Chapter 16

Jin Zhaoxuan ultimately... failed.

After months of intense work and a series of events including the demonstration day crisis, the water tower fishing incident, and the project launch, his body, after the initial euphoria of the project's great success, issued a serious protest: "I'm quitting!"

On the third night after the launch, he was working overtime at the company, struggling with that anonymous email from overseas, trying to trace it back to see who was eyeing his "precious treasure," when suddenly he felt dizzy and his vision went black. Then, a high fever spread like wildfire. He stubbornly insisted on staying strong and tried to move back to his old house himself, but nearly died on the spot at the elevator entrance. In the end, his terrified colleague, Xiao Chen, half-carried and half-lifted him back like a sandbag.

The thermometer reading: 39.8 degrees Celsius.

Xiao Chen was terrified, his face turning pale. He yelled that he wanted to call 120 for an ambulance, but Jin Zhaoxuan, whose eyelids were burning so badly he couldn't even open them, used his last bit of strength to hold onto his trouser leg, his voice weak but his attitude resolute: "No... old problem... I'll just sleep it off... if you dare call an ambulance... I'll dock your pay..."

Xiao Chen: "..."

Boss, even in this situation, you still haven't forgotten your capitalist nature!

Unable to dissuade this ailing tyrant, Xiao Chen had no choice but to rummage through drawers and cabinets to find fever-reducing medicine. He watched Jin Zhaoxuan swallow it, then tucked him into bed, wrapping him up like a silkworm. The combined effects of the medicine and exhaustion quickly caused Jin Zhaoxuan to fall into a semi-comatose deep sleep, his breathing heavy and labored, like a bellows.

Xiao Chen dared not leave, so he moved a chair and stood guard by the bedside, watching anxiously. He stayed up until midnight and saw that although Jin Zhaoxuan was burning up like a furnace, his breathing was at least relatively steady and there was no sign that he was about to ascend to heaven. Only then, urged by Jin Zhaoxuan in his drowsy state, did he leave, looking back every few steps, promising to bring him food and medicine first thing in the morning.

The old house returned to silence, with only Jin Zhaoxuan's hot, heavy breathing and the howling night wind outside the window, creating an atmosphere comparable to the opening of a horror movie.

Midnight.

The temperature in the bedroom began to drop slowly without warning.

It wasn't the eerie, chilling cold of a haunted house, but rather a gentle, refreshing coolness, like a mountain spring flowing through the air, that quietly permeated the room, precisely neutralizing the stuffy, hot atmosphere caused by someone's high fever.

The mirror surface rippled with a softer, more stable, and even somewhat "solid" quality than ever before. A figure, clear to the point of being almost tangible, slowly "emerged" from the mirror, like a humanoid figurine formed from condensed moonlight, complete with a soft-focus effect.

It was Yin Shaoqing.

This time, he was no longer a phantom or projection. His figure was solid, dressed in his signature light gray robe, the hem of which seemed to still carry a trace of dampness (perhaps from just emerging from the sea of ​​data?), fluttering slightly in the dim light, exuding an ethereal aura. His face was still somewhat pale, but his eyes were astonishingly clear, filled with undisguised, almost overflowing worry.

He "floated" to the bedside and looked down at Jin Zhaoxuan, who was buried in the pillows and blankets, his brows furrowed and his cheeks burning like a cooked shrimp.

Mr. Jin's sleeping posture was far from aesthetically pleasing. His bangs were soaked with sweat, clinging to his smooth forehead and handsome brow bone in clumps. His lips, usually tightly pressed together, giving him a cold and hard appearance, were now cracked and chapped from a high fever, his breath hot and scalding. He had unconsciously kicked off most of the blanket, revealing his muscular chest clad in a thin nightgown, rising and falling with his heavy breathing, its lines clearly defined…

Yin Shaoqing's gaze lingered on that exposed skin for a very brief moment before quickly shifting away as if burned, his ears seemingly flushed with an imperceptible blush.

He reached out his hand—the hand was still transparent, gleaming with an inhuman glow, but its outline was clear and stable, with long, slender fingers. He did not try to touch Jin Zhaoxuan's burning skin, but simply held his palm about an inch above Jin Zhaoxuan's forehead.

A faint, almost invisible blue light, like a cool, clear stream, flowed gently from his palm and slowly seeped into Jin Zhaoxuan's forehead, which was so thick it could fry an egg.

