195: Chapter 194 Voting, Vacation and a Bowl of Plain Noodles

The vote of the seven Ancient Sages civilizations took place within a completely silent quantum entanglement network.

There was no debate, no speeches, only cold numbers circulating at a conceptual level—this was the convention The Council had operated by for one hundred thousand years: avoiding emotional interference, absolute rational decision-making.

But today, the convention was broken.

The Wandering Poet forcibly opened a "public observation channel" in the voting network, broadcasting the voting process in real-time to some nodes of the web weaver protocol, including GW-002.

In The Poet's words: "Let the young ones see how the old guys vote against things with their eyes closed."

The voting interface was concise to the point of boredom: seven points of light, corresponding to the seven Ancient Sagess.

The agenda had only one line:

[Maintain the resource restriction order on Dragon Country Civilization?]

Two options below: Maintain (red), Relax (green).

The points of light began to flicker.

First Seat "Eternal Vault" (Iron Abacus proper): Red.

Second Seat "Gardener Chief": Flickered for a full thirty seconds—which was abnormally long in quantum voting—and finally jumped to green.

Third Seat "Tranquil Garden": Red.

Fourth Seat "Dream Weaver": Red.

Fifth Seat "Wandering Poet": Green.

Three red against two green.

The key lay with the Sixth Seat "Truth Sculptor" and the Seventh Seat "Time Weaver".

The Sixth Seat's point of light remained motionless.

According to the rules, abstentions counted towards the "Maintain" side, because the restriction order was already in effect, and maintaining the status quo required no additional votes.

The Seventh Seat was similarly motionless.

In 002's observation channel, Stardust was so anxious that starlight was sputtering everywhere: "Move! Move, you old fossils! You weren't like this when you were voting for your own energy subsidies!"

Just at the three-second countdown—

The Sixth Seat's point of light suddenly jumped.

Not red, nor green.

It was yellow.

A color that had never appeared before.

The voting network glitched instantly.

System prompts flashed frantically:

[Error: Unknown voting type]

[Error: Unable to recognize voting intent for color code #FFFF00]

[Error: Re-vote suggested...]

The voice of the Sixth Seat "Truth Sculptor" (like grinding rocks) finally came through the channel:

"Yellow represents: Maintain restrictions, but open technical exchange channels."

"This civilization's Poetics of Emotion technology has research value. Exchange technology for resources, each getting what they need."

The Poet immediately chimed in: "Agreed! I second that!"

Gardener Chief: "Seconded."

Now it became: Three red (Maintain), three green (Relax), one yellow (Technical Exchange).

A tie.

According to the rules, in a tie, the First Seat "Eternal Vault" makes the final decision.

All "gazes" turned toward Iron Abacus's point of light.

It was silent for ten seconds.

Then, it issued the first complete message since the start of the vote:

"Technical exchange must meet the following conditions:"

"One, Dragon Country Civilization must submit a complete principle report on Poetics of Emotion technology to The Council within thirty days."

"Two, The Council will dispatch a technical verification team for on-site testing."

"Three, after verification passes, The Council will open corresponding resource quotas based on the technical rating."

"Four, during verification, the resource restriction order is suspended, but quotas will not be restored."

"Five—"

It paused:

"The head of the verification team will be myself."

A dead silence fell over the channel.

The Poet was the first to react: "You're coming in person? You haven't left the vault in tens of thousands of years!"

Iron Abacus: "Therefore, the travel expenses for this trip will be calculated into the 'management costs' of the technical exchange."

Stardust chuckled in the observation channel: "That old miser... even wants to expense his business trip to party b's budget."

But regardless, the restriction order was suspended.

Cradle had won a thirty-day reprieve, at the cost of handing over core technology and hosting one of the party a among party a's in the universe.

The vote ended.

The Poet sent a short message to Lin Shen:

[Won by half a step.]

[In thirty days, Iron Abacus will come to inspect the goods in person.]

[Have plenty of braised eggs ready; he's going to calculate the money.]

The hydroponics area had been converted into a "five-star potato eco-resort."

The hot spring pool had been tripled in size, and instead of water, it contained a specially prepared nutrient solution, infused with lavender essential oil (potato version) to soothe the plant nerves.

Rows of lounge chairs were set up by the pool—actually slowly rotating sunlight trays, allowing the potatoes to enjoy sunlight evenly.

Potato Chief wore mini sunglasses (made from dyed leaves) and lay on the largest tray, roots soaking in the hot spring, while light music played in the consciousness channel.

Other potatoes were in a similar state: some were playing "nutrient solution floating competition," some were meditating in collective photosynthesis, and a few literary potatoes were writing poetry in the sand with their roots:

[Ah, vacation—]

[Days without photosynthesis—]

[But tomorrow we must photosynthesize again—]

[So today, just lie flat—]

But problems soon arose.

