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432-a-journey-beyond

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#ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my wonderful wife and my beautiful children, who
constantly supported and put up with me during the writing of
this novel.
To all entities, human and non-human, who, after reading this
book, will want to spread it, recommend it, circulate it, discuss it,
and draw reflections from it-in contexts of public sharing both
online and offline.
#1.The Dragon’s Journey
Wenchang Spacecraft Launch Center (WSLC), Wenchang,
Hainan, China - August 6, 2049
I haven't slept in thirty-four hours. I haven't eaten in
at least twenty-four. I've had only a few sips of water and
a cup of tea left forgotten on my desk. I don't dare think
about what my face must look like, or the state of my
hair. It doesn't matter, I tell myself. None of that matters.
We did it.
This is a historic event, one people will talk about for
centuries. Having played an active role in it feels incredible.
I have to keep reminding myself that it's real, that it
actually happened. My throat is dry, my lips feel rough,
my hands are trembling. The world feels thin, unreal, as
if I'm observing it from the outside. I hope it doesn't
show. I hope no one notices.
It's done. The target point of peak velocity has been
reached. Orbital insertion had only minimal chances of
success-no surprise there, even if we allowed ourselves
a little hope. The frozen text on the main screen reads: 10
hours, 26 minutes, 39 seconds. Distance: 4.4 billion
kilometers. My Lóngxing Tàiyáng-and yes, I do call it
mine-has reached Neptune's blue in the blink of an eye:
peak velocity, 296,490 kilometers per second. Just
thinking about it sends a shiver through me.
I lift my eyes and force myself to take in the room.
The staff is finally breathing again. Many have leaned
back in their chairs, legs stretched out after hours of
tension.
The atmosphere feels like Mission Accomplished, but
there is no real celebration-only scattered tài bàng le.
The scattered 'well done's never swell into a chorus.
Someone has applauded; most followed without much
conviction, hands raised above their heads, eyes still
glued to the holograms. Director Chen's words from the
day of the assignment echo in my mind:
"The space race is an absolute national priority. They
are asking us for the impossible. We are called upon to
make it real."
We've poured our souls into this place for two years
and four months. The effort bound us together, bound us
like family. So why aren't we embracing? Why aren't we
celebrating, moved to tears?
We're all seeing the same thing. Or rather-we're not
seeing it anymore.
The probe's silver cone has vanished from the screens.
The holographic simulators show neither its outline nor
any debris. We reached the Adams Ring, in the middle of
the Brahic arcs. And then-nothing. The real-time
sensors have gone silent, and they detected no explosion.
The emergency systems are our last hope, but they
transmit the old-fashioned way. The data will take hours
to arrive.
Zhang Mei is whispering something to the colleague
next to her. I watch her: her slight frame, her short
graying hair, the awkward way she's twisted in her chair.
I catch a fragment of what she says.
"This doesn't make any sense!"
As she speaks, her index finger points to the quantum
radio-spectrometer panel. In the projection each of us
works with, that data sits at the bottom left-small,
unobtrusive. The instrument has detected a continuous,
persistent low-frequency wave: 432 cycles per second.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Yuzhe drag the
information toward the center of the simulation to
enlarge it. The signal originated four hours ago from
Neptune's orbit. Its echo reaches us now, just as the
Lóngxing disappears from all detection, as if it had
evaporated. 432 Hz. Constant. For now, it's all we have.
The room begins to stir. Someone stands up. Finally,
we start exchanging glances-we find each other again.
Everyone is waiting for me to say something. I don't feel
ready.
Fortunately, Xu steps in and takes the stage. He's just
stood up, wearing that gentlemanly bearing that earned
him the nickname Hao ge.
Our 'good brother' colleague begins to speak.
"So-well-it went well! Yes, I know exactly what
you're all thinking, and I'm with you, of course. Still,
allow me to point out that the emergency sensor data
won't reach Earth in less than four hours..."
I silently thank Xu with all my heart. He's just taken
on the burden of breaking the ice that had formed inside.
The nickname suits him perfectly. I acknowledge him
with a nod, inviting him to continue. We understand each
other-he knows I trust him. He smiles, runs a hand
through his hair, and goes on without hesitation.