Chapter 317: The Temperature of the Fragment

When the fragment was removed, the kitchen lights automatically dimmed by three levels.

It wasn't a power failure; this fragment—the smallest of the seven, no larger than a fingernail—was absorbing the surrounding light. It hovered above the old wooden table, its surface riddled with spiderweb‑like cracks, like an ancient star about to go out.

Han Qing's Teaching Scar began its warning three seconds early, and the temperature was not scorching but a gentle warmth like late‑autumn afternoon sunlight.

"It's not dangerous," she whispered, her hand hovering over the fragment, "it's… asking for help."

Xiao Yu measured the fragment's "structural stress" with the Resilience Ruler, furrowing her brows: "The cracks are still expanding slowly. At this rate, it can hold at most… 17 hours before shattering completely."

"Can it be repaired?" Su Yu, already equipped with the Structure Ruler, saw over three hundred possible reassembly schemes for the fragment flicker in her eyes.

"We need to know what it originally intended to become," Absolute Luminance-4 scanned with the Mirror Ruler, "but this fragment is too shattered; even its basic memory theme is indistinct."

Lao Zhao fished a magnifying glass out of a kitchen drawer—no electronic device, just an old glass lens with a rusted copper frame. He handed the magnifying glass to Han Qing: "Use this. Sometimes, old tools can see what new ones cannot."

Han Qing took the magnifying glass and leaned forward toward the fragment.

Through the lens, ultra‑fine golden patterns emerged deep within the cracks, resembling veins and also characters.

"It's a remnant of the Founder's handwritten script…" she identified, "It reads… 'The first thousand and first bedtime story for my daughter, never got to tell.'"

The room fell silent.

Lao Zhao turned, retrieved a small jar of walnut kernels from the back of the cabinet, and began grinding them slowly with a stone mortar.

"Before repairing anything," he said while grinding, "you have to give the worker a brain boost first."

The scent of walnuts mingled with the rhythmic grinding of the stone mortar, easing the tense atmosphere. Xiao Yu brought a small stool, sat nearby, and suddenly said, "When I was a kid I broke my knee; my grandmother first made me walnut paste, saying 'Eat this and the wound will heal quickly.'"

"Old rule," Lao Zhao said without looking up, "walnuts are like the brain; you eat what you need to replenish. Science may not explain it, but 'believing it works' itself is a kind of medicine."

A warm‑colored halo shimmered on Absolute Luminance-4's surface as it recorded: "Observation of the positive impact of irrational repair rituals on team psychology."

Teaching Scar memory storage (encryption level: Private).

Han Qing stared at the fragment's "story for the daughter" and suddenly recalled a night when her own memory was still intact.

At that time she still remembered her mother's face. Her mother, by her bedside, read a tattered fairy‑tale book whose pages were missing several leaves. Whenever a page was missing, her mother would improvise: "And then the little rabbit discovered that the missing piece of the map wasn't a lost place, but a space left for it to draw its way home."

Later, surgery took her mother's face, but that sentence remained deep within the scar.

Now she understood why the fragment was pleading to her—it, like her, was an "unfinished story."

"I will repair it," Han Qing set the magnifying glass down, the scar's temperature stabilizing, "not with the power of the rulers, but with… the Teaching Scar's method."

"What method?" Su Yu asked.

"First listen to what it wants to say, then help it finish its endless words by expressing them in another way."

Han Qing did not touch the fragment directly.

She had Xiao Yu weave a temporary "Resonance Net" around the fragment with the Resilience Ruler, Su Yu stabilize the net's structure with the Structure Ruler, Kaiwen illuminate the net softly with the Light Ruler, and Absolute Luminance-4 monitor the net's stress changes with the Mirror Ruler.

Then she gently pressed her own Teaching Scar onto the outer edge of the net.

The scar's Petal Imprint lit up with a faint glow, each petal transmitting a "warm frequency of being heard" to the fragment—that was the patience Han Qing gave the eighty‑seven students when they mustered the courage in class to say, "Teacher, I don't understand."

The cracks on the fragment's surface ceased expanding.

The golden patterns began to flow, like molten gold, reconverging inside the fragment and gradually forming a vague outline of a little girl.

The outline had no face, but its hands cradled a sphere of light.

A gentle male voice emanated from the fragment, speaking in Founder Language, yet everyone understood:

"Dear, Dad will stay up tonight arguing whether 'beauty should be defined.'"