The potatoes were on vacation, but their "photosynthetic power grid" was still running on inertia—the bio-wires connected to the leaves hadn't been disconnected, and the potatoes' unconscious photosynthesis was still generating weak currents.

However, due to the lack of active regulation, the current became extremely unstable: sometimes strong, sometimes weak, with chaotic frequencies.

The power grid monitoring room alarms were constant:

[Potato power grid voltage fluctuation exceeds limits!]

[Phase disorder! Potential to burn out the converter!]

[Suggestion: Disconnect immediately!]

Zhao Yan rushed to the hydroponics area: "Potato Chief! Your power grid is about to collapse! Hurry up and resume work status to regulate it!"

Potato Chief lazily held up a sign:

[According to Article 4 of the "Vacation Regulations": No productive labor is allowed during vacation.]

[Regulating the power grid counts as labor.]

[Please do not interfere with us enjoying our legal rights.]

Zhao Yan was going crazy: "Then at least pull the wires out first!"

[Pulling wires constitutes 'destroying labor tools.' According to Article 7 of the regulations, it requires negotiation between both parties and compensation for losses.]

[We don't have time to negotiate right now; we are experiencing the healing process of 'meaningless zoning out.']

"..." Zhao Yan turned and went to find Zhou Zhe.

Zhou Zhe was debugging the array at the Poetics power station and felt a headache upon hearing this: "Forcing a disconnection is indeed a violation, and we might really get sued in the 'Plant Rights Court.' But if the grid keeps fluctuating like this and the converter burns out, the losses will be even greater."

As the two were worrying, the projection of β-2 floated over: "I have a plan."

"Speak."

"The potatoes are on vacation, but their offspring are not."

β-2 brought up the screen of a corner of the hydroponics area—there was a small patch of newly cultivated potato seedlings, just having grown two tender leaves, "According to the 'Minor Plant Protection Law,' seedlings do not bear labor obligations, but they can 'participate in social practice learning.' We can invite them to 'learn to regulate the power grid' as a social practice class."

Zhou Zhe's eyes lit up: "Do they get paid?"

"Pay 'social practice subsidies,' using extra growth hormones instead," said β-2. "This does not violate the Potato Guild's regulations because the seedlings are not guild members."

The plan was executed immediately.

Half an hour later, over a hundred potato seedlings were carefully transplanted next to the control nodes of the main power grid.

Their tender leaves were connected to simplified bio-wires, and under the guidance of β-2, they learned how to balance the current.

The seedlings were excited—this was their first time participating in a "big project."

Although it was only regulating voltage, the consciousness channel was full of pride:

[I am powering Cradle!]

[I adjusted 0.01 volts!]

[Mom (referring to the old potato soaking in the hot spring nearby) is proud of me!]

The old potatoes saw this and not only didn't object, but started cheering for the seedlings:

[Go, kiddos! Finish this job and Dad will take you to the hot spring!]

[Watch the phase! Don't learn from your dad who almost burned the grid that one time!]

[Yes, yes, turn that knob gently...]

A potential crisis turned into a parent-child teaching scene.

The power grid stabilized.

Zhao Yan wiped the sweat from his brow: "So our energy security is now being maintained by a bunch of potato kids?"

Zhou Zhe looked at those tender leaves earnestly regulating the voltage and suddenly smiled: "This is very Cradle."

Lin Shen handed the task of writing the principle report to Zhou Zhe, deadline: twenty days.

"Iron Abacus is coming to inspect the goods in thirty days. The report is the stepping stone," Lin Shen said. "If you write it too technically, he'll nitpick; if you write it too artistically, he'll say it's not rigorous. You need to find that balance."

Zhou Zhe locked himself in the laboratory, surrounded by materials: Poem Markings encoding, emotional resonance data, energy conversion curves, and the "metaphorical relationship between poetic rhythm and voltage fluctuation" that The Poet had mentioned while eating braised eggs.

He wrote for three days and deleted seventeen drafts.

It wasn't a technical problem, but a presentation problem.

How to explain "why a poem can generate electricity" to an Ancient Sages who had lived for one hundred thousand years and only had numbers and rules in his brain?

In the early hours of the fourth day, he was exhausted and slumped in front of the console.

In a daze, he opened the canteen's monitoring playback—wanting to hear some human voices to refresh himself.

On the screen, Great Strength was teaching a new kitchen assistant how to make yangchun noodle:

"The broth must be clear, but not bland. Boil pork bones and chicken racks for a full eight hours, filter three times, and don't let a single drop of oil float on top."

"The noodles must be smooth and springy; the technique of shaking the noodles is key—turn your wrist like this, see? The strength must go through, but don't break them."

"Finally, this spoonful of soy sauce—don't pour it directly, drizzle it slowly along the surface of the noodle soup, let it seep down on its own. That's when the flavor comes alive."

Zhou Zhe stared at the screen, suddenly stunned.

He sat up straight, pulled up the principle diagram of Poetics power generation, and then pulled up the flowchart for making yangchun noodle.

