237: Chapter 236 The Rings of Time Return to the Earth, Choosing a Morning with Old Zhang's Potato Flowers

Day 12 of the fusion chamber: Whispers of the Forest

The sixth homecoming path, belonging to the forest civilization.

That cluster of light—they call themselves "Annual Rings"—is different from all other civilizations. Their way of existing is a tree. No, it is countless trees. Each individual is a tree, yet they are connected through a root network into a massive "Forest Consciousness." Their "sense of time" is completely different from humans—a year for humans is just one season for them; a century for humans is just a slightly longer conversation for them.

Their way of returning home is also different from all other civilizations—they do not need to return to a certain planet, but need to be "planted" back.

"We need a piece of land." The imagery of Annual Rings came, slow and deep, like a forest whispering in the wind, "A piece of land that can take root. A piece of land that can grow. A piece of land that, after billions of years, can grow into a forest."

Chen Mo looked at the data on the light screen and was silent for a long time.

On Mars, there are already crystal nuclei of the crystal civilization waiting to grow. If the "Annual Rings" of the forest civilization are added, Mars will no longer be just a dead, silent planet, but will become a "Life Ark" carrying the memories of multiple civilizations.

But the problem is, the land that Annual Rings needs cannot be just any piece of land. They need to deeply integrate with Mars' ecosystem—they need Mars' soil, Mars' sunlight, Mars' minerals. They need to become a part of Mars, not outsiders.

Potato Chief's projection hovered to the side, listened to Chen Mo's explanation, and was silent for a long time.

Then, it spoke: "Let them come."

Chen Mo was stunned: "Are you sure? The Mars potato field is your territory."

Potato Chief's projection glowed slightly: "The Mars potato field is a part of Mars. The forest civilization will also become a part of Mars. We are not the owners of 'territory,' we are the co-builders of a 'home'."

It paused, looked at the land next to it where the crystal nuclei were planted, and looked at the little cabbage that had already grown to half a person's height:

"Mars is becoming a home for many. Potatoes, little cabbage, crystal nuclei, forests... and humans in the future. We are not competitors; we are neighbors."

The light of Annual Rings fluctuated slightly, sending an image: a tree growing in a forest, its roots intertwined with the surrounding trees, together forming a larger forest.

"Thank you." The image said.

Mars: Annual Rings Buried

Three days later, next to the Mars potato field, there was another special "planting area."

It was not for planting potatoes, not for planting little cabbage, not for planting crystal nuclei, but for "planting a forest."

Thirty-three thumb-sized seeds, glowing with a deep brown luster—those were the "Annual Ring Cores" of the forest civilization—were carefully placed in specially made culture dishes. Each seed was the final memory of a forest that had once existed. They condensed the annual rings, wind sounds, fallen leaves, and bird calls of countless generations of trees.

Su Kun squatted in front of the culture dish, closed her eyes, and gently "listened" to the sounds of those seeds.

She "heard" countless faint "breaths"—that was the memory of countless trees flowing slowly within the Annual Rings. They were not as powerful as human heartbeats, but a longer, deeper rhythm, like the breathing of a forest through the changing seasons.

"They said," Su Kun opened her eyes, "Thank you for being willing to let us take root."

Potato Chief's projection hovered to the side, silent for a while, then, using the rhythm of the potatoes, "said" a sentence to those seeds:

"Welcome to Mars. In the future, the wind will help us pass messages."

The seeds flickered slightly, as if responding.

Then, the culture dishes were slowly placed into the pre-dug pits and covered with Martian soil. In that soil, "Stardust" elements, the symbiotic bacteria of the potato field, and that small pinch of soil next to the little cabbage were mixed in.

When the last shovel of soil fell, everyone was silent.

No one knew how long it would take for these seeds to "sprout"—maybe a hundred years, maybe ten thousand years. But no one doubted that they would sprout.

Because Mars was willing to accept them. Potatoes were willing to coexist with them. little cabbage was willing to be their neighbor.

They themselves were willing to wait.

Mars: little cabbage's "Neighbor"

That night, little cabbage "said" something.

Potato Chief captured that weak signal immediately. It translated it as:

"They... are asleep?"

