Before Chen Hao could even hear what the man in the gray suit had said, the crowd surged forward.

The applause never stopped, like a persistent raindrop. Several scholars in white lab coats crowded in the front row, holding up their devices to scan QR codes and add contact information. A young man wearing glasses pulled out a pen and asked for an autograph, saying he wanted to keep it as a "treasure" for his lab.

Nana subtly took half a step forward, standing between Chen Hao and the person who handed her the pen. Her voice was soft, but just loud enough for those around to hear: "Please maintain a safe distance. Team members haven't eaten for more than six hours."

The man paused for a moment, looked down at the pen in his hand, and sheepishly put it away.

Susan leaned against the wall, her shoulder pressed against the cold surface. She had just talked too much, and her throat was a little dry. Someone came over and asked her about her mental state when the samples were collected. She only replied, "I was just thinking about not falling to my death." After laughing, the person pressed her to ask if she had kept a diary. She shook her head and turned to see Carl being surrounded by three researchers asking about the parameter calibration process.

Karl kept his head down, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with his cuffs. He wasn't good at handling these situations; the more he was praised, the more he shrank back. When a middle-aged scholar patted him on the shoulder and said, "Young and promising," he almost jumped back.

Susan walked over and gently touched his arm: "We just didn't give up on that pile of data."

Karl looked up at her, his breathing becoming more steady.

Only then did Chen Hao remember the man in the gray suit from earlier. He looked around, but the man was gone, leaving only a folded note tucked under the projector. He picked it up and glanced at it; it read: "Novian Group Statement – ​​Denies involvement in any research projects, calling the allegations 'baseless speculation'."

He stuffed the note into his pocket without saying anything.

Nana has already begun processing the feedback from the event. Her eyes gleam slightly, as if a background program is running at high speed. "Currently, we have recorded 73 valid academic exchanges, 41 media interview requests, and preliminary cooperation intentions from six international research institutions," she said. "Three of these involve the direction of interstellar energy transfer."

"So, to translate, it means we've become famous?" Chen Hao grinned.

"To be precise, it's that the research findings have entered the mainstream." Nana corrected.

When Li Zhensheng walked out of the crowd, no one stopped him. He had white hair and walked slowly, but his eyes were fixed on Chen Hao as if he were looking at a newly unearthed fossil.

“I said publicly last year that the so-called ‘planetary voice’ is pseudoscience.” He spoke softly, but the surroundings fell silent. “Your data is more solid than the papers.”

Chen Hao hadn't expected this senior to come and apologize in person. He scratched his head: "Actually, we also thought it was quite mysterious until the crystal lit up on its own."

The old scholar nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave. But his last words were recorded on a terminal and immediately uploaded to the academic forum's homepage.

Zhou Wenlan was the second important figure to initiate a conversation. Dressed in a dark gray research robe, she walked up to Karl and got straight to the point: "Could you submit your design approach, which uses three sensors for cross-validation, to the *Frontiers in Physics*?"

Carl paused for a few seconds before realizing this was an invitation. He opened his mouth, "Sure... but we haven't finished writing the whole thing yet."

“Then hurry up,” she said. “Don’t let someone else take your starting position.”

After saying that, she glanced at Nana and said, "Your team's support system has a very special response speed."

Nana calmly replied, "My computational logic is based on multi-dimensional database matching, not a conventional AI architecture."

Zhou Wenlan didn't ask any more questions, only leaving behind the words "Waiting for your manuscript" before turning and leaving.

Lin Ruoxi arrived a little late, carrying a portable recorder, listening and taking notes simultaneously. She was around thirty years old and spoke decisively: "We can jointly apply for an interdisciplinary grant project, focusing on the stability testing of resonant blue crystals."

Susan asked, "Aren't you worried that this research is too risky?"

"Science always operates on the edge," she smiled. "Besides, you've even managed to defeat hackers, so what wouldn't you dare to try?"

Upon hearing this, the people around him laughed.

Chen Hao suddenly felt a little hungry. He rubbed his stomach and realized he'd only eaten half a bowl of instant noodles since morning. He raised his hand and shouted to everyone, "Can I have something to eat first? We're not robots!"