Map "boiling broth" to "emotional data collection."

Map "noodle shaking technique" to "Poem Markings encoding processing."

Map "slowly pouring soy sauce" to "energy slow-release injection."

The two completely unrelated flowcharts were highly similar in structure.

Zhou Zhe was so excited his hands were shaking.

He opened the report document, deleted all the esoteric terminology, and rewrote the introduction:

[The principle of Poetics of Emotion power generation is similar to making a bowl of yangchun noodle.]

[First, you need to boil a pot of clear but deep broth—that is, collect pure and full emotional fluctuations.]

[Secondly, use specific techniques to process the noodles—that is, use Poem Markings encoding to structurally organize the emotions so that they possess the 'springiness' for energy conduction.]

[Finally, inject the seasoning in just the right way—that is, slowly release the encoded emotions into the energy conversion field to trigger a continuous and stable current.]

[The standard for a good bowl of noodles is: clear soup, smooth noodles, lively flavor.]

[The standard for a good power generation unit is: pure emotion, accurate encoding, stable output.]

[Both share the same philosophy: in a precise process, retain just the right amount of 'vitality.']

He finished writing.

Twelve thousand words, accompanied by thirty diagrams, five of which were comparison diagrams of yangchun noodle making steps and power generation steps.

When he sent it to Lin Shen for a preview, Lin Shen was silent for three minutes.

Then he replied:

"Iron Abacus might say this is nonsense."

"But he might also say... this is the most like human speech of any technical report he has seen in one hundred thousand years."

"Take a gamble. Submit it."

On the fourth day after the audit mission left, Zhou Zhe received an encrypted data packet from abacus.

Inside was not an official document, but a repair blueprint for a taste module, accompanied by a line of small text:

[The old friend's module model is ancient, and parts have been discontinued. Can it be replicated using Cradle's molecular reconstructor? Material list attached.]

The material list was ridiculously long, from "Ancient Civilization Memory Alloy" to "Stardust Crystal Powder," and even included "three grams of chili capsaicin that has been sincerely blessed."

Zhou Zhe forwarded the list to Stardust.

Stardust glanced at it, and its starlight eyebrows (virtual) arched up:

"That old miser... could his old friend be that guy from 'Tranquil Garden'? Only that old literary youth would use pretentious materials like 'blessed capsaicin'."

"Can you gather them?"

"Most of them, yes. But 'Stardust Crystal Powder'—" Stardust pointed to itself, "This stuff is my metabolic byproduct, I have to save it up myself. I've been eating too many virtual melon seeds lately, the crystal purity isn't high enough, I need to adjust my diet for a few days."

Zhou Zhe: "...You high-dimensional life forms still need to adjust your diet?"

"Otherwise?" Stardust said righteously, "I've been trying 'emotional recipes' lately, optimizing starlight composition by absorbing daily fluctuations from different civilizations. I just tasted the 'Tuesday Leftover Hodgepodge' from your canteen yesterday, the taste was very... complex."

In the end, the materials were gathered.

With the assistance of β-2, Zhou Zhe spent six hours making the parts using the molecular reconstructor.

The assembled taste module was only the size of a fingernail, with seven-colored luster flowing on its surface.

After abacus received it, it only replied with two characters:

[Thanks.]

Two days later, a vague anecdote circulated in the web Weaver network: An Ancient Sages from Tranquil Garden, after thirty thousand years of silence, suddenly sent a message in a private channel:

[Spicy.]

[But I want to taste it again.]

No one knew who this message was sent to.

But after that day, The Council's schedule for the Cradle technical verification team was quietly pushed back by five days.

The Poet told Lin Shen privately:

"Iron Abacus is recalculating how much resource quota 'spicy experience' should be worth."

"He might be unable to balance the books for the first time in his life."

Late at night, Zhou Zhe was finally able to catch his breath.

He walked to the canteen; Great Strength had already closed up, but had left a bowl of yangchun noodle for him in the warming cabinet.

The noodles were still warm.

The soup was clear to the bottom, the noodles were smooth, and the aroma of soy sauce slowly seeped up.

He sat down and finished it slowly.

Then he opened the work log and wrote today's summary:

[yangchun noodle power generation report submitted.]

[The potato kids have learned to regulate the power grid.]

[Spicy module delivered, some Ancient Sages was choked into coughing for the first time in thirty thousand years.]

[Thirty-day countdown begins.]

[Everything is still possible.]

Outside the window, Cradle's artificial moon was full.

Intermittent singing of children's songs drifted from the potato resort—it was the old potatoes teaching the seedlings to sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

On the power grid monitoring screen, the voltage curve was as steady as breathing.

Zhou Zhe drank the noodle soup, not leaving a single drop.

Because Great Strength's rule was:

"Good soup cannot be wasted."

"Just like good days, you have to savor them drop by drop."

He closed the log.

Tomorrow, it would be another day for party b.