Don't go to the moon, there are gods on the far side of the moon.

Xiaoman silently recited the new slogan, keeping the small lamp in her palm lit only against the tabletop without raising it.

The overseas nodes eventually accepted the adjustment. One host improvised during the live broadcast, saying that tonight wasn't about letting people far away see Earth, but about letting people on Earth see each other. The translation was a beat slow, but it didn't ruin the meaning. Upon hearing this, Xu Wangshu finally removed the last "looking up" from the original plan.

The live broadcast director nearly collapsed, having to revise all the storyboards and scripts on the spot. Xu Wangshu gave only one principle: there could be people in the shot, there could be the ground, there could be illuminated hands, but there shouldn't be a straight line in the sky. As a result, the image became rough, but real. The light no longer seemed like a signal offered to the distant, but rather like a place reserved for those nearby.

The global live broadcast commemorating the lunar far side anomaly was originally intended to reassure the public.

Since the Nantianmen Incident, countless people have witnessed the light of the lunar far-side beacon, and countless people have dreamt of the lingering shadow of Mount Buzhou. Space agencies, research teams, and public media from various countries have jointly organized a low-risk commemorative livestream, including information on the lunar far-side beacon, remembrance of those who perished in the anomaly, a space safety briefing, and a unified slogan:

Humanity, together, gazes at the stars.

This statement was valid before external observation became possible.

Now it's like a barrel of oil.

Group light source.

When Xu Wangshu saw the synchronized lighting segment in the live broadcast plan, a chill ran down his spine.

Hundreds of cities around the world will simultaneously extinguish their commercial lights and illuminate a low-powered memorial beam pointing towards the moon. Intended as a gesture of mourning and solidarity, it could, within the unpredictable rules of observation from beyond the moon's surface, become a vast and undeniable path of light.

Qin Lan immediately suggested canceling it.

However, the public coordination group quickly reported that the live stream had been in pre-launch promotion for seven days, global media schedules were finalized, and many cities were setting up venues. A sudden cancellation without sufficient justification would trigger panic and conspiracy theories, and might even encourage more people to spontaneously light up the venues.

Lu Chenggong sneered: "That means if we don't let them shine, they might shine even more crazily."

Xu Wangshu rubbed her temples.

This is the most troublesome, and also the most real, aspect of life. Not all risks can be suppressed with a single order. Suppressing them too forcefully will only create more loopholes that lead to further loss of control.

The toolbox flashlight is on.

【change.】

Qin Lan asked, "How should we change it?"

[Not towards the heavens.]

Xiaoman understood immediately.

"Shine the light onto the ground?"

Lin Jibai continued typing.

[Illuminating people.]

The main control room fell silent for a moment.

Xu Wangshu's eyes brightened slightly.

The commemorative livestream cannot shine into deep space, but it can shine on Earth. Replace all the beams of light pointing into the sky with ground-based light strips, handheld lights, and an indoor memorial wall. The slogan must also be changed; it cannot be "Looking up at the stars," nor can it be "Please let someone see," but rather "People see people."

Qin Lan quickly rewrote the proposal.

Cancel all aerial projections.

[The memorial light source should be changed to downward lighting or indoor diffused reflection.]

[Live broadcast delayed; live sky footage not provided.]

The unified slogan has been changed to: We are each other's witnesses.

Some members of the public relations team worried: "It's too sudden; the audience will ask why."

Old Zhou chimed in remotely, "Just say it's about protecting migratory birds and aviation safety, don't make it sound so mysterious."

Xu Wangshu nodded: "That's feasible."

Wen Zhaolin also spoke up: "Tianheng can cover the costs of changing the plan."

Lu Chengong looked at him.

"Finally, it has a decent use."

Wen Zhaolin did not refute.

The plan has begun to be rolled out globally.

