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

Fortieth hour passed, and Zhurongtai still hadn't moved.

The human world waited all night, only to understand the next morning: when it said "set off," it meant neither leaving nor approaching.

It moved the empty stove—from the surface of Mars, to the narrow strip, next to the embers. Like placing an empty bowl next to a fire.

"What does this mean?" Zhou Heng asked.

"The stove is waiting for fire," the inspector said. "The fire hasn't gone in."

Why?

"Because fire doesn't belong to the hunter," Lu Chengong said, "nor to the hearth."

Xu Wangshu recorded this incident in the border archives without providing any explanation.

"Why don't you explain?" Luo Xu asked.

"Because we don't understand it yet," she said. "If you don't understand it, just memorize it; don't try to write down its meaning."

On the same day, Beitianmen gave its preliminary conclusions.

This is the first time it has given a "conclusive" statement about humanity.

The content consists of only three sentences: Human beings refuse to sign on behalf of others; Human beings refuse to be held jointly liable; Human beings refuse to hand over fire. Border individuals have provided self-certification, their eligibility is valid, but they have not yet been categorized.

"What does 'not yet classified' mean?" Lin Xiaoman asked.

"It means it hasn't decided yet whether we should be considered as a couple or as part of a file," Xu Wangshu said.

"Is that a good thing?"

"We're still alive," Lin Jibai said. "Categorization is for those who are finished. We're not finished yet."

The stability level remained unchanged that day.

Lin Jibai didn't look at it again.

The clock was set up to the 210th entry. Of the remaining entries, 22 were still unclaimed, and 7 had been claimed and withdrawn three times between Haicheng and the Space City.

Xu Wangshu kept all of these.

"A list that can't be finalized is a list for living people," she said. "I said that before, and it still applies now."

The greatest thing that happened in those seven days was that every word spoken by someone still alive was left open for repentance.

"The more loopholes we leave for backing out, the more we resemble something that hasn't fully grown up," Lu Chenggong said.

"Then don't let it grow to maturity yet," Xu Wangshu said. "What has grown to maturity is something that needs to be handed over."

"But the deadline is still approaching."

"The deadline is approaching, but that doesn't mean we have to follow it."

Lin Xiaoman wrote down the two words in her notebook: "grown up" and "handed over." She wrote them side by side without adding any annotations.

The second batch of individuals remained inside the third seal, neither taking root nor requesting to leave.

The fire at Zhurong Terrace remained on the narrow strip, neither entering the stove nor going out.

The stove opening was facing the seventh empty space and hadn't been turned around.

The shadow on that platform on the Martian surface has shortened a little.

The black disk at the North Heavenly Gate retreated into deep space, leaving only a short message on the public channel in the human world: The border is not closed, observation continues.

Before Lin Xiaoman turned off the listening terminal, she took one last look at the folder.

There were only three records inside, two of which were not written by her.

She thought for a moment and changed the name of the folder.

The reply, which had no way out, was changed to—

"A letter that has not yet been exported."

After making the changes, she felt they weren't right again.

Because people have already started replying to the second letter, but the replies are not complete sentences.

She eventually changed her name to three characters: "Waiting for a Reply".

After making the changes, she sent her brother a message: This name isn't for others to see; it's a reminder not to finish the rest yourself.

Lin Jibai replied with a single word: Okay.

He didn't ask about the stability again, nor did he ask when the next list would arrive.

The black disc outside the window had shrunk to a tiny, inconspicuous star in the night. But it didn't leave.

It simply waits there, waiting for the next time humanity speaks.