Chapter 164: The Tear's Dimensional String

Twelve observers surrounded the singing tear.

Their arms extended simultaneously, forming a perfect dodecahedral lattice around the tear. The lattice lines were silvery light, beginning a molecular‑scale scan of the tear—non‑destructive, exceedingly gentle, like photon fingers lightly brushing the water's surface.

"They're measuring the tear's 'information dimension'," Kevin said, staring at the wildly flickering data on the terminal, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Serlan Technology can parse material dimensions up to eleven. But this tear… shows characteristics of a twelfth‑dimensional signal."

Lin Shouzhuo squinted his murky eyes: "Ai O's records mention that emotional memory, under extreme Resonance, can produce 'dimensional string resonance'. It's a form of existence beyond physical dimensions, like… like a note vibrating without a string."

On the ground, the tear's song changed.

It was no longer a single frequency; it began to split into parts: the soprano was children's laughter, the alto was adults' murmurs, the bass was the slow heartbeat of the elderly. Each part further branched into countless harmonies—resonances of every unrecorded tiny emotional instant in the seventy‑billion‑year history of human civilization.

The observers' lattice began to tremble.

It wasn't a physical tremor, but a tremor of data flow. On their mirrored faces, the smoothly flowing code rippled violently for the first time, like spasms.

"Warning: Information structure complexity exceeds Serlan parsing protocol tolerance."

"Non‑causal correlation detected—this tear's 'sadness' frequency resonates with the spectrum of a comet tail three million kilometers away. No logical chain can be formed."

"Recommendation: Expand sampling scope and construct a larger‑scale correlation model."

The leading observer—golden markings on its chest, apparently the Team Leader—lifted its head, its mirrored face turning toward the underground entrance:

"Requesting temporary protocol: permit us to access Earth's plant network for full‑civilization Emotional Frequency sampling."

"Purpose: understand the generation mechanism of this tear."

Underground, everyone looked at Su Yu.

"We cannot agree," Lao Zhao objected first, "letting them connect to the network would open everyone's memories and emotions to them!"

Li Xiaofeng hesitated: "But if we refuse… they might force a connection. Moreover…" He glanced at the portion of data Serlan had just shared on the terminal, "The energy fluctuations during their scan of the tear are reverse‑purifying the soil of the radiation zone—an unintended side effect, but it is indeed restoring the land."

Han Qing's entirely silver body approached—his movements no longer stiff, but oddly fluid, as if rainbow patterns beneath his metallic skin aided his motion. In a tablet‑generated electronic tone he said, "My Serlan‑integrated portion… has received internal communications. The evaluation Committee… is split into two factions. The research side holds 51%, the formatting side 49%."

"Connecting to the network," he paused, rainbow fissures flashing in his eyes, "might shift the percentages…"

Su Yu closed her eyes, the multicolored roots at her chest extending to the organ, linking with seventeen crystal cores. She 'saw' a scene—not prophecy, but deduction—if Serlan were granted access, they would, within seventy‑two hours, construct a complete human Emotional Frequency map. Yet during that process, their own data structures would become 'contaminated' by Emotional Frequency.

Because emotion is not information but experience, and experience, when transmitted, alters the receiver.

"Allow them to connect," Su Yu opened her eyes, "but with a condition: they must join as 'students', not 'researchers'. Moreover… we need a Serlan volunteer to act as an 'Emotional Frequency converter'—translating our emotions into code they can comprehend."

The Observer Team Leader remained silent for five seconds—an eternity of contemplation for Serlan.

Then it said, "Proceed. But we need to verify the efficiency of a 'student‑teacher' relationship. The Serlan civilization lacks such an interaction template."

It turned, emitting a certain frequency toward the ship hull. A larger aperture slid open on the hull's surface, and a brand‑new observer emerged.

This observer was different: it lacked any humanoid outline, being a two‑meter‑diameter silvery sphere, its surface smooth as a mirror. Yet at its center lay a fist‑sized cavity—not darkness, but a slowly rotating gray mist.

"Entity designation: Blank," the Team Leader's voice rang in every consciousness, "It is a Serlan civilization emotional‑module deletion experiment—created three years ago with all preset logic removed. Its 'consciousness' is a blank slate, intended for learning unknown civilization patterns."

The Blank sphere rolled slowly toward the underground entrance.

The gray mist inside the cavity suddenly extended fine tendrils, as if sniffing the air.

"It will connect to the plant network in its raw state. If human Emotional Frequency truly possesses 'learnability', it will undergo changes during the learning process. The change data will serve as key evaluation criteria."

Han Qing suddenly said, "I'll be the… bridge. My body… half Serlan, half human. I can stabilize… signal transmission."

Su Yu looked at him. On his silver body, the rainbow patterns had spread from his eyes to his chest, like colorful moss growing beneath cracked ice.

