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

The phrase "scatter a little" was highlighted in red by Xu Wangshu.

She wouldn't allow anyone to translate it as "acceptable loss".

Lin Wangchuan was stuck in the center of the maintenance ring, half of his body already blended into the dim mechanical patterns. He couldn't see the ground, and could only confirm that his son was still alive by the maintenance rhythm left behind many years ago.

"This isn't a sacrifice," Lin Jibai said. "It's you locking yourself in."

"Enough with the nonsense." Lin Wangchuan's voice remained firm. "I locked the door, not your life."

He explained quickly. After the misanswer at Relay Station Zero, there was no direct intrusion from the outside; instead, a reverse maintenance well was left. The well would select the person best able to maintain the boundary, fixing that person as a maintenance position that would never stop operating. Lin Wangchuan secured the position first, which prevented the well from sending a plumb line into the human world for ten years.

Lin Jibai has now been identified as the new maintainer, and the old maintenance position is being handed over.

"If you take the tube apart, the ring will fall apart," Lin Wangchuan said. "And so will mine."

Xiaoman stood in front of the screen, trembling all over: "Then I don't agree."

Lin Wangchuan was silent for a moment, then his voice softened: "Xiaoman, no one needs your permission. Just don't open the door for me."

This sentence silenced everyone.

Looking at the maintenance diagram, Xu Wangshu suddenly discovered a design flaw in the old Heavenly Court. The maintenance position was written as single-person pressure bearing, which is why the reverse well kept demanding a replacement. If the maintenance authority could be broken down into multiple, short-term, and withdrawable maintenance actions, perhaps Lin Wangchuan could be allowed to leave without Lin Jibai being forced into the position.

"How many people do we need?" Qin Lan asked.

"It's not about needing a lot of strong people," Xu Wangshu said. "It's about having people each do their part, and not having anyone fixed in one place."

She immediately mobilized the previously established public nodes: the person locking the manhole cover at the ground station, the person turning off the projector at the exhibition hall, the person drawing the curtains at the hospital, the person dismantling the balance lamp at Tianheng, and the person delaying the light path at the moon's far side lighthouse. Each node only undertakes a brief verification: confirm, disconnect, verify, and exit.

Zhou Jianguo was responsible for confirming the physical limit.

Chen Rui was responsible for recording whether the driver crossed the safety line.

The nurses' station is responsible for reporting issues related to the sun-proof wards.

The exhibition hall staff are responsible for turning off the overhead projection.

Tianheng Security was responsible for removing the last spare balance lamp.

The Lunar Lighthouse Recorder is responsible for delaying all unnecessary light paths.

These movements are all very small.

So insignificant that it cannot be included in any mythological epic.

But when they all light up at the same time, the broken pipe on the inspection ring is no longer just pressing down on Lin Wangchuan alone.

Wen Zhaolin took the initiative to accept the most dangerous part of the old authorization revocation.

"This was originally my signature," he said.

Qin Lan cautioned, "You can only redress your own sins; you can't atone for others' sins."

"That's enough," Wen Zhaolin said.

The moment he revoked it, the old authorization chain broke. The maintenance ring vibrated violently, and cold white waveforms surged wildly, attempting to relabel Lin Jibai as a maintainer.

Lin Jibai cursed inside the box, and his flashlight suddenly shone.

Repairing a door is fine, but who says you have to stand in the crack?

He rewrote all reverse well maintenance permissions into temporary work orders: any order becomes invalid upon completion, any node can refuse to accept an order, and no one may accept more than one consecutive work order.

The old Heavenly Court preferred eternal posts.

Humanity insists on hiring temporary workers.

The inspection ring suddenly broke.

Lin Wangchuan's figure was slowly pulled out from the mechanical patterns, only to be half swallowed by the darkness. He knocked on his son's head three times, then twice.

I can hear it.

A little bit can be recovered.

Then, an oil-stained hand emerged from the bottom of the box.

Lin Wangchuan's last connection lasted only twenty-seven seconds.

