Pillar of the Nation

After watching his second brother and fourth brother present their achievements one by one, Lu Chenyan seemed to mock himself as he said,

"You're all contributing to the betterment of humanity, while I feel like I'm just leading people astray."

"Chenyan, you're now a banner figure in Xia's cultural sphere," Mo Qingli said with a smile.

She wasn’t just being polite. By now, Xia Yin Times had become the most unique cultural company in the country.

It still produced top-tier pop music and films.

But what it was most famous for were its unprofitable—even loss-making—projects.

"Don’t even mention it," Lu Chenyan waved his hand dismissively.

"A documentary I invested in recently got rejected during review."

"What was the subject?" Lu Chenyuan asked.

"It was a story Qianqian and Ji Yichen brought back from the Middle East," Lu Chenyan replied, his expression turning serious.

"We sent our best team, infiltrated the area, and filmed for a year. The footage was shocking."

"And then? Some organization issued a document saying we were 'damaging the image of international friends and harming diplomatic relations.'"

His tone carried both anger and resignation.

"I reached out to many people, but nothing worked."

"What happened afterward?" Mo Qingli asked.

"Later, I edited it into over a hundred short videos, left them unsigned, and dumped them on overseas video platforms," Lu Chenyan said, a sly grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

He spread his hands.

"If they won’t let us speak our truth in theaters, we’ll wage guerrilla warfare online."

"They have their rules, and we have our trenches."

Lu Chenyuan looked at his younger brother.

He knew this change had been brought about by Lu Qianqian and Ji Yichen.

No longer was he just an idol content with fans’ screams.

He had begun to understand the power of culture as a weapon.

The brothers were deep in conversation when the doorbell rang again—Su Yang and Lu Ruoxi had arrived.

Lu Ruoxi wore a simple white dress, her face free of makeup.

Her aura had grown even more detached, as if she didn’t belong to this noisy world.

Her eyes were like deep wells—calm yet unfathomable.

"Ruoxi."

"Little sister."

The group greeted her one after another.

Lu Ruoxi nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

She walked over to Lu Shi'an and gently tapped the little one’s chubby cheek with her finger.

Her fingertip carried a faint coolness, as if from another world.

This was one of her rare tender interactions with this reality.

"Ruoxi, we were just talking about how Second Brother’s brain-machine interface can restore sensory perception," Lu Chenyan eagerly picked up the earlier topic.

"He said he’s mimicking the brain’s neural network."

"Is it the same principle as your 'Kaitian'?"

He voiced the question everyone was curious about.

Hearing this, Lu Ruoxi lifted her gaze.

She glanced at her second brother, Lu Chenxiao, seated not far away.

"Second Brother’s direction is correct," she said, her voice soft and deliberate.

"He’s perfectly replicating the 'old map.'"

"Old map?" The others were puzzled.

"Our brains are that old map," Lu Ruoxi explained calmly.

"They’re carbon-based, reliant on bioelectricity, bound by the physical laws of our three-dimensional spacetime."

"They’re magnificent, but they have limits."

She walked to the smart whiteboard in the living room and picked up a pen.

"What I’m doing isn’t replicating it."

"I’m drawing a 'new map.'"

She drew a single dot on the board.

"We assume intelligence is this point."

Then, beside it, she sketched an entirely different symbol—a complex geometric shape that seemed to fold in countless dimensions.

"But in reality, it’s here."

"A completely new architecture, based on quantum entanglement and higher-dimensional probability clouds."

"In that framework, 'thought' isn’t linear computation, but an instantaneous 'collapse' across infinite possibilities."

Every word she spoke was intelligible on its own.

Yet strung together, they formed a scripture no one could decipher.

Even Lu Chenxiao, a leading neuroscientist, furrowed his brow tightly.

He realized he, too, had fallen behind.

The brothers were pillars of their respective fields, pushing the era’s technology to new heights.

But their younger sister had long since walked alone to the edge of their time.

And now, she was trying to open the door to the next.

Between her and them lay a chasm named "dimension."

Clear, and insurmountable.

The living room fell silent.

Only Lu Shi'an’s babbling murmurs filled the air.

"Little sister, I think we’re starting to not understand you anymore," Lu Chenyan said with a wry smile, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah," Lu Chenjin chimed in, uncharacteristically joking,

"Feel like if you keep going, our brains might just overload."

Lu Chenxiao stayed silent, but the contemplation in his eyes said everything.

They all felt it—a mix of pride and helplessness.

Pride for their sister, and a faint frustration at being intellectually outpaced.

Lu Ruoxi looked at her brothers.

For the first time, a trace of warmth flickered in her fathomless eyes.

"You’ve all underestimated Eldest Brother," she suddenly said.

The words made everyone instinctively turn toward the figure who had been quietly busy in the kitchen all along.

Lu Chenyuan.

He had just placed the last dish on the dining table.

Hearing Lu Ruoxi’s remark, his movements paused briefly before resuming as if nothing happened.

"You think I’ve moved fast and far," Lu Ruoxi said, her voice soft yet clear to all.

"Second Brother is weaving a better net for humanity."

"Third Brother is handing the microphone to the voiceless."

"Fourth Brother is forging a stronger heart for this nation."

"All of us are sprinting forward on our own tracks."

She walked to the dining table and looked at Lu Chenyuan.

In her eyes was an absolute trust and admiration no one else could comprehend.

"But have you ever wondered,"

"Who charted these tracks for us?"

"Who cleared every obstacle while we ran with our heads down?"

"Who recalibrated our coordinates when we veered off course?"

She pointed to her temple, then to the boundless sky outside the window.

"My mind holds the map to a new world."

"But without Eldest Brother’s ship, that map would just be scrap paper."

"Without him at the helm, no matter how fast any of us run, we’d only lose ourselves in the storms of the old world—colliding, shattering."

Lu Ruoxi’s words struck like lightning, cutting through the fog in their minds.

They realized with sudden clarity.

All these years, Lu Chenyuan had been quietly "stepping back."

He withdrew from Yuanlong’s power center, becoming a chief advisor instead.

No longer the domineering titan of commerce.

Just an ordinary man, tending to home and family.

Yet his influence was everywhere.

He built the finest platform for them, provided the sturdiest support, and pointed them in the right direction.

Like the air, his presence often went unnoticed in daily life.

But once gone, everyone would struggle to breathe.

They were the sharp blades of this era.

And Lu Chenyuan was the one who forged those blades—and wielded them with ease.

Lu Chenyuan looked up at his younger siblings.

He saw the identical expressions of awe and realization on their faces.

With a faint smile, he untied his apron.

"Alright," he said.

"Don’t just stand there."

"Let’s eat."

His voice was always calm, steadying.

As if his sister’s earth-shattering praise moments ago had nothing to do with him.

The family took their seats.

An ordinary dinner began.

Outside the window, the city of Jingzhou glittered with countless lights.

On the table, steam rose from dishes filled with warmth.

Lu Chenyuan picked up the serving chopsticks and placed a tender piece of fish belly on each plate.

His nation, his home.

All were here.