Chen Hao stuffed his phone back into his pocket, his fingers tracing the edge of the screen a couple of times. He didn't send the message or lock the screen; he just walked a few steps with the phone tucked in his pocket, his shoulders slumped as if weighed down by something.

Nana followed behind, tablet in hand, her pace a beat slower than usual. The light in her eyes was less intense, like a lamp running low on battery. Susan walked on the far end, her hands constantly in her coat pockets, her knuckles twitching occasionally. Carl looked down at the ground, muttering a few words to himself, then stopped and moved on to the next person.

The four people entered the building, but the elevator hadn't arrived yet. Chen Hao leaned against the wall, looking up at the floor indicator lights. No one spoke.

The door opened with a "ding," and they went inside. The lights were on, and the sound of a spatula hitting the bottom of a pot came from the kitchen. Chen Hao's mother peeked out when she heard the noise, her apron strap askew.

She glanced at Chen Hao, then at the others, her shovel hovering in mid-air.

"What's wrong? You all look terrible."

No one answered. Chen Hao's father looked up from behind the sofa, the newspaper folded and placed on his lap, his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose.

"The talks fell through?" he asked.

Chen Hao twitched the corner of his mouth, but didn't actually smile. "It's not that I smashed it. It's just... people don't believe me."

His father nodded, as if he had expected this to happen. "It's normal."

“We can’t produce any samples,” Chen Hao said in a low voice. “Even if the data is complete, people will say it might be fabricated.”

"Did you make it up?" his mother asked while serving soup.

"No."

"That settles it then." She put the bowl on the table. "Whether people believe it or not is their business. You know what you did, that's all that matters."

Chen Hao looked up at her. She had already turned and gone back to the kitchen. Her back view showed that she was a little plump, and her hair was loosely tied up with a few white strands sticking out.

"Eat your food," she said. "It won't taste good if it's cold."

No one spoke at the table. Nana placed her tablet on her lap, the screen black. Susan picked up a piece of food and chewed slowly. Carl kept his head down, eating rice, not wiping a grain from the corner of his mouth.

Chen Hao's mother suddenly said, "I was watching TV yesterday and there was an old man who had been growing sweet potatoes for thirty years. Nobody believed he could produce 3,000 jin per mu. But he actually succeeded and even won an award."

She paused, then said, "Aren't you planting sweet potatoes right now?"

Chen Hao almost choked.

"This metaphor... is so down-to-earth," he said.

"That's about my level," she smiled. "But the principle is the same. If you do something, others will find out sooner or later."

Chen Hao's father chimed in, "Scientists are naturally critical. It would be strange if they just nodded in agreement every time you pointed something out."

“That guy surnamed Guo today did have a lot of problems,” Chen Hao said, “but what he said made a lot of sense.”

"It's good that it makes sense." His father put a piece of tofu into his bowl. "It means they listened attentively. If they were just trying to brush you off, they wouldn't even have asked."

The room was silent for a few seconds.

Nana suddenly opened her tablet and brought up her email list. "Tsinghua University wants to use our data as a teaching case," she said. "Zhejiang University wants to collaborate on modeling, and a foreign institution has also sent an invitation."

"Let's put the international ones aside for now," Chen Hao said. "What about Tsinghua and Zhejiang University?"

“We can share non-original data packets,” Nana said. “I have already prepared an anonymized version.”

"Do you remember the questions they asked at the meeting?" Chen Hao asked.

“Record the whole thing.” Nana clicked on an audio clip. “Researcher Guo Wu raised three core questions: the authenticity of the sample, the standardization of data collection, and the verifiability of the principles of the mother planet technology.”

Can these problems be solved?

"The first point relies on physical evidence, which cannot be supplemented at present. The second point has video evidence to prove that the process was compliant. The third point can be indirectly verified through simulation experiments."

"So...it's not a complete rejection?"

"To be precise, it requires further verification," Nana said. "This is the norm in scientific research."

Chen Hao exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time.

"I thought they didn't believe it at all."

“Doubt is not the same as rejection.” Nana’s blue light flashed. “Their questioning method is a standard review process.”

