The reentry capsule stood two meters tall, its lower half buried in soil. Under the moonlight, it appeared as a massive charred cone. To be honest, if Ban Xia hadn’t had White Yang’s explanation, she wouldn’t have recognized what it was at all. Identifying a manned spacecraft’s command module required knowledge of aerospace engineering, something the girl knew nothing about. Over many years, she had passed by reentry capsules countless times, each time mistaking them for unexploded warheads.

A small pebble traced an arc through the air, landing in the crater with a “plop” before bouncing and rolling away.

The air remained still.

Ten minutes later, a tiny head peeked out from beneath a concrete slab, cautiously looking left and right.

“BG, I’m in position.”

Ban Xia took a deep breath and slowly crawled out from between the gaps in the ruins.

Leaving Plum Blossom Manor for the ruins of People’s Life Plaza to inspect the spacecraft and nuclear weapons with insufficient intelligence was an extremely risky move, but everyone agreed it was worth the risk.

The girl jumped into the crater, carefully but quickly crossing the shallow depression. The impact crater was large but shallow, forming a circle nearly a hundred meters in diameter, with the reentry capsule at its center. Only upon getting closer did Ban Xia realize the capsule’s shell had originally been white—its thermal tiles had been scorched by the intense heat of atmospheric reentry, turning it into a huge black lump by the time it landed, half-buried in the soil. Small green circular leaves grew sporadically in the crater, climbing up to the capsule’s top along rain-carved channels, even sprouting a bright yellow flower.

Ban Xia circled the reentry capsule once. When she reached the back, she discovered the capsule body was severely deformed, likely from colliding with buildings during its descent. The outer shell was badly cracked and caved in. Looking through the side hatch opening, the interior was charred—this spacecraft must have caught fire after its failed landing. The hanging electrical cables crumbled to powder at the slightest touch.

The girl bent down and crawled inside. Her feet stepped into a thin layer of mud. The space was quite roomy and permeated with the musty smell of soil. She looked up and around—this would make a decent shelter, and surely many animals had made their home here. Sure enough, looking down she saw rotting bird feathers, broken eggshells, and droppings from unknown creatures. This place was quite lively during summer.

No one else in the world would know what this was. Ban Xia reached out to tap the blackened inner wall, scraping away the caked grime to reveal the silvery metal beneath. This thing was older than she was, yet from another perspective, it had only been launched three days ago.

“Nuclear weapon… where’s the nuclear weapon?”

She needed to find a nuclear weapon and a key.

White Yang had said the nuclear weapon was housed in the command module—a deep red sphere slightly larger than a basketball, and quite heavy. The key was stored in a plastic sealed box—a thin, smooth metal insert, three centimeters long and two millimeters thick.

But now nothing recognizable remained inside the capsule. Everything had been burned black, and years of animal activity had gnawed anything chewable to bits. In the current state, the delicate key was certainly destroyed beyond hope. Ban Xia needed to find the nuclear weapon and confirm it was still effective.

Confirming its effectiveness was simple—just check if the structure was intact. An intact structure meant it was effective.

“BG, can you hear me?” Ban Xia leaned against the capsule wall, pointing the radio antenna toward the hatch. “I’ve searched the spacecraft interior. The condition is terrible nothing remains, and I haven’t found Miss Qiu.”

“Miss, this is BG, received, OVER.”

“I’m going to search outside the spacecraft next. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, OVER.”

The search area outside was much larger. Sparse, withered yellow grass grew knee-high in the crater, scattered with large chunks of building debris—broken bricks, snapped rebar, solidified concrete. A thick beam about ten meters long stuck diagonally into the ground like a massive rusted sword. Ban Xia stood alone among the grass, her shadow shifting inch by inch with the moonlight.

The night wind carried the salty tang of the sea.

“A red sphere… a red sphere…”

Ban Xia muttered, scanning the ground.

She had been here many times but had never seen any deep red sphere. Shouldn’t something like that be quite conspicuous? She searched back and forth, afraid of missing any clues.

“Could there be a red sphere here?” the girl tilted her head, talking to herself as she walked forward step by step.

“Ah!”

She slipped on something underfoot, nearly falling flat on her face.

Meanwhile.

At headquarters.

The digital clock on the coffee table was counting down—48 hours remained until the planned nuclear weapon unlock time. White Yang anxiously awaited good news from the girl, while others tensely discussed the key transmission plan. Early this morning, the project team had urgently recreated a key, which now sat on the coffee table. It was indeed tiny, three centimeters long and one centimeter wide, truly thin at two millimeters thick, made of metal, like a special USB drive. It lay quietly in its foam padding, unremarkable from a distance, but up close one could observe the fine patterns on its surface.

The project team said it contained a chip—the most classified of classified items. If it was lost, everyone would end up in prison.

Bai Zhen immediately stepped back, saying this had nothing to do with him, he knew nothing, they should carry on with their business, he was just passing through… he’d go check on his son’s situation.

He pushed open White Yang’s bedroom door and asked, “Son, how’s the situation with the young miss? Has she found the nuclear weapon?”

The room was dark, the computer screen the only light source. White Yang wore headphones and propped up his head, his back motionless.

“Son?”

White Yang’s back suddenly trembled. Old Bai quickly closed the door, thinking he might have disturbed him.

Then he heard a long sigh from the room. Old Bai became more convinced of his thought, while secretly wondering if self-entertainment during work hours was appropriate. Though with his recent extreme stress needing release, this was understandable…

Before he could think further in an even worse direction, White Yang’s voice came from the bedroom:

“It’s done!”

Bai Zhen pushed the door open again. “Done?”

“Done.” White Yang tiredly fell back, leaning against the chair, slowly removing his headphones and letting out a long breath. “Message from the young miss—Miss Qiu has been found, structure maintained intact, no damage observed.”

“Excellent!” Bai Zhen was overjoyed.

White Yang slowly turned his head, his expression unclear in the backlight, only his eyes holding a glimmer of light.

Bai Zhen had been ecstatic, but seeing his son’s eyes, the joy was completely washed away by cold water. For some reason, his body suddenly felt chilled. Old Bai stood agape for a long while before asking, “Confirmed the nuclear weapon is effective?”

“Confirmed the nuclear weapon is effective.”

White Yang nodded. This was joyous news—he wanted to smile but couldn’t.

“The chip is extremely fragile, and cannot withstand high temperatures, high pressure, or strong impacts.” The nuclear project team sat in the living room cracking sunflower seeds. The supposedly ultra-classified nuclear weapon key sat alongside a large bag of Qiaqia sunflower seeds. “It must be delivered safely to MSR, with a hundred percent success rate.”

“That’s impossible.” Wang Ning shook his head. “You know the Three Laws of Time Slow Delivery?”

“Yes.”

“To avoid this world’s filtering mechanism, you first have to place it in a state where it’s nearly lost and unretrievable. That’s the first step of Time Slow Delivery, a risk that must be taken.” Wang Ning said, “The tighter you hold it in your hands, the less likely it is to reach its destination. This world will fight you even harder.”

“These aren’t problems for us to solve.” The nuclear project team straightforwardly played the client card. “We’re only responsible for providing the key. Successfully delivering it is your job.”

Wang Ning thought to himself, there are no eternal clients in this world—those who play clients will one day be tormented by clients.

The nuclear project team finally reiterated their requirements:

Safety!

Safety!

And more fucking safety!