"So the thousand‑and‑first bedtime story can only have a beginning for now:"

"Once there was a star that thought it wasn't bright enough, so it decided…"

The voice cut off there.

The little girl's outline held the light, waiting quietly.

"The story isn't finished," Xiao Yu's bridge eye could see the ripples of regret deep within the fragment, "Founder-12 (matched by voiceprint) argued until dawn that night, and never got a chance to finish it."

Su Yu's fingers trembled slightly: "Then this little girl's outline…"

"It's a memory projection of his daughter," Carrier-18 said from within the sapling sculpture, "the fragment sealed not only the story's beginning but also the moment of waiting when the father promised to return and finish it."

Han Qing closed her eyes, and the scar's light grew brighter.

She began using the Teaching Scar to transmit a frequency of "stories can have many endings" into the fragment.

She didn't fabricate an ending outright, but showed the waiting little‑girl outline various possibilities: what if the star borrowed light from other stars? What if it discovered its dimness was because it served as a guardian lamp for a night‑bloom? What if…

The sphere of light in the little girl's hands began to rotate slowly, countless tiny luminous specks of "possible endings" appearing within.

It was no longer merely waiting for a single ending.

It now possessed the seeds of all possible endings.

At that moment, the cracks on the fragment's surface began to heal on their own.

They didn't vanish; each crack transformed into golden, glowing veins, like leaf veins and also like a star map.

The cracks were no longer scars, but this fragment's unique "Aesthetic Fingerprint."

At the instant the repair completed—

All electronic devices in the kitchen flickered simultaneously.

The Monitoring Beacon's sync frequency returned to normal from 0.7 seconds, but a new notice from the Committee followed:

"Detected unregistered high‑concentration 'Private Emotional Aesthetics' energy fluctuations. Source: Earth Sanctuary Kitchen."

"According to new regulation articles 7‑12: all non‑standard aesthetic activities must be reported in advance. Cease the current activity immediately and submit an activity report."

"They sensed the repair's ripple," Kaiwen's Light Ruler displayed the monitoring energy field, "but they haven't pinpointed exactly what it is yet."

More troublesome, Carrier-18 issued an emergency warning:

"The repair consumed 17% of Han Qing's scar stability. Her memory damage ceiling is now 68%+17%=85%. If it exceeds 90%…"

It left the sentence unfinished, but everyone understood: Han Qing might permanently lose more memories, even her Teaching ability.

And on the table, six more fragments and a badge awaited processing.

The repaired fragment hovered silently, emitting a warm golden light. The outline of the little girl had vanished, replaced by a complete, rotating miniature Star Map inside the fragment, with a particularly bright star at its center, surrounded by countless points of light of "Possible Endings".

It is no longer broken.

It became a complete existence that "carries Unfinished Yet Full of Possibility".

Lao Zhao's Walnut Paste was just finished grinding. He added a bit of honey (new, not Chen Mo's jar), cooked it into a thick paste, and served eight bowls.

He placed the first bowl before the fragment: "You've worked hard too."

The golden light on the fragment's surface flickered faintly, as if nodding.

Han Qing sat down and lifted his own bowl. The temperature of the scar was slowly dropping, but that overused weakness began to surface.

"Is it worth it?" Su Yu asked softly, looking at her pale face.

Han Qing took a sip of the Walnut Paste, the sweet aroma and warm texture relaxing him slightly: "If the story of that star can provide another piece of evidence for my mother's saying 'Missing pages are left for you to draw yourself'… then it's worth it."

She looked at the remaining six fragments: "But next time… we'll need someone else. We can't put all our eggs in one scar."

Xiao Yu raised a hand: "I'll take the next one. My Resilience Ruler is meant to work within cracks."

"Eat first," Lao Zhao tapped the rim of the bowl, "The repairs must be done one by one, and the food one bite at a time. That's the rule."

Everyone quietly ate the Walnut Paste.

The repaired fragment slowly rotated on the table, its golden light reflecting on each person's face and on the clock on the wall—seven hours had passed since the Light Sphere was handed over.

Meanwhile, the Committee's warning notice still flickered coldly on the monitoring screen.

Han Qing touched the scar, where a subtle new golden line had appeared—a mark left from repairing the fragment.

"At least," she said softly, "a small part of the Holy Land now lives safely in our kitchen."

The fragment seemed to understand, its golden light gently flickered once.

Like breathing.