In those twenty-seven seconds, he didn't reveal any major secrets, nor did he leave any heroic last words. He asked Xiaoman if she had been eating well lately, how much money Lin Jibai still owed the hospital, and whether Xu Wangshu was the girl who always scolded his son for making random phone calls.

Xu Wangshu said, "Yes."

Lin Wangchuan laughed: "Well said."

Lin Jibai, weak and listless, said from inside the box, "My dear father."

Those twenty-seven seconds were too short, yet they suppressed everything the fake voice had stolen. The real Lin Wangchuan wouldn't just talk about the survival of the world. He would worry about food, debts, old shoes, and tangled wires. Myths can be grand, but people always end up in these small things.

Before the connection ended, Lin Wangchuan typed out a new maintenance code. Xiaoman, while crying, flipped through the old manual and discovered that it wasn't a cry for help or a farewell, but a report indicating that the maintenance was complete: temporary support is available, but prolonged standing is prohibited.

Xu Wangshu wrote it into Lin Wangchuan's status log.

Qin Lan paused for a moment when stamping the document.

"This will be very important in the future," she said.

Wen Zhaolin looked at the record and said in a low voice, "The old order is most afraid of the word 'temporary'."

"Because 'temporary' means that you can replace people, you can stop work, and you can ask why," Xu Wangshu said.

Lin Jibai's soft voice came from the toolbox: "It also means we can go home."

No one refuted him.

Only when all the lights went out and a new knocking sound echoed in their memories did they realize that this sound crisis was merely the prelude to the next door. The outside had already learned to bypass light and equipment; next, it would test the deepest echoes in people's hearts.

The moment that hand reached out, all the pre-set alarms went off. The medical team wanted to step forward, the security guards wanted to step forward, and Xiaoman even leaned forward. Xu Wangshu raised her hand, forcefully suppressing all her impulses.

"Let's confirm first," she said.

Lin Jibai muttered weakly from inside the box, "Dr. Xu, you're really annoying."

"Stay alive before you complain."

The greasy hand didn't grab anyone; it merely tapped the metal edge of the box three times short and two times long, then added a very light tap. Xiaoman immediately flipped through the manual, her voice trembling uncontrollably: "This is temporary support confirmation; contact is not required."

Qin Lan approved the limited access. The access cable wasn't inserted into the hand, but rather connected to the metal edge it had struck, only reading vibrations and not establishing any pulling. Xu Wangshu stared at each value, confirming that no new single points had formed before nodding.

Lin Wangchuan's image flashed briefly on the screen.

He looked much older than in the photos, as if his features had been worn away by a long period of darkness. But his first glance wasn't at any of the instruments; instead, he looked at the toolbox.

"How did you get so skinny?"

Lin Jibai paused for two seconds: "Debt-based weight loss is remarkably effective."

Xiaoman cried so hard she couldn't speak.

Lin Wangchuan's gaze turned to her again, and his voice softened: "Xiaoman has grown up."

These words, devoid of any technical value, silenced the entire underground station. Those identities fought over by the old Heavenly Court and the outside world receded into the distance at this moment. Lin Jibai wasn't a maintainer, Xiaoman wasn't an observer, and Lin Wangchuan wasn't a maintenance worker. They were simply a family that owed ten years of reunion.

With nine seconds remaining on the twenty-seven-second countdown, the external white noise suddenly surged, attempting to turn Lin Wangchuan's final connection into a long-term connection. A cold white notification appeared at the edge of the screen: "Meeting can be extended upon confirmation from relatives."

Xiaoman bit her lip so hard it almost drew blood.

Lin Wangchuan tapped the table first: "No extension."

Lin Jibai also said, "It will not be extended."

Xiaoman closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks: "Don't prolong it."

The rejections of the three people piled up, and the white noise, like a cut thread, suddenly collapsed back into darkness.

After the call ended, Xiaoman sat on the ground, not getting up for a long time. Xu Wangshu squatted down next to her, not comforting her with "there will be other opportunities in the future," nor saying "at least you saw her." She simply handed her a piece of paper.

The paper contains the original manuscript of the maintenance code that Lin Wangchuan typed out at the end.

Xiaoman hugged the paper to her chest, as if she had finally found something that wouldn't be impersonated.