Potato Chief was silent for a while, then answered: "Not asleep. They are 'preparing'. Preparing to wake up, grow up, and become a forest on some day in the future."

little cabbage was silent for a long time. Then, it sent a signal:

"I will wait for them to wake up."

Potato Chief's projection fluctuated slightly. It suddenly realized that this little cabbage was "growing" in a way it couldn't fully understand.

Not just growing taller or growing leaves, but in terms of "consciousness," little by little, becoming more like... a true "being."

It would ask questions. It would express loneliness. It would say "thank you". It would say "I will wait".

It was becoming the first "thinking vegetable" on Mars.

Potato Chief didn't know what this meant. But it knew this was a good thing.

Because Mars was coming "alive".

Cradle: The Chosen Morning

At five in the morning, Lin Shen stood by the window, looking at that silent light deep in the starry sky.

Three days had passed since that word "Choose". In those three days, no one had openly discussed that word, but everyone knew that the word was beating slowly and stubbornly in everyone's heart.

Choose what? How to choose? What would happen after choosing?

No one knew the answer.

But Lin Shen knew that no matter what was chosen, the price would be huge.

If one chose to become "After"—to become a new Reapers—humanity would gain the power of the Reapers and become a part of the cosmic order. But the price was that one must abandon all "microscopic meaning," must become a cold judge, and must watch countless civilizations rise and fall, then personally "harvest" those that were unqualified.

If one chose to become "Thank you"—like that civilization that only left behind one sentence—humanity would leave behind a final testimony when the Reapers arrived, and then dissipate. But the price was that all proof of existence would be compressed into one sentence, one beam of light, one memory, waiting for future latecomers to "see."

Lin Shen closed his eyes.

He thought of Old Zhang's note: "The land is still there, the people are still there, the seeds are planted today, and there will be vegetables to eat in the autumn."

He thought of Chen Mo's words when sending off Liuli: "I remember your name."

He thought of the "forgotten names" Lin Wan remembered when passing through the void.

He thought of the little cabbage on Mars asking, "Am I a person?"

He thought of that potato flower on Earth swaying gently in the sound of the flute.

Could these things be compressed into one sentence?

He didn't know.

But he knew that if one day, humanity really had to "choose," he would use these things as the basis for the choice.

Because these things were the proof of humanity's existence.

Su Kun's Morning

Su Kun sat in the Memorial Hall of the Forgotten, closed her eyes, and "listened" to those names.

137 names now. Behind every name was a civilization that had once existed. Every name was brought back by Lin Wan from the void, "impressions" that could finally dissipate in peace after being remembered.

Today, she "heard" a detail she had never noticed before.

Deep in the memory of that deepest "impression"—the civilization that had its own name completely carved—there was a picture: a life form extremely similar to humans, standing on a high tower, looking at the sky. In the sky, a light was descending—that was the light of the Reapers.

Beside that life form stood a child. The child held its hand and asked, "Where will we go?"

The life form looked down at the child and whispered:

"We will become light. We will become wind. We will become seeds in the soil. On some day in the future, we will be gently remembered by a child from another world."

Su Kun opened her eyes abruptly.

She suddenly understood that that civilization, before being "harvested," had already made a choice.

Not to become "After," and not to become "Thank you." But to become something simpler and gentler—

To become "a being that can be remembered."

The child's hand, the life form's hug, that sentence "will be gently remembered by a child from another world"—these were their choice.

Su Kun stood up and walked out of the Memorial Hall.

She found Lin Shen and told him the whole picture.

Lin Shen was silent for a long time.

Then, he whispered: "So, there aren't only two choices."

Su Kun nodded.

"There is a third choice."

Earth: Old Zhang's Flower

Earth, a small southern county.

Old Zhang squatted in the vegetable plot, looking at the potato flower that had been blooming for five days.

The flower was still so purple, so small, swaying gently in the sunlight. But today, Old Zhang noticed that something seemed to be bulging under the petals.

He reached out, extremely carefully pushed aside the soil next to it, and saw—

A small potato.

Thumb-sized, pale yellow, with tiny roots, hidden in the soil, slowly growing.

Old Zhang stared at the small potato for a long time. Then, he smiled.

He smiled until his eyes were red.

He ran into the house, pulled his wife out, pointed at the small potato and said: "Look! It fruited! It fruited!"

His wife took a look and curled her lips: "Isn't it just a potato? Making a fuss."

