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

That extra tap made everyone on site look up at the top of the weather tower.

There was no one up there.

Only the faceless spacesuit hung in the white light, like an upside-down nail. It repeated the cold, impersonal words: [Calibration failed. Please provide a replacement.]

Immediately afterwards, the list began to scroll across the screens on each node.

Xu Wangshu, a candidate for Chang'e.

Lin Jibai, the border maintainer.

Lin Xiaoman, a listener on the DreamNet.

Lu Chen Gong, Hou Yi's sequence.

Wen Zhaolin, former authorized holder.

Qin Lan, the human world's overturned seat.

It no longer pretends to be a relative, nor does it act as someone seeking help; it simply breaks everyone down into usable tags.

Qin Lan laughed angrily: "Finally, the truth has been revealed."

She immediately activated emergency procedures, marking all names as "individuals, not to be used as system material." This was not just a slogan. Each name required confirmation from the individual; if confirmation was impossible, the reason and method of protection had to be explained.

Xu Wangshu was the first to confirm.

Lu Chengong is the second one. He originally wanted to write "Whoever uses me as an arrow, I will shoot them", but after being glared at by Qin Lan, he changed it to the official version: The holder of the Houyi sequence refuses to be provided, borrowed, or calibrated.

Xiaoman writes very slowly.

She wasn't afraid of herself. She was afraid that Lin Jibai was still in the toolbox and wouldn't be able to personally input the confirmation.

Xu Wangshu did not urge her.

Xiaoman ultimately did not confirm on behalf of her brother. She uploaded his medical status and the restrictions he had previously set: consent cannot be presumed based on maintenance actions, mandatory use cannot be carried out under the guise of rescue, and decreased stability cannot be used as a reason to grant permissions.

The cold, white figure paused for the first time.

[Incomplete information.]

Xiaoman looked up, her eyes red: "Yes. Humans are inherently incomplete."

This message was transmitted to various nodes via the Dream Network. At the hospital nurses' station, someone cried out briefly, then quickly suppressed the sound and wrote in the logbook: "The patient is unconscious; their right to refuse must be protected." The exhibition hall staff wrote: "Children's visit records do not constitute public authorization." Tianheng security guards wrote: "Employee contracts do not equate to boundary consent."

Lu Chengong planted the broken bow into the tower base, the bow's light splitting the ground into a thin line. He wasn't aiming to shoot the figure, but rather to sever the mapping between the list and the equipment. The old system's labels were pinned back to their blank spaces one by one by the bow's light.

Wen Zhaolin applied to join the review process.

Qin Lan restricted his access to read-only, but still made all his past authorization records public: which employees Tianheng had pushed to the forefront under the guise of "adapters", which people never truly agreed, and which failures were packaged as "voluntary sacrifice".

"I can't sign for them," he said. "I can only lay down the debts that are already owed."

The white light began to become disordered.

It seems incomprehensible why a group of people would rather admit that the data is incomplete than provide the best possible answer.

Xu Wangshu walked to the tower and looked up at the faceless spacesuit.

"You want to calibrate the direction? Fine," she said, "but first tell me, who authorized you to calibrate us?"

The silence dragged on for a long time.

Then all the frost patterns on the top of the tower simultaneously turned toward the far side of the moon.

A coordinate system that had never appeared before surfaced.

It's not Beitianmen (North Heavenly Gate).

It was the zeroth relay station that Lin Wangchuan erased after the South Heavenly Gate was closed.

Qin Lan immediately retrieved the file. The archive didn't contain this station; there was only a series of floor numbers that had been deliberately cut out. Wen Zhaolin stared at the coordinates, his face growing paler by the minute.

"It's downstairs in the exhibition hall," he said.

Lin Jibai's flashlight suddenly lit up.

A broken sentence appeared on the screen.

When I was a child... I heard it panting.

The phrase "humans are inherently incomplete" was like a grain of sand, stuck in the smooth outer judgment. The scrolling speed of the list slowed down significantly, and many labels began to conflict with each other: Lin Xiaoman was labeled as both an observer and a family member; Xu Wangshu was labeled as both the custodian and the on-site reviewer; Lu Chenggong was both the sequence holder and the wounded.

The old system would merge the conflicts, but the outside seemed to be encountering a living person who did not want to be merged for the first time, with white light flashing repeatedly on the tower.

Qin Lan seized the opportunity to have all the details clarified: "I am not" in the document. It was not a gatekeeping document, not authorized by family members, not company assets, not a research sample, and not a method of repaying historical debts.

That sounds like a childish denial.

But as hundreds of "I am not" were stacked together, the cold white frost around the weather tower began to peel off in patches. The frost fell to the ground and did not melt into water, but broke into tiny shells of words. Each shell contained an old label, which, when illuminated by Lu Chengong's bow light, curled up and turned black like insect eggs.

Lu Chenggong's face darkened: "These things were just stuck to people's bodies like this before?"

Wen Zhaolin's voice was so low it was almost inaudible: "Yes. If it's been pasted on for too long, even the person wearing it will start to believe it's themselves."

Xu Wangshu walked to Xiaoman's side, squatted down to look her in the eye, and said, "You don't need to make anyone else whole. You just need to define your own boundaries."

Xiaoman nodded and re-entered: I am Lin Xiaoman. I heard my brother's status and I am worried, scared, and hope he will come back. The above emotions do not constitute consent to open the box.

The screen paused for a moment.

A faint heartbeat came from inside the toolbox, like a response to those words. The medical team reported that the condition hadn't improved, but it hadn't declined further either.

Meanwhile, a dangerous situation arose on the roof of Tianheng Building. When the last spare maintenance light was removed, an image of an old contract popped out of the light socket and projected onto the young security guard's name tag, attempting to label him as a "Group Authorized Maintenance Personnel." The security guard almost instinctively followed the procedure to confirm, but a colleague next to him grabbed his hand.

"You're not part of the company anymore," the colleague said. "You're your daughter's father, you're just temporarily removing the light fixture, go home after get off work."

The young security guard paused for two seconds, then wrote with a wry smile: "I am performing the task of removing the light and do not accept any additional identity verification."

The light went out with a "snap".

When this report reached the weather tower, Xu Wangshu suddenly realized that the so-called calibration was not a technical process, but rather an identity theft. As long as someone accepts being fixed to a certain function, the outside world can use that function to take hold.

She sent this assessment to Qin Lan.

Qin Lan did not write a conclusion, but only a temporary reminder: Everyone should retain their real-life identities, and must leave their on-site roles after the mission is completed.

Lu Chengong saw the word "exit" and chuckled, "That word is better than 'bow'."

The white light suddenly stopped its chaotic state at that moment.

The faceless spacesuit atop the tower slowly raised its hand, no longer asking for a replacement, but instead pointing towards the old exhibition hall of the space city. Simultaneously, the same coordinates appeared on all the equipment.

There were no requirements for the coordinates, nor were there any guiding factors.

It's like a calm statement: If you don't provide the calibration material, go back to where the calibration failed in the first place.

Xu Wangshu looked at the coordinates, her heart sinking.

Xiaoman also saw that direction. She suddenly remembered what her brother had said before he fell into a coma: there was a breeze under the exhibition hall floor, not cold, but like someone breathing through a pipe. At the time, everyone thought it was a leak in the old air conditioner, but now it seemed that the breath had never stopped.

Lin Jibai's heart rate spiked slightly at that moment, as if the person inside the box had also recognized the place.

Zero relay station.