The crowd parted to make way, but no one actually walked. Instead, a few people pulled out their devices and started live streaming, with titles like "The Underachiever Team's Comeback Story" and "The Strongest Temporary Worker Team on Earth."

Susan frowned: "Aren't these people being a little too enthusiastic?"

"This isn't enthusiasm," Chen Hao whispered. "It's wanting to find a powerful figure to cling to."

Nana then brought up a virtual screen and pasted it onto the wall. It displayed a relationship diagram, densely packed with names and organization logos.

“We have identified 87 key contacts,” she said. “Of these, 42 are from national laboratories, 19 are independent scientists, and the rest are cross-industry technology investors.”

"So many?" Karl's eyes widened.

“Reputation is turning into a resource,” Nana said. “It is recommended to prioritize responding to the initial contact from the Materials Society and the Consortium for Quantum Applications.”

Chen Hao stared at the diagrams for a while, then suddenly laughed out loud: "Do you think that now that we're so popular, a school might invite me to be a visiting professor tomorrow?"

“It’s possible,” Nana nodded. “Three universities have already sent informal invitations.”

"Tell them to wait," Chen Hao waved his hand. "My legs get weak from standing for too long, I can't teach."

Susan leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. She was exhausted; her mind was still replaying every question from the press conference. Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She opened her eyes to find an unfamiliar researcher asking if she wanted to join a project at an underground observatory.

She shook her head in refusal and said softly, "I want to take a nap."

The man smiled understandingly and walked away.

Carl rubbed his temples. His ears were ringing a little, probably from being praised as a "child prodigy" too many times. A girl ran up to him and asked if he was self-taught, and he honestly answered "yes." As a result, she immediately said she wanted to write a report, and she already had the title in mind—"Genius Teenager Cracks the Cosmic Code."

He hurriedly explained, "I'm not a genius, I just... always follow the data."

The girl blinked: "That's pretty impressive too."

Seeing this, Chen Hao walked over and put his arm around Karl's shoulder: "Don't pay attention to them. At our level, it's good enough if we can even get on stage alive."

Carl finally smiled.

Nana remained standing behind them, her eyes constantly flashing, as if processing a vast amount of information simultaneously. Her body didn't move, but she controlled the flow of intelligence throughout the entire space.

“External attention is still rising,” she said. “The latest news indicates that the International Commission on Scientific Integrity has listed the content of this press conference as a key case for filing this year.”

"Does that mean we've been officially certified?" Chen Hao asked.

"It's like a pass to academia." Susan opened her eyes. "From now on, anyone who questions this will have to get past this first."

Chen Hao whistled: "Then wouldn't I be eligible for an 'Outstanding Contribution Award' too?"

"The prerequisite is that you have to break the habit of being late," Susan said.

"Never mind then, I don't need the prize."

A group of people finally slowly walked out. The lights in the venue dimmed, but the corridor outside was still crowded with people. A reporter pressed for details about the next steps, and Chen Hao casually said, "Let's find a place to eat first." The next day, the headline read, "The main characters' team reveals their life plans for the first time: Goal—to eat their fill."

They exited through a side door, avoiding the congestion in the main hall. A night breeze blew in, carrying the evening heat of the city.

"Shall we go sit at that coffee shop near the entrance for a while?" Chen Hao suggested. "Let's not let people think we're getting cocky just because we won."

No one objected.

Four people walked slowly along the sidewalk. Streetlights came on one by one, their reflections illuminating the glass facade. There were many pedestrians on the street, but no one recognized them, at least not yet.

Susan walked on the far side, her hands in her pockets. She looked at a convenience store by the roadside and suddenly said, "I want to buy a bottle of water."

“I’ll go,” Carl said eagerly.

"Take a break," Chen Hao said, taking the money. "I'll check if they have any cookies while I'm at it."

Nana followed at the back, her eyes still slightly gleaming. Suddenly, she stopped.

"What's wrong?" Susan asked, turning around.

“We received an encrypted channel request,” Nana said. “The source is marked as ‘Deep Space Monitoring Network,’ and the message is just one line: ‘What you heard was only the first sound.’”