46: Farewell and New Beginning

The newly signed agreement, ink still wet, felt like a red-hot branding iron pressed tightly against his chest, heavy, scorching, and radiating a suffocating heat that made it almost impossible for him to breathe.

He still clutched the copy of the document tightly, its hard, crisp edges digging into his palm, bringing a cold, undeniable sting of reality that reminded him of the truth and cruelty of the transaction just concluded.

Xiao Zhang followed silently half a step behind him, like an emotionless, highly intelligent shadow, both guarding this "precious" skin of his that had suddenly become so valuable, and closely monitoring his every move to ensure this important "asset" would not experience any unplanned fluctuations.

Standing again at the door of the familiar dormitory 306, the number plate already somewhat blurred, Excellence felt as if blocked by an invisible barrier, unable to step inside for a long time.

He just stood blankly outside the door, his gaze slowly and greedily sweeping over everything in the room, as if to carve every detail into the depths of his memory.

In the corner, the wreckage of the early energy transmission device—rudimentary and jokingly called "bathtub fusion" but which had indeed successfully lit up a light bulb—sat like an abandoned, silent steel monster, telling the story of his initial innocence and fanaticism; on the back of the chair, the first-generation optical camouflage demo, which worked intermittently and had caused him to make a fool of himself several times during club recruitment, hung like a failed flag, recording countless awkward yet exploration-filled attempts; on the shelf by the bed, the EEG cap covered in hand-soldered electrodes and colorful flying wires, which he had used to achieve his first brain-wave-controlled light switch, sat like a strange crown, witnessing the flashes of inspiration during those sleepless nights; on the desk, the open commentary on the huainan wanbi shu with yellowed pages, which had accompanied him through countless nights of struggle and epiphany, fluttered gently in the breeze slipping in from the window gap, as if The Whisper was silently telling the story of the fierce collision between ancient wisdom and modern thinking...

And on the windowsill, the thermal soup jar, printed with elegant little floral patterns, which Su Mu had carefully washed clean after bringing him soup last time and which reflected a soft shimmer in the afternoon sun, sat like a warm mark embedded in this chaotic technical wonder, reminding him of his last, fragile, and precious connection of warmth with the outside world.

Everything was filled with memories, soaked in his sweat, his obsession, his countless failures, and his brief ecstasy.

This was not just a place to sleep; it was the hotbed where his dreams grew wildly, the stumbling starting point of his hand-crafted path to salvation, and the final proof of existence and soul habitat for him as a "human," an independent individual with free will and the impulse to explore.

A heartbreak-inducing reluctance and sadness surged like a cold tide, instantly drowning his heart and threatening to swallow him whole.

His eye sockets uncontrollably grew hot and astringent, and his vision quickly blurred.

He bit his lower lip hard, forcing himself to push back that sour, hot current.

He took a deep breath, as if to inhale and store all the familiar air in the room—mixed with pine resin, old paper, metal, and a faint, elusive scent of food—and then silently began to pack.

What could be taken and what must be left was already clearly and explicitly stipulated in emotionless Song typeface on the cold attachment list at the end of the agreement.

Most of the hand-crafted equipment and work notes that he treasured like life and to which he had poured countless days and nights of effort were required to be sealed in place, affixed with special tamper-evident seals, and left for the professional technical team subordinate to the National Special Bureau arriving later to conduct comprehensive technical analysis, risk assessment, and "securitization" before transfer—they no longer belonged to him personally, but officially became part of "national assets," numbered, archived, and incorporated into a strict control system.

The so-called "personal items" he could take were pitifully few: a few changes of ordinary clothes, that crucial ancient book, and... some insignificant daily necessities that would not reveal any technical details.

His life was extremely simplified, stripped down to only the most basic needs.

When packing the commentary on the huainan wanbi shu, his fingers became unusually gentle and slow, as if stroking a fragile, living treasure.

He rubbed the rough and tough paper surface, feeling the unique touch left by the ink of varying depths and the passage of time.

Before his eyes, Evelyn's complex, light gray eyes seemed to flash, along with her meaningful smile, tinged with a hint of pity and calculation, when she handed him this book.

This "gift," harboring malicious intent from the dark abyss, had ironically become one of the keys for him to break through key bottlenecks.

The arrangement of fate was full of heart-stopping irony and an indescribable, hair-raising coincidence.

Just as he was dazed, completely immersed in the melancholy of parting and the recollection of the past, his mobile phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated, the buzzing sound appearing particularly abrupt in this overly quiet room.

He took it out, the screen lit up, it was a WeChat message from Su Mu.

The avatar was still that simple mathematical formula icon.

"Are you okay? That person who came looking for you earlier... seemed very serious."

The text was simple, without any decoration, but it was like a pebble thrown into the surging yet dead-silent lake of his heart, instantly rippling out a circle of complex and warm ripples.

Excellence looked at that simple greeting, his nose suddenly sour, and the tears he had been holding back almost burst out.

A strong, almost uncontrollable desire to confide and a huge sense of grievance, like a broken dam, impacted his fragile defense line.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling fingers, trying to make his tone in the text appear normal, even with a hint of a relaxed facade.

He clumsily tapped the screen and replied: "I'm fine, monitor. It's just... there's a rare overseas exchange project in the department that they temporarily recommended me for. Maybe... I have to go out and study for a while."

He lied.

He had to lie.

He couldn't tell her the truth, couldn't drag her into this bottomless vortex filled with cold calculations and deadly danger.

Protecting her was perhaps the only thing he could do at this moment with a weak sense of independent will.

