Chapter 305

When the pigeon flew over the Bell Tower, sunlight fell just right on the Siheyuan's blue‑brick ground. The Triplets were still sitting on a stone mound, chattering about which play to present next. Zhao Xing said "Mu Guiying Hangs the Flag" was the most imposing, Zhao Chen insisted "Wild Boar Forest" had the most vigor, Zhao Yang raised his hand and shouted, "I'll present 'Three Forks', fighting in the dark is so interesting!"

Zhao Jianguo leaned against the doorframe listening, his eyelids a bit heavy. He had been watching in the main control room all night; now the warm wind blew, and drowsiness rose. He rubbed his face, about to say he'd go back to the room to rest, when Su Qing popped out of the Kitchen, holding a tray, and lifted her chin toward him: "Not starting yet? The cake is almost melting."

He gave a startled shiver and immediately straightened up: "Coming, coming."

The Courtyard had already been tidied. Several small square tables were pushed together, covered with red cloth, set with melon seeds, candy blocks and a few plates of pickles. Neighbors arrived one after another, some bringing small stools, some just standing. The children squatted at the edge playing marbles, the adults cracking melon seeds while chatting: "Those three kids of the Zhao Family have been clever since they were little; today they're ten, must be lively."

"Exactly, just a couple days ago I saw them on TV performing Peking opera, enunciation precise, smoother than my reading of notices."

"What was it called again? Holographic…"

"Projection!" the person beside replied, "High‑tech, made of light, looks just like a real person."

Zhao Jianguo carried the cake out of the Kitchen, heard the words, and couldn't help but smile. He placed the cake on the central table: three tiers, ten candles stuck on top, and a circle at the base depicting three little people holding hands, each with a smile.

"Everyone sit properly!" he clapped his hands twice, "Today we're not hosting outsiders, we're celebrating at home, no pretenses. But there's one thing—" he pointed at the Triplets, "the protagonists must show a skill."

The children exchanged glances; Zhao Xing stood up, smoothing his collar, Zhao Chen tugged his sleeve down, Zhao Yang pursed his lips, and the three walked together to the center of the Courtyard, forming a line.

Su Qing then walked over, holding a silver‑gray microphone, and handed it to the three. The mic was small, its head rounded, the kind you could hold in the palm. She asked softly, "Ready?"

The Triplets nodded in unison.

The previously bustling faces suddenly quieted. Their eyes changed, no longer sparkling and darting, but fixed, like windows lit at night with someone watching inside.

Zhao Jianguo felt a thump in his heart.

Zhao Xing spoke first, in French, his voice steady, not sounding like a child: "Quantum Entanglement Signal can transmit Biological Information in a No-Base-Station Environment."

As soon as he finished, Zhao Chen followed in English: "WecansimulateDNArepairpathwaysthroughacousticresonance."

Zhao Yang was last, in Mandarin clear and crisp: "This model has already been validated successfully in a Virtual Environment."

Three sentences, three languages, the rhythm identical, even the breath intervals matched to the fraction of a second.

The Courtyard fell silent at once.

The front‑row neighbors glanced at each other, didn't understand, but sensed something off. The little grandson of Wang Shen's family tilted his head and whispered to his mother: "Why do they sound like a radio?"

Zhao Jianguo didn't move. He stared at the throats of the three children, noticing that when they spoke, the rise and fall of their necks were almost synchronized; breathing, pauses, tonal shifts—all seemed pulled by the same thread. He subconsciously touched the sign‑in device in his pocket; the cold metal case pressed to his palm, yet gave no response.

The Triplets kept speaking.

Zhao Xing discussed data encryption pathways, Zhao Chen explained how Acoustic Frequency penetrates Barrier, Zhao Yang added system self‑check mechanisms. The content grew deeper, mentioning "Neural Interface Feedback Latency", "Cross‑Dimensional Information Mapping", making heads spin.

But their tone remained calm, no word got stuck, no sentence repeated.

Zhao Jianguo felt increasingly uneasy. This wasn't a memorized script nor a rehearsed performance. Every term they uttered sounded like a description of a reality currently unfolding.

Applause erupted suddenly.

No one knows who clapped first, then others followed, a cascade of claps, crackling. After the children finished the last line, they all said together: "Future, reconstructed by Sound Reconstruction."

When the words fell, the pigeon on the wall was startled, flapped up in a flock, wings cutting through sunlight, casting scattered shadows on the ground.

"Oh my, truly impressive!" Li Nainai stood up, slapping her thigh, "These three kids, will they become scientists someday?"

