Chapter Seven: Alnitak

“Oh, I’m so bored!”

In the courtyard, Zhang Mingyang gazed at the empty rooms, sighing. His grandparents had gone out, there were no good TV dramas to watch, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

The book he’d found yesterday was utterly unreadable, like something written in an alien language.

“Forget it. I’ll just look up what those numbers in the book mean.”

He went to his room, took the book, turned to page 145, and stared at the string of complicated numbers. Quickly, he typed them into his computer.

In less than a second, a page popped up: “Pressure Pipeline Testing Technology.”

“What’s this supposed to be?” Zhang Mingyang grew even more frustrated. Why would pressure pipeline testing technology appear in an astronomy book?

He didn’t give up, continued flipping through the pages, but most of it was unrelated to astronomy. Had he been overthinking things again?

“That can’t be right!”

He had indeed found the book from the photo, and there was only that one handwritten note inside—it had to be connected!

He recalled that his father studied astronomy. Could the string of numbers be some kind of specialized astronomical knowledge?

“That’s possible!”

Nodding to himself, Zhang Mingyang pulled out his phone and searched for the “Aerospace Department” senior he’d met at the last gathering.

“Are you there, Senior?” he messaged, waiting five minutes with no reply.

“Not around?”

“What am I supposed to do? He’s the only astronomy student I know at school!” Zhang Mingyang scratched his head, searching for a solution.

“Zhang Mingyang? What’s up?”

The screen flickered—a reply from the senior.

“Thank goodness!” Zhang Mingyang quickly typed, “Senior, I have an astronomy question I need your help with. Can you tell me what these numbers mean?”

He sent over the string of numbers from the book.

Two minutes later, the reply came: “Oh! This is a star coordinate. Ancient navigators established this system based on long-term experience, but you can only use these coordinates to determine position in the Northern Hemisphere, and the data is long outdated.”

Star coordinates?

So it really was astronomy knowledge!

Zhang Mingyang hurriedly replied, “Could you explain what these numbers mean?”

Five minutes later, the senior responded again: “07h 45m 19.4s, 28°01’35” represents the star’s position; 1.14 is its apparent magnitude; 0.98 is its absolute magnitude.”

Zhang Mingyang stared blankly at the reply, not understanding a word.

The senior added, “If you don’t get it, just log in to our Astronomy Department’s internal network. There’s a software called ‘Cosmic Spectrum’—just search there and you’ll see.”

“Okay, thanks a lot, Senior.”

After replying, Zhang Mingyang quickly logged onto the campus intranet, found the Astronomy Department’s website, and sure enough, there was a software called “Cosmic Spectrum.”

He opened the program—a miniature universe appeared on the screen. Zhang Mingyang entered the coordinates.

Once the coordinates were set, the image shifted, moving until it stopped at an orange star.

Pollux, also known as Beta Geminorum, meaning “the Boxer.” The seventeenth brightest star in the sky, apparent magnitude 1.14, absolute magnitude 1.08, distance 33.78 light years. A K0III orange giant, forty-three times as luminous as the sun. One of the nearest orange giants to Earth.

“Gemini?”

These coordinates pointed to Gemini?

What did that mean? Was it his father’s constellation?

No, that couldn’t be. His father was Taurus, he himself was Cancer, and neither his mother nor grandparents were Gemini.

As Zhang Mingyang wracked his brains for answers, his phone rang beside him.

“Who’s calling at this hour?”

He picked it up—Grandpa Wang! Zhang Mingyang quickly answered.

“Grandpa Wang, why are you calling?”

A bout of coughing sounded from the phone. “Yangming, I’ve been busy and only just saw your call from the other day.”

Zhang Mingyang smacked his forehead, realizing he’d forgotten all about it. He quickly said, “Grandpa Wang, the student you sent the other day gave me a letter, addressed to a future son. Is it from my father?”

Coughing persisted from the other end. “Yes, that letter! Your father left it for you. I found it recently while tidying up. No idea when your father left it here, but since I was coming to your school for a lecture, I brought it along to give to you.”

Hearing this, Zhang Mingyang pressed on: “Grandpa Wang, do you know what was inside the envelope?”

“What was inside? How would I know? Why, did you lose it?”

“No, Grandpa Wang, I just opened it and found only three photos, and they’re all strange. I can’t figure out what they mean.”

“Strange photos? Send them to me, let me take a look.”

Zhang Mingyang took out the three photos, snapped pictures of them, and sent them over.

On the other end, Wang Bowen glanced at the photos and replied without hesitation, “There’s nothing strange about these. One’s from your old home, one’s from when your father worked at the Space Agency, and the other is a black-and-white photo—looks like the film was overexposed.”

Despite Wang Bowen’s explanation, Zhang Mingyang remained unconvinced. Why would his father leave an overexposed photo to his future son?

“Professor Wang, we’re ready. Just waiting for you,” came a voice from Wang Bowen’s phone.

“Grandpa Wang, you go ahead. I’m fine over here.”

“That’s fine. Mingyang, when you’ve got time, I’ll chat with you again.”

As he was about to hang up, Wang Bowen added, “Oh, right, Mingyang. I heard from your department head that you have a good understanding of ‘future energy’ and ‘nuclear fusion’ technology. You’re about to start your internship—don’t bother going elsewhere. Just come intern at the Space Agency.”

Just as Zhang Mingyang was about to refuse, Wang Bowen cut him off, “Mingyang, I have to go. We’ll talk later. When it’s time for your internship, I’ll have someone pick you up. That’s all, goodbye.”

“Grandp—”

Before Zhang Mingyang could finish, the call ended.

He set down the phone, looked at the photo of his father in front of the Space Agency gates, and recalled what Grandpa Wang had said. Did he really have to go to the Space Agency to uncover the secrets behind these photos?

Meanwhile, after hanging up, Wang Bowen pulled out another phone and sent a message: “It’s done!”

With the mystery of the numbers solved, Zhang Mingyang, with nothing else to do, wandered aimlessly around the village.

Buzz, buzz…

His phone vibrated with an incoming video call.

He answered, and Wang Gongyang, a member of his nuclear fusion team, appeared on screen.

“Senior, what’s up?”

“Mingyang, there’s an issue with the fusion reactor we built!”

“There’s a problem? Adjust the camera so I can take a look.”

As the camera panned, a disk-shaped device came into view.