The northern hemisphere’s late autumn night sky was somewhat desolate, with only the Great Square of Pegasus overhead and Fomalhaut at the southern horizon. As temperatures dropped, the stars seemed to grow dimmer and more melancholic. The teacher had once taught Ban Xia to recognize famous constellations—how Andromeda and Pegasus formed the Autumn Square, how Fomalhaut anchored the Summer Triangle in the southern autumn sky. Ban Xia couldn’t remember or find the others anymore. Unlike summer nights, when the air was crystal clear and your eyes seemed able to see infinitely far, with the brilliant Summer Triangle shining overhead. Summer also had meteor showers—the Perseids in August, one of the year’s largest. The teacher said this era no longer had fireworks, but it was perfect for watching shooting stars.
“Have you ever seen fireworks?” Ban Xia asked.
“Yes,” Bai Yang answered. “Who hasn’t seen fireworks?”
“Have you ever seen a shooting star?” Ban Xia asked again.
“No,” Bai Yang snorted. “With our light pollution, we can barely see stars, let alone shooting stars.”
French plane trees were turning yellow across the hills. The girl had switched to long sleeves and pants—this was her nineteenth autumn. During the day, Ban Xia carried her backpack and bow, pushing her bicycle through the wide Zhongshan Gate Street as withered leaves rustled down from above.
Whether people were present or not, leaves still fell year after year.
Regarding Ban Xia’s problems, Bai Zhen and Wang Ning urgently reviewed the situation again, holding a video conference the next day with the Huawei expert—who was working on the weekend anyway.
After pondering for a while, the expert said not to worry, he’d write them a document.
Half an hour later, he sent the document over. Bai Zhen and Wang Ning huddled together reading it for ages, then decided to ask him for an explanation document.
Half an hour later, the explanation document arrived. Bai Zhen and Wang Ning huddled together reading it for ages again, then decided to ask for an explanation document for the explanation document.
Separated by twenty years, they couldn’t communicate face-to-face with BG4MSR. Without the most effective means of communication, any small problem could become an insurmountable obstacle—especially since she was a complete novice. It was like teaching a monkey to use a typewriter and expecting it to produce Shakespeare’s complete works. Old Bai and Old Wang were exhausted, Ban Xia was exhausted, but everyone knew how important this was—it was a task that had to be completed.
By Sunday at midnight, Bai Yang had lost count of how many times they’d failed. The problems were like a tangled ball of yarn—not just messy but impossible to find at the beginning. He was losing patience, but she was still gritting her teeth and persisting.
“Just take a hammer and smash all this flat! Smash it!” Bai Yang said. “Big hammer eighty, small hammer forty! One strike solves all worries!”
“Xiao Yang, you can’t give up!” Wang Ning shouted from the living room. “Persistence is victory. Comfort that girl’s emotions! Keep her steady, we can’t let all our efforts go to waste!”
“She hasn’t broken down but I’m breaking down first!” Bai Yang shouted. “Who invented C language? If our system can’t run successfully, he’s the culprit behind world destruction! The sinner of all humanity!”
“Assembly language would kill you even faster,” Wang Ning said. “How’s BG4MSR doing over there?”
“Mild hysteria,” Bai Yang answered. “She’s scratching the walls with her fingernails.”
“Keep her steady! Stabilize her emotions! Tell her to hold on a bit longer, victory is in sight!” Wang Ning said. “We can’t fall at the final step toward victory!”
“Right! Persistence is victory!” Dad chimed in. “After we succeed, she can see whatever she wants!”
“Xiao Yang, tell her after we succeed, she can see whatever she wants! We’ll photograph anything!” Wang Ning said. “We can photograph you nak—”
“SMACK!”
That was the sound of Dad slapping “C#: From Beginner to Mastery” across Old Wang’s face.
“SMACK! SMACK!”
That was the sound of Mom slapping “C#: From Beginner to Mastery” across both Dad’s and Old Wang’s faces.
“CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!”
That was the sound of Bai Yang applauding.
“private… int[] Filter_10Khz…(int[] Data).”
“statusChart1.Value = re10(i);”
Ban Xia typed furiously on the keyboard, fingers frantically hitting Enter. At this moment, she had become an expert at pressing Enter—no one in the world could press Enter faster than her.
The monkeys on Zhongshan Gate Street might have better programming skills than her, but they definitely couldn’t press Enter as fast.
“Launch!”
The girl decisively hit Enter.
Error.
“Launch!”
Error.
“Launch!”
Error.
Days of continuous failure had broken even the unshakeable Huawei communications expert. From Saturday to Wednesday, Bai Zhen and Wang Ning asked him daily for explanation documents, explanation documents for the explanation documents, and explanation documents for the explanation documents’ explanation documents. Finally, the expert apologized: “Sorry, brothers, my skills aren’t enough to handle this. Let me recommend you to a real master.” And so he resolutely pushed his colleague into the fire pit—Bai Zhen and Wang Ning pounced like tigers spotting lambs.
Bai Yang had lost count of how many failures they’d had along the way, but Ban Xia remembered clearly. Starting from 10:40 PM on Sunday until 12:30 AM tonight, over four nights, they had failed thirty-three times.
