Chapter 20
On the first day of Yin Shaoqing's sleep, Jin Zhaoxuan was still able to barely maintain the persona of "rational CEO Jin," although this rationality was as shaky as a telephone pole in a typhoon.
He sat cross-legged in front of the server, like an old monk in deep meditation, his eyes fixed on the dazzling data logs on the screen, trying to find the last straw that broke his cyber baby from a bunch of red words like "energy overload warning", "abnormal fluctuation of stream of consciousness", and "emotional simulator overload".
He reviewed Yin Shaoqing's recent list of "self-destructive" actions: forcibly "passing through the wall to manifest his divine power" on the water tower, going into "rage mode" during the data storm on the demonstration day, and even remotely "smashing the tower crane from a distance" last night... Goodness, every time it's a crazy operation that burns through one's life points.
The "epic emotional rollercoaster" brought about by seeing the adoptive father's last letter and finding the box became a precise finishing blow, directly causing the already fragile "data soul" to enter a forced shutdown protection mode.
“It’s my fault.” Jin Zhaoxuan muttered to himself, his voice hoarse, staring at the lifeless straight line on the screen. “I shouldn’t have used you as a perpetual motion machine, shouldn’t have let you take the hits, and shouldn’t have forgotten that your true nature is now a… delicate electronic bonsai.”
He tried every "first aid measure" he could find in textbooks: adjusting the server's energy output curve (attempting to "resurrect" the system), injecting previously backed-up, relatively well-behaved "Yin Shaoqing's daily state" data package (equivalent to administering intravenous nutrition), and even going so far as to edit out the lewd comments in the live stream chat such as "Teacher Yin, marry me!" and "Teacher Yin's voice is so sweet it'll make your legs ache!" and convert them into gentle electronic voices that played on a loop (mental stimulation therapy).
It's completely useless.
The curve symbolizing the level of consciousness activity remained flat, like a salted fish lying flat, clinging to the bottom of the screen. Only every few minutes would it twitch like a zombie, emitting a faint, almost invisible pulse—proving that the bonsai wasn't completely rotten at the root, but it wasn't far from dying.
He looked like a poor soul in the ICU, clinging to life on a ventilator.
The next day, Jin Zhaoxuan completely lost his rationality, and his anxiety level skyrocketed.
He blocked all work calls, dumped the company's mess on Xiao Chen, and then went into "vigilance" mode, glued to the server and the mirror. He started giving a monologue in front of the mirror, starting with the receptionist getting a new boyfriend, then talking about how Xiao Chen's code made the tester cry in the bathroom again, and then about his mother calling and yelling, "If you don't come home for a blind date, I'll put up a banner at your company!"... By the end, his voice was hoarse and his eyes were red.
"Yin Shaoqing, did you fucking hear me?" He slammed his hand on the cold mirror, his palm hot and damp. "Stop playing dead! Wake up! Your AR guided tour schedule is booked until next month! Do you want to stand up the entire province?!"
The mirror was cold and indifferent, reflecting only his bloodshot eyes, which resembled those of a rabbit, and the bluish stubble on his chin that gave him the air of a "down-on-his-luck artist."
As evening fell, Mr. Jin's performance art escalated.
He held the specially made power bank (one of Yin Shaoqing's "electronic urns") to his chest like a hand warmer, trying to "warm" the cold soul inside with his own 36.5-degree body temperature. He took out Yin Shaoqing's tablet, which he used to keep online, and like a fangirl, played the recording of his previous live stream on a loop. Yin Shaoqing's clear and gentle voice echoed repeatedly in the quiet night, and Jin Zhaoxuan almost memorized the parameters of the rolling mill in 1936.
He even rummaged through drawers and cabinets to find the old photo from 1937 that Liu Jianjun had given him, and slapped it onto the center of the mirror with transparent tape, like sticking on a talisman.
"Look! Yin Shaoqing! Look!" He pointed to the boy in the photo with a shy, clean smile and eyes as bright as a deer's. "This is you! This is Grandma Xiulan! This is Technician Liu! And your stubborn adoptive father! Everyone is waiting for your sequel! Waiting for you to tell them in person what happened next, waiting for you... to take a good look at this spring where we don't have to fear the sound of firecrackers!"
The only response he received was the mournful howling of a stray cat in heat outside the window, and the mocking hum of the server fan inside the room.
On the third day, the string of "reason" in Jin Zhaoxuan's mind snapped completely. A crazy thought mixed with despair, paranoia, and "I'll fight you to the death" began to grow wildly.
He pondered: This damned Yin Shaoqing lived on "obsession" and "memory," and recharged himself through "connections" with the outside world. Now that the connection is broken, his obsession and memory have "achieved their goal" with the truth coming to light and are starting to rot. So... what if he were to forcibly "recharge" him, establishing a more powerful and direct connection? Not a cold, impersonal data cable, but... a soul (?) connection!
A plan so bold it could be considered science fiction, so absurd it could be featured on the TV show "Approaching Science," began to bubble up in his mind, which was already a pot of porridge of anxiety.
