Silent Ark

Chapter 51: The Gathering

"The actual offset of the α value is on the order of 10 to the power of -17," Yao Chong said calmly. "The precision of public databases simply cannot capture it."

The "convergence" you are seeing is not the recovery of the α value.

The measurement noise is fluctuating.

Liu Chang stopped writing.

He studied finance, but he understood what that meant—Sun Yifei's data foundation was wrong.

"Wait a minute," Liu Chang said, "you mean, the data Sun Yifei used..."

"There are no errors, but the precision is insufficient."

Sun Yifei tapped his fingers twice on the table.

How do you know the true precision is 10 to -17?

"Because the data at that level of precision isn't in the public database," Yao Chong said. "It's internal, and I can't say more about it."

There was a three-second silence on the table.

Zhang Yuan picked up the Arctic Ocean soda and took a sip, breaking the silence.

"Um... the fish is here."

The waiter came over carrying a huge grilled fish.

The aroma of garlic filled the air.

The hot oil was still sizzling on the surface of the fish.

Sun Yifei picked up his chopsticks and took a piece of fish.

They ate very slowly.

It's as if the speed of chewing is controlling the expression on one's face.

After a while, he spoke.

Even if you are right—the α value is not converging.

So what?

The boundaries of the water stains are indeed moving; this is satellite data, and your internal precision is not required.

It is true that the water damage is generally shrinking and some areas are recovering.

The house I bought in the recovery zone is indeed seeing price increases, that's a fact.

He put down his chopsticks.

"You've been studying physics for three years, and your precision is very high, your data is very accurate."

But precision can't put food on the table.

He looked at Yao Chong's long black sleeves.

"Is this a new piece of clothing you bought?"

After living in Europe for a few years, you're now wearing XXL, whereas you used to think XL was too big.

You still live in the staff quarters outside the east gate of the Chinese Academy of Sciences—the apartment buildings there have peeling paint on the exterior walls, and the elevators stop working on the third floor.

His tone was very flat.

"I'm not here to compare who's doing better than you."

I want to ask you—have you ever thought about giving up physics?

Yao Chong looked at him.

"You're good at physics."

The best kind of good in the world.

But the laws of physics are changing; what you're studying might not be true tomorrow.

He held up one finger.

"But what I do is different."

I don't need the laws of physics to remain unchanged.

All I need to know is which direction it's changing.

He looked into Yao Chong's eyes.

"You'd better work for me."

Yao Chong looked at him.

Then he said something.

The sound was very soft.

But when Zhang Yuan later recalled that night, he said that those words gave him goosebumps.

Sun Yifei.

Those eleven apartments of yours were bought between the third and fourth ring roads.

You're betting that the flooded area will start to recover and expand, the laws of physics will continue to apply, and housing prices will continue to rise.

"right."

"But have you checked whether the physical constants inside the water stain are recovering or drifting as the water stain expands?"

Sun Yifei stopped eating.

"Recovery and drifting are not the same."

Recovery means returning to the state before the whale fall.

Drifting means moving towards a new state—it might be better, it might be worse, but it's not "going back to the way things were."

He looked at Sun Yifei.

"You are checking the area of ​​the water stain."

But you didn't check the fine structural constants inside the water stain.

"...So what?"

"The area of ​​the peripheral region is expanding, but the constant inside is drifting."

Yao Chong gave two numbers.

A frequency.

An offset.

This means that the water stains are not "recovering," but rather "shrinking."

Recovery is the healing of a wound; contraction is the wound being stitched up from the outside—but the infection inside remains, so it only treats the symptoms, not the root cause.

His voice was flat.

"Your eleventh apartment is located in an area that's being 'stitched up from the outside.' The stitches will get tighter and tighter. But the infection inside—"

He paused for a moment.

"It will erupt at a certain critical point."

Sun Yifei's expression changed.

It's not anger.

It's something deeper—fear.

That fear of "I may have gambled my entire fortune on something".

"Are you sure?" His voice was a little dry.

"I'm not sure, I'm just telling you what I've seen."

Whether you believe it or not is your business.

