Chapter 157: Formatted Temperature

In the tenth second after the colorless world arrived, Han Qing realized he had forgotten what the green of his camouflage uniform looked like.

It isn't the word he's forgotten, but that particular "feeling"—the scent of rain striking canvas mingled with earth, the smile in his wife's eyes when she first gave him the garment, the warmth in Chen Mo's voice when he said "green is best for concealment, and also best for hope."

All those memories tied to "green" feel like pencil marks erased by a rubber, leaving only pale paper.

"Everyone close your eyes!" Su Yu's voice tore through the pallor, "Don't look! Vision will accelerate memory stripping!"

She knelt on the ground, both hands pressing hard on the scar on her chest—blood was flowing there, but the blood was gray. Not truly ash, but in the colorless world every hue had lost meaning, even red had become a "not‑so‑white white."

Xiao Yu curled up beside her, holding a sunflower, the child's voice trembling: "'Little Sun'… 'Little Sun' isn't yellow anymore. But it's still warm."

Su Yu snapped her eyes open.

Yes—though the sunflower's gold had vanished, the flower head still emitted a faint heat. It was the warmth generated by photosynthesis, a physical phenomenon, not a color!

"Temperature!" she shouted at Kaiwen, "Color perception has been stripped, but temperature perception remains!"

Kaiwen hurriedly operated the terminal, his hands trembling—not from cold, but because his glasses' lenses had become pure transparency in the colorless world, with no reflection or refraction, like two panes of air. This cognitive dissonance made his brain dizzy.

"The researcher's 'Fading Field' only targets the visible portion of the electromagnetic spectrum," he said breathlessly, "but infrared, heat, tactile sensations… it cannot fully block those!"

Old Zhao pulled his son to his side; the father and son stood back‑to‑back. Old Zhao closed his eyes, his hand finding Li Xiaofeng's shoulder—the coarse feel of the work‑clothes fabric remained, the shape of his son's bones remained, the skin's temperature remained.

"Xiaofeng," Old Zhao's voice was soft, "Do you still remember the red sweater your mother knitted?"

"I remember," Li Xiaofeng's voice tightened, "You said it was too bright, like a tomato."

"But your mother said red is festive," Old Zhao laughed, though his laugh sounded thin in the pallid world, "Later, whenever you did well on an exam, she let you wear that sweater. The last time you wore it… was the day you entered university."

Li Xiaofeng suddenly turned, clutching his father tightly. The twenty‑eight‑year‑old engineer cried out for the first time in the colorless world, "Dad… I think I'm about to forget her face."

"Then remember this," Old Zhao hugged back firmly, his fingers digging into the fabric on his son's back, "Remember the pressure of the hug, the rhythm of the heartbeat, the temperature—these are things color can't erase."

Not far away, Han Qing was doing the same. He paired all the team members, having them hold each other's wrists—not a handshake, but a pulse measurement.

"Remember this rhythm," his voice rang unusually clear in the pallor, "60 to 100, that's the rhythm of being alive. It's truer than any color."

The researcher's silver projection slowly descended onto the center of the plaza.

In the colorless world, it was no longer silver but a "whiter" white, like a blank on white paper. Yet its outline… grew increasingly clear.

Su Yu stared at that outline, her heart suddenly missing a beat.

That figure, that stance, that slight tilt of the head—overlapped 80% with Chen Mo's posture seven years ago in front of the Stardust Cradle.

"You're imitating him," Su Yu said, her voice as cold as ice.

"It's not imitation, it's 'optimization.'" The researcher's voice remained flat, but his speech quickened, "Chen Mo's Emotional Data purity is the highest I've ever collected. To understand your so‑called 'humanity,' I reconstructed his behavior model library. The effect is significant: your emotional fluctuations increased by 47% when you saw me."

It stepped forward.

The footfall, the shift of weight, the direction of the toe—exactly the same as Chen Mo's gait.

"But that's not enough," the researcher said, "I need to know whether, when you lose all external references—color, the texture of sound, layers of scent—relying only on touch and temperature, you can maintain emotional bonds. This is the second stage—"

He didn't finish the sentence.

A figure surged from the side, slamming hard into the researcher's projection.

It was Geometry.

There was no earth‑shattering crash sound. Geometry's body passed through the projection, hitting the ground; its metal skeleton scraped sparks on the pallid floor—those sparks were also white, but the heat was real, and the warped ripples of scorching air were real.

"I…" Geometry's voice faltered, the tender sprouts on its shell withering, "I modified… my core protocol. As an observer… I'm applying for emergency arbitration."

The researcher's projection showed a noticeable fluctuation for the first time: "What did you do?"