Each failure initiated a checking phase, confirming everything from hardware to software. The girl’s patience and confidence were gradually drained away, leaving only momentum. Facing the errors on the display, she would roll around on the floor scratching walls, then quietly return to the keyboard after venting. After days of continuous failure, in Ban Xia’s mind, programming was no longer a technical task but praying to heaven and trying one’s luck. Before running code, one should burn incense and bathe, preferably sacrifice chickens and sheep to the computer, chant incantations, and beg the Programming God to have mercy.
“Heaven above, computer below, Oh God of Programming, please hear my prayer.” Ban Xia stood straight in the room, hands washed, expression solemn, eyes closed, palms pressed together. “I, Ban Xia, beseech you to bless my code to run successfully without errors. I will forever remember your mercy. Teacher, if you have spirit in heaven, please find the Programming God—if it won’t show mercy, please help it be merciful. Amen, Allahu Akbar, Amitabha, Infinite Celestial Venerable.”
“First bow—!”
Ban Xia bowed to the monitor and motherboard on the desk.
“Second bow—!”
Ban Xia bowed again to the monitor and motherboard.
“Third bow—!”
Ban Xia made a final bow to the monitor and motherboard.
Then she walked step by step to the desk, sat down properly, held her breath, slowly raised both hands, movements meticulous, and slowly pressed Enter.
After several seconds of silence, massive cheering erupted in Bai Yang’s headphones.
“Success! Success! Success-success-success-success-SUCC-ESS!”
It worked.
Bai Zhen and Wang Ning sprang to their feet in the living room, extremely excited.
“How did she do it?” Bai Zhen asked. “How did she manage it?”
“She said she found the trick,” Bai Yang answered.
“What trick?”
Bai Yang hesitated, “Pray, chant incantations, and bow three times before running.”
Ban Xia believed she had mastered the key to programming—first, pray to the Programming God, then bow three times to the computer. So in the following software transmission process, at each step, she would first pray and bow in her room. Bai Zhen and Wang Ning found her behavior questionable but couldn’t say it was wrong—after all, internet companies having masters bless their servers wasn’t anything new.
By the time all software was transmitted and the trans-temporal image transmission system was complete, it was already 1:30 AM.
Everyone decided to conduct the formal test tomorrow night, which worked well since Bai Yang had time to go out and take photos tomorrow.
“Remember, Confucius Temple, Xinjiekou, and the Qinhuai River—can’t miss any of them!” Ban Xia exhaled deeply, very happy.
“Won’t miss any of them. I’ll spend the whole day tomorrow taking photos for you!” Bai Yang said. “I’ll photograph whatever you want to see! Let you get a good look at this world.”
The next day, Bai Yang woke up earlier than usual. Yawning as he walked out of his bedroom, he saw his father sitting in the living room watching TV—CCTV13 News Channel’s “Morning News.”
“Yesterday at 14:35, Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center successfully launched a Long March 6 carrier rocket…”
Bai Yang watched the TV for a few extra moments before plopping down in a chair. His father sat across the table, drinking soy milk. “How are you planning to take photos today?”
“I’ll take batches in the morning, afternoon, and evening—show Nanjing’s features from all angles, all times, all perspectives,” Bai Yang said. “How’s that sound?”
“Not bad. Make them look good—you’re representing the human world after all.”
So when Bai Yang went to school in the morning, he deliberately took a detour, cycling through small streets. He felt that photos shouldn’t just be of tourist spots—wasn’t everyday life good material too? Bai Yang felt a little proud of his insight—who would’ve thought, Bai Yang, that you’d have some talent as a photographer and artist! So he photographed commuters rushing to work, people queuing at breakfast stalls, and students like himself heading to school.
At noon, he called He Leqin and Yan Zhihan, and the three wandered to Xinjiekou, Confucius Temple, and Xuanwu Lake, taking photos non-stop along the way—buildings, pedestrians, buses. Young Master He and Brother Yan were curious about his behavior—why was Little White Sheep acting like a tourist today? What was worth photographing? They’d walked this route if not a thousand times then at least eight hundred times, could walk it with their eyes closed.
Bai Yang didn’t explain, just kept pressing the shutter.
Brother Yan pulled Young Master He aside and whispered, asking if Little White Sheep had found an online girlfriend—was he taking photos for her?
Young Master He said how would I know?
By the end of the day, Bai Yang had a full harvest—hundreds of photos stored in his phone, just waiting to be transmitted to BG4MXH.
But the unexpected change came suddenly.
Everything was unexpected.
At 10:30 PM, Bai Yang eagerly climbed to the eighth floor, took out his key, and opened the door. “I’m home—”
His voice cut off abruptly.
The living room was full of people. The moment Bai Yang opened the door, everyone turned their heads. Bai Yang immediately spotted the person sitting on the sofa—wearing a black long-sleeved hoodie and jeans, tortoiseshell-framed glasses, travel-worn, somewhat thin, looking rather haggard—he knew that face all too well. His father’s old classmate and friend, the Associate Professor of Physics at Nanjing University, Zhao Bowen, who had been missing without word for many days, had finally returned.