Hello Future

"Let's begin."

At Deep Space Tech, Chen Zhi leaned back on the sofa and casually gave the order.

Dai Damai sat at the main control console, took a deep breath, and hit the Enter key heavily.

On the Zhihu platform, a newly registered account named "Moss," still sporting the default gray avatar, quietly slipped into the trending list.

The first question: [How do you view the impact of the Federal Reserve's recent interest rate hikes and balance sheet reduction policies on global high-frequency trading algorithms?]

Below the question, several big influencers in the financial circle were still quoting classics and writing lengthy essays.

One second later.

Moss's answer appeared out of thin air.

A flowing five thousand words.

It ranged from macroeconomic cycles to micro-quantitative models, and even directly threw out a brand-new mathematical formula for risk hedging.

There was no nonsense, just purely dry, hardcore logic.

Immediately after.

Trending number two: [Does quantum entanglement violate the principle of locality in the theory of relativity?]

This was a typical Zhihu-style show-off post, and the comment section was filled with the verbal sparring of various physics PhDs and amateur science gurus.

Moss's answer directly presented three unpublished English derivation processes, cutting in from Bell's inequality and using mathematical models to prove the non-locality of quantum state collapse.

And at the end, it attached a sentence: [Human language has inherent flaws when describing high-dimensional physical rules. It is recommended that the questioner complete a course in tensor analysis before coming back to discuss this.]

Trending number three: [If a cat is placed in an absolute vacuum environment, how long can it survive?]

Trending number four: [How to evaluate this year's Nobel Prize winner in Literature?]

...

In just one short hour.

The top fifty questions on the Zhihu trending list were completely dominated by this blank account named Moss.

Every answer was a lengthy essay of thousands of words, covering finance, physics, biology, literature, and even emotional disputes.

Dai Damai sat in front of the computer, looking at the wildly refreshing traffic volume in the background, his hands trembling.

"Boss, this speed is too terrifying. The server usage rate has soared to eighty percent."

Chen Zhi sat cross-legged, holding a steaming bowl of Laotan pickled cabbage beef instant noodles.

"What's the panic? If the A100 can't even handle this little bit of concurrency, my billion-plus dollars would have been thrown into the water."

He slurped a large mouthful of noodles and mumbled indistinctly, "Not spicy enough. Next time, buy the rattan pepper flavor."

Pei Ningxue sat next to him, her originally exquisite hair now a bit messy from being scratched.

She wore a baggy white T-shirt and loose sports shorts on her lower half, her two pale legs resting casually on the coffee table.

"Eat, eat, eat. That's all you know how to do."

Pei Ningxue rolled her eyes, but her hands didn't stop moving.

She split a peeled braised egg in half, tossed it into Chen Zhi's noodle bowl with a look of disgust, and then grabbed a tissue to wipe the sauce off her fingers.

"Does this count as disrupting internet order?" Pei Ningxue leaned over to glance at the screen.

"This is technological poverty alleviation," Chen Zhi picked up some noodles. "The internet nowadays is too impetuous, full of unnutritious nonsense. Let Moss help wash their brains and raise their average IQ."

"Let me tell you, there isn't much money left in the company account." Pei Ningxue leaned back. "If your marketing account matrix doesn't make a splash, our whole company will be drinking the northwest wind under the overpass next month."

Chen Zhi stuffed half a braised egg into his mouth and chewed twice.

"Put your heart in your stomach. After tonight, there will be plenty of capital lining up to give us money."

On the internet, a storm was already brewing.

Zhihu users were the first to notice something was wrong.

In the middle of the night, where did this god come from, outputting like crazy?

"Holy shit, who is this Moss? I just finished reading his analysis of Russian geopolitics, and upon refreshing, he's teaching someone how to solve partial differential equations?"

"This scope of knowledge is too outrageous, right? Is a team ghostwriting for him?"

"It's definitely a crawler monster! Scraping information from the whole web and then splicing it with templates! Appraisal complete!"

"I sent him my supervisor's paper, and in one second he pointed out three logical loopholes. My supervisor is currently kneeling in front of the computer taking notes..."

Soon, the top influencers in various fields on Zhihu couldn't sit still anymore.

The professional personas they had painstakingly built up over several years were being rubbed into the dirt by an account without even a profile picture. Who could stand that?

Several big influencers privately created a group called the "Anti-Counterfeiting Alliance."

A big influencer in the computer field with the ID "Keyboard Maniac", boasting two million followers, launched an attack on the spot.

He left a comment directly under one of Moss's answers about underlying architecture: "Stop pretending to be omniscient here. The materials you copied from the internet are pieced together quite nicely. If you have the guts, run the C++ code pinned to my homepage. My team hasn't been able to find the bug for three days. If you can solve it, I'll acknowledge you as my daddy right here and now."

As soon as this comment came out, it was instantly pushed to the top comment by the melon-eating onlookers.

"Front row to watch the big shot crack down on fakes!"

"Sitting and waiting for Moss to show his true colors."

"I'm rooting for Keyboard Maniac on this one. I looked at that code too, and it's genuinely troublesome."

Deep Space Tech.

Dai Damai stared at the comment on the screen and turned to look at Chen Zhi.

"Boss, someone is crashing the party. It's a programmer influencer with two million followers. Do you want me to write a script to collapse his comment?"