"I sent a complete experimental record to the Seran homeworld…" Geometry struggled to roll over, using its mechanical arm to prop itself up, "Including your Violation of data collection… including your unauthorized alteration of Chen Mo's behavior model… including your ongoing 'inhumane pressure test.'"

The projection began to flicker.

"Are you insane?" the researcher's voice showed a fluctuation that could be called "anger" for the first time, "They will format you! Along with all contaminated data!"

"I know," Geometry stood upright. It turned to Su Yu, that "face" made of Stardust veins and plants, which in the colorless world could still show expression—a calm resolve.

"But I've calculated," it said, "If I'm formatted, the homeworld will send auditors to take over the experiment. The standard procedure requires a three‑hour handover. During those three hours, all external interference—Fading Field, voids, Emotional Extraction—will pause."

Su Yu's breath stopped: "Geometry…"

"Three hours," Geometry repeated, "Enough for you to rush to the southern ruins, retrieve Chen Mo, and reunite his three-part consciousness. Also enough…" It looked at the researcher, "Enough for you to ponder one question: why would an Error Signal program make such an 'inefficient' choice."

All the tender sprouts on its shell burst simultaneously, spewing the last Stardust. That Stardust formed a line of Seran script in the air, then translated into Chinese, hovering before everyone:

"Tell Xiao Yu, the sunflower's gold is the temperature of hope."

The researcher lunged, silver‑white tendrils extending from the projection, stabbing toward Geometry's core. But Geometry didn't dodge.

It simply stared at Su Yu, speaking in its final, flat, yet oddly gentle tone:

"You taught me 'friendship.' Chen Mo taught me 'temperature.' Xiao Yu taught me 'hope.' Now… I teach you 'sacrifice.'"

The tendrils pierced the core.

Geometry's body went rigid instantly. All Stardust veins extinguished together, the metal skeleton lost its luster, the plant sprouts turned to Hui Jin. Its spherical form began to disintegrate, collapsing piece by piece into gray‑white powder like a sandcastle meeting tide.

But before it vanished completely, the spot of its "eyes"—the two light‑based sensors—suddenly lit up with a final flash.

It wasn't silver, it wasn't gold.

It was Rainbow Color.

A tiny, trembling light that truly encompassed every hue of the spectrum burst from its fading body, like the final explosion of a supernova.

That light shone onto the researcher's projection.

The projection began to collapse—not a technical glitch, but a deeper rupture. Its outline twisted and warped, shifting from "like Chen Mo" back to a chaotic geometric shape, then reverting to a pure silver sphere.

"Impossible…" the researcher's voice shrieked amid the collapse, "You're only an observer! How could you… store color?!"

When Geometry's last speck of dust fell, it left a sentence:

"Because… I learned 'love.'"

The colorless world began to recede.

It wasn't colors returning, but the "Fading Field" ceasing. The sky remained gray‑white, the earth still pallid, yet the sensation of forced stripping vanished. People found they could "imagine" colors—though unseen before their eyes, the colors in memory began to reappear.

The researcher's projection vanished completely. In the air lingered its final, terrified monologue: "Homeworld auditors… arriving in three hours… my experiment… is over…"

Han Qing was the first to react: "Three hours! Everyone, get on the vehicle!"

The convoy started. Su Yu was helped into the passenger seat, still holding that piece of coral in her hand, but the coral had cooled—Ji He's sacrifice severed the researchers' control over all external devices.

Before Lao Zhao started the engine, he turned back and glanced at the place where Ji He had disappeared. There remained only a small pile of grayish powder; in the middle of the powder lay a tiny green leaf—that was the last plant sprout on Ji He's body, still alive, glowing green painfully bright in the pallid world.

Xiao Yu ran over, carefully picked up the leaf, and pressed it to her chest.

"Ji He Uncle..." she whispered, "I now know what temperature gold is."

The convoy rushed southward.

Meanwhile, behind them, in the direction of Pure Land, the sky suddenly split open a rift—not a gap in the clouds, but a tear in space itself. From the rift poured pure, temperatureless silver light.

The inspection vessel of the Seylan Mother Planet arrived early.

Within the rift, a shuttle-shaped craft slowly descended, its hull smooth as a mirror, reflecting this pallid world—and the tiny humans within it who were fleeing, stubbornly seeking to regain color.

At the bottom of the craft, a hatch opened silently.

A featureless, pure silver humanoid silhouette stepped out.

It lowered its head, gazing at the pile of powder left by Ji He, and remained still for three seconds.

Then it raised its hand.

The powder rose, reassembling in its palm into a tiny silver-gray seed.

The inspector collected the seed into its body, turned, and gazed toward the direction where the convoy had vanished.

"Abnormal sample has been recovered. Continue tracking the primary test subject: human Su Yu, and associated target: Chen Mo's residual consciousness."

"Execute order: cleanse all contamination sources."