This is a new skill that Yin Shaoqing gradually unlocked after deeply binding himself to the museum system and absorbing a massive amount of positive "faith power" (popularity with the audience)—releasing his own cold and peaceful energy in an extremely precise and controllable way to physically cool down. This takes a considerable toll on him and is only a temporary solution, but it can at least relieve the pain caused by the high fever, which is better than using a cool towel.

As this cool energy seeped in, Jin Zhaoxuan's tightly furrowed brows seemed to be gently smoothed out by an invisible hand, his heavy breathing eased slightly, and he hummed softly, burying himself deeper into the pillow.

Yin Shaoqing withdrew his hand, his figure swaying almost imperceptibly, clearly exhausted. But he didn't immediately return to the mirror to "recover his mana," instead, he gently "sat" down by the bedside—though without a physical form, his posture was elegant and composed, as if there were truly an invisible chair there. He stood there quietly, his gaze fixed on Jin Zhaoxuan's face, his expression so complex it could fill a thesis.

There was worry, heartache, gratitude, and a trace of... a soft, incoherent emotion that even he himself hadn't fully grasped.

Time slipped away silently.

In the middle of the night, Jin Zhaoxuan started talking nonsense and became delirious from the fever.

“…Yin…Shaoqing…” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and dry as if sandpaper had been rubbed against it, “Don’t…don’t go in…that well…is dangerous…”

Yin Shaoqing's heart skipped a beat, as if his virtual heart was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand. He moved closer, almost touching the edge of the bed.

“…The box…can’t be given to them…nobody…” Jin Zhaoxuan struggled in his nightmare, his arm twitching unconsciously, almost hitting Yin Shaoqing who was dangling beside him. “…I…will protect you…fuck him…damn it…”

I'll stay by your side.

Those three simple words, even tinged with an uncivilized tone, seemed to carry immense weight and scorching heat, crashing into the depths of Yin Shaoqing's consciousness, which had been frozen for eighty years. All that long loneliness, the biting cold, and the grievances of being misunderstood seemed to melt away before those three words, revealing the soft interior beneath.

He reached out again, hovering his hand above Jin Zhaoxuan's wildly waving arm, gently enveloping and soothing his restless nightmare with that cool blue light.

“…Cold…” Jin Zhaoxuan mumbled again, his body unconsciously curling up like a big child who lacked a sense of security.

Yin Shaoqing hesitated. He was inherently of the Yin-cold element and unable to provide physical warmth. But seeing Jin Zhaoxuan cowering, he steeled himself and made a nearly "reckless" move—

He leaned down, his semi-transparent, shimmering figure gently and completely enveloping Jin Zhaoxuan above him, like an invisible, cool protective shield, isolating him from all possible external disturbances. At the same time, he began to hum an extremely ancient and soothing tune, a Japanese nursery rhyme that his adoptive mother often hummed when he was sick in bed as a child. The melody was simple and repetitive, yet it possessed a strange, calming power.

Enveloped in a cool energy field and hummed softly like a lullaby, Jin Zhaoxuan gradually stopped his rambling and struggling. His clenched fists loosened, his breathing became longer and more steady, and he finally fell into a deeper and more peaceful sleep.

Yin Shaoqing remained motionless in this "human air conditioner humidifier and background music player" pose until the sky outside the window began to lighten and the faint light of dawn sneaked in through the gap in the curtains.

His figure had begun to fade and become transparent. Maintaining this near-physical protection and energy release for such a long time was an extremely heavy burden for him, as if he were burning his "data life." But he still gritted his teeth and persevered until he confirmed that Jin Zhaoxuan's body temperature had dropped to a safe range thanks to the antipyretics and his efforts throughout the night, and his complexion had regained some of its normal color.

As the first rays of dawn finally illuminated a corner of the room, Yin Shaoqing's figure had already faded like a layer of morning mist about to be evaporated by the sunlight, so weak that he could barely maintain his form.

He gazed at Jin Zhaoxuan's sleeping face, finally settling into a peaceful slumber. Long eyelashes cast soft shadows beneath his eyes, softening his usually sharp features in the morning light. He spoke gently, almost silently, to the air:

"This time, it's my turn to protect you."

As soon as the words were spoken, the misty figure vanished completely, silently merging back into the mirror as if it had never existed.

The mirror was smooth and calm, reflecting the morning light and the peaceful sleeping face of the person on the bed.

At nine o'clock in the morning, Xiao Chen rushed into the old house in a hurry, carrying a hot breakfast and a bunch of medicine.

