Chapter 172: The Conjugate's Shadow

"The shape of the problem" gradually became clear. It was neither solid nor gaseous, but a "conceptual state"—when you thought it was a triangle, it stabilized as a triangle; when you suspected it might be a circle, its edges began to soften. Its surface had no color, only ever-changing textures like ripples of thought.

"I am 'Conjugate'." Its voice rang directly in everyone's consciousness, not language but direct transmission of the problem: "Definition: if A is 'existence', then I am the 'question of existence'. If B is 'answer', then I am the 'shadow of the answer'. I am not here to destroy you, but to……learn how to 'ask better'."

The edge of the grey-white tide advanced another two meters forward. This time everyone saw the process clearly: it wasn't the tide moving, but all the "uniqueness" of that land being instantly extracted—every crack in the stone, every leaf vein in the grass, every grain of sand's shape in the soil—all were pulled out, compressed into a pure, featureless energy flow, and streamed into the "Conjugate"'s body.

"This is 'tuition'." The Conjugate's voice held a naive cruelty: "I need 'details' as cognitive fuel. You have plenty here—more than the sum of the three thousand sleeping seeds—because you are 'growing', 'changing', 'making mistakes'. To me, these are delicious."

Han Qing's separated heart suddenly emitted a sharp ringing. A crack spread from the center, like ice pierced by a stone. Seventeen of the three thousand civilization seeds, suddenly awoke from sleep, began frantically absorbing surrounding emotional energy—not to grow, but out of instinctive self-preservation, like a drowning person clutching driftwood.

In the temporary school's kitchen, Old Zhao was cooking porridge.

It was simple millet porridge, but he added a few red dates—fruit from the last few date trees rescued from the edge of the radiation zone. The porridge bubbled in the pot, steam fogging the window.

Li Xiaofeng sat on a small stool beside the stove, staring at the fire. He held the cracked photo frame in his hand, his thumb repeatedly rubbing the edge of the glass crack.

"Dad," he said softly, "if Mom were still alive, seeing us now teaching aliens, raising three thousand civilizations, and having to deal with a monster that eats 'details'……what would she say?"

Old Zhao stirred the porridge with a spoon: "She would say: 'Old Zhao, you've burnt the porridge.'"

Li Xiaofeng froze for a moment, then laughed. The laugh was brief, but genuine.

He turned off the heat, ladled out two bowls of porridge: "It's that simple. If you're a blacksmith, you forge iron; if you're a nurse, you save people; if you're a father, you……cook porridge."

Father and son drank the porridge in silence. The chaos outside and the warmth inside were like two parallel worlds.

The Conjugate began "question teaching".

It didn't attack, merely hovering beside the Problem Flower, demonstrating "a more elegant way of asking" with its ever-shifting shape. But each "elegant question" would trigger a small-scale spatial anomaly:

When it asked, "Is time a byproduct of perception?" all beings within three meters suffered memory confusion—Old Zhao suddenly forgot he was washing dishes, thinking he was still making breakfast for his son before the disaster; Xiao Yu stared at her own hands, bewildered, asking: "These hands……how old are they?"

When it asked, "Is self-consciousness an illusion of collective consciousness?" five of the thirty-seven blank bodies suddenly stopped independent thought and began moving in sync—like machines controlled by the same program.

Most dangerous was its effect on the grey-white tide. With each question, the tide's edge would unstablely fluctuate—sometimes retreating, sometimes surging forward. During a surge, the swallowed area was small, but the consumption speed tripled—like a starving person beginning to wolf down food.

"It's using our world as an experiment." Su Yu stared at the monitoring data: "Each question is an experimental plan, the grey-white tide is its 'Petri Dish'. It's testing 'the influence of different cognitive models on reality's structure'."

The Seran Advisor "Logic" floated to Su Yu's side, the thought patterns on the sphere's surface already as complex as a maze:

"Analysis: this entity may come from the 'Pure Concept Universe'. At that level, thought is action, question is power. It has no malice—malice to it is an 'inefficient cognitive bias'. But its 'learning' will destroy us, like a child observing ants might unintentionally crush an anthill."

Analysis: This entity may come from the 'Pure Concept Universe'. At that level, thinking is action, and questions are power. It has no malice—malice to it is an 'inefficient cognitive bias'. But its 'learning' will destroy us, just as a child observing ants might unintentionally crush an ant nest.

Kevin hooked up to the life-monitoring system, voice urgent: "The crack is causing energy leakage. Eighty-three of the three thousand seeds have already awakened, competing for the leaked energy. If not replenished, Han Qing's 'humanity culture medium' will be depleted in twelve hours."

Su Yu walked to the floating heart, reached out. Seven-colored roots extended from her fingertips, like IV tubes piercing the heart's crack. She began transmitting her own emotional energy—not a one-time dose, but a continuous output.

"What are you doing?" Old Zhao rushed over, trying to pull her away.

"A transfusion." Su Yu's face quickly paled, but her eyes were firm: "But I'm not transfusing blood, I'm transfusing the 'why'."

