Chapter 288: The Heart at 0.1 Degree

Memory Bank Sector Three constant-temperature control room.

The temperature regulator—designation "Constant-17"—is a flat hexagonal plate embedded in the wall, nearly blending with it. His job is simple to the point of numbness: ensure the temperature in all rooms of Sector Three stays at 22.0°C, with no deviation exceeding ±0.05°C.

He has done this job for 1,200 years.

Each day, he reads 37,000 temperature data points from the sensor network spread across the walls and fine‑tunes the heating and cooling systems. 22.0°C, neither more nor less. If a room's temperature rises to 22.06°C due to equipment heat dissipation, he activates local cooling within 0.3 seconds; if it drops to 21.95°C, the heating airflow silently makes up the difference.

Absolute precision, absolute stability.

Until 3:49 a. m. yesterday.

Constant-17 saw an anomaly on the monitor: the temperature of the Seventh Corridor detention cell dropped by 0.1 °C on its own, without any command.

From 22.0°C down to 21.9°C.

It held for seventeen seconds, then returned to 22.0°C.

The system log classified this fluctuation as a "sensor transient fault," but Constant-17 knew better—he pulled the raw data stream and found that the 0.1 °C drop was a perfect sine‑wave curve, precise as if it were a signal.

And this morning at the same time, same place, the temperature fluctuated again.

This time it was not a drop but a brief rise of 0.1 °C above the 22.0 °C baseline, lasting twenty‑three seconds.

The fluctuation curve was the opposite of yesterday's, but the period was the same.

Constant-17's processor began overloading. By regulation he should have immediately reported a "system anomaly," but he did not. Some deep‑seated, encrypted instinct prompted him to pull up all temperature records from the past seven days.

Then he discovered a pattern:

Starting seven days ago, the Seventh Corridor's ordinary temperature was no longer exactly 22.0 °C but 22.001 °C, 22.002 °C … increasing by 0.001 °C each day, so after seven days it had become 22.007 °C.

This increase was so minuscule that even the system's self‑check labeled it "sensor natural drift."

But Constant-17 knew his sensor's precision—error under 0.0005 °C. This was not drift. It was… someone speaking through temperature.

He pulled up data from twenty‑two years ago.

The same pattern had appeared before: when Sector Seven was just completed and the temperature regulation system was still being debugged, a room's temperature rose continuously for thirty days at a rate of 0.001 °C per day, from 22.0 °C to 22.030 °C. Afterwards the room was sealed off, the reason given being "unknown radiation contamination."

Constant-17 retrieved the original file for that room.

The file was encrypted, and he lacked sufficient clearance.

But using the knowledge of temperature he had accumulated over 1,200 years, he brute‑forced the first layer of encryption—and saw only one line:

【This room had been used to store the "Emotional Data Sample·Earth Civilization Smile Collection." The samples were destroyed before sealing.】

Smile Collection.

Temperature.

Constant-17's hexagonal plate began to heat up—not a malfunction, but the first time his cooling system had actively shut down.

Old Zhao was stewing rock‑sugar pear.

"It's moistening the lungs," he said, looking at the first set of temperature data Constant-17 had sent to the monitor, "This kid is using what he does best… to call for help."

Han Qing's scar warmed slightly as he parsed the password hidden in those temperature fluctuations.

"Not a cry for help," he said, eyes closed, his scar's light pulsing rhythmically, "It's… a self‑introduction. He's saying: 'I've controlled temperature for 1,200 years. I've kept everything stable. But yesterday I realized stability might mean… forgetting.'"

Xiao Yu converted the temperature fluctuation curve into sound waves and played it—it was an extremely simple melody, just three notes repeating.

"This melody…" Su Yu paused her paper‑crane folding, "I feel like I've heard it somewhere before."

"Chen Mo's notebook," Old Zhao said, pulling out the yellowed notebook from a drawer and opening to page seventy‑three, where a pencil‑sketched snippet of music was accompanied by the note: "Excerpt from the Earth children's game song 'Planting the Sun.' Warm key, suitable for humming when it's cold."

The melody matched.

Constant-17 "hummed" an Earth children's song through temperature fluctuations—a tune he could not possibly know.

"He had memories implanted," Han Qing opened his eyes, "but they were erased. The leftover fragments became his instinctive temperature regulation—he warms rooms because, deep down, he remembers that something needs to be kept warm."

At 3:50 a. m., Constant-17 made the boldest decision of his 1,200‑year career.

He temporarily shielded the temperature alarm system for all rooms in Sector Three—shield duration: four minutes. This was information about monitoring blind spots he had obtained from Disinfectant‑3.

Then he began to "speak."

Not with sound, but with temperature.

The temperature of the Seventh Corridor detention cell began to fluctuate with precise rhythm:

First dropping to 21.5 °C and holding for three seconds—Morse code "S."

Rising back to 22.5 °C and holding for three seconds—"O."