He pushed open the bedroom door and was surprised to find that Jin Zhaoxuan was already awake! He was sitting on the headboard, his face still a little pale, but his eyes had regained their usual clear and sharp (a downgraded version). He was staring thoughtfully at the dressing mirror by the bed, his expression a little... subtle?

"Mr. Jin! You're awake?! How are you feeling? Still have a fever? Still feeling dizzy?" Xiao Chen rushed to the bedside and bombarded him with questions.

"I'm much better." Jin Zhaoxuan's voice was still a little hoarse, but his spirits had clearly returned. "The fever has subsided. Last night... I think I had a particularly long dream."

He dreamt that Yin Shaoqing stayed by his side all night, even singing him lullabies… It was absurd yet somehow real, real yet absurd. The key was the feeling… it was so vivid, so vivid it didn’t seem like a dream.

Xiao Chen reached out and touched his forehead. It was indeed no longer hot. He breathed a sigh of relief: "My goodness, you scared me to death! Is your body made of paper? You collapse the moment you relax. From now on, I have to keep an eye on you, make sure you eat on time, go to bed on time, and exercise more!"

Jin Zhaoxuan ignored his rambling, his gaze still fixed on the mirror. He vaguely remembered the lingering coolness in his dream, the unfamiliar yet gentle foreign nursery rhyme, and the almost inaudible "Let me watch over you"... It felt so real that it made his heart tremble.

“Xiao Chen,” he suddenly spoke, his tone inquisitive, “Last night… after you left, was there anything… strange about the house? Like, did the temperature suddenly drop? Or… did you hear any strange noises? Like… someone singing?”

Xiao Chen blinked blankly, shaking his head vigorously like a rattle-drum: "No! When I left, you were sleeping like... uh, very soundly. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. What's wrong, Mr. Jin? Are you hallucinating from the fever? Or is there something... about this old house?" As he spoke, he looked around warily.

“…It’s nothing.” Jin Zhaoxuan lowered his eyes, took the warm water Xiao Chen handed him, and the warm water flowed over his dry throat, bringing some comfort. But the strange, warm yet sour feeling in his heart seemed to have taken root and wouldn’t go away.

For the next two days, Jin Zhaoxuan was forced to stay at home by Xiao Chen to "recuperate after childbirth." Yin Shaoqing did not appear in that almost physical "guardian spirit" form again, but Jin Zhaoxuan could clearly feel that the "presence" in the room was stronger and more peaceful than usual, as if she were enveloped by an invisible, gentle force field.

Whenever his eyes get tired from reading for too long, or his back aches from sitting for too long, the room's temperature and lighting always become just right, making it comfortable and pleasant. At night, he sleeps soundly until dawn, without even a single chaotic dream.

He knew that someone was silently fulfilling the promise of "I'll protect you" in their own way.

Having barely recovered his strength, Jin Zhaoxuan immediately plunged into an in-depth investigation of that overseas email.

Thanks to the extraordinary abilities of their hacker friend (the legitimate version), after numerous twists and turns, like playing a puzzle game, they finally traced the original sending IP of the email to Tokyo, Japan, which was linked to a shell company with registration information even more vague than a ghost, whose business scope listed as "technical consulting" and "cultural investment." Digging further, they discovered that this company's recent financial transactions had an intricate and secretive connection with a medium-sized precision machinery manufacturing company in Japan called "Takeda Seiko."

The founder and current major shareholder of "Takeda Seiko" has the surname Takeda.

Jin Zhaoxuan immediately recalled the name Yin Shaoqing had previously investigated—Takeda Koichi, who was suspected to be one of the "military special envoys" who forced Takahashi Nobusuke in Anshan in 1945, leading to Yin Shaoqing's death.

“Good heavens, so it’s the filial sons and grandsons of the Takeda family who have come knocking on our door.” Jin Zhaoxuan said to Yin Shaoqing on the museum server on the other end of the computer screen, his tone sarcastic. “They probably know far more about that messy debt from back then than that middleman Zhao Xinguo, and they are much more obsessed with what you remember.”

Yin Shaoqing's virtual image appeared on Jin Zhaoxuan's secondary screen, his expression solemn: "Takeda Koichi was directly responsible for overseeing the transfer and final destruction of technical data back then. If there really is some secret that their family doesn't want to see the light of day hidden in the box under the water tower, or if there is any crucial evidence in the data that my adoptive father entrusted to Technician Liu, then the Takeda family certainly has enough motive to get their hands on it at all costs, or... to completely erase it."

