The elevator descended with a low hum, its metal walls groaning faintly under pressure, like a submarine diving into a pitch-black trench. When the doors slid open with a heavy sound, an icy blue light automatically illuminated a technical operations room that existed on no public blueprint. The air here was triple-filtered, carrying a peculiar scent of metal and ozone, as if one were in the core chamber of an interstellar spacecraft.
Wrap-around screens enveloped the space into a deep sea of data, where tens of thousands of light points floated and swirled like bioluminescent plankton. The main screen displayed real-time data streams, while side screens showed a map of global network nodes, countless points of light flickering within like stars in a digital universe. The air was filled with the low-frequency hum of servers and the scorched scent of electronic components. An array of thirty-six independently running processors was simultaneously handling massive amounts of information.
Su Xiaolan stepped into this waterfall of light. Her figure seemed small before the vast data flow, but the moment she touched the control console, her focus sharpened abruptly. Her fingers glided over the cold metal interface, sensing the immense computational power beneath. This was top-tier equipment she had never accessed before, every port shimmering with tantalizing technological light.
Li Chenyuan stood silently half a step behind her, like a shadow cast by a deep-sea leviathan, silent yet overwhelmingly present. "All equipment here is physically isolated, completely disconnected from external networks," his voice echoed in the vast space. "You have top-level clearance. Use it freely."
She quickly disassembled the unregistered terminal, connected a custom isolation module, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. Code cascaded down the screens, custom scripts reconstructing the data universe with astonishing efficiency. When she launched the first detection program, the surrounding screens lit up simultaneously, visualizing the entire data ocean before her.
"Commercial firewalls… flimsy as paper," she muttered under her breath, yet still inserted a marker in the code:
// FriedChips_Mode: Snack-munching acceleration algorithm
Technicians exchanged glances in the distance, watching as the chaotic environmental network data transformed into a shimmering star chart under her command. She fed three months of traffic records into her self-built analysis model. Data points rearranged and combined in virtual space, forming complex and beautiful nebula-like patterns. The operations room fell silent when her finger paused on a faint peak in the data.
"These heartbeat signals are too precise," she amplified the data packet, exposing its true nature beneath the disguise—periodic transmissions directed towards non-existent IP ranges. "They're checking in with something dormant." She pulled up a temporal analysis chart, showing the transmission times of these signals perfectly coincided with the moments she had felt watched in the past.
More chilling was the encryption pattern: ancient, nearly obsolete, yet sharing the same origin as the 'Silent Treaty' albeit diverging. She放大 (zoomed in on) the encryption features on the main screen. Those algorithmic structures resembled digital fossils, recording the technological脉络 (veins) of a forgotten era.
On another screen, the surveillance footage was simultaneously放大 (enhanced). With algorithmic enhancement, the handwriting in Zhang Jingxian's notebook became清晰可辨 (clearly legible)—they were preliminary architectural sketches of the 'Deep Water' system, with corner signatures belonging to designers officially erased. The retro radio was tuned to a system maintenance channel that should have been decommissioned. Further analysis by the tech team revealed the device was receiving some kind of定期 (regular) calibration signal, like a lighthouse guiding passing vessels.
"She's not a watcher," Su Xiaolan's voice tightened, "She's a founding member of Deep Water." The discovery made her dizzy. The old lady who knitted sweaters and made soup for her had helped create the system that now trapped her. This betrayal stung deeper than mere surveillance.
Suddenly, Little Fatty Tang's steganographic key surfaced in her memory. She applied the fragmented key to the ancient signal. The screen instantly parsed a repeating Morse code:
· · — · — · · · (Deeper)
· · · — — · (Remember)
"This isn't an instruction, it's a warning," she murmured, simultaneously noticing the signal's source originated from the same direction as the signals Granny Zhang was receiving. A bold conjecture began forming in her mind.
In a flash of insight, she constructed a faint reverse signal, injecting it into the network using the same ancient protocol—like dropping a stone into the deep sea. This signal was meticulously designed as a sort of digital whale song, both a response to the ancient protocol and a probe for hidden enemies.
The holographic screen suddenly transformed!
The countdown jumped wildly from [65:59:17] to —
[12:00:00]
The moment the blood-red numbers froze, a line of text撕裂 (tore across) the screen:
[F.LK. You woke IT.]
Dead silence swallowed the operations room. That word "IT" stabbed into everyone's spine like an ice pick. Technicians looked at each other; some unconsciously took half a step back, as if sensing some colossal entity opening its eyes in the depths of the digital deep.
Li Chenyuan's gaze, like a deep-sea searchlight, locked onto Su Xiaolan. There was no blame, only极致 (ultimate) calmness: "Twelve hours. It's a battle for survival now." His voice was low and steady, yet it made everyone present feel an unprecedented pressure.
Su Xiaolan's fingertips turned white, but within seconds, her focus returned. Staring at the warning text on the screen, she suddenly realized this might not be a threat, but a warning—perhaps from Little Fatty Tang, or other allies lurking in the shadows. "Since IT's awake, let's wake IT up properly." She reached for the high-power transmitter, the switch to the abyss. Her fingers slid quickly over the control interface, adjusting transmission parameters, preparing to send a stronger probe signal.
Li Chenyuan gave a slight nod, issuing orders to the tech team: "All units, stand by for chain reaction. Activate all defense systems. Monitor all data channels for anomalous activity." The room instantly buzzed with confirmation sounds, everyone entering a state of highest alert.
Su Xiaolan's finger came down. The switch engaged.