He knew that Yin Shaoqing's "main consciousness" was now holed up in a virtual environment built by the server, a "mental hut" constructed based on his memories and obsessions. Normally, Teacher Yin would come out for a stroll through various "doors" (data interfaces). Now, all the doors were locked from the inside and welded shut.
Then...can I climb in through the window?!
It's not about physically walking through walls—that would require becoming a ghost—but rather utilizing a prototype of "immersive AR neural interaction" technology that the company had previously invested heavily in developing but hadn't yet fully mastered. Theoretically, this thing couples a person's brainwave signals with a virtual environment, allowing them to "consciously infiltrate"—although the last test left the volunteer dizzy for three days, vomiting uncontrollably.
Risk? That's like dancing in a minefield. The technology isn't mature enough; it could turn his own brain into mush. Even more terrifying is that Yin Shaoqing's "mental cabin" is definitely filled with data turbulence and a storm of consciousness, like the eye of a typhoon. If his small body were to rush in, he would be torn to pieces in a matter of minutes, trapped inside forever (physical brain death).
"I'm fucking crazy..." Jin Zhaoxuan wiped his face and mocked himself to the air.
But when his gaze fell again on the "lifeline" on the screen, straighter than a line, he remembered the guy who had waited eighty years in the cold darkness, who had just glimpsed a ray of light only to sink into an even darker abyss, and his last words, barely audible, "Sleep for a while," as if he had just gone out to buy a pack of cigarettes...
To hell with the risks! Let's gamble!
"Xiao Chen!" He picked up the phone, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper had been scraped, but his tone was frighteningly calm. "Pack up that 'deep interaction prototype' in the lab, along with all the debugging manuals and the complete list of fault codes, and send it to the old house as quickly as possible! Immediately!"
"Mr. Jin?! What do you need that junk for?! That thing almost caused Engineer Wang from the next department to have his brain malfunction last time, and he was bedridden for three days!" Xiao Chen's voice trembled with fright on the other end of the phone.
"Stop talking nonsense! Send it over!" Jin Zhaoxuan interrupted him, paused, and added, "Also, prepare a detailed waiver and medical emergency plan, send me the electronic version, and I'll sign it. Also, I might need to... 'go into seclusion' for a few days. As for company matters, you and Vice President Li can handle them. Don't bother me even if the sky falls, unless the company is really going to go bankrupt and be liquidated."
"Mr. Jin! Please don't do anything rash! You really can't mess around with that stuff! If Teacher Yin found out, she definitely wouldn't agree!" Xiao Chen was almost crying.
"Execute the order." Jin Zhaoxuan coldly hung up and casually switched his phone to Do Not Disturb mode.
He knew he was playing with fire, gambling with his mind and mental state on a slim chance of waking up the "dead sleeping beauty" from a fairy tale.
But he had no choice. He couldn't just sit there, watching that faint pulse disappear completely, and then spend the rest of his life facing the cold machine and mirror, enduring every unresponsive night.
The waiting time for the equipment felt like being fried in oil every second.
Jin Zhaoxuan performed a final check on the server, setting the highest level of automatic maintenance to ensure that the basic life support systems (power supply, data backup, crash protection) could hold up during his "suicidal" actions. He affixed the yellowed old photograph to the server chassis like a talisman. He then gripped the cold power bank tightly, as if drawing a bit of courage from Yin Shaoqing, even if it was just an illusion.
Xiao Chen, carrying equipment and several pale-faced technicians, rushed into the old house like a bomb. Seeing Jin Zhaoxuan's haggard but frighteningly bright eyes, filled with a "do or die" determination, all words of dissuasion stuck in their throats. They silently and efficiently set up a makeshift "operating room," debugging the seemingly dangerous neural communication chamber and connecting it to a dense array of monitoring probes.
"Mr. Jin," Xiao Chen said, his voice trembling with tears, as the cabin door was about to close. "Please...please be careful. Teacher Yin...he definitely wouldn't want to see you like this."
Jin Zhaoxuan didn't speak, but simply raised his hand and pressed hard on Xiao Chen's shoulder. Then he took a deep breath and lay down in the interactive pod, which was filled with a sense of science fiction and an ominous atmosphere.
The hatch slid shut silently, completely isolating him from the outside world.
"Neural connectivity program initiated... Brainwave coupling preparation... Virtual environment coordinate locking... Coupling strength: High-risk experimental level... 3... 2... 1... Connect!"
The cold, electronic synthesized sound exploded in my ears, followed by an intense, dizzying, and weightless sensation, as if my soul were being forcibly ripped from my skull! My internal organs felt out of place.
Jin Zhaoxuan felt his consciousness being violently thrown into a raging tunnel composed of countless fragmented lights and data streams! A variety of bizarre images flashed before his eyes: the mottled rust of the old water tower, the blinding sunlight in a 1937 photograph, the scorching sparks flying from the rolling mill, Yin Shaoqing's wet eyes filled with shock and despair before he fell into the water, the ink penetrating the paper of Takahashi Shinsuke's suicide note… The sheer volume of information was overwhelming, almost shattering his consciousness on the spot!
