As night fell, Nangong Wentian waited for Kijima Takashi downstairs at the apartment building.
This was their third meeting. Unlike the previous two times, Kijima Takashi was not wearing that faded shirt. Instead, he had on a dark blue jacket, and his hair was neatly styled, making him look much more spirited. However, the heavy dark circles under his eyes remained, clearly indicating another sleepless night.
"Mr. Kijima, please follow me." Nangong Wentian turned and led him into the apartment building.
Kijima Takashi followed him upstairs, his gaze sweeping over the mottled walls and old staircase. The building looked at least thirty years old. Half the lights in the hallway were broken, and the air carried a damp, musty smell.
"You live here?" he couldn't help but ask.
"For now." Nangong Wentian pushed open the door. "Please, come in."
The room was small, only about ten square meters. A bed, a desk, and a simple wardrobe almost filled the entire space. But it was tidy, with everything on the desk neatly arranged.
Kijima Takashi's gaze fell on the portable terminal on the desk. Its design was peculiar, with obvious signs of modification on the casing. It had twice as many ventilation holes as a standard model and was connected to several peripheral modules he had never seen before.
"Please, have a seat." Nangong Wentian pulled out a chair and sat down on the edge of the bed himself.
Kijima Takashi sat down, his eyes still fixed on the terminal. As an engineer, he could tell that the craftsmanship of that device far exceeded civilian standards. The circuit boards of those peripheral modules had wiring so precise it seemed like it came from a laboratory.
"Mr. Nangong," he finally looked away, "you said you wanted to discuss the company's specific positioning. I'm all ears."
Nangong Wentian opened the "Star Core" and called up a document. On the screen, dense text and data cascaded down like a waterfall.
"The positioning of the Colossus Group," he said, "is as a 'provider of new energy and aerospace infrastructure.'"
Kijima Takashi was taken aback. "Aerospace infrastructure? You mean..."
"The Orbital Elevator," Nangong Wentian said. "Along with supporting space ports, space stations, and deep-space exploration support systems."
The room fell silent for a long time.
Kijima Takashi stared at the screen, thinking he must have misheard. An Orbital Elevator? That concept that only existed in science fiction? That mega-engineering project requiring a cable tens of thousands of kilometers long stretching from Earth into space?
"Mr. Nangong," he chose his words carefully, "do you know what kind of technology an Orbital Elevator requires? Carbon nanotube cables, high-energy laser transmission, active mass damping systems... No country currently possesses these technologies."
"I know," Nangong Wentian said. "That's why we need to master them."
He pulled a stack of blueprints from a drawer and spread them out on the table. Kijima Takashi looked down, his pupils contracting sharply.
These were not conceptual drawings, but detailed technical schematics. The weaving structure of the carbon nanotubes, the segmented construction plan for the cable, the design parameters for the counterweight, the layout of the electromagnetic acceleration tracks... Each blueprint was densely annotated with data, precise to three decimal places.
"This..." Kijima Takashi picked up a blueprint, his fingers trembling slightly. "Did you design this?"
"It was my team," Nangong Wentian said. "I'm just the representative."
Kijima Takashi examined the blueprints one by one, growing more and more astonished with each page. The technical solutions on these drawings far exceeded his understanding. That carbon nanotube weaving structure could theoretically increase the cable's strength to over a hundred times that of existing materials. That segmented construction plan cleverly resolved the "chicken or egg" paradox of the orbital elevator—by synchronizing the construction of the space port and ground station, the elevator could extend from both ends toward the middle simultaneously.
"These data..." He looked up at Nangong Wentian. "Have you verified them?"
"Theoretical verification is complete," Nangong Wentian said. "Material science verification is underway. We already have a sample of a new composite material with twice the strength of existing titanium alloy and thirty percent lighter weight."
Kijima Takashi recalled the solar power generation plan and those designs far ahead of their time. If those data were true, if these blueprints were also true... then the young man before him, or rather the "team" behind this young man, possessed a technological reserve far beyond his imagination.
"Mr. Nangong," he set down the blueprints and took a deep breath, "what exactly do you want to do?"
Nangong Wentian looked at him, his gaze calm and resolute.
"Change this world," he said. "I have always believed that humanity possesses the possibility to break free from the fate of war. We venture into the starry seas and forge mechas, never to divide into enemies and allies or ignite conflicts, but to break down the barriers of race, factions, and prejudice, to truly see, hear, and understand one another."
Kijima Takashi remained silent for a long time. The streetlights outside the window cast a dim yellow glow on his gaunt face, making his expression appear even more complex.
"You think an orbital elevator can bring peace?"
"The orbital elevator itself cannot," Nangong Wentian said, "but it can change the energy and transportation landscape of the Earth Sphere. When everyone can benefit from peace, the incentives for war will diminish."