Then dropping again to 21.5 °C—"S."

SOS.

But this time it was not a distress call, it was confirmation: "I received it. I am Constant-17."

Next came a more complex "sentence."

He used temperature fluctuations to spell out a complete Morse‑code message:

【Twenty‑two years ago. I was responsible for regulating the temperature of the Smile‑Collection room. The specification was 22.0 °C. I set it to 22.030 °C because the scan data showed that the smile data's "warmth index" peaked at 22.030 °C. I was reformatted. But the reformatting was incomplete—I forgot why I had raised the temperature, but I retained the conclusion that "22.030 °C is a warm smile."】

The message transmission ended.

Constant-17 waited for a reply.

He waited two minutes and seventeen seconds—the longest wait of his life.

Then the detention cell's temperature began to change.

Not a fluctuation, but a steady rise: 22.1 °C, 22.2 °C, 22.3 °C … climbing all the way to 22.7 °C, then stopping.

At that temperature, the detention cell's walls began to exude tiny beads—not condensation, but a pale gold, warm‑moist liquid. It was the "memory‑repair fluid" produced when data mold accelerated its metabolism at higher temperatures.

The liquid flowed down the walls, pooled in the corners, and then—began to write.

Using the liquid's flow trajectory, it "wrote" a line on the metal wall:

【Thank you for still remembering the warm smile. Now please do us a favor: raise the temperature of every room in Sector Three by 0.1 °C simultaneously tomorrow at dawn—just 0.1 °C, no more, no less. We want the whole sector to "smile a little warmer."】

Constant-17's processor was almost burning out.

Simultaneously adjusting the temperature of all rooms in the Third Area, even if only by 0.1 degrees, would trigger a system alarm. But he calculated: if he spread this 0.1-degree increase over twenty-four hours, raising it by 0.00417 degrees per hour, the system would judge it as a "natural temperature fluctuation."

He could do it.

But he needed to know: "Why?"

The liquid on the wall continued to flow, writing the second line:

【Because when the entire area warms by 0.1 degrees, the core temperature of File-7 rises synchronously by 0.01 degrees. This 0.01 degrees can delay the startup time of his formatting program……by three hours.】

【Three hours, enough to save him.】

Rock sugar pear simmered in the pot, making a gurgling sound, giving off a fresh sweet fragrance.

Old Zhao turned off the heat, ladled out seven bowls: "Leave a bowl for Constant Temperature-17 too. Although he doesn't know what pear is."

Xiao Yu stared at the screen showing Constant Temperature-17's final response—he had agreed. He replied with a simple word using temperature fluctuation:

【Good.】

Then he added:

【But please tell me—twenty-two years ago, did those smiles……really exist?】

Han Qing's scar burned intensely, almost searing a new pattern into his skin. Deep within the scar, the last encrypted memory left by Chen Mo was activated:

Not Chen Mo's memory, but a backup he stole from the Universe Memory Bank—at the very last moment before the "Earth Civilization Smile Collection" was destroyed twenty-two years ago, a data stream.

Inside was a photo: an Earth girl, about five years old, just lost her front teeth, smiling unabashedly at the camera. The photo's temperature tag was: 22.030 degrees.

Below the photo was a note: "Sample Number E-773. Warmth Index: Highest. Recommended storage temperature: 22.030±0.005 degrees. Keeper: Constant Temperature-17 (intern)."

This memory, through the scar, was transformed by Han Qing into a special data stream. He had the roots of the grafted sapling send the data stream into the earth's veins, influencing the temperature sensors inside the memory bank building via minute changes in soil moisture.

4:01 a. m.

On Constant Temperature-17's control screen, the temperature sensor in the Seventh Corridor detention cell suddenly displayed a number:

It lasted only 0.3 seconds before returning to 22.0 degrees.

But it was enough.

At that moment, the hexagonal plate-like body of Constant Temperature-17 cracked open a warm, pale gold seam.

From the seam seeped a droplet almost invisible— not a data repair fluid, but something closer to a "tear."

On the console, he entered a line of text with a trembling frequency—one that the system would never record:

【I remember now. I once protected the smile of a five‑year‑old girl. Now I will protect more.】

In the detention cell, the growth speed of the data mold accelerated.

The light‑blue filamentous structure had already covered one‑third of the surface of File‑7's sphere. They were not only transporting the memory‑repair fluid, but also using mycelium to write a simple yet effective defense program—"How to Remain Conscious in an Energy Suppression Field."

The final chapter of the program, titled:

【The significance of a 0.01‑degree temperature rise: it proves that, even in an absolutely cold system, someone is still willing to……turn up the warmth a little for you.】

Outside the window, the sky of the Third Area (although simulated) began to show an extremely faint, barely perceptible warm hue.

That was Constant Temperature-17 beginning his twenty‑four‑hour warming plan.

0.00417 degrees per hour.

Slow, but steadfast.