A low-frequency hum, like an ancient whale song, pierced through the digital deep sea, reaching into dark realms unknown. The lights in the operations room flickered slightly with the signal's transmission, as if some vast entity was awakening, its every breath tugging at the foundations of this digital world.
Three seconds after the signal was sent, an eerie silence fell over the operations room. Even the server hum seemed swallowed by something. Then, the main screen flickered—
Not from an external attack, nor a change in the countdown.
But a brief system status prompt, appearing automatically in the log:
[Calibration signal confirmed. Protocol Ψ (Psi) awaiting activation.]
"Protocol Psi?" a young technician couldn't help but read aloud, "What is this? There's no record of this protocol in our systems."
Almost simultaneously, on the side screen's surveillance feed, the indicator light on that retro radio receiver module in Zhang Jingxian's home switched from a steady green blink to a rapid red pulse, like a long-dormant heart suddenly beginning to beat fiercely.
More disconcerting was that Su Xiaolan's private terminal (theoretically under strict shielding) vibrated at that very moment. A message from "Little Fatty Tang" popped up directly—no steganography, clean to the point of fear:
"IT is older than the Treaty. Run. Now."
The lights in the operations room dramatically dimmed for a moment, as if some colossal entity had opened its eyes in the deep sea and cast its first glance. Several technicians gasped, instinctively tightening their grip on their equipment.
The air was taut, almost ready to snap.
Just as the extreme tension was about to shatter nerves, an utterly inappropriate, loud gurgle abruptly sounded.
It came from Su Xiaolan's stomach.
She herself froze for a second, her hand instinctively pressing against her stomach. The relaxation after intense focus, combined with the physiological reaction to not eating for hours, was announcing its presence in an extremely awkward way.
Li Chenyuan's gaze shifted from the terrifying warning on the screen to her. His deep-sea eyes held a mix of ultimate calm and a trace of almost imperceptible exasperation.
He said nothing, just tilted his head and gave Wang Jing a slight, nearly imperceptible nod.
Wang Jing understood instantly, whispering a few orders into his comms.
In less than three minutes, a small automated delivery cart silently glided into the operations room, stopping beside Su Xiaolan. On it was a cup of still-steaming black coffee, a plate of what looked like incredibly crispy potato wedges, and a small box of her favorite brand of chocolate biscuits.
"...Is this combat rations?" Su Xiaolan looked at the plate of obviously freshly fried wedges, unable to help looking up at Li Chenyuan. The appearance of freshly fried snacks in this level of secure facility was more unbelievable than Protocol Psi.
My combat rations," Li Chenyuan said flatly, as if stating the most normal thing. "Efficient sugars and fats help maintain brain function under extreme pressure. Eat it."
What he didn't say was that he'd had these prepared to the highest security standards after noticing her snack preferences. He never fought unprepared battles, logistics included.
Su Xiaolan picked up a potato wedge and took a hesitant bite. Salty, fragrant, crispy, delivering the pure satisfaction of potato, instantly soothing her screaming stomach and over-taut nerves. This intensely human experience created an absurd contrast with the冰冷 (icy) data abyss around them and the terrifying "IT."
She could even hear a distant technician suppressing a faint, relieved chuckle. The tense atmosphere eased oddly.
"So," Su Xiaolan said, munching on the wedge while turning her gaze back to the "Protocol Ψ" on the main screen, her voice regaining its analytical calm, as if the one whose stomach had growled wasn't her, "There's something older than the Silent Treaty that we've woken up. And Granny Zhang... or rather, Ms. Zhang Jingxian, her equipment seems connected to it. Little Fatty Tang is warning us, but he might have exposed himself too."
She sucked her fingertip and quickly typed, pulling up the architecture diagram of the ancient protocol.
"'Ψ', the Greek letter, often used to represent psychology or unknown wave functions. This naming style... very early 'Deep Water' founding era." Her eyes sharpened. "Mr. Li, I need access to the group's deepest historical data backups, especially raw architectural diagrams from seven years ago or even earlier, those marked 'obsolete' or 'sealed.' Probably in offline tape libraries."
Li Chenyuan didn't hesitate: "Wang Jing, coordinate with the archives. Grant Ms. Su top clearance. Physical retrieval, escorted,全程监控 (monitored throughout)."
The order was swiftly executed.
In the lull waiting for the potentially answer-bearing "ancient data" to arrive, the operations room was filled only with the low hum of instruments and the occasional faint sound of Su Xiaolan picking up a biscuit.
Li Chenyuan stood beside her, watching the complex, incomprehensible code and protocols on the screen.
"What do you think this is?" he asked quietly, his voice for her ears only.
Su Xiaolan stared at the pulsating red signal and the awaiting-activation Protocol Psi, slowly shaking her head. But there was no fear in her eyes, only a sparked, F.LK-level极致 (ultimate) curiosity and challenge.
"I don't know," she said honestly, then picked up the last biscuit and took a firm bite, producing a crisp sound.
"But whatever IT is, since IT responded, IT doesn't get to go back to sleep easily."
Her voice, muffled by biscuit crumbs, was nonetheless filled with an undeniable resolve.
The oily aroma of potato wedges, the bitterness of coffee, the coldness of data, the fear of the unknown, and the steady presence of the man beside her... all mixed together to form a strange, resilient calm.
The abyss had opened its eyes.
But they stood at the boundary of light and data, ready to meet its gaze.
The countdown still hung:
[11:47:22]
[11:47:21]
Time never stopped, but the form of the battle had already changed.