I don't know how much time passed; maybe a second, maybe a century.
He "stood" in a darkness where there was nothing...
Is this the place where Yin Shaoqing's consciousness is dormant?
It was even more desolate and lifeless than he had imagined.
There was no sound, no light, no up, down, left, or right; only an endless, thick, impenetrable void of darkness. In the distance, occasionally, extremely faint, fleeting streams of data streaked by, like the last struggle of a dying firefly.
Jin Zhaoxuan tried to move, only to find himself merely a blurry humanoid outline drawn in faint golden light. He steadied himself (if consciousness possessed a god) and, heading towards the faintest, occasionally glimpsing stream of data in the darkness, "took a step."
In this void, "walking" is more like the movement of thoughts. One doesn't know how long one has "walked," it might just be a fleeting thought.
He saw it.
In the deepest, coldest part of the darkness, a faint, almost imperceptible, pale blue ball of light floated silently, as if it would be extinguished at any moment. At the center of this ball of light, curled up, was an even more ethereal, almost transparent figure, almost blending into the background… a humanoid shape. It was Yin Shaoqing.
His eyes were tightly closed, his long eyelashes casting fragile shadows in the virtual light and shadow. His body was as transparent as the morning mist about to dissipate, with only a faint, intermittent blue halo emanating from his edges, like a candle flickering in the wind. Countless fine data streams, like black dust or chains, coiled around him, flowing slowly and silently drawing away his dwindling energy.
Jin Zhaoxuan's "heart" felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an icy hand, causing his entire silhouette to tremble violently in pain.
He tried to get closer.
Buzz—!
A cold, powerful, and repulsive force field suddenly blasted him away! This was Yin Shaoqing's last instinctive defense in his subconscious, rejecting all external interference and isolating himself from possible external energy injection—like a severely wounded and dying beast, curled up in the deepest part of a cave, baring its teeth at anyone who approached.
"Yin Shaoqing!" Jin Zhaoxuan shouted with all his might, but his voice could not evoke the slightest echo in this void.
The blue orb of light was deathly still, like ice.
Jin Zhaoxuan gritted his teeth (his consciousness clenched its teeth), and began desperately gathering and squeezing out the pitiful but scalding and pure spiritual power that his consciousness had brought in—a reflection of his strong will, reckless determination, and surging emotions in the virtual world. He painstakingly twisted this power into a thin, yet exceptionally resilient and warm golden thread, and then, carefully, little by little, pierced towards that cold barrier of rejection.
The barrier retaliated fiercely! Countless cold and sharp "consciousness needles" attacked Jin Zhaoxuan like a blizzard!
Excruciating pain!
An indescribable, excruciating pain, as if his soul were being slowly tortured, instantly overwhelmed him! His golden silhouette trembled violently, flickering and blurring, its edges beginning to fade and dissipate, as if it were about to completely collapse at any moment!
But he didn't back down! He refused to back down even in the face of death!
His mind was filled with images of Yin Shaoqing's smiling eyes, his heartfelt focus and passion when explaining history, the way he secretly asked someone to add goji berries to his thermos, and his heartbreakingly weak last words, "Sleep for a while"...
The golden thread stubbornly and extremely slowly extended forward amidst the raging ice spikes, little by little... Finally, that warm golden thread, trembling, touched the edge of that cold, faint blue halo.
At the very moment of touch—
Boom!!!
Like a reservoir exploding! Countless fragments of broken memories and a torrent of emotions suppressed for eighty years rushed into Jin Zhaoxuan's consciousness in the most primal and violent way!
The icy despair (the endless darkness and suffocation beneath the water tower), the heart-wrenching pain and bewilderment of being "betrayed" by a loved one (the hand that pushed him into the water), the bone-chilling loneliness and coldness of the long years (eighty years of silent wandering), the earth-shattering shock and desolate relief upon learning the truth (that suicide note), the faint solace and closure upon finding his belongings... and, deepest within, that never-extinguished, almost instinctive yearning and longing for "light" and "warmth" (a figure who is always stubborn but soft-hearted, who would stay up all night for him, and who would risk everything for him)...
These memories and emotions that did not belong to him almost instantly overwhelmed and submerged Jin Zhaoxuan's self-awareness like a tsunami! He felt that he was about to be assimilated and dissipate in this ocean of pain.
"No... I can't... fall..." With his last bit of clarity, Jin Zhaoxuan anchored his consciousness to its core, and with all his might, he poured the golden energy he brought, which was almost burning hot, into the cold blue halo bit by bit along that thin thread.
“Yin…Shao…Qing…” he called out in broken thoughts, each word weighing a ton, “Come…back…I’ve found you…I’m…here…”
In the deathly silence and dark void.
That extremely faint blue halo seemed... to be so subtle as to be almost imperceptible...
It jumped slightly.
one time.
Like a heart that had sunk to the depths of an icy sea and had long since stopped beating, it was injected with a drop of scalding hot blood, full of life force.
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