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

Xu Wangshu did not ask anyone to turn off the audio for her.

She stood in the center of the main control cabin, listened to the sound of "Wangshu", and then wrote in the log: Heard a voice that sounded like her mother's, source unverified, request not executed.

The characters are very steady.

Only Xiaoman noticed that the knuckles of her fingers holding the pen were so white they were almost transparent.

The condition of the abandoned weather tower is deteriorating. White frost from the receiver at the top of the tower creeps down the metal support, over rust, warning signs, and abandoned cables, finally converging into a thin white line at the base. Instead of spreading outwards, the white line drills into the ground, heading straight for the old calibration well XJ-0717.

Qin Lan decided to go to the scene in person.

Xu Wangshu also went.

Lu Chenggong followed with the broken bow fragments on his back, while Xiaoman sat in the command vehicle carrying her toolbox. Wen Zhaolin was left in the remote review seat, but he voluntarily handed over all the blueprints for Tianheng's old meteorological tower equipment, even marking which lines he had bypassed the filing process with back then.

Qin Lan glanced at it: "Now you're being honest."

"I used to think that as long as the purpose was right, the formalities could be made up," Wen Zhaolin said. "Now I know that some doors are opened by making up the gaps in the formalities."

Beneath the weather tower, the night was tinged with a bluish hue by the cold, frosty light. Zhou Jianguo and Chen Rui stood guard beside the manhole cover; two ordinary repairmen, caught in the edge of a myth, yet neither retreated. Old Zhou's hand was wrapped in gauze, and Chen Rui's arm holding the lamp trembled violently, but the light remained perfectly still.

The receiving dish at the top of the tower faces the night sky.

But the white light didn't come from the sky.

It flows upwards.

"It's treating the ground as the sky," Lu Chengong said in a low voice. "What's hanging upside down isn't people, it's direction."

Xu Wangshu had the old cables at the tower base dismantled. Sure enough, the line was connected to the zero calibration well, and the well cover vibrated every few seconds. It wasn't from below, but from above, as if an invisible sky was falling towards the well opening.

Qin Lan requested the injection of a well-sealing agent.

Lin Jibai's screen lit up.

[It cannot be completely blocked. Blocking it will create a single point of failure.]

Xu Wangshu immediately understood.

Outside the North Heavenly Gate, they are testing whether fear will lead them to weld all the exits shut. If the boundary simply closes, it will become another old Heavenly Court. A true human boundary must be able to refuse access, but it must also retain the right to maintain it.

She changed the order: instead of sealing it off, it should be disconnected in both directions. A physical inspection port should be retained at the wellhead, and any opening must be confirmed by three people on-site, with full visibility and the ability to be withdrawn at any time.

Wen Zhaolin said remotely, "Tianheng has an old-fashioned mechanical limit switch that doesn't connect to the internet and doesn't require a signal. I'll send it over."

"Your people are not allowed to come near," Qin Lan said.

"The equipment is fine, but the personnel won't go."

After the limit switch arrived, Zhou Jianguo installed it himself. Chen Rui, holding the lamp, made sure his master's injured hand didn't touch the frost. Xiaoman brought this part into the audience of the DreamNet: It wasn't a hero's appearance, just a master installing a bolt and an apprentice handing over a washer.

But the vibration of the manhole cover really did slow down.

Suddenly, the white light from the top of the tower poured in, condensing into a blurry human figure. It wore an old-fashioned spacesuit, and its mask revealed no face, only countless swirling waves.

It raised its hand and pointed at Xu Wangshu.

All devices simultaneously display one sentence:

Please provide the information of the person in charge of the vault so that we can determine the orientation inside the gate.

Lu Chen raised his bow and shot.

Xu Wangshu pressed the public address button first.

"I refuse to be offered."

The white light suddenly contracted.

She continued, "I can participate in the review, I can submit evidence, and I can bear the risks of my choices. But no one can use me as a compass."

The faceless spacesuit hovered in mid-air, as if hearing such an unacceptable answer for the first time.

A louder knock came from under the manhole cover.

After three short and two long strokes, there was one more.