Most official nodes accepted the adjustments, but the problem lies with the public. Many self-media outlets have turned "lighting a lamp towards the moon" into a challenge, and the more people say it's forbidden to target the sky, the more exciting it becomes.

On the rooftop of a building in an inland city, dozens of young people secretly set up powerful spotlights, with a banner in their live-streaming room reading:

Let the gods on the far side of the moon see us.

Qin Lan needs time to contact the local authorities regarding the lockdown.

The light on the screen had already illuminated.

The black frost on the outer shell reacted extremely quickly, and a thin, cold arc appeared at the edge of the cloud layer.

Xiaoman's face turned pale: "It looked over there."

Lu Chengong gritted his teeth: "I really want to go through the internet cable and beat someone up."

The toolbox suddenly lit up.

Don't curse.

Everyone was taken aback.

Lin Jibai types very slowly.

Let them see the consequences.

Xu Wangshu immediately accessed the public chat of the rooftop livestream. It was buzzing with excitement; some were shouting for divine intervention, others were sending virtual gifts, and still others were saying that the platform's refusal to allow such comments must be a secret.

She did not cut off the live stream.

Instead, they inserted footage of the delayed Tianheng power supply incident, the employee ID card display, and the security guard's voice talking about his daughter taking an exam into the public safety push notification.

There was no intimidation.

Only one sentence.

When you light a lamp for the unknown on behalf of someone else, the unknown may see it in return.

The chat in the rooftop live stream paused for a second.

Then some people criticized it as a publicity stunt, while others continued to flood the screen with comments.

But next to the bright spotlight, a girl wearing glasses suddenly looked down at her friend.

"It can see our information?"

The other boy couldn't laugh anymore.

Just then, the phone screen of the young man in charge of the equipment suddenly lit up, automatically displaying his real-name authentication, school, part-time contract, and family contact information.

That doesn't mean the shell has been taken over; it's just a risk demonstration simulated by the human review panel.

That's enough.

His face turned pale, and he abruptly turned off the bright light.

"Stop filming!"

The rooftop light beam went out.

The dark frost in the clouds lost its target and slowly dispersed.

After this incident, more privately owned light sources began to voluntarily shut down.

It wasn't because they suddenly understood the grand meaning of human self-governance, but because they realized that the so-called "letting the gods see us" was not a romantic slogan, but could expose the specific people around them.

At 8 PM, the commemorative live stream was revamped and launched.

There was no beam of light pointing into the air.

The first scene shows ground lighting outside the space city exhibition hall illuminating an ordinary manhole cover. Next to the cover is a replica of the temporary number XJ-0717. The host doesn't mention any deities, only saying that every boundary needs maintenance.

The second scene shows a small nightlight in a hospital corridor. Lin Xiaoman looks at the screen and says softly, "This is for those who are still sleeping."

The third scene is a delayed image of the lighthouse on the far side of the moon, in low brightness with no real-time optical path, showing only a sentence engraved on the lighthouse's base:

[No one submitted this.]

Finally, no lamps were lit in the sky anywhere in the world.

They placed lamps on tables, inside windows, in palms, and on the ground.

Countless faint lights did not converge into a pillar leading to deep space, but instead spread out on the Earth's surface, like fireflies that refuse to go out in the city night.

Xu Wangshu looked at the monitoring chart.

No collective optical path was obtained from observation outside the shell.

The black frost circled once in the high sky, ultimately leaving only a cold white record.

The group light source was not submitted.

The boundaries between humanity and the world persist.

Finally, someone in the main control room clapped softly.

The applause was soft and tiring, but it gradually built up.

The toolbox screen lights up.

This lamp is good.

Xiaoman wiped away her tears with a smile.

But before the applause had even subsided, the Deep Space Divine Court interface suddenly popped up again.

[Boundary continuity confirmed.]

[Initiate the next step: Boundary Maintainer Verification.]

All eyes turned to the toolbox at the same time.

Lin Jibai's flashlight slowly dimmed.