"My boy was still wetting the bed at ten!" Liu Shu laughed heartily, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

The adults gathered around, praising each other. Zhao Xing was hugged by Wang Shen around the shoulders and kissed, Zhao Chen's hat got crooked, Zhao Yang was handed a piece of candy, which he held without moving.

Zhao Jianguo still hadn't stood.

He sat on a front‑row stool, hand in his pocket, gripping the sign‑in device, his knuckles turning white.

At that moment, Jia Dongxu slipped in somehow, wearing an old jacket, hair messy as if just crawled out of the Laboratory. He didn't join the crowd, but walked around to Zhao Jianguo's back and lightly patted his shoulder.

Zhao Jianguo turned his head.

Jia Dongxu whispered, "Stop clapping, listen to the Voiceprint."

He handed over a pair of earphones, black, very small; the instant they were slipped into the ears, Zhao Jianguo heard the Triplets' original audio.

It wasn't a human voice, but a waveform.

Inside the earphones came two curves, one the speech spectrum just recorded, the other some encrypted Data Stream. The two lines ran side by side, with peaks, inflection points, amplitude highs, perfectly aligned as if drawn with a ruler.

"This…"

"More." Jia Dongxu's voice dropped even lower, "I matched it with the Antidote Simulation Data that ran out of the Laboratory last night. Their Voiceprint Fluctuation matches the Key Parameters of the Virus Suppression Model exactly."

Zhao Jianguo jerked his head up, looking toward the stage.

The three children were surrounded by neighbors, smiles returning, Zhao Xing biting an apple, Zhao Chen arm‑wrestling with a kid, Zhao Yang squatting on the ground drawing, his finger tracing back and forth on the brick.

But in that instant, Zhao Jianguo felt they were no longer his children.

Too orderly, too precise, too steady.

Ten fingers rarely move so uniformly, yet the resonance frequency of their speech was indistinguishable even to instruments.

"Are you saying…" his throat was a bit dry, "they weren't performing just now?"

"No." Jia Dongxu shook his head, "they were transmitting. Or rather—activating."

Zhao Jianguo said nothing more.

He watched Zhao Yang's drawing on the ground; at first he thought it was random scribbles, but squinting he saw it was a set of Waveform Diagram, matching exactly the curve he saw in the earphones.

"This matter…" his voice lowered, "how long have you known?"

Jia Dongxu didn't answer directly, only said, "The first time they recited Peking opera, the System Backend caught an Abnormal Frequency Band. I didn't dare say anything, fearing you'd read too much into it."

"But they're just kids." Zhao Jianguo's voice was a bit stiff, "ten years old, school, homework, candy, fights—that's normal."

"Yet every sentence they just said," Jia Dongxu looked at the Triplets, his tone also deepening, "was true. That model, our Laboratory couldn't run through in three days, yet they spoke it as soon as they opened their mouths."

The Courtyard was still bustling.

Someone brought out a watermelon, cut it open to reveal red flesh; the children scrambled for pieces. Zhao Xing bit into the watermelon, juice running down his hand, he didn't wipe it, looked up at the sky. Zhao Chen taught a neighbor's child English hand signs, Zhao Yang stood, brushed the dust off his hand, and looked toward Zhao Jianguo.

Their eyes met.

She smiled, walked over, tilted her head back and said, "Dad, I'm thirsty."

Zhao Jianguo removed the earphones, slipped them back into his pocket, pulled out a smile, "Want some soda?"

"Mm!"

He stood up to get a chilled soda, his hand feeling a little heavy. As he twisted the bottle cap, the metal struck the table edge with a clang.

Jia Dongxu stood where he was, unmoving, glanced at him, and said softly, "Want to take a test?"

"Now?"

"While they haven't dispersed yet."

Zhao Jianguo lifted his eyes and looked at the triplets. They had gathered together again, heads bowed, muttering something unknown, their fingers gesturing in the air as if drawing invisible lines.

He handed the soda to Zhao Yang, nodding: "In a bit, I'll take them to the Tech District."

"Just say it's a physical?"

"Just say… the company just got a batch of children's nutritional supplements, free for trial."

Jia Dongxu gave an "hmm" and didn't say more.

The sun tilted a little westward, the shadows in the courtyard lengthened. The kids were still running wildly, the adults began clearing the tables. Su Qing carried an empty tray past the kitchen doorway, glanced back at the bustling central courtyard, smiled, then turned and went inside.

Zhao Jianguo stood by the stone table, holding an empty bottle in his hand, his gaze on the triplets.

They weren't running around like other kids; instead, they sat side by side on the steps, shoulders touching, quietly watching the sunset.

A breeze blew in, lifting the hem of their clothes.

The three of them had their hair sway to the right at the same time.