Sun Yifei put down his chopsticks.

Pick up the water glass.

His hands were very steady.

But the water in the cup was sloshing slightly.

Liu Chang slowly put down his pen.

He had been taking notes on Sun Yifei's investment logic—it was his professional instinct as a securities analyst.

But now he has closed the notebook.

Because the basic assumptions were overturned, all subsequent derivations became invalid.

Zhao Yutong didn't say much from beginning to end.

She was still eating fish.

But after Yao Chong finished speaking, she put down her chopsticks.

"Yao Chong".

"Um?"

"What you just mentioned about a 'critical breakout'—if it actually happens, what will happen to ordinary people?"

"The physical constants shifted dramatically in a short period of time," Yao Chong said. "The most obvious manifestation of this is that all devices that rely on precise physical constants malfunction simultaneously."

Power grids, communications, medical equipment, and transportation.

Zhao Yutong's expression changed slightly.

She didn't say anything.

But her hand unconsciously touched the phone in her pocket.

After a while, she spoke.

"Speaking of which—there's something I've never understood."

She looked at the people on the table.

Yao Chong suddenly remembered that Zhao Yutong had indeed sent him this message, and he had also sent it to Liu Pan.

"On December 22, a patient came to the emergency room."

Multiple organ failure, but all test results are normal.

She left on her own the next morning.

He removed the needle himself, dressed himself, and walked out of the hospital by himself.

When I chased after him, he was already gone.

"What illness?" Liu Chang asked.

"have no idea.

The CDC stated that the symptoms are classified as unexplained and will be monitored.

And that was it.

"this one?"

"That's it." Zhao Yutong picked up a piece of fish. "But there's something a bit strange."

When that patient left, I noticed his shadow—it was longer than a normal person's.

It was about twice the size, and the edges of the shadow were not very clear, as if it had been blurred.

There was a two-second silence on the table.

Sun Yifei's expression changed again.

It's not the fear of "betting your life on the wrong horse" that I was feeling before.

It was something else—he seemed to have thought of something.

But he didn't say it.

Yao Chong put down his chopsticks.

"December 22nd should be the seventh night I experienced the Decameron incident at CERN. That was arrogance. Other information must remain confidential."

He didn't continue.

He doesn't know now.

But he will go back and investigate.

At that moment, the door was pushed open.

A gust of cold wind blew in.

Liu Pan walked in.

Before the others arrived, Yao Chong had told Zhang Yuan that he had asked a friend to investigate something and to bring him along as well.

He was wearing a black windbreaker, zipped up to his chest.

Her hair had grown a little longer than when we last met, and it looked messy.

He glanced at the people at the table.

His gaze lingered on Sun Yifei for a second.

Then he walked over to Yao Chong and plopped down next to him.

"Damn, you're really here."

"I said I would come."

"I thought you stood me up." Liu Pan picked up the Arctic Ocean soda on the table, unscrewed it, took a swig, and asked, "What's this?"

"Arctic Ocean."

"Sweet?"

"Sweet."

"good."

He put down the bottle and looked at the people on the table.

Zhang Yuan is smiling.

Zhao Yutong is eating fish.

Liu Chang is holding a notebook.

Li Meng is looking at her phone.

Sun Yifei was holding a water glass, lost in thought.

Liu Pan's gaze finally landed on Sun Yifei.

"Who is this?"

"High school classmate," Yao Chong said.

"oh."

Liu Pan nodded.

I didn't ask any more questions.

But his very existence is something—he's 1.85 meters tall, with broad shoulders, and the silhouette of his body under his windbreaker is the same as Yao Chong's, the kind of robust physique that comes from being tempered by the Decameron, a physique that doesn't belong to ordinary people.

Sun Yifei glanced at Liu Pan.

He didn't know who this person was.

But he could sense that after this person sat down next to Yao Chong, a subtle balance on the table changed.

It's like in a game of chess, the opponent suddenly has an extra piece.

It's not a general.

But you've lost one of your escape routes.

Sun Yifei picked up his water glass and took a sip.

He decided to stop talking.