The First Base was the most secure sealed room in Nanjing city. If anywhere could be safer than it, that would only be the Second Base.
Each base housed a data center. It was humanity’s gift to the future and the only witness and recorder of the apocalyptic disaster. Both bases would survive through catastrophe, persisting until the end, becoming the only databases Banxia could access in the post-apocalyptic era.
This was a massive reconnaissance operation, with the scout traveling alone through the river of time. Humanity would perish in disaster, but the bases would not. They would traverse the long passage of time and solitude, waiting for the one they had always waited for. Command hoped it could unlock all the mysteries and find a glimmer of hope for survival.
This was the true meaning of survival against all odds.
Banxia’s task was simple—she only needed to enter the base and wake the sleeping computers.
The only operation was to press a button.
If one press didn’t work, press it twice.
Once awakened, the dormant base would immediately become operational. The awakened system would deploy its high-gain satellite antenna and upload all data to the relay satellite.
From start to finish, it was foolproof. Once the girl completed it, she could head home, switch the radio to satellite mode, and mission accomplished.
“Just press once?”
“Just press once.” Baiyang nodded. “Although the server databases are very complex, they made the actual operation extremely simple. Miss, when you go down, you should see a very prominent button. Hit it hard once, and it’ll start up, OVER.”
Baiyang recalled the engineering team’s description. They said there was no need to worry about finding the power button or operations being too complex. The engineering team had guaranteed, patting their chests, that the button would be very prominent, truly very prominent—even a blind person could find it.
(Baiyang still underestimated what the engineering team meant by ‘prominent’—when Banxia entered the First Base, she found a red button the size of a rice bowl.)
“There won’t be any code input steps, right?” Banxia asked.
“No, the engineering team assured me all operations won’t exceed poking, pressing, or hitting,” Baiyang replied. “The required operational IQ age can’t exceed nine years old. Animal behavior experts have evaluated it—they believe even trained monkeys could complete all steps, OVER.”
“What about untrained monkeys?”
“Untrained monkeys can receive training in the base,” Baiyang said. “Miss, where are you now? OVER.”
“I think I’m almost at Yixian Bridge, but it’s too dark outside tonight, not a bit of moonlight. Do you know how dark it is here? I’m stretching out my hand now—if it were any longer, I wouldn’t be able to see how many fingers I have.”
Banxia slowed her pace, walking along the curb. She couldn’t see what she was stepping on—the asphalt was covered in black mud, animal droppings, and rotting branches. Banxia judged what she stepped on by the sound and feedback: soft was mud, hard then soft was dung, a “crack” sound was tree branches. It was so quiet around that not a single sound could be heard, making the sound of stepping on branches particularly clear in the air.
Banxia had never ventured out so far at night before. She carefully observed her surroundings. There were many abandoned car shells along the way—at night they all became indistinguishable black shadows, each encounter making Banxia nervous. Logically, Zhongshan East Road was a familiar main road, but once darkness fell, it felt like a different city entirely.
Was that building ahead of the Nanyuan Complex?
Or Institute 55?
Vaguely, tall black shadows loomed in the distance, unclear through the thick foliage. She’d need to get closer to make out what they were. The familiar Nanjing city was veiled in darkness, making her unrecognizable to Banxia.
“BG, how much time do I have?”
“Seven minutes, OVER.”
Banxia slowly exhaled, stopping to hide behind a burnt-out car shell. She crouched by the curb, tapped her shoe soles, and tightened her backpack straps firmly.
“BG, sing me a song?”
Baiyang was startled.
The plan was to check in every five minutes, but no one had followed this rule. Since the operation began, Banxia hadn’t stopped talking, chattering away. She said walking alone at night in the wilderness was truly frightening if you didn’t have someone to talk to.
“If you sing, I won’t be scared.”
“Uh…” Baiyang hesitated. “Miss, what would you like to hear?”
He wondered if, given this girl’s usual singing style, he should perform “Blue-faced Dou Erdun Steals the Imperial Horse—?”
But no way—who knew how many people were monitoring their conversation? This was practically a public channel. If he, Baiyang burst into song on a public channel with “Blue-faced Dou Erdun Steals the Imperial Horse, Red-faced Guan Gong Battles in Changsha—”, someone would immediately call Command saying they’re all comrades, please don’t sing.
“Sing this.” Banxia hummed a tune. “Can you sing it?”
“Yes.”
“Then sing!”
Baiyang awkwardly scratched his temple—no one had mentioned his duties would include this.
But he sang anyway:
“I can catch the moon, I will use countless dreams,
To raise countless oars.”
“Using courage and wisdom as,
My boat oars,”
“Rowing the moon boat toward distant shores.”
“Miss, I can’t remember the rest of the lyrics.”
The girl giggled on the other end, tapping her radio’s microphone to applaud.
Baiyang inwardly lamented his lost dignity.
“Miss, where are you now? OVER.”
“I should be at the Panda Building.” Banxia gazed at the vague black building in the night. “After passing the Panda Building is Yixian Bridge, right? I’m almost there.”
“Yes, turn right onto Longpan Middle Road before Yixian Bridge, then continue straight along Longpan Middle Road. You have three minutes left, OVER.”
“Understood, turn right onto Longpan Middle Road at Yixian Bridge… wait.”
The girl’s voice suddenly changed.
“What’s wrong?” Baiyang became instantly alert.
“This isn’t right… this isn’t right, this doesn’t seem to be the Panda Building…”
The girl sounded confused, surprised, and bewildered.
“Not the Panda Building?”
“Wait, let me get closer to look, maybe I saw wrong. Strange, it doesn’t look like the Panda Building… let me get a bit closer, a bit closer—no, BG!”
The girl’s voice suddenly changed.
“This is the Nanjing Library! BG, this is the Library!”
The Nanjing Library’s tall glass curtain wall was still distinguishable in the darkness. Banxia had unknowingly walked to the Library’s entrance.
She had gone too far!
Banxia instinctively turned to look back—where was Yixian Bridge? Had she already passed it?
She suddenly realized she had gone too far. In the pitch-black night where she couldn’t visually orient herself, she had misjudged her walking speed, unsure if she had walked four kilometers or five.
She didn’t know when she had started misidentifying landmarks, but it might have been quite early.
Banxia wasn’t the only one who had made a mistake—Command had erred too. They thought the Yixian Bridge would be an obvious landmark, but this bridge no longer existed in the future. Through the long passage of time and lack of maintenance, it had been blocked and filled in. At night, standing on the bridge, one couldn’t even tell it was a bridge—something that couldn’t be seen in satellite images.
Banxia had been intently looking for this bridge, hurrying along, following Zhongshan East Road straight ahead, passing Yixian Bridge without realizing it, and thus unknowingly went too far.
The computer team’s safe zone was anywhere outside a two-kilometer radius from Xinjiekou within forty minutes. From Xinjiekou to Yixian Bridge was exactly two kilometers—meaning if Banxia had turned at Yixian Bridge, she could have avoided the big eye.
But now she had penetrated deep into the big eye’s activity range, walking an extra kilometer to the Library entrance.
The Library was only one kilometer from Xinjiekou.
Standing at the Library entrance, one could see the roof of the Xinbai Building at Xinjiekou.
In the night, Banxia couldn’t see the Xinbai Building, but she knew it was there because she could see that high above, dark red, firefly-like glowing eye.