She closed her eyes, beginning to recall every question she had ever asked, and the answers those questions brought:

Why did Chen Mo choose sacrifice? (Answer: So more people could ask "What will we eat tomorrow?")

Why plant flowers in the ruins? (Answer: Because flowers ask "When will the sunlight come?")

Why teach the Seran Advisor emotions? (Answer: Because they are asking "What have we missed?")

Each "why" carried warmth, bore the weight of its answer—not a standard answer, but hers. These "question-answer" pairs, injected into the heart via the roots, were like colorful patches on the crack.

Every "why" carries warmth, and carries the weight of an answer—not a standard answer, but her answer. These question-answer pairs, injected into the heart through the root veins, are like colorful patches over cracks.

The Conjugate suddenly turned its head—if that could be called "turning the head". It faced Su Yu, its form stabilizing into a huge question mark:

"Are you using 'questions' to fix 'problems'?"

"This is a recursive therapy. Inefficient, but……interesting."

It drifted up to Su Yu's face, the question mark morphing into an ear-like shape:

It floated to Su Yu's front, and the question mark turned into a shape resembling an ear:

Su Yu opened her eyes, weak but smiling: "Yes. But the tuition isn't 'details', it's 'help'."

She pointed at Han Qing's separated heart: "It needs three thousand stable 'homelands'. The grey-white tide you currently inhabit was originally the Aeo Device's energy collection system—it can extract 'details', so it should also be able to release 'details'. If you learn to transmute the extracted 'details' into gentle 'nutrients' instead of predatory 'consumption'……"

She pointed to Han Qing's separated heart: "It needs three thousand stable 'homelands'. The gray-white surge you currently inhabit was originally the energy collection system of the Aege device—it can extract 'details', and should also be able to release 'details'. If you learn to transform the extracted 'details' into gentle 'nutrients' instead of predatory 'consumption'..."

The Conjugate's body began to shift violently, as if undergoing a cognitive storm. Question marks, exclamation points, ellipses, parentheses, equals signs—all punctuation forms cycled rapidly. Finally, it stabilized into a shape never seen before: a question mark on the left, a heart on the right, connected by an equals sign in the middle.

"Assume: I will establish a 'detail circulation system'. Extract 'details' from the tide, convert them into low-intensity 'cognitive nutrients', and supply the three thousand seeds. Condition: you teach me how to make 'questions' become 'connections' rather than 'consumption'."

"Experimental period: twenty-four hours. If successful, I will become a 'symbiotic problem entity'. If it fails……"

It paused, its form slightly contracting:

"I will let the tide consume me before total loss of control. This I learned from your concept of 'sacrifice'—some questions need to be answered by 'no longer asking'."

"I will let the surge swallow me before total loss of control. This is what I learned from your concept of 'sacrifice'—it turns out some problems need to be answered by 'no longer asking'."

The Conjugate drifted toward the grey-white tide's edge. Its body began to expand, like a net spread over the tide's surface. The covered area stopped consuming—not permanently, but became a slow, measured "breath": each "breath" extracted a tiny amount of detail, transformed into soft seven-colored light points, drifting toward Han Qing's heart.

The heart's crack began to heal. The speed was slow, like a wound in the rain gradually scabbing over.

The three thousand awakened seeds gradually grew quiet, like infants who'd had their fill of milk and fell back asleep.

But just as everyone let out a breath of relief, Xiao Yu suddenly screamed.

She pointed at the newly grown leaf on the Problem Flower—the leaf originally bore each person's most feared question. Now those questions were changing:

Old Zhao's greatest fear, "Will my son ever forget me again?" turned into "What will my son someday be proud of?"

Li Xiaofeng's deepest fear, "Will my father ever forgive me for running away years ago?" turned into "Can I become a son who puts my father at ease?"

Han Qing's worst fear, "Can I still return to being a whole 'person'?" turned into "Can my 'incompleteness' help more people?"

Each question was transforming, from fear to hope, from closed to open.

But at the very bottom of the leaf, a new problem appeared—not anyone's, but the Conjugate's:

But at the bottom of the leaf, a new problem appeared. It belongs to no one, it is conjugate:

"If I have learned 'connection', learned 'gentleness', learned 'sacrifice'……can I still be called a 'problem entity'?"

"If I have learned 'connection', learned 'gentleness', learned 'sacrifice'... can I still be called a 'problem entity'?"

Or rather…

The problem broke off here.

The edge of the leaf began to burn—not flame, but a kind of cognitive-level "overload". The burning spread to the stem, spread to the whole problem flower.

The flower, while burning, slowly unfurled its last petal.

The petal was transparent.

On the transparent petal, the refraction of light wrote the final line of text:

"Perhaps 'I' will become... the first 'answer entity'."

The flower turned into Hui Jin.

Hui Jin did not scatter, but condensed into a tiny, transparent seed, falling at the center of the conjugate illusion's form.

The conjugate stilled.

Like a thinker, they suddenly saw themselves in the mirror.