Xiaoman's expression changed: "This isn't an SOS code. That extra part is what Dad told me—don't trust what's on it."

After the faceless spacesuit presented its "alternative," the air in the room noticeably chilled. Everyone knew that the so-called alternative wasn't equipment, but another person.

This is how the old Heavenly Court used to operate.

If one custodian isn't enough, replace him with another; if one repairman fails, let his successor take over; if one adaptor can't hold on, prove he once agreed through a contract. Those words sound solemn, but when applied to people, they're nothing more than cutting living people into shapes that can be stuffed into the system.

Qin Lan extended the emergency procedures to regular maintenance. She required everyone involved in maintenance to clearly state their assigned actions and exit points. Zhou Jianguo wrote: Install the limit switch, and then stay three meters away from the manhole cover. Chen Rui wrote: Provide lighting and record information, but do not touch the manhole cover. The nurses' station staff wrote: Provide shade and observe, and do not enter wards with abnormal conditions. The exhibition hall staff member on duty wrote: Disconnect the projector and do not start the model.

The records are so simple they're almost clumsy.

But precisely because of their clumsiness, the outside cannot synthesize them into a sacrificial identity.

Looking at the records, Wen Zhaolin suddenly asked Qin Lan, "If we had dismantled them like this back then, would something still have gone wrong?"

Qin Lan offered him no words of comfort: "It will save you from dying."

Wen Zhaolin fell silent.

His name suddenly lit up on the white list. It seemed the outside world had determined he was most easily driven by guilt and began creating a new path for him: the old authorized holder could voluntarily assume all historical errors in exchange for the withdrawal of other personnel.

This path is even written like a path of atonement.

Wen Zhaolin stared at it for a long time.

Then he said, "I refuse. I accept the responsibility of review and withdrawal, not your use."

The white light suddenly split open.

The crack didn't widen; instead, fine black lines seeped out from the white light. These lines wrapped around the shoulders of the faceless spacesuit, like countless names written upside down. Xu Wangshu recognized several of them; they were people categorized as "equipment damage" in the old accident.

"It's bringing up old grievances," Lu Chenggong said.

"It's not a rewrite." Qin Lan stared at the names. "It's looking for someone else's guilt to re-authorize it."

Wen Zhaolin's communication screen flickered. The same list appeared before him, only more numerous and longer than the one on the ground. Each name was followed by a conclusion he had previously signed: Voluntary participation, informed of risks, force majeure, no further accountability.

Those conclusions now seemed like thin hooks, trying to pull him from the scrutiny seat toward the weather tower.

Wen Zhaolin raised his hand and pressed it on the table, his knuckles turning white: "I request that all original accident investigation reports be made public, with my signature from that year clearly marked."

Qin Lan did not immediately agree: "Going public would lead to legal consequences."

"They should have been held accountable in the first place," Wen Zhaolin said, "but we can't leave the responsibility of holding them responsible to them."

Xu Wangshu approved the read-only public release, prohibiting any anomalous sources from citing the public content to form new requests. The moment the file was uploaded, the upside-down names in the white light ceased to entangle Wen Zhaolin, but were instead pressed back into their original positions by the records of the human world. They remained heavy, but were no longer the ropes outside the door.

Zhou Jianguo tightened the last limit bolt, looked up and cursed, "What calibration? If the screw is crooked, just reinstall it. What kind of skill is it to use someone else as a shim?"

Chen Rui also included this sentence in the text.

Xiaoman suddenly noticed that the frost on the weather tower was avoiding the handwritten work orders. It wasn't because the work orders had power, but because each one broke down the responsibility too specifically. What the outside world wanted was an answer that could be swallowed up as a whole, while what the human world was handing out were small parts that interlocked yet could be removed one by one.

The faceless spacesuit's visor turned towards Xiaoman.

[Those who listen in can confirm on behalf of the maintainer.]

Xiaoman, clutching her toolbox, spoke in a trembling but clear voice: "Being an observer is not the same as signing on behalf of someone else."

A very faint tap came from the toolbox, like my brother chuckling from the bottom of the box.