The phone was still clutched in my palm, screen down. The living room light was on, casting its glow on the half-finished soda on the corner of the table; the bubbles had disappeared.
Chen Hao didn't move.
Susan sat down next to him and lightly touched his wrist with her fingers: "We need to make this clear."
Carl immediately looked up: "I'm all ready, just waiting for your word."
Nana stood beside the coffee table, raised her arm, and the projector unfolded. A document title popped up: Summary of Symbiosis Project Cooperation Terms.
"The meeting starts at 8 p.m. tomorrow night," she said. "Whether you attend or not needs to be decided now."
Chen Hao finally spoke: "I haven't decided yet."
“I know what you’re afraid of.” Susan looked at him. “You’re afraid of being locked up again, afraid of not being able to sleep well, afraid of waking up one day to have to fight again. But this time it’s different. The agreement states that you can take turns resting and you can also quit.”
“What’s written on paper is the least reliable,” Chen Hao shook his head. “Last time, Novian also signed a confidentiality agreement, and what happened? He almost formatted my brain.”
“But this is a public project,” Nana said. “Seventeen independent labs replicated our model, and they couldn’t manipulate the data flow on their own. Every operation by the research institute is documented and subject to third-party oversight.”
"Sounds like a government-run nursing home," Chen Hao muttered.
“The equipment is better than that of a nursing home.” Carl flipped through the projector. “Quantum entanglement array, miniature gravity field generator, high-precision ecological simulation chamber… These things aren’t rented; they’re for our use. We’ve never even seen them before.”
"You only see the good stuff." Chen Hao glared at him. "Did it mention that they suddenly lost internet and communication in the middle of the night and then said 'system upgrade'? Did it mention that after the test subject went missing, they only sent one email saying 'accidental death'?"
Karl's words.
Nana turned the page and pulled up a record: "Over the past ten years, the team has launched five large-scale research projects, all of which have been completed. No member has gone missing, all results have been made public, and no patents have been applied for to monopolize the research. Three of the research projects were terminated midway, all due to the withdrawal of external funding, not due to internal accidents."
"So they're so desperate for money that they came to us?" Chen Hao grinned.
“It’s an affirmation,” Carl interjected. “They changed their minds because of our data. Professor Li Zhenhua previously questioned the sampling error, but now their reproduction experiment has an error of less than one percent. This proves we did the right thing. Now someone is willing to use the best resources to continue working with us, and you insist on saying they have ulterior motives?”
"It's not that I don't believe in science," Chen Hao sat up straight. "I don't believe in people. People change; I've seen plenty of people shake hands one day and stab you in the back the next. What makes us a bunch of people—a fat guy, a schoolgirl, a little kid, and a robot—why should we expect them to genuinely cooperate for three years?"
“Because we are useful,” Nana said calmly.
The room fell silent for a moment.
Carl smiled: "She's right."
“I know we’re useful,” Chen Hao sighed, “but useful people are the easiest to be thrown into the boiler and burned.”
Susan didn't say anything, but simply put her hand on his arm.
After a few seconds, she whispered, "I don't want to hide anymore. I don't want Aunt Wang downstairs to ask me if I've gone on another business trip to outer space, and I don't want kids to see me and call me 'Scientist Sister' before running away. I want to be an ordinary person. I work at the library now, organizing bookshelves, helping the elderly look up information, and I smile when people greet me. I've been living like this for almost two months, and I like it very much."
“Me too.” Chen Hao nodded. “Yesterday, an old man asked me to fix his electric bike. I said okay, and he bought me a bottle of soda. That feeling… was pretty reassuring.”
“But the outside world is changing too.” Karl pointed to the projection. “The Deep Space Monitoring Network recently detected three anomalous signals with frequencies consistent with the blue light band we discovered. The research institute suspects it’s a resonance reaction from some kind of energy node. If we don’t investigate, others will. But they don’t have our data accumulation, so something bad could happen.”
"Let them get hurt then," Chen Hao said, shrugging. "What does it have to do with us?"
"What if the accident happened near Earth's orbit?" Nana asked. "What if the next signal source appeared on the far side of the moon, and the probe went out of control and crashed into the Earth-Moon communication relay station? Then the global internet would be cut off, transportation would be paralyzed, and even the electric car you repaired wouldn't be able to run."
Chen Hao frowned: "You mean this isn't just scientific research?"
“It’s a potential risk,” Nana nodded. “My database shows that a similar frequency occurred seventy years ago before a satellite explosion. Nobody noticed it then.”
"So now it's not just exploration, it's also mine clearance?" Chen Hao touched the back of his neck. "Then we shouldn't be sent there. We should call the police and let the military handle it."