"Are you sure?" she asked softly, "The transmission process might…"

"It might make me… revert completely to human," Han Qing's electronic tone carried, for the first time, a fluctuation akin to 'amusement', "or… become wholly Serlan. Or… become something new between the two."

He paused, "Chen Mo will choose… to try it."

The connection began.

Han Qing stood at the center of the underground chamber, his left hand pressing the organ—its hand entirely silver. His right hand rested on the Blank sphere—its hand covered in rainbow patterns.

Su Yu pressed a key.

Seventeen crystal cores lit up in unison, all the memories of the faded flooding out like a torrent, coursing through Han Qing's body toward the Blank sphere.

The cavity of the Blank sphere suddenly expanded.

The gray mist churned violently, like boiling water. The sphere's surface began to display images—not clear pictures, but blurry, flickering frames, like a television with poor signal:

the tremor frequency of Zhao Haisheng's arm while holding his daughter;

the shape of the sweat droplets on Wang Mei's husband's face as seen under a flashlight;

the speed at which the extra sugar Chen Shi added to that meal dissolved on the tongue…;

These are not 'information', but 'experience data.'

The Blank sphere began to deform—not a perfect sphere any longer, its surface sprouting irregular bulges and depressions, as if an invisible force were kneading it. The silvery hue faded, giving way to a faint… flesh tone.

"Record: Blank entity is reconstructing its bodily form," the Observer Team Leader's voice carried a clear note of surprise, "It is mimicking… human biological traits. Efficiency loss estimated at 87%, but information reception bandwidth has expanded… by 300 times."

Suddenly, the organ automatically played a chord.

It wasn't played by Su Yu, nor was it a crystal core memory—it was a chord emanating from deep within the plant network, the collective Emotional Frequency of all connected beings at that moment:

Old Zhou of Iron Anvil Town, recalling his daughter's gaze when she asked, "Can Iron Anvil Town truly forge a new world?"

the elderly man at the reservoir, the fingertip sensation while touching the wooden boat his son built;

the one‑eyed woman from the mine, the force of her late husband's final push during the mining disaster;

Xiao Yu of Pure Land, the involuntary "wow" when she first saw a sunflower bloom;

One in seven‑billion emotional fragments converged through the plant network, like a creek joining a river, the river joining the sea.

The Blank sphere burst open.

It wasn't an explosion, but a blooming—its silvery shell cracked into twelve petals, revealing a curled, semi‑transparent humanoid silhouette inside. The silhouette gradually unfolded, gaining details: features present but blurred, limbs disproportionate, skin a weave of silvery and flesh tones, like an unfinished sculpture.

It opened its eyes.

Its eyes contained no pupils, only ever‑shifting color vortices.

Then it spoke, its voice neither electronic nor human, but a synthetic tone somewhere between the two, tinged with vibrato:

"I... feel... heavy."

"This is... the weight of the body."

"Also... the chest... something is... beating. Very fast."

It lowers its head and looks at the semi‑transparent chest, where a seven‑coloured, pulsating thing resides.

That is... a heart.

Prototype.

All observers simultaneously cease movement.

On their mirrored faces, the data streams all solidify, becoming pure, stagnant mirrors— as if the entire system temporarily crashes because it cannot process the phenomenon before it.

Only the team leader continues to operate, and in its voice emerges an unprecedented, fear‑like fluctuation:

"Blank entity... has generated an autonomous life‑support system. That system... is not present in any Seran technology‑tree sequence."

"It is... defining its own purpose of existence."

The blank humanoid lifts its head, looks at the team leader, then at Su Yu in the underground entrance. Its face—if that can be called a face—shows a twisted yet unmistakably expressive thing:

Confusion, curiosity, and a hint of... joy?

"I want... to continue learning," it says, "Is this feeling... called 'thought'?"

At that moment, the evaluation shipmaster system on the synchronized orbit emits a full‑band broadcast—not to Earth, but to every Seran unit within the solar system:

"Emergency status: Unknown civilization evolution path detected."

"Evaluation Committee voting results changed: Research faction proportion rises to 63%, Formatting faction falls to 37%."

"New resolution: Earth civilization granted 'Observation Protection Zone' status, duration: one hundred Earth years."

"Simultaneously initiate 'Civilization Resonance Experiment': dispatch one thousand 'blank entities' as 'students', permanently stationed on Earth to learn."

Underground, Su Yu slumps on the ground, sweat soaking her clothes.

Lao Zhao stares blankly for a long while, then suddenly embraces Li Xiaofeng; the father and son tremble silently.

Only Han Qing remains standing, lowering his head to look at his silver hand— the rainbow pattern on it slowly, steadily spreading upward along his arm.

He lifts his head and, with his final, rapidly fading electronic voice, says:

"We... won the first round."

"But next... we must teach a thousand newborns... how to become 'human'."

In the distance, the blank humanoid carefully uses its newly grown finger to touch a faded blade of grass on the ground.

The grass instantly regains its green color upon its touch.