He paused, then continued, "Why did PLANT become independent? Because they no longer need Earth's food and resources. Why does the Earth Federation view PLANT with hostility? Because they believe Coordinators threaten their status. If the orbital elevator is built, space transportation costs will drop by ninety-nine percent, resources can flow freely, and economies can deeply integrate. When the interests of both factions are bound together, war is no longer the only option."
Listening to these words, Kijima Takashi felt a strange sensation welling up inside him. These words didn't sound like they came from a young man; they sounded more like the insights of someone who had experienced war and reflected deeply on its pain.
"But," he raised a question, "the orbital elevator will take at least several decades to complete. What about before then?"
"Before then," Nangong Wentian took another document from the drawer, "we need to accumulate technology, funds, and strength. So, the Colossus Group needs to walk on two legs."
He opened the file. On the first page were two headings: Public Operations, Secret Research and Development.
"The public-facing business is what we just discussed: new energy and aerospace infrastructure. Solar power stations, energy storage equipment, satellite communications—these can be commercialized quickly, providing the group with stable cash flow and a legitimate identity."
He flipped to the second page, and the content left Kijima Takashi completely stunned.
It was a design diagram of a Mobile Suit.
No, not a design diagram, but a development roadmap. From the initial mass-produced "GM," to the "Improved GM," then to the "Gundam Prototype," and finally, a unit codenamed "Star Core." Each generation was annotated with estimated completion times, core technical parameters, and projected combat capabilities.
Kijima Takashi stared at the diagram, his hands trembling.
"This is..." His voice was hoarse. "A Mobile Suit?"
"Yes," Nangong Wentian said. "Mobile Suits. Future wars will be dominated by them."
"But... even the United Forces don't have Mobile Suits!" Kijima Takashi lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. "This kind of thing is still in the theoretical stage worldwide! Morgenroete has been working on it for three years and can't even produce a frame!"
"I know," Nangong Wentian's voice was calm. "That's why we need to be faster than them. When war breaks out, we must have enough power to protect those who need protecting."
Kijima Takashi opened his mouth to say something but ultimately remained silent. He thought of his daughter, of the refugees he had seen in the news, of this increasingly turbulent world. If what this young man before him said was true... if war really was coming...
"Mr. Kijima," Nangong Wentian's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I know what you're worried about. You're worried that the technology will be used for war, that you'll become an accomplice to killing. I assure you, the Colossus Group's Mobile Suits will only ever be used for protection, never for aggression."
He pointed to the first unit on the roadmap. "The GM's mission is not to dominate the battlefield but to protect civilians. The Iron Man's mission is to block gunfire, not to create slaughter. The Star Core... the Star Core exists to end wars."
Kijima Takashi looked into the young man's eyes. Behind the disguise glasses, their true color was unclear, but the light within them was real. It was something he hadn't seen in a long time—pure, unadulterated conviction.
"The war you speak of," he asked, "when will it come?"
Nangong Wentian was silent for a moment. "At the earliest, six years; at the latest, eight."
"How do you know?"
"Intuition," Nangong Wentian said. "You don't have to believe me. But being prepared can't hurt."
Kijima Takashi lowered his head, looking at the blueprints and documents on the table. Those technological proposals far ahead of their time, that insane Orbital Elevator plan, that suffocating Mobile Suit roadmap... all of it told him that the person before him was either a genius or a madman.
But he thought of his daughter. He remembered her pale face, the way she smiled, the stubbornness with which she bit her pillow to keep from crying out when she woke in pain in the middle of the night. If war really was coming... if this world truly needed protecting...
"Mr. Nangong," he raised his head, his voice hoarse but firm. "I don't care who you are or where your technology comes from. I only ask you one thing."
"Please speak."
"If war truly comes one day, will your Mobile Suit... protect children like Mayu?"
Nangong Wentian looked at this man. His thinness, his exhaustion, his stubbornness, his persistence—all became crystal clear in this moment. This was a father, a father willing to do anything for his daughter.
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "That is why I build Mobile Suits."
Kijima Takashi stared into his eyes for a long time. Then, he extended his hand.
"Alright. I'll work with you."
Two hands clasped tightly together. One rough, one slender, but equally resolute.
Outside the window, the Morgenroete building stood silent in the night. Inside that building, people like Erica Simmons were struggling with Orb's MS project. They didn't know that in some corner of this city, a twelve-year-old boy was already ahead of them.
Nangong Wentian released his grip, took out a thick document from a drawer, and pushed it toward Kijima Takashi.
"This is the draft charter for the Colossus Group. Please review it. If there are no issues, we'll register it next week."
