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

In the human archives, the counterweight compartment is an empty shell that was burned long ago.

When the three people arrived, they discovered that it hadn't burned.

It was simply removed from all the registrations.

The capsule was suspended at a dead angle in near-Earth orbit and had not been seen once in ten years.

"This place doesn't block out the light," Qin Lan said as her first words. "Any civilian telescope could take pictures of it."

"Then why didn't anyone take a picture?" Lu Chenggong asked.

"Because nobody registers it," Qin Lan said. "Unregistered orbital objects are just 'deep space background noise' in the system. Viewers will think it's their own noise."

Wen Zhaolin stood in front of the airlock and stared at it for a long time.

"Deleting registrations is more ruthless than hiding them," he said. "If you hide something, at least someone knows where you're hiding it. Deleting registrations makes everyone think they've made a mistake."

"Then why is the hull still intact?" Lu Chenggong asked.

"Because the person who deleted the registration didn't intend to empty everything," Wen Zhaolin said. "What he wanted wasn't for no one to find out, but for no one to register. Even if they found out, they couldn't write it down, and writing it down wouldn't count."

The hatch was open.

It wasn't pried open.

It opens from the inside.

The three people looked at each other, but no one said anything.

As per the rules before departure, Qin Lan took notes first, Lu Chengong followed, and Wen Zhaolin came last.

There were no bodies in the cabin.

There was no fire.

There's only a shelf covering one whole wall.

The shelves were filled with empty compartments.

Each cell has a number plate.

The number plate is still there, but the item is gone.

Qin Lan counted them: forty-seven squares.

"Forty-seven," she read aloud. "That number is too round."

"What's wrong with integers?" Lu Chenggong asked.

"The problem is that it wasn't pieced together," Qin Lan said. "The shelf is man-made. The man-made shelf has forty-seven compartments, which means that it was only originally intended to hold forty-seven items."

"So what?"

"This means they weren't accumulated," Qin Lan said. "They were singled out."

At this moment, the fragments of Lu Chen's bow trembled.

It's not about knocking three times.

It was a series of tremors, so fast it sounded like someone was urgently counting off.

"It recognizes this place," Lu Chenggong said.

"Don't interpret it," Qin Lan said.

"I'm not interpreting, I'm stating a fact."

"Make sure to state clearly that you said it."

Lu Chengong nodded, placed his hand on the sensor, and slowly stood to the side.

Wen Zhaolin walked to the deepest compartment and squatted down.

That numbered plaque is new.

Among a wall of dark signs, only this one was still lit.

There is no number on it.

There are only four characters.

[No analysis provided.]

Wen Zhaolin's hands began to tremble.

"I signed this," he said.

Both of them looked at him.

"What did you say?"

"I've signed this kind of label before," Wen Zhaolin said. "Not the content, but the label itself. Ten years ago, I signed a batch of these labels in Tianheng's filing department."

"Why sign it?"

"Signing means agreeing to move the items out."

"Where to move it?"

Wen Zhaolin looked up, his face grim.

"Transfer to the party that made the application at the time."

Qin Lan immediately asked, "Who submitted the application?"

Wen Zhaolin opened his mouth.

This time he didn't shake his head.

He simply said three words very loudly and clearly:

"I don't remember."

It's not that he can't remember.

Those three words were on the tip of my tongue when something took them away.

Qin Lan recorded the entire process.

After recording, she added a line to the record:

The witness exhibited memory blocking on key points. The blocking occurred twice, at the same time.

Lu Chenggong asked, "How do you know the two times are the same?"

"Because his pauses are all the same length," Qin Lan said. "Exactly the same, one and a half seconds."

What does a second and a half prove?

"That means it wasn't him thinking," Qin Lan said. "Thinking involves pauses of varying lengths. But when something is taken away, the pauses are fixed."

She saved this conclusion separately and named it: Memory Blocking Feature 1.

After saving, she typed four words after the file name: "Pending review".

She didn't want to take what she saw for the first time as a definitive conclusion.