The lithography machine R&D center at String Light Research Institute remains the heart of both the institute and the global semiconductor industry, even in the "post–High Numerical Aperture EUV era." Inside the massive cleanroom, staff in white bunny suits move and operate like devout monks between yellow‑light zones and precision instruments. The air is thick with an almost sacred focus; only the faint hum of equipment and the rustle of circulating airflow form the eternal background sound here. Standing on the second‑floor observation gallery, Xiuxiu looks down through the huge viewing window at the "String Light No. 3" prototype undergoing final adjustments below—an improved model built upon the mass‑produced "String Light No. 2," further optimized for throughput and energy efficiency, aiming to cement absolute dominance in high‑end lithography.
Yet though her eyes rest on those intricate mechanical structures and control panels blinking with signal lights, her thoughts drift far away. The storm of that Geneva hearing has passed months ago; the tide of public opinion, after the initial earth‑shattering reversal and ensuing condemnation of corrupt officials, has gradually settled. Direct political suppression and smear campaigns have temporarily ceased, but an intangible barrier and wariness, like a stubborn frost, still hang over the relationship between "String Light" and the major Western industrial powers and their allies.
She knows Mozi wielded Oracle's power with near‑brutal precision and efficiency to blunt the opponent's sharpest spearhead. But that felt more like a pyrrhic victory—exposing the festering sores within civilization's body while leaving new resentments through unconventional means. After returning, Mozi's weary "I'm home" and his subsequent shift of focus toward the Humanity Future Fund's long‑term, almost surreal grand projects strike Xiuxiu as both a strategic pivot and, perhaps, a spiritual weariness and detachment. He seems to be saying through action that he no longer wishes to be entangled in those low‑level, draining internal struggles.
Yue'er, meanwhile, immerses herself even more completely in her "information‑geometric field theory" and the cosmic‑linguistics deciphering work with Oracle. The world built from mathematics and philosophy seems to offer her a sanctuary far from earthly turmoil. Xiuxiu understands them, even envies their relative detachment at times. But she cannot do the same. Lithography machines, chip manufacturing—these are her roots, her most direct and intimate connection with the physical world. She cannot treat capital as a tool to be deployed at will like Mozi, nor can she construct a universe within pure thought like Yue'er. Her stage is right here, in these engineering practices that demand meticulousness and relentless refinement.
That is why, when her assistant whispers that two "special" visitors wish to meet her through informal channels, Xiuxiu feels brief surprise but no real shock. The visitors are Dr. Helmut Wagner, director of a top European microelectronics research institute, and a senior consultant from a former R&D department of a lithography‑machine giant—someone she vaguely recognizes but cannot immediately name. Both have crossed paths with her numerous times in previous academic and technical exchanges; they respect each other and even share a degree of personal rapport. Yet during the fiercest political storm, that connection inevitably broke off.
The meeting is arranged in an inconspicuous small conference room, shielded from all external networks to ensure privacy. Dr. Wagner, around sixty, has his hair impeccably groomed and wears a well‑tailored suit, but his eyes lack the Germans' usual air of slightly arrogant confidence; instead they show caution and… perhaps resignation. The former consultant, named David Chen, is of Chinese descent, his expression more complicated, tinged with a constrained hesitation.
"Ms. Xiuxiu, I apologize for the intrusion," Dr. Wagner begins bluntly, with Germanic forthrightness. "First, allow me to express, on behalf of myself and many colleagues at the institute who uphold the scientific spirit, our regret for the unfair treatment your organization and you personally experienced recently." He does not use the word "apology," but his tone is sincere.
Xiuxiu gives a slight nod, her face maintaining professional calm. "Dr. Wagner, Mr. Chen, welcome. Let bygones be bygones. Science knows no borders; technological development and exchange ultimately serve the common interests of all humanity." She utters these diplomatic platitudes while coolly assessing their true intentions.
David Chen takes over, his Chinese carrying a slight accent. "Ms. Xiuxiu, we've come hoping to explore the possibility of… restoring limited cooperation in certain specific areas." He pauses, as if weighing his words. "You know, the various… incidents have stalled much normal technical exchange and supply‑chain cooperation. This hasn't only affected 'String Light'; it has severely hindered the healthy development of the global semiconductor ecosystem. Many R&D institutions and companies in Europe and America are feeling real difficulties."
Dr. Wagner adds, "Yes. Especially in some foundational, non‑sensitive research areas—for instance… collaborative development of next‑generation photoresist, joint modeling of EUV light‑source stability, and novel algorithm research for defect detection during chip manufacturing. These fields have extremely high technical barriers and require huge investments; tackling them independently by any single party means massive duplication of effort and time costs. We believe that if we can re‑establish some form of controlled information‑sharing and R&D collaboration mechanism, it would benefit all sides."
Xiuxiu listens quietly, her fingers unconsciously tracing circles on the smooth conference‑table surface. She understands their point. After the wave of political pressure receded, pragmatic interest calculations have surfaced. "String Light's" absolute lead in High‑NA EUV and even more forward‑looking technologies makes any attempt to develop independently outside its technological ecosystem prohibitively costly and bleak. These rational technocrats and industry figures are the first to sense the shifting wind; they are trying to find cracks in the deadlock to rebuild some level of "contact," thereby maintaining their own technological systems' vitality and competitiveness.
This is the "prelude to reconciliation." A pragmatic choice under pressure, not born of genuine trust or ideological alignment.
"I understand your considerations," Xiuxiu begins slowly, her tone calm and professional. "String Light Research Institute has always maintained an open‑cooperation attitude; that has never changed. For foundational, forward‑looking common technology research, we are in principle willing to exchange and collaborate with any institution worldwide that shares the same open attitude."
