Earth Fire
Li Jianhua, Li Ming's father, was discharged from the hospital and returned home to recuperate. His leg was still in a cast, but his spirits were noticeably better, and the resilience of a laborer in his eyes dispelled some of the gloom brought on by his injury. After settling his parents in and ensuring a reliable housekeeper was available, Li Ming focused most of his energy back on the company. However, he no longer lived near the company, but instead drove nearly an hour each way between the city and his parents' home every day, rain or shine.
Back at the company, Li Ming seemed like a completely different person. He no longer showed any resistance to the technical team sent by Lei Yao; instead, he became unusually "eager to learn" and "cooperative." He would proactively invite the team leader to discuss technical details, carefully record every "optimization suggestion" they made, and even at a monthly review meeting of the "Security Committee," he took the initiative to propose extending the iteration cycle of the platform's core recommendation algorithm from two weeks to one month to "ensure sufficient testing and stability."
This almost self-castrating compliance pleased Lei Yao's side considerably. Zhang Lei even subtly praised Mingyu Technology's "big picture" and "stability" at a high-level briefing. The tense atmosphere hanging over the company seemed to have genuinely eased.
However, beneath this seemingly calm ice layer, subterranean fire is quietly raging.
Wang Hao's encrypted message, "Seed has been safely transferred," was the only spark in the darkness. Li Ming didn't reply immediately, nor did he attempt to contact him. He knew that any unnecessary contact at this moment was dangerous. He needed to wait, needed to convince everyone that the Li Ming who had once tried to break free had been completely tamed.
He began a different kind of "work." By day, he played the role of the mild-mannered, compliant CEO, handling the company's daily affairs and attending various meetings. By night, when he returned to his parents' house, after confirming that the surroundings were safe, he would turn on a specially modified laptop that had never been connected to the company network and had not even had any domestic software installed.
He began to systematically organize all the fragments of his memories since his rebirth, not about specific business opportunities or technological milestones—those that are now difficult to exploit under the current tight control—but about the macro-level social changes over the next decade or so, the subtle shifts in people's lifestyles, and the new demands and ideas that quietly emerged outside of technological regulations.
Like an archaeologist, he carefully combed through the layers of memory, trying to extract some kind of pattern, some essential thinking about "connection" and "value" that could transcend the limitations of specific technologies.
At the same time, he paid more attention to the "Craftsman Project" and community operations led by Li Ziqing. He no longer intervened from a technical and data perspective, but observed and felt from the perspective of a pure "content consumer" and "community participant." He discovered that those seemingly "traditional," "inefficient" small communities that relied on word-of-mouth and personal relationships actually contained a powerful vitality that was difficult to be simply replicated by capital and algorithms.
A vague idea began to take shape in his mind—perhaps the way forward lies not in building a larger, more intelligent centralized platform, but in empowering countless such "micro-communities" to construct a decentralized, value-driven ecological network. This network does not pursue data monopoly or the consumption of traffic, but rather promotes peer-to-peer trust connections and value exchange. It may develop slowly, but its foundation is deep and difficult to destroy or control.
This concept runs counter to the current mainstream development model of the internet and cleverly avoids many of the "sensitive" areas designated by the "Security Committee." This is because it relies not on sophisticated algorithms and massive amounts of data, but on the most basic trust and shared interests between people.
He broke down this initial concept into countless seemingly unrelated small projects and activities that aligned with the themes of "social responsibility" and "cultural heritage," gradually integrating them into the daily operations of the "Mingyu Life" platform through Li Ziqing's channels. For example, encouraging users to spontaneously organize offline book clubs and handicraft experience salons; launching a "community expert" certification program to allow ordinary users with special skills to become "opinion leaders" within a small circle; and experimenting with blockchain technology (at this time, still a very niche concept) to create an immutable "digital identity" for artisans' works, recording their creative process and heritage stories…
These actions were scattered and minor. In the view of Lei Yao's technical team, they were just some "sentimental" attempts and supplements made by "Mingyu" after setbacks in the mainstream track. They were harmless and even helped to maintain the platform's tone and user stickiness, so they did not arouse much alarm.
Li Ming carefully pushed all of this forward, like a most patient gardener sowing seemingly weak but tenacious seeds on barren land.
During this period, Zhao Zhen's "Zhenhua Commerce and Trade" completed a new round of massive financing, reaching a new valuation high and becoming an undeniable force in the domestic e-commerce sector. Zhou Ruilin's "Kuaituan.com" also built a solid offline barrier through its deep integration with Zhou's real estate business. They all attempted to squeeze Mingyu's living space again, but after discovering that Mingyu had almost abandoned direct competition and focused on those "small but beautiful" projects, they gradually lost interest and turned their attention to a broader battlefield.
