Chen Hao stared at the abnormal fluctuation point on the screen, tapping his finger three times on the table, as if setting the tone for a metronome.
"Nana," he called again, his voice a notch lower than before, "Isn't the encryption protocol used by that group of online trolls a bit similar to the log feedback mechanism at the bottom layer of our system?"
Nana stood beside the control panel, a flash of blue light in her eyes, and the data stream immediately unfolded. She didn't speak, but simply projected the two protocol structures side-by-side onto the main screen. The left side displayed normal user behavior logs, while the right side showed the communication packets of the attacking account. The two curves almost overlapped, with only a slight offset in the seventh-layer encapsulation field.
“It’s not similar,” she said. “It’s based on our open-source module.”
Chen Hao grimaced, but didn't actually laugh. "So they're using our technology to smear us? That's not called a paid online army, that's called a vicious cycle."
He leaned back, the chair creaking under the weight. One of his slippers slipped off, but he didn't bother to pick it up.
"Alright." He raised his hand and rubbed his face. "Since they like to copy homework, let's give them a test paper with standard answers and see who hands it in first."
"You're planning to release real technical information as bait?" Nana turned her head, a hint of program confirmation flashing in her mechanical eyes.
“Yes.” Chen Hao pulled an old tablet out of the drawer; the screen was cracked. “Release the ‘White Paper on Ecological Agriculture.’ Cut a section of the gene map, draw a box around the principle of quantum timers, and label it ‘Commercially Applicable’ in big letters.”
“This will attract a lot of probing traffic.” Nana began writing a script to embed the file. “I will add a lightweight tracker at the bottom layer of the document, disguised as an automatic update request. As long as someone performs deep analysis, they can reverse-engineer the device fingerprint.”
"Don't go too far." Chen Hao waved his hand. "We're not a hacker gang, why would we do something to paralyze them? Let them download comfortably, and when they're halfway through—" He paused, "we'll insert something else."
"Understood." Nana nodded. "Create a controllable vulnerability and guide it into the preset channel."
Half an hour later, the "White Paper on Wilderness Ecological Agriculture (Public Version)" was launched online.
The cover features a photo of a purple wheat field, with the following text: "Welcome to learn, but please don't copy homework to the point of personal attacks."
Just five minutes after the file was published, the first abnormal access record popped up in the backend.
"The third relay station in the Sirius system has initiated a high-frequency parsing request." Nana pulled up the path map. "The target is attempting to strip away the encryption layer and obtain the original data structure."
"Let them peel it." Chen Hao took a bite of the energy bar, the sticky filling sticking to the corner of his mouth. "Anyway, there's no bomb hidden inside, it just tastes a bit like... a memoir."
“Tracking script activated.” Nana continued monitoring. “The other party is using a customized unpacking tool with automated reverse analysis capabilities, matching the characteristics of commercial intelligence gathering.”
"So they're here for the technical stuff after all," Chen Hao snorted. "I thought someone just didn't like me and wanted to call me fat."
He glanced at the live comments section; the previously uniform phrases like "resource blockade" and "technological hegemony" were starting to disappear sporadically. Several accounts even questioned, "Is the white paper real? Why don't even seed companies dare to disclose parameters like this?"
"The cognitive warfare has taken effect," Nana said softly. "Some ordinary users have begun to question the authenticity of the attack statements."
"This is nothing." Chen Hao wiped his mouth and stuffed the remaining half of the energy bar into his mouth. "Once they finish downloading all the data, we'll send them some souvenirs."
Two more hours passed.
The monitoring system finally pinpointed the complete access link.
“Confirm the source node.” Nana unfolded the 3D star map. “The final jump exit is located on the G-73 cluster server in the Sirius system. The registration information is blank, but the physical location can be traced.”
“No identity information is also easy to handle.” Chen Hao stood up, leaning on the table, and walked to the main control screen. “It means they don’t dare to use their own names to stage accidents.”
He stared at the flashing red dot for a while, then suddenly smiled.
"Nana, do you remember that handful of dirt I ate before?"
"The selenium content meets the standard, the organic matter is rich, and the heavy metals do not exceed the standard," Nana responded immediately.
“Edit that video.” Chen Hao pointed to the screen. “Make it into a three-minute short film, and title it: ‘They’ve bombed fifty times, but they’ve never deleted the truth.’”
"You want to push the message backwards?"
“Yes,” he said. “We won’t criticize them or insult them. We’ll just have their company’s internal login page automatically pop up and show it every morning when they clock in.”
“It’s technically feasible.” Nana began packaging the video files. “We can implant a temporary cache by capturing cache nodes and set it to be non-skippable during playback.”
"By the way," Chen Hao added, "everyone who searches for 'pseudoscience of the desolate planet' should be redirected to the white paper's official website homepage. Let them know what paid knowledge is—the free kind."
Ten minutes after the instruction was given, the first wave of feedback arrived.
Thirty-seven of the original attacking accounts suddenly stopped spamming.
One of them also posted a new update: "Just finished reading 'The History of Failure,' and I think I might have misunderstood something."
Another one was more direct: "Can anyone tell me why my company's intranet is now broadcasting this person eating dirt every time I turn on the computer?"
The red areas on the public opinion map are fading at a visible rate.
Twelve hours later, the attack traffic decreased by 87%.
Some media outlets quietly removed their unpublished feature reports.
Several high-authority accounts also started forwarding farmers' thank-you letters and student homework videos.
As Chen Hao watched the data curve flatten out, he finally put his feet back into his slippers.
"Is that all?" he asked.
“The source of the attack has been marked and archived,” Nana replied. “The reverse content delivery is complete, and there is no residual risk in the system. Currently, only a small number of fringe accounts are still repeating the same old rhetoric, and their influence is close to zero.”
"That's good." Chen Hao yawned, a few tears welling up in the corner of his eye. "If they try to smear me again next time, remember to remind them to change the script. The audience is tired of seeing these copied and pasted lines all the time."
He leaned back in his chair, crumpled the empty energy bar wrapper in his hand, and tossed it toward the recycling bin.
It didn't go in.
The crumpled paper hit the edge and rolled to the ground.
He was too lazy to pick it up.
Nana detected an object on the ground and was about to warn him when she noticed that Chen Hao had already closed his eyes and was breathing evenly.
But she knew he wasn't asleep.
Because three seconds later, his eyelids twitched.
Then he said, "Do you think they'll feel we were too lenient this time?"
Nana did not answer.
She simply pulled up a hidden log entry.
That was a secondary monitoring program that was launched simultaneously with the release of the white paper, recording the subsequent behavior of all deep visitors.
One of the reports shows that an anonymous terminal immediately sent encrypted digest packets to seven different star systems after downloading the data.
Destination unknown.
The content being transmitted is unknown.
Nana circled this record separately, labeled it "to be checked," and temporarily archived it.
Inside the main control room, the three screens were still running.
The bidding curve climbed steadily, the safety log was a clear blue with no waves, and the wheat fields on the booth screen surged.
Chen Hao opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for two seconds.
"Oh, right," he suddenly said, "let's also make the vaccine process from the chicken embryo lab public tomorrow."
"all?"
“Yes.” He nodded. “Let them see how an egg hatches into antibodies.”
After he finished speaking, he reached out and touched the pile of unorganized technical sketches on the corner of the table.
The top image shows a simple chick wearing goggles and holding a syringe in its claws.
A sign next to it read: **"Don't mess with the fat guy, he'll give you a shot."**
He smiled and pressed the drawing down.
The finger stopped in mid-air.
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