Chapter Four: The Black Tower's Stomach

She turned the light onto the moving weight. Her phone built a live relationship map: hospitals, charities, missing-person databases, all feeding the CITADEL CORE upstairs. No alarm sounded. Instead, Zhou Que spoke from every rack. “You still test paths product managers insist no one will take.” His face filled the screens. Gray-haired, sleeves casually rolled, he looked as gentle as he had when personally dismissing Cheng Ye. “Tang Ji's medical access,” Zhou said. “I left it open to see who would find it.” Cheng Ye gripped the broken phone. “You knew the meteors were coming.” “I received an invitation.” Seven-year-old deep-space radio data replaced his face. Decoded static formed the same white line as Echo's interface.