“Their methods will probably be more covert and troublesome than those of a local tyrant like Zhao Xinguo.” Jin Zhaoxuan rubbed his still throbbing temples, the fatigue from his illness still lingering. “Directly sending emails to buy core data? That’s probably just a test. If the bribery doesn’t work, we’ll probably have to resort to coercion or other more ‘sophisticated’ tactics.”

“Mr. Jin, we must prepare in advance.” Yin Shaoqing’s voice was calm and firm. “The museum system is my home turf, but it is not an impenetrable fortress. They may attempt high-level cyber infiltration, or… exert pressure from other aspects, such as commercial, administrative, or even public opinion.”

“I know.” Jin Zhaoxuan’s eyes were sharp, like a sharpened knife. “I’ve already had the security team raise the museum’s security level to the highest level, and set up several layers of honeypots and tracking traps. As long as they dare to extend their claws, they won’t be able to retreat cleanly.”

He paused, then turned his gaze to Yin Shaoqing on the screen, his tone unconsciously carrying a concern he himself hadn't noticed: "As for you, how have you been lately? Is the system running stably? Have you noticed any abnormal access or... 'flies' buzzing around you?"

"The system is running very stably, and the positive energy from audience interaction is abundant. I... am in great shape," Yin Shaoqing replied, a faint, genuine smile appearing on his virtual face, his eyes gentle. "As for abnormal access... in the past few days, there have indeed been a few IPs posing as academic research institutions attempting to obtain more detailed information about the 'unpublished technical archives from the late Showa Steel Works' under the guise of 'exchange and learning,' even down to their specific storage location. All of these attempts were automatically identified, recorded, and 'politely' blocked by the system."

"Well done." Jin Zhaoxuan's lips curled up, revealing the first genuine smile in days. "Keep a close watch. Also, regarding those parts of your memory that could be key 'keys'—especially the specific details of the information your adoptive father and Technician Liu might have hidden—we may need to proactively and systematically sort them out, so we have a clear understanding of the situation."

“I understand,” Yin Shaoqing replied, tapping his virtual fingers lightly on the desk as if in thought. “I will use the system’s computing power during its downtime to gradually organize and mark the relevant memory fragments and build an index. However, some details are too old and involve a lot of technical terms, so I’m afraid I’ll need the assistance of external experts to accurately interpret their potential value.”

“I’ll find the experts,” Jin Zhaoxuan decided, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “They must be people who are tight-lipped, have clean backgrounds, and are absolutely reliable. Money is not an issue.”

The two were discussing "important military matters" face-to-face (through a screen) when Jin Zhaoxuan's phone rang again at an inopportune moment. This time it was Director Zhang, whose voice was filled with barely suppressed joy.

"Mr. Jin! How's your recovery going?" Director Zhang asked cheerfully, and before the answer could be heard, he couldn't wait to announce some great news, "We have fantastic news! The leaders from the Provincial Department of Culture and Tourism saw our AR guided tour presentation materials and the overwhelming feedback from the audience, and they are extremely interested! They plan to give our project key support as a 'Digital Innovation Demonstration Case of Industrial Heritage,' and they might organize relevant units from other provinces and cities to come and observe and learn next week! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for promotion, and it's also a political task!"

Opportunity and pressure struck at the same time once again, like conjoined twins.

Jin Zhaoxuan looked up and exchanged a knowing glance with Yin Shaoqing on the screen.

"It seems that making a fortune quietly won't work." Jin Zhaoxuan said to his phone, his tone calm and confident. "Thank you, Director Zhang, this is indeed good news. Our team will cooperate fully and make thorough preparations to ensure that the leaders and colleagues have a worthwhile trip."

After hanging up the phone, Jin Zhaoxuan looked at Yin Shaoqing and raised an eyebrow.

“Then let them see to their heart’s content.” Yin Shaoqing’s voice was calm and even, yet it carried an inner strength of determination. “The clearer they see and the more thoroughly they study, the more the existence of some things will become the strongest armor.”

Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on Jin Zhaoxuan's handsome face, which was gradually regaining its color, and also on the clear, vivid, and picturesque virtual image of Yin Shaoqing on his computer screen.

One person strategizes and plans in the real world, gradually revealing their brilliance; the other quietly guards the core amidst the torrent of data, their brilliance concealed.

They are each other's strongest armor, protecting each other from both open and hidden attacks; they are also each other's softest spot, affecting each other's joys and sorrows.

The journey ahead will clearly not be a smooth, sunny one. But standing side by side, we will have no fear of the storms.