Old Zhang ignored her, squatted back down, and continued to watch the small potato.

As he watched, he suddenly remembered something, ran into the house, took out the flute, and played a tune softly to the small potato.

It was still that old, corny folk song. The melody was long, with a hint of faint sadness, and a hint of warm expectation.

The small potato in the soil seemed to move slightly.

As if saying: I heard it. I am growing.

Solar System Entrance: The Sixth Signal

That silent light, at the moment the Annual Rings were buried, vibrated for the sixth time.

This time, the vibration lasted for a full fifteen seconds. Then, it sent the sixth signal toward the direction of the Cradle.

"Show."

Zhou Zhe captured this signal in the all-white Poem Markings.

"See," "Wait," "Remember," "Choose," "Show."

Five words became six.

"Show"—to display. Revelation. To let humanity see what?

He looked at the silent light, waiting.

Then, that light, for the first time, projected a picture toward the direction of the Cradle.

Not language, not a signal, but an "imagery" that appeared directly in everyone's consciousness—

The last day of a civilization. That civilization was extremely similar to humans. There were cities, fields, mothers holding children, and old people looking at the sunset. The light of the Reapers was descending, but that civilization had no fear, no despair. They just stood quietly, looking at that light, and then did one thing—

They gathered all the children in the largest square. Then, every adult walked to their child, squatted down, hugged them gently, and said a sentence.

That sentence, translated into human language, was:

"No matter where we go, you will remember us. As long as you remember us, we have not truly left."

Then, the light descended.

The civilization disappeared.

But those children were left behind.

Not left by the Reapers, but "sent" to a safe planet by the civilization itself with its final strength.

Those children grew up, reproduced, and created a new civilization on the new planet.

And that civilization, the one that chose to "let the descendants live," was—the Reapers before the Reapers. It was those beings who are now "harvesting" others.

But they were once children who were left behind, too.

Zhou Zhe opened his eyes abruptly, trembling all over.

He finally understood.

Reapers are not born as Reapers. They were also descendants who were left behind. They were also children once. They were also hugged, instructed, and expected to "remember."

But they forgot those instructions over the long years. They forgot those hugs. They forgot that they were once "left behind children."

They only remembered one thing: must survive. Must let the civilization continue. Even if the price is becoming what they once feared the most.

Now, they are "showing" humanity.

Showing humanity the path they walked. Showing humanity the mistakes they made. Showing humanity the things they forgot.

Then, letting humanity choose for itself.

Night: Lin Shen's Answer

Late at night, Lin Shen stood alone by the window.

That picture was still replaying in his mind over and over again. The mother holding the child, the words "you will remember us," those children who were left behind, later becoming Reapers.

He closed his eyes, then opened them.

Then, he did one thing.

He took out the "Emotion Storage Device"—the crystal that sealed half of his emotions—held it in his palm, and looked at it for a long, long time.

Then, he put it away and put it back in his pocket.

Not to re-fuse. Just... let it stay there.

He didn't need it anymore.

Because he already knew what he wanted to choose.

Not to become "After." Not to become "Thank you." But to become—

To become those "beings that can be remembered."

To become Old Zhang's "the land is still there."

To become little cabbage's "I will wait for them to wake up."

To become Chen Mo's "I remember your name."

To become the 137 names Lin Wan brought back.

To become that potato flower blooming on Earth, and that small potato growing in the soil.

To become the "proof of existence" left behind by countless ordinary people in countless ordinary days, with a meal, a sentence, a hug.

The Reapers were once such beings too. But they forgot.

Humanity can choose not to forget.

He turned and walked out of the room.

The lights in the canteen were still on. Great Strength was preparing breakfast for tomorrow. On that wall, there were a few more new notes.

He walked over and gently pasted a new one on the wall.

There was only one line on the note:

"I have chosen. Not to forget."

Then, he turned and walked into the night.

Outside the window, deep in the starry sky, the light of the Hive was still warm. At the entrance of the Solar System, the light of the Reapers was still silent.

But tonight, one person had just pasted a note.

There was a flower blooming on Earth.

There was a small potato growing in the soil.

There was a little cabbage on Mars, waiting for its forest neighbor to wake up.

There were 137 forgotten names being remembered.

There was a choice that had just been made.