53: Codenamed "Great Wall"

His fingers rubbed against the evidence bag.

Inside the bag was that button. It was copper, circular, and worn along the edges. The embossed military emblem on the front was stained with dark red blood. The blood was half-dry, sticking to the inner plastic wall.

Director Long stared at the button for ten seconds.

Then he looked up at the main screen.

On the left screen were Chen Xi's vital signs: Heart rate 19, blood pressure 54/28, blood oxygen 67%. The numbers were red and flashing. The alarm prompt changed from [Critical] to [Endangered].

On the center screen, the livestream was black. The bullet chat was still scrolling, but the speed had slowed down. Gift effects exploded sporadically. One bullet chat comment slid across: [Brother Long, say something.]

On the right screen was the public opinion monitoring chart. The curve was still rising, but the slope had flattened. In the keyword cloud, the words "death" and "conspiracy" were growing larger and larger.

"Director Long." A middle-aged man in a military uniform beside him spoke up, "The medical team is requesting instructions on whether to initiate ECMO."

ECMO. Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation. The last resort.

Director Long didn't answer immediately.

He turned and walked to the command console. Several documents were spread out on the table. The one on top was titled "Preliminary Observation Report on the 'Quantum Entanglement' Phenomenon." Pressed beneath it was "Comparative Analysis of Historical Archives (1937 Battle of Sihang Warehouse)."

He flipped to the third page of the report.

A line of text was circled in red: "Sample material (No. 001) was carbon-14 dated to the period between 1930-1940. The DNA sequence of the attached blood sample matches the descendants of existing historical figures with 99.73% accuracy."

He closed the report.

His fingers tapped on the tabletop.

Three taps. A pause. Then two more taps.

The command center fell silent. The sound of typing stopped, and the voices on calls lowered. Everyone looked toward him.

"Activate the 'Great Wall' contingency plan," Director Long said. "Phase one begins now."

"Yes!" The middle-aged man stood at attention.

The order was issued.

Inside the command center, the lights dimmed a notch. The LED strips on the walls changed from white to dark blue. The main screen split into eight regions, each popping up with a different interface.

Top left: [Public Opinion Control].

Top right: [Medical Coordination].

Middle four: [Quantum Monitoring], [Historical Data], [Technical Support], [Logistics Support].

Bottom two: [International Intelligence], [Emergency Command].

Each region had a person in charge operating it. The sound of typing started up again, denser and faster than before.

"Public Opinion Team, three minutes," Director Long said.

"Received," a young woman wearing glasses responded.

On the screen in front of her, code flowed down like a waterfall. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, her movements almost a blur.

Three minutes later.

She looked up: "We have taken over 87% of the relevant traffic across the entire network. Keyword blocking is in effect. Alternative information streams have begun pushing out."

In the center of the main screen, at the edge of the blacked-out livestream, a line of small text appeared: [Signal under repair, please wait...]

The bullet chat paused for a moment.

Then new content scrolled out:

[There's text!]

[It's being fixed!]

[Waiting!]

[Master Xi, hang in there!]

[Waiting!]

On the public opinion monitoring chart, the curve began to level off. In the keyword cloud, the word "conspiracy" shrank.

"Medical Team, report," Director Long said.

"ECMO is in place," a middle-aged man in a white coat stood up. "But the Chief Medical Officer does not recommend using it. The patient has no physical damage; extracorporeal circulation might cause secondary injury."

"How much longer can he hold on?"

"Based on the current rate of failure, at most..." The man in the white coat checked his watch, "Forty-seven minutes."

"Forty-seven minutes," Director Long repeated.

He looked at the vital signs on the left of the main screen. Heart rate **18**.

Blood pressure **53/27**.

Blood oxygen **66%**.

Still dropping.

"Assemble the expert group," Director Long said. "Now."

"Yes!"

The order was passed down.

Ten minutes later, the side door of the command center opened. A group of people walked in. There were seven or eight of them, both men and women. The older ones had gray hair, and the younger ones wore glasses. They were all in civilian clothes, but their walking posture was very upright.

They walked to the command console.

Director Long turned to face them.

"Everyone," he said, "the situation is urgent, so I'll keep it brief."

He picked up the evidence bag and held it up.

"This button comes from the Sihang Warehouse in October 1937. The blood on it belongs to a Soldier named Chen Shusheng. Age seventeen. Time of death: yesterday afternoon."

The experts stared at the button. Some squinted, others leaned in closer.

"The young man on the screen is named Chen Xi," Director Long pointed to the main screen. "Through some kind of Quantum Entanglement phenomenon, he connected to that space-time. Now, the injuries he sustained over there are killing him here."

A moment of silence followed.

An old man with white hair spoke: "Evidence?"

Director Long nodded.

The middle-aged man beside him operated the console. Comparative images popped up on the main screen. On the left was a scan of Chen Xi's gaming pod; his body was intact with no external trauma. On the right was medical monitoring data, showing multiple organ failure and hemorrhagic shock.

"No physical wounds, but all the physiological reactions are present," Director Long said. "The medical team calls it 'Quantum Entanglement Injury'."