Kijima Takashi opened the document and read it word by word. Articles of incorporation, business plan, capital verification certificate... each clause was clearly written. He noticed a special "Intellectual Property Ownership Clause" in the charter, stipulating that all core technology patents belonged to an "anonymous technical consultant," not the corporate entity.
"This is..." he pointed at the clause and looked at Nangong Wentian.
"A necessary firewall," Nangong Wentian said. "Core technology must remain in the safest hands. You only need to handle the public business; I'll take care of the rest."
Kijima Takashi was silent for a moment, then nodded. He understood what this young man meant—it wasn't about distrusting him, but about protecting everyone.
He continued reading, and his hand paused again when he reached the final pages of the business plan.
It was a hand-drawn MS design. Not a conceptual sketch like those on roadmaps, but a complete machine—angular lines, heavy armor, no flashy decorations. Beside it was the model designation: RGM-79.
"GM," Nangong Wentian said. "The first Mobile Suit. Once it's built, this world will change."
Kijima Takashi stared at the drawing, his fingers gently tracing the paper. Those lines, those data points, those annotations... he could tell this wasn't drawn casually, but was the result of precise calculations and repeated refinements.
"Is this really... something a person could conceive?" he murmured.
Nangong Wentian didn't answer. He just looked at the night sky outside the window, where one star shone particularly bright.
"Mr. Kijima," he suddenly said, "six years from now, you might hate me. Hate me for dragging you into this, hate me for making your life dangerous."
Kijima Takashi looked up at the boy's profile. Moonlight fell on that disguised face, obscuring his true expression.
"No," he said. "The greatest regret of my life isn't refusing military contracts, or losing my job. It's that when my daughter needed me most, I could only watch helplessly as she suffered. Now, someone is giving me a chance to protect her... to protect more people. I won't regret it."
Nangong Wentian turned his head to look at the man. His eyes gleamed under the moonlight—it was the resolve of a father.
"Thank you," Nangong Wentian said.
Kijima Takashi shook his head. "I should be the one thanking you."
He stood up, carefully placing the documents into his briefcase. "Mr. Nangong, if there's nothing else, I should head back. I don't feel comfortable leaving Mayu home alone."
"Let me walk you out."
The two descended the stairs and walked to the mouth of the alley. The night breeze carried the chill of early autumn. In the distance, streetlights formed a continuous band of light stretching to the city's edge.
"Mr. Kijima," Nangong Wentian suddenly called out to him, "I'll find a way to help your daughter's illness."
Kijima Takashi turned around and looked at him. Under the moonlight, the boy's figure appeared particularly slender. But his eyes—those eyes behind the disguise glasses—held a reassuring strength.
"I know," he said, then turned and walked into the night.
Nangong Wentian stood at the alley's entrance, watching his figure gradually disappear. That silhouette was still thin, but much straighter than when he had arrived.
He looked up at the night sky. The moon was full, the stars bright. In the distance, the Morgenroete building shimmered with a silver glow under the moonlight, like a silent fortress.
"GM, Iron Man, Star Core..." he whispered those names, "This is just the beginning."
He turned and walked back to his apartment, opened the "Star Core," and added a few more lines to the Colossus Group's planning document.
CE.64, company registration.
CE.65, preliminary research on E-Carbon Armor.
CE.66, Gundanium Alloy.
CE.67, Pseudo Solar Furnace.
CE.68, GM rollout.
Before the war breaks out in CE.70, he must prepare everything.
He shut down the computer and lay on the bed. The crack in the ceiling was still there, resembling a silver lightning bolt under the moonlight. Staring at that crack, his mind recalled the expression on Kijima Takashi's face when he signed his name, and the words he had spoken—"I should be the one thanking you."
"No," he whispered, "I should be the one thanking you."
He closed his eyes, a faint smile touching the corners of his mouth.
Tomorrow, he would start preparing the materials for company registration. The day after, he would contact Morgenroete to understand Orb's industrial capabilities. The day after that...
Outside the window, the lights of Orleans gradually dimmed as the city sank into slumber. That twelve-year-old boy also fell into a deep sleep under the moonlight.
What he didn't know was that, on this very night, in a Morgenroete laboratory, Erica Simmons looked at yet another set of failed skeleton test data and wearily removed her glasses.
"It's still not working," she said to her assistant. "The material strength is far from sufficient. It seems we need a new approach."
Her gaze fell on a photograph on the table—a picture of her and the Director, with an Izumo-class battleship model in the background. The photo had yellowed with age, but her eyes remained bright.
"If only we could find a new composite material..." she murmured.
And on the other side of the city, a boy dreamed of a sea of stars. There, he saw emerald-green mobile suits, golden light, and a world he had never seen yet felt intimately familiar with.
That was the future. The future he would create with his own hands.