent.

Chen Hao stared at the main unit, his mind racing.

Using the phone's speaker? The volume is too low.

Shout at the top of your lungs? You'll be hoarse in ten minutes.

Cancel? No way. Everyone's prepared; this is the moment we've been waiting for.

He looked up at Nana.

Nana remained positioned near the corner charging port, the optical module flashing slightly. She didn't move, but her voice had already sounded.

“I have a record,” she said. “The maintenance team returned an old-style amplifier unit, number A7, three days ago. It was stored on the third shelf of the tool cabinet in section B.”

Chen Hao immediately turned his head: "Where?"

"The second door at the end of the west corridor in Zone B."

Carl turned and walked away. Susan followed. Chen Hao glanced at the audience seats, gritted his teeth, and followed.

The four of them jogged along.

Section B is an old equipment storage area, rarely visited by anyone. The door wasn't locked; it opened with a push. Inside, boxes and shelves were piled up, and dust floated in the air.

“The third floor.” Susan shone her flashlight over.

Carl reached for it; it was a long, black rectangular box with a handle. He'd just gotten a firm grip when his foot slipped, and he lurched forward. Susan grabbed his arm; the box didn't fall, but the corner hit the cabinet with a dull thud.

Are you alright?

“It’s alright.” Carl breathed a sigh of relief. “The equipment should be fine too.”

No one spoke on the way back; they quickened their pace.

Back at the table, Carl placed the box on the table, opened it, and checked the interfaces and buttons. The power indicator light did not turn on.

"No power," he said.

"Charge." Chen Hao pulled out the power strip.

“Slow,” Carl shook his head. “At least half an hour.”

"I'll power it." Nana slid over, lifted a panel on her side to reveal an interface. She plugged the cable into the back of the speaker and connected the other end to herself.

"Are you sure you can do it?" Chen Hao asked.

“It can last for thirty minutes,” she said. “That’s enough for the opening.”

A few seconds later, the power light came on.

Carl adjusted the volume and pressed the test button.

"drop--"

A crisp notification sound echoed throughout the space.

Someone in the back row looked up and glanced left and right.

"It's connected!" Susan stood up, walked to the farthest row, sat down, and put her ear to the recorder to listen.

Chen Hao stood still, staring at the speakers.

“Try again,” he said.

Carl pressed play again. The music came out, not too loud, not too soft, just enough to drown out the background noise.

Susan turned around and gave them a thumbs up.

Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"How much longer can we hold on?" he asked Nana.

“The current output is stable,” she said. “I recommend switching to backup power within twenty minutes.”

"I've got it."

Susan came back and patted the speaker casing. "This thing looks older than me."

“It saved the day,” Carl said.

"We need to check the equipment before the next event," Chen Hao said. "We can't rely on Nana to recall everything every time."

"This was due to voltage fluctuations caused by yesterday's system upgrade," Nana said. "The old host's heat dissipation was insufficient, leading to overload."

"It's the upgrade again that's causing this trouble." Susan rolled her eyes. "The last upgrade made the hot water in the bathroom stop for two days."

"I miscalculated when I changed the parameters that time," Nana said.

All three of them looked at her at the same time.

"You can still make mistakes?" Chen Hao laughed.

“Theoretically, no,” she said. “But that time I referred to a study on ‘comfortable water temperature for human bathing,’ with a sample size of 3,000, and the conclusion was 41 degrees Celsius. In actual application, we found that the water pressure at the base was too low and heat was lost quickly, so it should be set to 43 degrees Celsius.”

"So you're just following the paper's instructions, and we ended up taking cold showers for two days?"

"yes."

"You're quite honest."

"Concealing mistakes is not conducive to solving problems."

Susan laughed and patted her shell. "Alright, you've done a good job this time, so the good and bad are even."

Carl crouched down to re-secure the cable, muttering, "The connectors on this old equipment are loose; we need to tighten them."

Chen Hao looked at the three of them and suddenly felt something was off.

That flurry of activity just now felt like going back to the old days. Back then, when problems arose, everyone would gather together like this, no one saying a word, just getting to work.

