The Lone Wanderer Above the Vast Sky

Then, Su Yang followed in silently and poured a glass of water for Lu Chenyuan without a word.

He then began tidying up one of the electronic whiteboards already filled with notes, archiving Lu Ruoxi’s flowing thoughts into encrypted storage.

His movements were practiced and natural, as if he had repeated this action countless times.

"Brother, look."

Lu Ruoxi pointed at one of the whiteboards.

On it, there were no complex neural network diagrams—just an abstract, seemingly suspended sphere surrounded by bewildering mathematical symbols.

"All our work until now has been based on 'bits.' Either 0 or 1."

"We’ve made them increasingly complex, increasingly powerful."

"But now, I realize we might have chosen the wrong foundation from the very beginning."

Her pen drew a large X over the classic 0 and 1.

"We shouldn’t keep searching for treasure on a two-dimensional map."

Her gaze grew unfathomably deep.

"We should create a new universe."

Lu Chenyuan looked at his sister, then at the whiteboard covered in symbols as cryptic as ancient scriptures.

Suddenly, he understood—what she was doing was even greater, even more audacious than creating "Kaitian" itself.

She was aiming to overturn the very cornerstone of modern artificial intelligence.

"What Ruoxi means is…" Su Yang interjected at just the right moment, his voice tinged with unmistakable reverence and pride.

"She plans to introduce a 'quantum architecture' to the field of artificial intelligence."

"If you think of today’s large models as using abacuses to calculate pi, where we’re only competing over who has the bigger or faster abacus…"

"Then what she’s attempting now is inventing the computer."

Su Yang’s analogy instantly clarified the revolutionary nature of her work for Lu Chenyuan.

"A bit is a switch—either on or off. But a quantum bit can be both on and off simultaneously. A single qubit can carry exponentially more information," Su Yang added.

"What she’s building is a true AI brain, not just a supercomputer simulating one."

Lu Chenyuan studied his sister.

She was still slender, still quiet.

Yet within her, it was as if an entire universe was exploding into being.

"This path… is difficult," Lu Chenyuan said, his voice low.

"I know."

"There might be no results."

"I know."

"Then why—"

"But, brother," Lu Ruoxi interrupted, her gaze seeming to pierce through physical barriers,

"It’s there."

"I’ve seen it."

"I’ve seen the door—the one leading to a higher-dimensional computational space."

"I can’t pretend I haven’t."

With that, she turned back to the whiteboard, picked up her pen, and lost herself in her world once more.

Nothing else existed in her eyes now—only those cold yet infinitely captivating mathematical symbols.

Time itself seemed to freeze in that moment.

Lu Chenyuan stood there, silent for a long while.

He suddenly felt an invisible chasm opening between him and his sister.

He could move the world with capital and strategy.

He had even set his sights on the stars.

But he could no longer keep up with her thoughts.

Her mind was ascending at a terrifying speed, soaring toward heights ordinary human intellect could never reach.

Watching her solitary figure immersed in that realm of pure reason, an inexplicable ache welled up in his chest.

It’s lonely at the top.

This road was destined to be walked alone.

Just then, Su Yang stepped forward and draped a thin jacket lightly over Lu Ruoxi’s shoulders.

Then, he picked up the long-cold cup of coffee from her desk and walked out.

Moments later, he returned with a steaming glass of milk in its place.

He set it down beside her hand.

Not a single word passed between them.

Lu Ruoxi didn’t seem to notice either.

Yet the faintest hint of a smile touched the corner of her lips.

Having done this, Su Yang didn’t leave.

Instead, he pulled up a chair nearby, opened his laptop, and began translating the fragmented theoretical sketches from Lu Ruoxi’s whiteboard into quantum simulation algorithms that could run on classical computers.

This was his way of keeping pace with her.

He might never fly beside her at the same altitude of thought.

But he would always be the control tower behind her—clearing her runway, replenishing her fuel, ensuring she could fly higher and farther.

Seeing this, Lu Chenyuan’s worries eased.

His sister wasn’t alone.

Because she had Su Yang.

A companion willing to spend a lifetime looking up to her, guarding her, following her.

That was enough.

...

Time slipped by unnoticed.

In the crib, little Lu Shi’an stirred and let out a soft whimper.

The baby was hungry.

Lu Chenyuan walked over and lifted his son into his arms.

He mouthed a silent farewell to Lu Ruoxi and Su Yang.

Su Yang nodded in acknowledgment.

Lu Ruoxi remained lost in her world.

Carrying his son, Lu Chenyuan left the office that belonged to the future.

Back in his car, he expertly prepared a bottle and fed the hungry child.

Lu Shi’an drank eagerly, his dark, grape-like eyes fixed curiously on his father.

Gazing into those pure, innocent eyes, Lu Chenyuan found Lu Ruoxi’s words echoing in his mind:

"It’s there."

"I’ve seen it."

Suddenly, he smiled.

He bent down and kissed his son’s warm forehead.

"An'an," he whispered.

"Your aunt is drawing us a map of a new universe."

"And what Daddy must do is build a ship."

"A ship that can carry us anywhere on that map."

He looked up, his vision piercing through the windshield toward the cloudless blue sky—and beyond it, the unfathomable depths of space.

Everyone has their own battlefield.

Lu Ruoxi’s was at the farthest edge of theory.

His was among the distant stars.

Together, the siblings were pushing the boundaries of human civilization forward—one relentless centimeter at a time.

Just then, his phone rang.

Mo Qingli was calling.

"Chenyuan, how’s Ruoxi?"

Her voice instantly pulled Lu Chenyuan back from the abstract world of pure reason to the tangible present.

Instead of answering, he said something entirely unexpected:

"Qingli, I love you. I miss you—so, so much right now."

There was a palpable pause on the other end. After six or seven years together, Lu Chenyuan rarely spoke such words.

Then, a voice full of tenderness came through the phone, reaching Lu Chenyuan's ears.

"Mhm, Chenyuan, I love you too. You and Shi'an, come pick me up after work."