External pressure seemed to have eased, but Li Ming's vigilance never wavered. He knew that Zhang Lei's "watchful eye" had never left him.
Sure enough, on a seemingly ordinary afternoon, Zhang Lei's assistant suddenly arrived without an appointment, citing "routine communication" as the reason.
The assistant chatted with Li Ming in the office for half an hour, asking routine questions about the company's recent operations and team stability. But as he was leaving, the assistant casually mentioned, "Mr. Li, Mr. Zhang is very concerned about your personal condition. He thinks you seem to have lost a lot of weight recently, and suggests you get more rest. Also, Mr. Zhang asked me to tell you that he hasn't played chess with you in a long time. He remembers that you are a good player, and he hopes to have another match sometime."
Playing chess? Li Ming sneered inwardly. This was a reminder, and also a final test. Zhang Lei was telling him: I'm still watching you, don't try anything funny. The so-called "playing chess" was nothing more than an implication that he should be content with the status quo and be a compliant pawn.
After seeing his assistant off, Li Ming stood by the window, watching the endless stream of cars below. He knew that the superficial calm wouldn't last long. Zhang Lei's patience was limited. If he couldn't quickly demonstrate new, controllable "value" for "Mingyu," or if his secretly orchestrated "underground fire" was discovered, he would face an even more thorough reckoning.
He must quicken his pace.
A few days later, Li Ming, under the pretext of "inspecting traditional cultural projects," personally visited a small county in a neighboring province famous for its wood carvings. Ostensibly, he was there to find new partners for the "Artisan Project." In reality, he had a brief, unannounced "chance encounter" with Wang Hao, an "independent photographer" who "happened" to be in the area as well.
In a noisy teahouse on the old street of the county town, the two men stood with their backs to the door, using their teacups as cover to communicate quickly in a volume only they could hear.
"Seed situation?" Li Ming asked in a low voice.
"It's secure, decentralized, and has encrypted backups on multiple open-source communities and anonymous servers. The trigger mechanism has been set up," Wang Hao said rapidly.
“A new idea,” Li Ming described his initial thoughts on the decentralized ecosystem network in the simplest terms, “In terms of technical implementation, is it possible to completely bypass the core sensitive points of the existing regulatory framework?”
A glint of light flashed in Wang Hao's eyes. After a moment of contemplation, he said, "It's challenging, but... not impossible. We can draw on some early P2P and distributed hash table technologies, combined with asymmetric encryption, to build a data-self-sustaining, logically completely decentralized architecture. The key lies in... the incentive mechanism and the acquisition of initial users."
“I’ll figure out the incentive mechanism, which may start with offline entities and community value,” Li Ming said. “For users… we’ll start by penetrating our existing ‘artisans’ and deep community users. What you need to do is ensure that the underlying technology is absolutely clean and transparent, and even… you can proactively invite ‘reviews’.”
“I understand,” Wang Hao nodded. “It will take time.”
“What we lack most is time, but what we need most is patience.” Li Ming placed the tea money on the table. “Keep quiet and don’t contact us unless it’s an emergency.”
The two left the teahouse one after the other, as if they were strangers.
This brief meeting brought Li Ming some peace of mind. He knew that Wang Hao had understood his intentions and that it was technically feasible. The remaining task was to quietly and discreetly transform this idea into reality under close surveillance.
After returning to Jinyang, Li Ming became even more proactive in promoting those "micro-projects," even taking the initiative to report their progress to the "Safety Committee," packaging them as important achievements of "Mingyu" in fulfilling its social responsibility and exploring sustainable development models.
Everything seemed to be moving in a direction of "stability" and "controllability".
However, just when Li Ming thought he had initially stabilized the situation and could continue to advance the underground plan, Li Ziqing hurriedly knocked on his parents' door late one night.
Her face was pale, she clutched her phone tightly in her hand, and her eyes were filled with panic and disbelief.
“Li Ming… I just… I just received an anonymous call from overseas…” Her voice trembled with fear. “The other party… said… they have transaction records of core code fragments from the ‘Mirror’ lab that weren’t completely erased… and… and Wang Hao’s access logs on an anonymous overseas server… They asked… asked if we wanted to ‘buy back’ this… evidence that could destroy us forever…”
Li Ming felt a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head, and his blood seemed to freeze instantly!
The tail of the "mirror image"... wasn't completely severed?! And it fell into the hands of a third party?!
Is this yet another test by Zhang Lei? Or... is there really another mysterious force that has been secretly watching and has seized this fatal weakness?
Just as a glimmer of hope appeared on the road ahead, it was instantly shrouded once again in an impenetrable fog and deadly crisis.
Outside the window, the night was as black as ink, as if countless eyes were coldly watching the lit house from the darkness.
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