Another woman wearing glasses asked: "Entanglement intensity?"

"100%. Pain synchronization rate is 100%."

"That's impossible." The woman shook her head. "Current theoretical limits are 30%. Anything over 50% would cause consciousness collapse."

"He held on for four days," Director Long said. "Now he has collapsed."

The experts looked at one another.

The white-haired old man took a deep breath: "What do you want us to do?"

"Save him," Director Long said. "Using every method you know."

"Medical means are useless," the man in the white coat interjected. "We've already tried."

"Then use non-medical means." Director Long looked at the white-haired old man. "Elder Wang, you are an authority on quantum physics. Is there a way to... break the entanglement?"

Elder Wang frowned. His fingers traced lines in the air as if calculating.

"Theoretically..." he said slowly, "it requires an inverse quantum perturbation of equal intensity. But it needs precise coordinates, precise frequency, precise..."

"Needs what?" Director Long interrupted.

"Needs to know the exact space-time coordinates on that side," Elder Wang said. "Precise to the second, to the meter."

Director Long looked at the center of the screen.

The livestream was black, and the line of small text at the edge was still flashing: [Signal under repair, please wait...]

"The time over there is currently 12:17 AM, October 30, 1937," Director Long said. "Location: Shanghai Sihang Warehouse, 31.235 degrees North, 121.469 degrees East, altitude 7 meters."

Elder Wang was stunned: "How do you know?"

"Because he was livestreaming," Director Long said. "Four million people were watching."

The command center fell silent again.

Only the beeping of instruments, the clicking of keyboards, and the sound of breathing could be heard.

"I need to calculate," Elder Wang said. "Give me... thirty minutes."

"You only have twenty minutes," Director Long said. "He only has forty minutes of life left."

Elder Wang nodded and turned toward an empty workstation. He sat down, pulled a tablet and pen and paper from his bag, and began writing formulas.

Director Long looked at the other experts.

"History Team," he said.

A tall, thin man stepped forward: "Here."

"Check the Sihang Warehouse retreat records. How did Xie Jinyuan's unit finally retreat?"

"Historical records state that in the early hours of October 30, the defenders forced a breakout across the bridge, suffering heavy casualties. The actual number of those who retreated... is uncertain."

"Uncertain?"

"Japanese records claim total annihilation, while Chinese records claim a successful breakout. The data from both sides doesn't match." The tall, thin man paused. "But a declassified British Consulate report mentions 'abnormal activity' on Suzhou Creek that morning, though the details are vague."

"Abnormal activity," Director Long repeated.

He looked at the center of the main screen. Black screen.

Before Chen Xi fell, he was about to start the cableway plan.

"What if he succeeded?" Director Long said.

"What?"

"What if he successfully set up the cableway and led everyone across?"

The tall, thin man was stunned. Then his eyes widened.

"Then history has been changed," he said.

"Search," Director Long said. "Check all relevant archives for any clues."

"Yes!"

The tall, thin man also headed toward a workstation.

Director Long looked at the last few people.

"Technical Team, Logistics Team, International Team," he said. "I want you to do three things. First, ensure the medical team has everything they need immediately. Second, monitor global intelligence trends, especially Japan, the US, and Russia. Third..."

He paused.

"Prepare a contingency plan. If he doesn't wake up, how to explain it to the public."

The head of the Technical Team nodded: "Understood."

The head of the Logistics Team nodded: "Understood."

The head of the International Team hesitated: "Director Long, if other countries ask..."

"Just say we are conducting a multinational medical rescue exercise," Director Long said. "Details are classified."

"Yes."

The teams dispersed to their positions.

The command center became a hive of activity. The sounds of typing, talking, and instruments blended together, but everything was orderly.

Director Long walked back to the main screen.

Vital signs: Heart rate **17**.

Blood pressure **52/26**.

Blood oxygen **65%**.

Twelve minutes had passed.

Twenty-eight minutes left.

He stared at the numbers on the screen.

Then he pulled something out of his pocket. It was small and metallic—an old-fashioned military emblem. The edges were polished bright from wear.

He gripped it in his hand, very tightly.

"Kid," he whispered, his voice audible only to himself, "you better hang in there."

"Back during the 'Dragon Fang' training, you didn't even make a sound when you broke two ribs."

"This little bit of pain now is nothing."

He let go and put the emblem back in his pocket.

He turned to look at Elder Wang, who was still calculating.

"How much longer?"

Elder Wang didn't even look up: "Eight minutes."

"Hurry."

Director Long walked back to the command console and opened the internal communication channel.

"Medical Team," he said.

"Here."

"Keep the ECMO ready. On standby at all times."

"Understood."

"Public Opinion Team."

"Here."

"In three minutes, release the second announcement."

"Content?"

"Just say..." Director Long glanced at the screen, "the streamer was hospitalized due to a sudden illness and is currently in stable condition. The livestream will resume in twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-four hours? If he..."

"Post it."

"Yes."

Director Long closed the communication.

He looked at the center of the main screen.

The line of small text was still flashing: [Signal under repair, please wait...]

He stared at it.

He stared for a long time.

Then he said, "You won't die."

"I haven't authorized it yet."