Chapter 277: Memory Weaving·Growth Rhythm Reset

Zhao Chen's hand halted midair, his eyes fixed on the warehouse direction. The Morse code on that robot's screen flashed only for an instant, but he saw it clearly. Three short dots, then two long dashes, then three short dots—exactly the same as the distress signal sent from the underground broadcast station of the Wasteland city in his dream.

He felt his throat dry, wanted to speak but couldn't open his mouth.

Zhao Jianguo walked over from behind, a hand lightly resting on his shoulder. He didn't turn his head, but he could feel the hand's warmth and an old callus on the palm, left from early years of work.

"Again you saw it?" Zhao Jianguo said in a low voice, as if afraid to startle someone.

Zhao Chen nodded, his lips moving: "Fire... ash... Mom is crying."

Zhao Jianguo didn't ask again. He bent over and lifted him up in a smooth motion, as if still holding the little kid who used to run fevers when he was young. Zhao Chen didn't struggle, his head resting on his dad's shoulder, eyes closed, breathing a little uneven.

The hallway lights were on, casting two shadows that dragged on the floor. Zhao Xing and Zhao Yang heard the movement, came out of the room, and followed behind. No one spoke, their steps light.

The master bedroom had long been converted into a cabin; with the door shut, no sound could be heard from outside. Several machines stood against the wall, three beds placed side by side in the center, connected to data lines and monitors. Zhao Jianguo laid Zhao Chen down and pulled over a blanket to cover him.

"Nobody go back to your rooms tonight," he said. "Let's all sleep together."

Zhao Xing glanced at the instrument panel: "The Brainwave Frequency is off; he hasn't entered deep sleep for four straight days."

Zhao Yang touched his brother's forehead: "It's hot."

Zhao Jianguo walked to the corner and pressed a button. The ceiling lowered a ring of light that slowly rotated, casting a pale yellow Light Screen. A new device activated, and the screen displayed several lines of text:

【Memory Weaver · Ready】

【Target: Zhao Chen】

【Suggested Action: Reconstruct Future Premonition Fragments】

【Mode Selection: Detach Fear | Retain Clues | Fairy-tale Processing】

Zhao Jianguo tapped confirm.

"Isn't this thing still in the testing phase?" Zhao Yang asked softly.

"We don't need it now; later there might be no chance to use it." Zhao Jianguo said, "He can't hold out anymore."

The Light Screen spread, covering Zhao Chen's face. His eyelid twitched, his fingers curled. The image began to change—

The ruined city vanished, replaced by a castle floating in the cloud layer, its walls made of colored candy, the roof covered. A breeze blew, carrying a sweet fragrance. On the streets there were no wandering wastelanders, only little elves in flowered clothes hopping about, handing out jam bread.

The radiation storm turned into a rainbow rain, warm on the skin. The distant rumble of collapsing mountains was drowned out by a cheerful harmonica tune.

Zhao Chen's brow relaxed.

"It works." Zhao Xing stared at the monitor chart: "Anxiety level down seventy percent, brainwaves have entered the stable range."

"Continue." Zhao Jianguo said, "Hook the other two up as well."

"We too?" Zhao Yang pointed at himself.

"You're on the same frequency; whatever he dreams, you'll eventually dream too." Zhao Jianguo said while plugging in the lines, "Better to adjust together now."

As Zhao Xing lay down, he added: "I really don't want to dream of flying pudding."

Zhao Yang: "Then be careful; maybe one will actually show up later."

The equipment's running sound softened, like someone humming a lullaby. The three people's breathing gradually synced, their chests rising and falling in unison. Unbeknownst when, the corners of their mouths turned up, as if they had truly entered that fairy-tale world.

Zhao Jianguo sat before the control console, watching the data stream jump on the screen. The system suddenly popped up a new prompt:

【Detected: Three-person sync rate reached standard】

【Activating Collective Memory Reset】

【Progress: 10%……35%……68%……】

He took a sip of water, noticing a thin layer of frost at the bottom of the cup. He touched it—cold.

The room clearly had the heating on.

He lifted his head again to look outside; the night was darker than before, a faint thin line visible on the glass, as if scratched by a knife. He remembered there had been no such mark during the day.

The System Prompt continued to scroll:

【Reset Completion: 92%】

【Remaining interference fragments being cleared】

【Warning: Side effects are……】

The words cut off abruptly here.

The screen went black for a second, then when it lit up again there was nothing. The machine's operating sound lowered a few notches, the light stopped rotating and hung still overhead.

Zhao Jianguo rose to check the log. An encrypted file had appeared in the folder, unopenable, its permission tag showing an unknown source.

He frowned, about to pull the plug, when his eye caught something outside the window.

That crack widened, its edge glowing with a metallic sheen—not like broken glass, but as if space itself had been torn open a slit. Even stranger, a thin, elongated thing extended from the crack, crawling along the wall surface, slow but constantly moving.

He stepped closer a few steps and saw it was some kind of Mechanical Lesson tendril, its surface bearing segmented ridges, the tip splitting into three prongs; it lightly tapped the window frame, emitting a faint click.

The three children inside were still asleep, smiles on their faces.

Zhao Jianguo didn't call them.

He returned to his seat, opened the drawer, took out a pen, also found an old sheet of paper, wrote a few lines. After writing, he folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and placed it under the teacup.

Then he sat down again, staring at the monitor screen.

The tendrils grew more numerous, already winding past the window toward the door gap. Each was about the same length, moving in coordinated fashion, as if controlled by the same thing. They neither hurried nor stopped, bit by bit covering the wall.

Zhao Jianguo picked up the tablet, pulled up the brainwave chart of the triplets. Everything was normal, even steadier than usual. The dream feedback showed they were standing on a bridge that danced, with glowing cookie butterflies flying around.

He put down the tablet, took out a lollipop from his pocket, peeled off the wrapper and put it in his mouth. The sweetness spread, making him a bit more alert.

Forty minutes passed.

The tendrils stopped at the doorway, no longer advancing. They formed a circle on the floor, laying out a pattern—three dots, two horizontal lines, then three dots.

Just like the Morse code that had flashed on the robot's screen.

Zhao Jianguo stood up, walked to the door, and looked out through the door panel.

No light leaked from beneath the door gap, nor any shadow.

But he knew someone or something was waiting outside.

He put his hand on the door handle and didn't turn it.

The children inside rolled over, and Zhao Yang mumbled in his sleep, "Don't eat too much sugar, you'll get cavities."

Zhao Jianguo withdrew his hand and walked back to the Control Console.

He pressed a red button, and the whole cabin entered silent mode. All lights went out, leaving only the instrument screen emitting a faint blue light.

The tentacles outside the window began to vibrate, each one standing up and aiming at the glass.

The crack in the glass widened a bit more.