“The military is already paying attention,” Nana said, “but they lack theoretical support. The research institute is the only team with a complete analytical model—that is, us.”
Carl stared at Chen Hao: "If we don't go, no one can truly understand what it is. But if we go, we can figure out from the source whether it will explode, when it will explode, and how to defend against it."
"Sounds like a savior story." Chen Hao sneered.
“Not a savior,” Susan suddenly said, “but a responsibility. We discovered it, we understand it. Even if we don’t want to be heroes, we can’t pretend we don’t see it.”
“But I don’t want to lose my current life.” Chen Hao’s voice lowered. “I want to continue eating street-side grilled sausages, I want to lie down and watch videos, I want to be called Fatty instead of Chief Researcher. I want to live a simpler life.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Susan said softly, “but sometimes, you can’t live simply.”
Nana flipped to the last page: "Article 7 of the Agreement: Any member may withdraw from the project with two weeks' notice. Data access is retained during this period, and remote collaboration is permitted. Thirty days of rest are taken on a quarterly basis, which can be used in two separate sessions."
"Really?" Chen Hao looked up.
“The original document,” Nana said.
Carl immediately chimed in, "That means we can go, and we can come back. We can do research, and we can also repair electric vehicles."
“If you want,” Susan looked at him, “we can go together and come back together. Not abandoning our current lives, but moving forward with them.”
Chen Hao didn't speak, looking down at his phone.
After a long pause, he asked, "If we agree, what's the first thing we'll do?"
“I’m confirming my attendance,” Nana said. “The meeting is tomorrow night at 8 p.m., and being late will be considered a forfeit.”
"They are quite strict."
"That's the rule."
Chen Hao took a deep breath, turned his phone over, and the screen lit up.
The notification is still in effect: [You have a new schedule reminder: Tomorrow night at 20:00, the first meeting of the Deep Space Joint Research Institute's Symbiosis Project]
His finger hovered over "confirm".
“I have a condition,” he said.
“Go ahead,” Susan replied.
"I won't sign alone. We'll all sign together. No one can sneak away first, and no one can shirk responsibility at the last minute. We either all go, or none of us go."
Carl immediately raised his hand: "I agree!"
Susan glanced at him and raised her hand as well: "I agree."
Nana nodded slightly: "I have synchronized the identity information of the four people. Once confirmed, the joint signing agreement can be generated."
Chen Hao looked at the three of them and slowly smiled: "Alright. Anyway, the worst that can happen is that the database will be deleted again. I can just learn the instant noodle recipe all over again."
He pressed confirm.
A notification pops up: "[Conference confirmation has been sent; awaiting response]"
The room fell silent.
Carl stared at the projection, rubbing his hands excitedly: "If they dare to back out, I'll tear down their official website live on air."
“You can’t dismantle it,” Nana said. “The firewall has three levels of authentication.”
"I can swear."
"You can't out-argue AI."
"Then I'll record a video and cry about it, and title it 'A genius teenager is driven crazy by the scientific community.'"
“You’re only fifteen,” Susan laughed. “Don’t pretend to be pitiful.”
"Age doesn't prevent you from gaining sympathy."
Chen Hao leaned back on the sofa and let out a long sigh. He looked up at the ceiling, then down at his phone.
“Actually,” he suddenly said, “I didn’t really want to fix electric bikes.”
"Hmm?" Susan turned her head.
"I think... the days when we could repair electric bikes were because someone was taking care of the big things behind the scenes. Now it's our turn. I'm not that great, but I can't pretend I don't know anything."
Susan didn't say anything, but simply moved closer to him.
Carl jumped up: "I'm going to cook instant noodles! To celebrate our return to the rabbit hole!"
"Your kitchen almost caught fire last time," Chen Hao reminded him.
"That time the pot was too old."
"The pot is fine; you poured water into the oil."
"Details don't matter!"
Nana turned around and followed her: "I'll supervise your operation. You're not allowed to use the open flame mode."
"You're meddling too much!"
The two of them went into the kitchen arguing.
Only Chen Hao and Susan remained in the living room.
"Do you think we can last three years?" he asked.
“Not necessarily,” she said, “but at least we can try.”
He nodded and squeezed her hand.
The phone screen suddenly flashed.
A new message popped up: [The other party has received your confirmation of participation. The meeting link will be delivered at 6:00 AM tomorrow.]
Chen Hao stared at the line of text, remaining motionless for a long time.
Then he picked up his phone, walked to the coffee table, and gently placed it next to the projector.
He stepped back, put his hands in his pockets, and looked out the window.
The night was deep.
In the distance, a shared bicycle was parked under a streetlamp, with a half-open bag of potato chips still hanging in its basket.
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