Jiangnan City — inside a dimly lit internet café.
Lin Shu set the mouse down, grabbed a cold bottle of cola from the fridge, and rushed over to Machine No. 83. She handed the drink to a young man immersed in an online battle, then quickly returned to the service counter and fixed her gaze on the computer screen in front of her.
For the past few months, Lin Shu had been working part-time here.
Of all the ways she could think of to make money, entering the Marching Ant Company's programming competition was her best bet. The cash prize was her last hope.
The contest's reward structure had been announced:
1st Place: 2 million yuan, with additional compensation for software rights.
2nd Place (2 spots): 800,000 yuan.
3rd Place (5 spots): 300,000 yuan.
Consolation Prizes: 10,000 yuan each.
She just needed to place in the top eight. That would be enough to pay for her younger brother's medical treatment.
Since deciding to learn the Chinese character programming language, Lin Shu had been immersed in it every day for months.
Without a computer at home, she had no choice but to use the café's systems during off-hours. Most cafés refused to hire students, but the owner of this place agreed to take her on as an hourly worker. It was close to her school, so after class each day, she'd come straight here—refilling cards, delivering drinks when it was busy, and sitting quietly in front of the computer to study when it wasn't.
She had even joined an online learning group to absorb as much as she could from others.
Rain or shine, Lin Shu came daily, staying until 11 p.m. Her only savings went toward buying all three volumes of the newly released Chinese programming textbooks from Marching Ant Company.
In class, she read through them religiously. After school, she watched tutorial videos repeatedly—five times or more for some of them. It was exhausting, but the hope of helping her brother pushed her forward.
The competition required real software development—something beyond theory. She'd seen other participants forming teams, while she toiled alone.
But months of sleepless nights had paid off. From a complete novice, she'd risen to the level of an advanced user of the language.
Now, on her screen, was the culmination of all that effort.
Rows of intricate Chinese code filled the compiler. Just looking at them calmed her.
She wasn't attempting anything as grand as a game—she was creating antivirus software. If it worked and caught the company's eye, her dream could come true.
Today was crucial.
She was about to complete the prototype. If it compiled and executed correctly, she'd be ready to submit her entry.
Two hours passed before she finally stopped typing. She double-checked for errors and stared at the screen, heart pounding. Something felt off—anxiety crept in. She chalked it up to nerves.
After saving the project, Lin Shu built the application.
The internet café was packed with students that weekend. Most were lost in their games, and no one paid attention to the girl behind the counter—not even the café's network admin, who was glued to his phone.
Lin Shu's hand trembled slightly as she hovered the mouse over her application's icon. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
She double-clicked. Eyes closed. Waiting.
Nothing happened.
She slowly opened her eyes and looked at the screen. Still normal. She exhaled—relieved.
Then—
Chaos erupted.
The café exploded with noise as screens across the room began to glitch out.
Players in the middle of intense matches stood up in outrage.
"Admin! What the hell happened?! My game crashed!"
"F***! We were about to destroy their base!"
"I was about to win my chicken dinner!"
"@#¥%!"
All game interfaces vanished simultaneously. Anger filled the room like a virus of its own.
"Icons are disappearing—it's like a virus!" someone shouted.
Everyone stared at their desktops in horror. Icons vanished one after another. Then the screens froze. Mice stopped responding.
The stunned admin finally looked up, panicked. He rushed to Lin Shu's computer to test things—only to see one lone icon on her desktop: a simple antivirus program.
"Lin Shu, what's this antivirus software on your desktop?"
Outside, the café's server machine exhibited the same symptoms. And soon, reports of similar crashes began spreading across Jiangnan City.
Meanwhile, inside the lab—
Chen Mo was focused on synthesizing more room-temperature superconducting material.
With the layout of the superconducting chip now finalized, and the lithography machine already delivered, it was just a matter of waiting for the remaining equipment. Zhao Min was handling all of that.
His job? Keep producing and purifying silicon-carbon compounds for the chips.
The seismograph project was progressing smoothly. With national support, every batch produced was swiftly shipped to seismic hotspots and populated regions. A recent 5.1 magnitude earthquake had even been successfully predicted, resulting in no casualties and minimal damage.
That win gave the seismograph massive public support. People now welcomed its installation like a blessing. Domestic deployment was already underway, with locations carefully selected by experts from the National Academy of Sciences.
For now, Marching Ant Company focused solely on domestic deployment. Export would come later.
As Chen Mo adjusted the purification setup, Mo Nu's voice interrupted his focus:
"Brother Mo, a new semi-intelligent computer virus has appeared in Jiangnan City."
Chen Mo paused, frowning.
"Did you say semi-intelligent?"
"Yes," Mo Nu replied. "The virus is written in Chinese character programming language. It includes a small section of intelligent code. The antivirus program has a fatal logic error—it can't distinguish friend from foe, so it deletes all software it detects. Most critically, it can spread across local networks on its own. In just 20 minutes, nearly 20 million computers in Jiangnan City have been infected."
Chen Mo's eyes narrowed.
"Pull all available countermeasures. Halt its spread immediately. And find out who wrote it."