Now that the matter has been resolved, no one is in a hurry to leave.

“When I first came in, I thought I was going to mess this up,” he said.

“I thought so too,” Susan said. “I was thinking that if you were the first one on stage and you couldn’t hear me, the whole place would be silent.”

"So I'm just going to stand there and keep talking?"

"almost."

"That would be so embarrassing."

“You would say: ‘Everyone, today I’m going to tell a silent story.’”

Chen Hao grinned: "Then I burst out laughing first."

“You’re prone to bursting out laughing anyway,” Carl said without looking up. “Last time in the meeting, you said, ‘We need to take discipline seriously,’ and then you sneezed, and the whole room couldn’t hold it in.”

"That's not my fault, it's the air conditioning."

“You even wiped your nose with a tissue and said, ‘This is the price of discipline.’”

Did I say that?

"I did say that."

"...I'm such a useless leader."

“But people are willing to listen to you,” Susan said, looking at him. “Even if you’re talking nonsense, they’re willing to listen.”

Chen Hao didn't respond to that sentence.

He glanced down at his speech draft, which was still open in the terminal. The title had been changed, and the content was almost completely revised.

He was initially afraid that no one would believe him if he told the truth. But now he's not afraid anymore.

As long as the sound can be heard, anything can be said.

The speaker suddenly made a squeaking sound, and the volume jumped.

"What's wrong?"

“A slight disturbance in the current,” Nana said. “It might be due to fluctuations in my power supply.”

"Should we switch to a different power supplier?"

“No need,” she said. “I can balance it.”

Sure enough, the sound returned to normal after a few seconds.

"You really can handle it."

“I considered emergency scenarios when I designed it.”

"Including using it as a power bank?"

"include."

After laughing, Susan suddenly remembered something. "Wait, does this speaker have a microphone?"

Karl opened the accessory compartment, rummaged through it, and took out a small cylinder.

"have."

"Can you split the audio into multiple frequencies? I want to record my own voice for comparison."

"Supports dual-channel operation."

"Okay." She took it and put it on directly. "Hello, hello?"

The sound came from the speakers, clear and clean.

"Better than I expected."

“You’re wearing a lavalier microphone,” Carl said. “Don’t shake it around with your clothes.”

"I know."

Chen Hao watched her make the adjustments and suddenly said, "Are you really going to say that later?"

Which one?

"The one who said you hate the rules."

"Um."

"Aren't you afraid it will explode?"

"Afraid."

"Then why bother saying it?"

"Because when I was revising the manuscript last night, something came to mind."

"What's up?"

“I used to think that rules were restrictive.”

"And now?"

“Now I know it can protect people too.” She looked down and fiddled with the microphone cord. “At the hearing that day, Zhang Qiang made such a scene, but in the end, the proceedings were followed. Li Mao wasn’t bullied. That would have been impossible in the past.”

Chen Hao nodded.

“So I have to say it,” she said. “If I don’t, I’ll be letting down my past self.”

Carl wrapped the cable up and tucked it into the cable tray.

“I have to say it too,” he said. “Those things that weren’t reported have to be brought up by someone.”

Aren't you afraid people will say you're being pretentious?

"Afraid."

"Then tell me?"

"It's even more painful not to say it."

Chen Hao didn't ask any more questions.

He walked to the podium, picked up the microphone, and tested the sound.

"Hello."

The sound echoed throughout the entire venue.

Several newly arrived audience members looked up and found their way.

Time is almost up.

He put down the microphone and rested his hand on the edge of the podium.

I tapped it lightly twice with my fingertips.

It's like keeping a beat.

It's also like encouraging myself.

Nana's optical module kept flashing, monitoring the audio output.

She quietly marked the word "understand" as a high-priority word and added it to the emotion simulation module.

Carl folded the printed copy and put it in his breast pocket.

Susan sat in the front row, headphones pressed to her ears, checking the sound quality one last time.

Chen Hao stood on the side platform, watching the empty seats being filled one by one.

The lights are on.

The microphone is powered on.

The air was so quiet that you could hear the faint background noise from the speakers.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

But we are ready.