Chapter 173: The Farmer and the Starship

The diplomatic request from Serran Mother Star was delivered through a "knowledge rain".

It wasn't text, it wasn't images, but tiny crystals that condensed directly in the atmosphere. When the crystals fell they refracted sunlight, casting three thousand different colors on the ground—each color representing a professional field of Serran civilization: quantum engineering, spacetime topology, stellar forging, material programming… even the most basic were labeled "Primary Dimensional Folding Technique".

"They are showing 'tuition'." Kevin collected a dozen crystals, placed them under an analyzer, "Each crystal contains a complete introductory knowledge of a tech tree. According to their labeled 'Principle of Equivalent Exchange', these are enough to propel Earth's technology forward three hundred years."

Lao Zhou from Iron Anvil Town rushed over, picked up a crystal labeled "Materials Science – Ultra‑Strength Alloy". They activated it with the heat of their palm; the crystal melted in their hand, turning into a beam of light that pierced their skin. Seconds later, they snapped their eyes open: "I… I now have seventeen new smelting formulas in my mind. One can use scrap car shells to forge something lighter than titanium alloy and harder than tungsten steel…"

They swallowed a mouthful of saliva, looking at their own hand as if it were a stranger's.

Li Xiaofeng picked up a crystal marked "Ecological Engineering – Radiation Purification", hesitated and did not activate it: "Is this a bribe?"

"It's a 'show of goodwill'." Serran consultant Logic floated over, its spherical surface already covered with intricate emotional patterns, like a transparent tree with growth rings, "The Mother Star Council voted over seven hundred rounds, finally passing a resolution 51% to 49%: recognizing that emotional modules may possess 'undeveloped cognitive value'. But they need… empirical teaching."

It paused, the patterns flickered a shape resembling "awkward".

"Our 'Egg‑Hatching Consultant' team's weekly reports have been deemed by the council as 'subjectively polluted descriptions'. They demand… dispatch unpolluted human teachers to the Mother Star to establish a standardized emotional education system."

On the vacant lot behind the temporary school, Lao Zhao and Li Xiaofeng were repairing an old motorcycle.

It wasn't Chen Mo's bike— that one had been sealed underground by Su Yu as part of a memorial hall. This was an ordinary motorcycle salvaged from the ruins, rusted to the point of being unrecognizable. Lao Zhao was teaching their child how to disassemble the engine, moving so slowly it was like teaching a baby to walk.

"This screw," Lao Zhao said, pointing at a nearly rusted bolt with a wrench, "can't be forced. First spray rust remover, wait ten minutes, then tap lightly and feel the moment it loosens."

Li Xiaofeng complied. The rust remover was a chemical concoction they made themselves from the knowledge in the Serran crystal, and it worked marvelously. After ten minutes the bolt truly loosened.

"Dad," they unscrewed the bolt and suddenly asked, "If we really send someone to Serran Mother Star… who should we send?"

Lao Zhao wiped the oil from their hands with a rag and fell silent for a long while.

"If Chen Mo were here," they finally said, "he would go. Because he would think: 'Those people on the stars must be very lonely.'"

They looked toward the receding gray‑white wave boundary in the distance: "But now Chen Mo is gone. Su Yu has to care for three thousand seeds, Han Qing hasn't fully recovered, and an old guy like me going would only bring shame…"

"I'll go." Li Xiaofeng said.

Lao Zhao spun around sharply.

"I'm an engineer," Li Xiaofeng's voice was soft but steady, "I can understand their technological language. I've also gone through losing memory and regaining it—I know what 'emptiness' is, what 'refilling' is. And moreover…"

They paused, looking into their father's eyes: "And I'm your son. You taught me that when fixing something you must 'feel the moment it loosens'. Perhaps the 'moment' on Serran Mother Star has already arrived."

Lao Zhao said nothing, but gave their son's shoulder a firm pat. They didn't retract their hand after the pat, keeping it there, as if confirming the weight of this suddenly grown child.

The community representatives' meeting was almost absurd.

Lao Zhou banged the table: "Shall we teach those who can treat stars like marbles how to be 'sad'? It's like teaching a tiger to eat vegetables!"

The elder by the reservoir was much calmer: "The purification technology they gave can bring the reservoir's radiation level below the safety line in three days. This isn't a trade; it's a lifeline. We should repay the favor."

The one‑eyed woman from the mine sneered: "Repay the favor? When they started formatting other civilizations three hundred years ago, didn't they think about 'repaying'? Now that they discover emotions are useful they come to learn—it's speculation!"

Su Yu sat in the main seat, listening quietly. Her chest bore newly regrown multicolored roots, like an internal neural network. She could sense each person's emotional frequency: Lao Zhou's anger contained fear, the elder's calm held longing, the one‑eyed woman's sharpness held pain.

Han Qing sat beside her. His separated heart had returned to his body, but a multicolored vortex‑shaped mark remained on his chest. His voice had regained a full human timbre, though occasionally interspersed with a few Serran words:

"Serran Mother Star is 4.3 light‑years from Earth. Their ships use spatial folding technology, taking three weeks one way. But the hardest part isn't the distance…"

He summoned a holographic projection, displaying a Serran legal document:

"According to Serran's 'Cross‑Civilization Contact Supreme Act', dispatching consultants requires signing a 'Cognitive Synchronization Agreement'. While on the Mother Star, consultants will maintain real‑time consciousness linkage with Earth, but Serran reserves the right to copy all the consultants' 'teaching data'. Moreover, if a consultant 'pollutes' more than five percent of Serran individuals during instruction, they will be permanently isolated."