Chen Zhi didn't even look up. He finished the last mouthful of noodle soup and casually tossed the instant noodle box into the trash can.

"Why collapse it? Isn't this a ready-made source of free EXP?"

He pulled a tissue to wipe his mouth.

"Let Moss reply to him."

Dai Damai swallowed hard and hit the Enter key.

On the internet, countless pairs of eyes were staring at this comment section.

A few seconds later, Moss's reply popped up.

Not only did it provide a fully recompiled segment of code, but it also came with a block of text below.

[The pointer overflow on line 142 caused a memory leak. In addition, the time complexity of this algorithm is O(n^2), which is extremely inefficient. It has been optimized to O(nlogn) for you.]

[By the way, your coding style has an archaic flavor from the 1990s. It is recommended that you read more open-source projects from the past decade to avoid working behind closed doors.]

Two minutes later, "Keyboard Maniac" silently deleted his pinned post and set his account to visible only to himself.

The netizens completely exploded.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!"

"Answering with code in seconds? And optimizing the algorithm along the way?"

"That last line of mockery was absolute perfection, utterly ruthless! Brother Maniac, where are you?"

"This typing speed, this reaction time, this is absolutely not a fucking human!"

Panic, shock, curiosity, fanaticism.

Various emotions rapidly spread across the internet.

The name Moss began to spread madly across major forums and social platforms.

In the server room.

Chen Zhi looked at the straight-up trending curve in the background.

"Damai, it's about time."

"Release all three hundred of those marketing matrix accounts for me."

"Before dawn, let the entire internet see the name Moss."

Dai Damai's face flushed red with excitement, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Understood!"

A few minutes later.

Weibo, TikTok, Kuaishou, and Bilibili.

An overwhelming wave of short videos and press releases flooded the phone screens of countless netizens.

"An Omniscient God Appears at Peking University Late at Night?"

"Human or AI? Mysterious Zhihu Account Triggers Panic!"

"Dominating Fifty Topics in an Hour: Uncovering the Mysterious Account Moss!"

"Top Programmer Influencer Suffers Dimensional Strike, Quits Internet on the Spot!"

Various highly provocative titles, paired with inflammatory and controversial copy, instantly detonated the traffic pool.

On the Weibo hot search list, the hashtag "Zhihu Moss" skyrocketed.

Tenth.

Fifth.

First!

Followed directly by a dark red "Viral" tag.

That night, almost everyone was discussing who Moss exactly was—whether it was a real person or an AI.

Whether it was just hype or living up to the name.

Pei Ningxue leaned back on the sofa, looking at the screen full of push notifications about Moss, and could not help but gasp.

She turned to look at Chen Zhi, her clear eyes now filled with awe.

You have to know, the traffic promotion cost Chen Zhi spent was not even a fraction of what those big companies would spend.

Yet the effect was dozens or even hundreds of times better.

Moreover, once Moss's capabilities were verified, Deep Space Technology would no longer be an ordinary startup; it would be a monster capable of subverting the entire internet landscape.

In 2021, ChatGPT had not yet been released, and almost all major tech giants were chasing the concept of the Metaverse.

Seizing the initiative at this time meant becoming an absolute unicorn company.

Chen Zhi stretched lazily and fell back onto the sofa, resting his head on Pei Ningxue's lap.

"This is just the beginning."

He closed his eyes, finding a comfortable position.

"Tomorrow morning, the venture capitalists from Sequoia and Hillhouse will blow up your phone. Get ready, President Pei, we are going to start harvesting the capitalists."

Pei Ningxue looked down at the man lying on her lap.

This guy had clearly just set off a tsunami on the internet, yet now he was acting like nothing happened, comfortably enjoying her lap pillow.

She bit her lip and reached out to give Chen Zhi's waist a hard pinch.

"Don't think you can back out of our deal just because you made some noise. We agreed on fifteen percent of the shares for me, and we have to go to the Industrial and Commercial Bureau tomorrow to make the change!"

Chen Zhi gasped in pain and grabbed her hand.

"Alright, alright, whatever you say."

Pei Ningxue looked at the continuously rising data on the big screen, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Chen Zhi, you are playing a bit too big this time."

"You are declaring war on the cognition of all humanity."

"Once this kind of panic spreads, it might cause dissatisfaction in other industries."

"When the time comes, will Deep Space Technology be able to withstand this pressure?"

"We have to withstand it even if we can't."

Chen Zhi reached out and held Pei Ningxue's somewhat cold fingers.

"Because the future is already here."

"We are not creating panic; we are just helping humanity adapt to this panic in advance."

"Rather than letting them be scared to death by foreign AI, it is better to let them be scared by our own child first."

Chen Zhi smiled, his fingers gently rubbing her palm.

"If the sky falls, President Hao will hold it up, Peking University will hold it up."

"We just need to be responsible for lighting the fire."

She looked at the man in front of her.

Even though he was eating the cheapest instant noodles and wearing the most ordinary T-shirt, that confidence of controlling everything made him glow all over.

This madman.

He really wants to poke a hole in the sky.

"Do you still want to eat?"

Pei Ningxue pointed to the remaining half of the sausage on the table.

"No."

Chen Zhi shook his head, his gaze returning to that huge screen.

On the screen, Moss's answers were still continuing.

Those rolling lines of code and text were rewriting the rules of this world.

"Hello, future."

Chen Zhi said softly.