There was silence for a long time on the other end, so long that Excellence thought there was a network delay, so long that he thought she had keenly sensed the abnormality and chose silence, so long that he thought this pale lie had already been exposed to the air.

Then, a line of text slowly jumped onto the screen, without any emojis, without any follow-up questions: "Oh. That... sounds good. Good luck."

Across the cold screen, he could almost see her delicate eyebrows slightly furrowed, her lips slightly parted as if wanting to say something, and could feel that her keen insight, far exceeding ordinary people, had already captured an unusual atmosphere, but she ultimately chose silence, chose respect, and chose to express her... care and trust in the simplest and most restrained way.

This tacit understanding, this silent, heavy consideration made Excellence feel even more uncomfortable, as if tightly gripped by a gentle yet powerful hand, sour and swollen, almost unable to breathe.

"Thank you."

He finally only replied with these two words.

Thousands of words, all the explanations, all the helplessness, all the gratitude, all the reluctance, were blocked in his chest, churning endlessly, but not a single word could be said, ultimately turning into these two pale, powerless, yet heavy words.

Every stroke was like carving a scar on his heart.

The final moment of farewell arrived, cold and punctual.

Xiao Zhang and two other technical personnel in plain clothes but with eyes as sharp as eagles and actions as capable as precision machines entered silently, beginning to skillfully affix special seals with unique numbers and encrypted QR codes to his equipment, take photos from multiple angles, record in detail, and pack them into special shock-proof and electromagnetic-shielding transport cases.

The whole process was quiet, efficient, and cold, without any extra words or communication, only the slight buzzing of instruments and equipment and the subtle sounds of moving objects, like a silent funeral, burying the time of exploration from his past that was full of freedom but also full of anxiety.

Excellence took one last deep look at this small square space that carried so many of his dreams, struggles, sweat, and brief joys.

He picked up his own pitifully simple, flat travel bag (mainly containing the ancient book and a few wrinkled clothes), like a puppet whose soul had been drained and could only follow instructions, bowed his head, and walked out the dormitory door without looking back.

He dared not look back, fearing that one more glance would make him completely collapse.

Downstairs, the black SUV that looked very ordinary but actually contained mysteries, with extremely high armor and bulletproof levels, was already parked silently on the roadside, the engine maintaining a low, almost inaudible idle, like a dormant beast ready to pounce at any time.

He opened the car door, subconsciously looked back one last time, and took a deep look at the familiar dormitory building.

The sunlight was just right, spilling mottled, dancing spots of light through the gaps in the dense camphor tree leaves.

A few students were walking out of the building with their arms around each other's shoulders, laughing and talking, carrying schoolbags, holding basketballs, discussing the exam that had just ended or the dinner party in the evening, walking towards the cafeteria, towards the classroom, towards the ordinary, free, and vibrant university campus life that he could no longer easily reach.

His eyes turned completely red in an instant, and the scorching liquid could no longer be suppressed, surging up, his vision blurring.

He suddenly lowered his head, quickly got into the car, pulled the door shut with force, as if afraid that one more glance would make him lose all courage to leave, and would make him unable to help but jump out of the car and flee back to that small world that, although chaotic, belonged to him.

The car door slammed shut, heavy and resolute, instantly isolating the bright, warm sunlight outside, isolating the fresh, free air, isolating the youthful, noisy, and vibrant sounds.

Inside the car, it was a completely different world: the temperature was constant without any fluctuation, the air was efficiently filtered and carried a hint of sweet artificial taste, and only the faint blue indicator lights on the dashboard and the low, monotonous operation sound of the air conditioning system created a cold, absolutely controlled silence.

The vehicle started steadily, sliding out of the campus silently, merging into the endless flow of traffic like a drop of water into a river, driving towards a completely unknown direction that was strictly protected but also completely devoid of freedom.

Excellence leaned powerlessly against the cold car window glass, his forehead pressed against the cold window, watching the familiar street scene receding rapidly outside the window—the ramen restaurant he often visited where the boss would always give him an extra scoop of braised meat and tell him to take care of his health, the internet cafe where he and a few buddies would occasionally stay up late playing games and eating instant noodles, the quiet bookstore that Su Mu liked to visit the most, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows and walls of bookshelves, always filled with the scent of coffee... Everything familiar, representing a normal, ordinary, warm life, was rapidly moving away from him, becoming more and more blurred, and finally disappearing at the end of his field of vision, disappearing at the crossroads of life.

His hand unconsciously gripped the cold, ancient thread-bound book in his pocket tightly, as if it were his only connection to the past, and the last bit of comfort and anchor he could grasp in this rapidly changing, terrifying, and involuntary torrent of reality.

The new road had already unfolded ruthlessly at his feet.

On this road, there would be no cheap components from Pinduoduo or late-night snacks in the dormitory, no laughter and scolding from classmates or sunny lawns on campus, only the highest-level biological laboratories, the strictest security measures, the most advanced scientific research equipment, and... more surging undercurrents, heavier expectations, more ubiquitous monitoring, and more complex power games.

His hand-crafted path to salvation, after experiencing initial ignorance, exploration, breakthroughs, and life-and-death crises, was forced into a brand-new, more complex, and dangerous stage.

He was no longer that salted-fish teenager who could hide in the dormitory and explore freely, with the option to start over if he failed; he had become the core of the "Candle Dragon" project, a "national treasure" under strict supervision, a... key pawn on a huge chessboard, unable to control his own fate.

The future, like a dense fog, shrouded the front, full of both the possibility of reaching infinite truth by relying on cutting-edge resources, and the fatal danger of being doomed if one step was taken wrong.