Susan put down her chopsticks. "So we didn't mess it up?"

“On the contrary,” Nana said, “Researcher Li has submitted an internal report recommending the establishment of a special fund for non-governmental cooperation.”

"Really?" Carl looked up. "They're willing to support us?"

"The document is under review," Nana said. "The progress bar shows it's 63% complete."

The atmosphere at the dinner table changed. Chen Hao felt the tightness in his chest slowly dissipate.

"I thought I was going to get criticized today," he said.

“That’s how it is,” Susan laughed. “Who told you to get 47 points on physics?”

“That’s true.” Chen Hao shrugged. “I’m not pretending to be a top student.”

“You weren’t pretending.” She picked up a piece of food. “You just told me what you saw. That’s enough.”

Carl suddenly stood up, walked to his desk, and pulled out a notebook. "I'm going to reorganize the glossary," he said. "Next time, I can directly answer the question about the Earth's equivalent for thirty-seven common geological terms."

"Don't stay up late," Chen Hao's mother said.

“I’m not sleepy.” Carl gripped his pen tighter. “I want to be ready.”

Susan walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Let's do it together."

The two exchanged a glance, neither speaking, but their expressions relaxed.

Chen Hao looked at them, then turned to look at his parents. His father was drinking soup with his head down, making soft noises. His mother was clearing away the empty bowls, her movements swift and efficient.

"Actually," Chen Hao said, "the hardest thing today wasn't being stumped by the questions. It was the fear of letting you down."

His mother stopped what she was doing and turned around. "When have you ever let us down?"

"I didn't get into a good university, my job is unstable, and I'm just messing around all day..."

"So what you're doing now is just pointless tinkering?" she asked.

"no."

“Then it’s not disappointment,” she said. “We’re overjoyed to see you dare to do things that others wouldn’t even dream of.”

Chen Hao's father looked up: "When you were little, you would build Lego sets, and if you made a mistake, you would take them apart and start over. It took you twenty tries to finally succeed. Back then, you said, 'I refuse to believe I can't build it.' Aren't you the same now?"

Chen Hao smiled.

"Maybe."

“In this life, you can’t always be right.” His mother patted his shoulder. “If you fall, just go home, wash your face, and keep going tomorrow.”

The living room lights were bright, illuminating everyone's faces. Nana closed her tablet and placed it on the coffee table. Susan sat back on the sofa, picked up her water glass, and took a sip. Carl opened his notebook and began writing the first line.

Chen Hao stood up, walked to the balcony, and opened the window. A breeze blew in, carrying the coolness of the night. A child was riding a bicycle under the streetlights downstairs, running in circles, his laughter drifting up intermittently.

He took out his phone and unlocked it.

The morning meeting summary is still in the drafts folder.

He opened the editing interface, deleted the original sentence "The meeting failed to reach a consensus," and retyped:

"Today's discussions confirmed three areas for future cooperation, and the data verification process has begun."

send.

My phone vibrated when I put it back in my pocket.

New email notification.

He took it out and glanced at it.

From: National Astronomical Observatories Planetary Geology Research Center.

Title: Specific Arrangements for the Second Batch of Simulation Experiments

He didn't open it.

He turned around and went back inside, closing the balcony door behind him.

"Mom," he said, "can you cook some porridge tomorrow? I'd like to take some to the office for breakfast."

"Okay," she replied. "Cook more, and make a bowl for Nana too."

"Thank you, Mom."

He sat down and saw Nana looking at him.

"What's wrong?"

“I have backed up the summary you just revised,” she said. “In addition, I have updated the family schedule. There are eleven online academic Q&A sessions scheduled for the next two weeks.”

"so much?"

“They all applied voluntarily,” she said. “The earliest one is tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

Susan stretched. "Then I need to go to bed early tonight."

Carl closed his notebook. "I'll check the glossary one more time."

Chen Hao leaned back on the sofa, tilted his head back, and stared at the ceiling.

"Don't you think we're pretty amazing?"

No one answered.

But he knew the answer.

The night was deep outside the window, but the lights were on inside.