The Wandering Earth · Conversa

In the early morning at the Gabon United Experimental Base, artificial lights turned on row by row high in the sky, outlining the silhouette of the "Pathfinder" transport aircraft on the tarmac from the darkness. Liu Peiqiang stood in the third row of the formation, his military boot heels clicking together sharply. The wind blew in from the direction of the Atlantic, carrying a salty brine and the lingering smell of burnt metal. He squinted slightly, directing his gaze toward the base of the space elevator ahead—it was so colossal that for a moment, one didn't even know what expression to make. On the far side of the moon, Tu Hengyu squatted in the server room, the cold light of the 550A reflecting on his face. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, his lips twitching slightly, as if speaking to someone invisible—a name known only to him. Earth was still far, his daughter was still far, and the computing power was still not enough. Inside the United Earth Government building, Zhou Zhezhi pushed open the door of the conference room. His hair was still pitch black, but his steps were no longer young. Behind him followed a young woman holding a folder, Hao Xiaoxi. She had been with him for less than three months, and before entering such grand occasions, she would still subconsciously take a deep breath. "Don't inhale," Zhou Zhezhi said without looking back. "Once you breathe it in, you won't be able to spit it out." Hao Xiaoxi choked for a moment, swallowed her breath, and jogged to catch up with his steps. The sun was still expanding. The Earth was still rotating. They were scattered across the poles of the world, pushed forward by their respective destinies. But an invisible rope was slowly tightening along the spine of this planet—no one heard the sound, but it had already rung. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>