Her tone shifts slightly. "However, as you know, trust building takes time and accumulates through concrete actions. Our past experience compels us to set higher requirements for the specific forms, scope, and information‑security safeguards of any cooperation. All collaboration must be based on full equality, transparency, and mutual benefit, and must have clear, reliable rules and boundaries."
She is not aggressive, but her words strike a perfect balance—expressing willingness to engage while clearly drawing the bottom line: cooperation can be discussed, but it cannot revert to the previous unequal exchanges tinged with condescension or probing, nor can it tolerate any form of political manipulation or technological espionage.
Dr. Wagner and David Chen exchange a glance, both seeing a faint, barely perceptible relief in the other's eyes. Xiuxiu did not flatly refuse; that alone is a positive signal.
"Naturally, naturally," Dr. Wagner nods hastily. "We could start with some concrete, non‑core projects, set up working groups, and draft detailed information‑exchange and intellectual‑property protection agreements. For instance, our institute has made new progress in studying the radiation‑resistance performance of extreme‑ultraviolet optical materials, which could complement your data on light‑source mirror‑damage mechanisms…"
The conversation then dives into specific technical details. Xiuxiu displays her caliber as a top‑tier engineer and strategist, rapidly and precisely assessing several potential collaboration points raised by Dr. Wagner, noting their difficulties and possible synergistic value. Her attitude is professional, focused on the matter rather than the individuals; she harbors no lingering resentment from past friction, nor does she show any hint of smugness at their current "backing down."
The meeting lasts over an hour. In the end, both sides agree to have their subordinates conduct preliminary contacts and feasibility discussions on the least sensitive technical areas first, and to establish an encrypted, unofficial technical‑communication channel.
After seeing off Dr. Wagner and David Chen, Xiuxiu sits alone in the conference room for a long time. Outside the window lies the neatly planned, tree‑lined campus of String Light Research Institute; in the distance, the factory building housing the "String Light No. 3" prototype gleams with metallic luster under the sun.
The prelude to reconciliation has begun. It is driven by practical interests, the result of rational weighing. Perhaps in the foreseeable future, some cooperation and exchange will gradually resume in non‑critical, common technology areas. This would undoubtedly benefit the reduction of global industrial‑chain friction costs and the progress of human technological civilization as a whole.
Yet deep down Xiuxiu knows that profound rift will not easily heal through a few pragmatic meetings. Trust is like fine porcelain—once shattered, even if glued back together, the cracks remain forever. The "rationality" and "pragmatism" shown today are built upon "String Light's" unshakable technological advantage and the daunting retaliatory capability of "Oracle." Once the balance of power shifts or new conflicts of interest emerge, how long can this fragile "reconciliation" last?
She recalls the civilization‑evolution model Oracle displayed—that flickering light‑point of human civilization before the "Internal‑Dissipation Filter." This cautious, calculation‑based "reconciliation" might temporarily ease some friction, but it remains far from truly overcoming the deep‑seated genes of civilizational dissipation. It resembles more a tactical truce than a strategic consensus.
An ineffable sense of alienation wells up again. She finds her interest rapidly fading in pushing forward trivial technical cooperation within such intricate calculations and fragile balances. It feels like an explorer who has already glimpsed the vast ocean can hardly devote full passion to dredging ditches between villages.
Her personal terminal vibrates softly—a daily briefing from the "Genesis" project team. "Genesis"—the top‑secret, absolute‑secret project she authorized, dedicated to exploring computational technologies that completely overturn the existing silicon‑based paradigm. One of its core directions is "biomolecular computing," which sprouted from that late‑night conversation between her and Yue'er.
The briefing shows the project team has made preliminary yet encouraging progress in using engineered protein molecules for logic operations. A specially designed enzyme, under specific conditions, can stably perform Boolean‑logic functions akin to "AND" and "OR" gates, with astonishingly low energy consumption.
Xiuxiu opens the accompanying micro‑imaging data. Under atomic‑force‑microscope scans, those meticulously designed biomacromolecules resemble tiny, vibrant machines executing precise commands at the nanoscale. This differs fundamentally from the lithography‑machine paradigm that uses immense energy and complex systems to "sculpt" silicon wafers. One learns from, guides, and even creates new information‑processing patterns from living systems; the other employs industrial might to conquer and transform inorganic matter.
Which is closer to what Yue'er calls the "source code of matter"? Which is more likely to lead to a future where matter can be directly "programmed"?
She closes the briefing, stands up, and walks to the window. Her gaze passes over the lithography‑machine factory building that represents the pinnacle of human industrial civilization, reaching toward the deeper part of the campus—the low‑rise buildings shrouded in stringent secrecy measures, where "Genesis" and related cross‑disciplinary research are conducted.
"Reconciliation" and limited cooperation with Dr. Wagner and his colleagues are necessary, pragmatic moves to keep the existing system running and avoid complete decoupling. She will continue to lead and advance them—that is her responsibility.
But her heart, her main energy, she knows, has irreversibly turned toward that more disruptive new direction—one that may better respond to the "civilizational filter" challenge. There, no entrenched interest groups lay obstacles; no complex geopolitical games exist. Only cutting‑edge scientific exploration and direct inquiry into the nature of matter and information remain.
Does shattered trust need time to rebuild? Perhaps. But she would rather invest her time and wisdom in building a new future that may not require the old trust paradigm at all.
She takes a deep breath, turns, and leaves the conference room. The corridor light casts her elongated shadow. Her steps are firm and steady, heading not toward the negotiation table of compromise and reconciliation, but toward the door of "Genesis"—the infinite‑possibility realm hidden behind the existing technological paradigm.