Lao Zhou widened their eyes: "What does 'pollution' mean?"

"Emotional contagion," Han Qing said with a wry smile. "Serran regard emotion as a kind of… cognitive virus. They need it, but fear it running out of control. So they set a safety threshold: five percent. Exceed that, and they will trigger 'cognitive isolation', sealing the consultant and all 'polluted' Serran into a closed dimension until the phenomenon is understood."

The conference room fell into dead silence.

At that moment, Conjugate drifted in.

Its current form was much more stable—no longer a constantly shifting geometry, but a translucent, jelly‑like being resembling a jellyfish. At its center floated the transparent seed, surrounded by three thousand tiny light points, each point a civilization seed being gently "nurtured" by it.

"I'll go," Conjugate's voice softened, like a whisper in the wind, "I belong to neither Earth nor Serran. I am a 'third party'. Moreover, I myself am a 'collection of problems'—I can teach them how to ask questions without being devoured by the problems. This is the pre‑course of emotional education…"

Everyone was stunned.

Su Yu stood up: "But you aren't human. You need 'details' as an energy source, and Serran Mother Star's environment…"

"Serran Mother Star hasn't had 'details' for three thousand years," Conjugate gently waved its tendrils, "Everything there has been optimized to the extreme. No dust, no stains, no 'Error'. To me, that's… a desert. I might starve to death."

The transparent seed at its core glowed faintly:

"But the seed left by the problem flower tells me: sometimes 'hunger' is also a teacher. It teaches us to cherish every 'feeding', to choose 'food' wisely."

The vote took place at dusk.

It wasn't a show of hands nor an anonymous ballot. It was at the organ console, each person placing their hand on a key, inputting their emotional frequency. The organ analyzed the proportion of "determination", "fear", "hope", and "sense of responsibility" in the frequency and gave an overall score.

Li Xiaofeng was the first to step forward. When their hand rested on the key, the emitted frequency was complex yet resolute: 90% determination, 5% fear, 3% longing for their father, 2%… curiosity. A massive curiosity for a world they had never seen.

The organ sounded, playing an uplifting marching tune.

Lao Zhou stepped forward. Their frequency was 70% anger, 20% protective instinct ("We can't let our children take risks"), 10%… shame. Shame for not daring to go.

The organ's sound was a heavy drumbeat.

One after another. Thirty‑seven blank entities also participated—they had no voting rights, but the organ recorded their "wish frequencies". Entity 007 wished "to see what the place that created us looks like". Entity 008 wished "to bring back new chemical bond patterns and teach our gaseous‑civilization friends".

Finally it was Su Yu's turn.

When her hand pressed the key, she did not lift it immediately. She closed her eyes; the multicolored roots on her chest all lit up, linking to the plant network, to three thousand dormant civilization seeds, to the underground Chen Mo memorial hall, and to every distant community.

Her frequency was not singular.

It was the resonance of everyone's frequencies.

The organ did not sound.

All the organ's pipes vibrated simultaneously, emitting a sound that could not be defined as "music"—it was the weight of civilization, the shape of responsibility, the courage of the insignificant to still "respond" before the vast universe.

Conjugate floated before the holographic voting results.

The results showed: dispatch a consultant team. Members: Li Xiaofeng (human representative), Conjugate (problem entity representative), and…

Serran consultant Logic.

Its spherical surface, the emotional patterns had grown into a tree blooming with flowers. It spoke in a raw but sincere tone:

"I have applied to cancel my status as a 'permanent Earth observer'. I will serve as a guide for the consultant team under the designation of 'Serran civilization rebel individual', because I understand better than any Serran… what we lack."

The departure is set for three days later.

Li Xiaofeng is packing: a few changes of clothes, that cracked photo frame, a set of Old Zhao's tools, and a packet of seeds given by Xiao Yu—"Plant them over there, and they will tell you Earth's weather."

Conjugate is practicing "Fast": it hovers at the edge of a gray‑white tide, extracting only the tiniest details, absorbing them slowly like sipping tea. Its translucent body glistens in the sunlight with a pearl‑like sheen.

"Logic" is saying farewell to the other two Seran consultants. Their spherical surfaces have also sprouted simple emotional patterns, like newly sprouted seedlings.

"If the home planet wants to format us," one consultant asks, "would you resist?"**

Logic's patterns flicker a figure resembling a "smile":

"I will teach them a song. Chen Mo taught me, a song about how beautiful the 'Error Signal' is."

Su Yu and Han Qing stand on the seashore, watching the Seran spacecraft under construction—not a massive battleship, but a small, streamlined silver shuttle, like a bullet ready to be fired into the starry sky.

"Will you miss him?" Han Qing asks.

"Every day," Su Yu says softly, "but Chen Mo said that seeds must eventually leave the soil. Sometimes they are blown away by the wind, sometimes carried off by birds, sometimes…"

She looks at the forming ship:

"Sometimes it's a choice, to go see unfamiliar places."

Han Qing's colorful vortex in his chest suddenly warms slightly. He looks down and finds, at the vortex's center, a line of tiny Seran characters—not the modern Seran script, but an ancient script used three thousand years ago by Ai O.

The translation reads:

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. When the teacher is ready… the student will change the teacher."

"Be prepared, Han Qing. It's your turn now."

In the distance, Li Xiaofeng turns back and waves to his father.

Old Zhao does not wave, but stands upright like an old tree.

And the tree's eyes flash in the sunlight.