176: Chapter 176 The Language of God, Poetry is Code

At the launch event, after the repeated bombardment of the "Chongming" chip's performance, everyone's nerves were stretched to the limit.

Chen Xu did not give them a chance to catch their breath.

"I know many of you still have doubts about the concept of the 'Chinese Instruction Set'."

"You think it's a gimmick, nationalist packaging, an incomprehensible pseudo-concept."

Below the stage, Intel's Robert, Microsoft's Luo Wei, and Nvidia's Jensen Huang did not refute him, but the expressions on their faces said everything.

They indeed thought so.

In their understanding, the underlying language of computers should be a precise logical world composed of 0s and 1s. It should not, and could not, be deeply coupled with any specific human natural language.

At the Lenovo Group headquarters, in CEO Yang Qing's office.

He looked at Chen Xu's young face on the live broadcast, the sneer at the corner of his mouth becoming more and more obvious.

"'Pseudo-concept' is being too polite," Yang Qing said to his assistant, shaking his head.

"I see this as a complete and utter scam. Does he think that by inciting some nationalistic sentiment, he can cover up his technical nonsense? The waters of the PC industry are much deeper than he imagines."

The assistant nodded in agreement, but his eyes dared not leave the screen, fearing he might miss a single detail.

At the launch event, Chen Xu ignored the skeptical looks and whispers from the audience.

He said a single sentence to the air.

"Ling, show them."

The holographic projection device in the center of the stage activated once again.

Ling's virtual image, wearing a white dress, appeared before everyone.

Her silver eyes swept across the room, finally stopping on one area.

Sitting there were reporters from major domestic mainstream media outlets.

"I need a volunteer," Ling's voice rang out, "a volunteer who knows absolutely nothing about computer programming."

The media reporters looked at each other.

Finally, a quiet-looking girl in her early twenties with black-rimmed glasses, sitting in the third row, nervously raised her hand under the encouragement of her colleagues.

Her name tag displayed her name and organization—Lin Wei, intern reporter for China Youth Literature magazine.

"You then," Chen Xu said, making an inviting gesture toward her.

Lin Wei took a deep breath and, under the encouraging gazes of those around her, walked onto the stage.

Standing in the center of the stage, she looked at the dense crowd below and the flashing lenses around her; her palms were covered in sweat.

"Reporter Lin Wei, is that right?" Chen Xu asked with a smile.

"Ye... yes, Chairman Chen," Lin Wei's voice trembled slightly.

"Don't be nervous," Chen Xu reassured her. "You don't need to do anything complicated. I just need you to use Chinese to describe a scene in your heart for us."

Lin Wei was stunned for a moment.

Describe a scene?

She was a literature enthusiast with countless poems and songs stored in her head; this was almost instinctual for her.

Closing her eyes, a picture flashed through her mind—it was the artistic conception described by one of her favorite Tang poems.

She spoke softly into the microphone.

"In the vast desert, a lone plume of smoke rises straight; over the long river, the setting sun is round."

Ten characters, brief yet profound in its imagery.

As her voice fell, the development interface of the "Luoshu" language on the giant screen behind the stage changed.

Ling raised her right hand.

With her movement, those two lines of poetry on the screen were parsed and decomposed into clear "intent instructions."

[Scene Type: Desert]

[Core Element 1: Smoke, Form Definition: Vertical, Environment Definition: Windless]

[Core Element 2: River, Form Definition: Wide]

[Core Element 3: Light Source, Type: Sun, State: Sunset, Form: Circular, Color Temperature: 2000 Orange-Red Tone]

The next second.

A grand and desolate 3D world was generated in real-time on the screen.

Boundless sand dunes stretched to the edge of the horizon, the sky dyed a magnificent orange-red by the setting sun.

A single straight plume of cooking smoke rose from a distant dune, drawing a gray line in the still air.

A wide river flowed quietly like a golden ribbon laid across the sea of sand.

The river surface reflected the round setting sun in the sky.

The lighting, particle effects, and atmospheric scattering of the entire scene—every detail was realistic to a terrifying degree.

It was a living, breathing digital oil painting.

All the developers, engineers, and analysts in the audience were collectively speechless at that moment.

Their brains were struck blank by this scene that completely transcended their understanding.

"Is this... is this generated in real-time?" Intel's Robert instinctively asked the technical expert beside him.

The technical expert didn't answer, just stared blankly at the screen, unconsciously repeating a word.

"Impossible... impossible..."

Chen Xu looked at the dumbfounded faces in the audience, then at Lin Wei on the stage, who was also in shock.

"Reporter Lin, do you feel like anything is missing?"

Lin Wei snapped back to reality, looking at the scene on the screen she had only dared to imagine in her dreams, and instinctively added a sentence.

"If... if by the river, there could be a swordsman in white wiping his sword, and the setting sun on the horizon could be reflected on the blade... that would be even better."

Just as she finished speaking.

The intent instructions for "Luoshu" on the screen refreshed again.

[New Element: Character, Profession: Swordsman, Clothing: White Robe]

[New Action: Wiping, Target: Sword]

[New Special Effect: Reflection, Light Source: Sunset, Reflective Surface: Blade]

In the image.

On the bank of the long river, the figure of a swordsman in white with long hair tied up appeared out of thin air.

He held a simple, ancient longsword and was carefully wiping the blade with a piece of cloth.

The camera slowly zoomed in.

On that mirror-smooth blade, the large, round setting sun on the horizon and that straight plume of lone smoke were clearly reflected.

The glow of the setting sun flowed and shifted on the blade with the swordsman's wiping motions.

At this moment.

Everyone in the audience, those who understood technology and those who didn't, all stood up from their seats.

Their scalps tingled.

This wasn't programming; this was manifesting words into reality, this was creation.

Chen Xu walked over to the equally dumbstruck Lin Wei and took the microphone from her hand.

Facing the audience and the cameras, his voice was calm but carried a certain power.

"In the era of 'Luoshu,' programmers will no longer compete on code proficiency or the complexity of algorithms."

"But on imagination, on aesthetics, and on cultural depth."

"The top programmers of the future must first be masters of language, poets, and dreamers."

He paused for a moment.

"And the only language leading to this future is Chinese."

As his voice fell.

The bullet comments in the domestic livestream rooms exploded completely, filling the screen.

[Chinese Language and Literature is number one in the world!]

[I'm crying. Why am I, a civil engineering student, crying?]

[My mom asked me why I'm watching the launch event on my knees; I told her I'm welcoming a god!]

[From today on, Chinese is the universal language of the universe! No arguments accepted!]