Chapter 8: The Stars Shine Bright

Suddenly, a small cluster of red lights quietly appeared on the distant horizon, like uninvited guests in the dark night. In the blink of an eye, these lights transformed into countless fireballs, trailing long luminous tails as they galloped wildly toward the vast embrace of the plateau.

As the meteor shower descended, its colors continuously shifted—crimson, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, violet—ethereal and dreamlike. In an instant, the intense glow nearly illuminated the night sky of the plateau as brightly as daylight. Yet this breathtaking spectacle lasted only a brief six seconds before the meteors thundered to the ground, emitting a deep and resounding roar.

Though meteor falls are not uncommon on this ancient and mysterious “Roof of the World,” this event was different. As the meteors struck, a localized earthquake of magnitude 2.4 shook parts of the plateau.

At that moment, Shen Xingyun, conducting astronomical observations at the Lijiang Observatory, felt a strong premonition of misfortune. After all, it was rare for a meteor shower to trigger an earthquake of such magnitude on the plateau. He pondered silently: Were these celestial visitors unusually massive and heavy? Or was the area they covered upon impact unusually vast? Or was there some other unknown and mysterious cause?

At 47 years old, Shen Xingyun, nicknamed “Little Observatory,” was a renowned scholar in China’s astronomical and astrophysical circles. Of modest stature, he wore delicate glasses perched on his nose and his slightly receding hairline accentuated his broad, bright forehead. He embodied the calm focus and keen intelligence characteristic of southerners, as if the secrets of the universe revealed themselves under his steady gaze.

Anyone in Yunnan with an interest in astronomy knew Shen Xingyun as a prophetic figure. He had accurately predicted that asteroid Addis in 2036 would not collide with Earth, though it would bring certain calamities—a forecast that earned him widespread respect.

Moreover, drawing on profound academic expertise and ancient Chinese astronomical records of stellar changes, Shen had pointed out that after 2040, the prominent star Aldebaran, the first star of the Twenty-Eight Mansions, would rise dramatically on the eastern ecliptic.

This discovery was not a mere astronomical forecast but carried deep symbolic meaning.

He boldly predicted it signified a major transformation in the global landscape by mid-21st century, with the dawn of Eastern civilization illuminating every corner of the world through the concept of a shared human destiny, bringing new opportunities and directions for humanity’s future.

However, Shen Xingyun’s pioneering research and unique insights were often misunderstood. Many in society, lacking deep knowledge of astronomy and astrology, dismissed him as a modern-day fortune teller or equated him with street mystics.

Faced with such misconceptions, Shen could only smile wryly, confident that time would ultimately vindicate the true significance of his work.

The Gaomei Ancient Astronomical Observatory, located in Tai’an Township, Yulong County, Lijiang City, was established on September 19, 2016. Situated on the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau, it enjoyed exceptional atmospheric clarity and a sky as pure as if washed by water, free from any impurities. This made it an ideal place for astronomers, astronomy enthusiasts, and even casual tourists to observe outer space. Affectionately called the “Lijiang Star,” it had grown increasingly important.

It was designated a national astronomy popular science education base and a youth science education center, becoming a popular venue for school science outreach and winter camps, tasked with spreading astronomical knowledge and igniting public passion for cosmic exploration.

Deep within Shen Xingyun’s heart burned an endless yearning and hope for the mysteries of the universe. Every day, unfailingly, he observed the stars, seeing the vast and boundless sky as a treasure trove of secrets left by the divine, waiting for him to uncover piece by piece.

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That day, intern Yuan Jie hurried into the office with a special notice from the National Astronomical Observatory.

Shen Xingyun took the notice, surprised. It was an encrypted message, simple yet solemn and unquestionable: it was addressed directly to him, instructing him to closely monitor near-Earth asteroids and report any new discoveries immediately.

Such messages usually came from the provincial level, but this one came straight from the national observatory. More alarmingly, it bore a clear confidentiality mark, hinting that an unusual event might soon unfold.

Late at night, while all was silent, Shen Xingyun’s study was brightly lit as he pored over astronomical data. Suddenly, his phone vibrated, breaking the stillness.

He answered to hear the familiar voice of Director Lin Yizhou from the Southwest Scientific Research Institute. Lin informed him that the Chinese Academy of Sciences had ordered close monitoring of changes in the extraterrestrial environment at the Lijiang Observatory. Without further explanation, he asked Shen to share any new information promptly.

Frowning, Shen felt a nagging unease despite his many years in astronomy and experience with all kinds of situations. After a moment’s thought, a name flashed through his mind—high-energy physicist Su Chunyang.

Su was an old friend with whom Shen often sparred yet mutually respected at academic conferences. Recently, Shen had heard whispers of Su’s neutrino experiments on glaciers. He suspected this notice might be intricately linked to Su’s work.

Pacing his study, Shen’s thoughts drifted to the remarkable properties of neutrinos: minuscule mass, great stability, unaffected by complex cosmic radiation, capable of freely traversing celestial bodies and even planetary interiors. Using neutrino beams to scan cosmic space would open a new door to the universe’s secrets—accurately identifying cosmic ray sources, advancing astrophysical research, and revealing inner structures of celestial bodies.

“This is truly a remarkable experiment,” Shen murmured. “It might just change the world.”

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, an emergency meeting was underway.

The atmosphere was tense as a dozen prominent scientists from mathematics, physics, astronomy, and new energy fields gathered. He Yunfei, a leading figure in new energy exploration, sat among them, anxiety evident in his eyes as he flipped through the meeting materials repeatedly.

The focus was the construction of a frozen experimental station in the Himalayas, a project under strict secrecy since inception and still incomplete.

As discussions deepened, opinions varied—some worried about construction progress, others proposed new research directions.

Rewinding to mid-21st century, scientific research surged, achieving breakthroughs. Yet the explosive rise of big data and artificial intelligence drove energy demands, especially electricity, to critical shortages, lagging far behind societal needs. China’s glacier neutrino station aimed to harness neutrinos—particles faster than light—to study antimatter, seeking breakthroughs in new energy and spacetime constraints, offering humanity a new path forward.

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On Shen Xingyun’s side, he resolved to contact Su Chunyang for clues.

After dialing and several busy signals, Su’s familiar voice came through: “Old Shen, what made you call all of a sudden?”

After brief greetings, Shen got straight to the point: “Any progress with your glacier experiment? I just received a strange notice…”

There was a pause before Su replied slowly, “Old Shen, some things aren’t ready to be shared yet. When the time is right, I’ll tell you everything.”

Shen’s heart tightened; he sensed the matter was far more complex than imagined. Seeing Su unwilling to speak, they exchanged a few more words before ending the call.

They agreed to meet with Lin Yizhou in the coming days.

He Yunfei emerged from the meeting, his mind restless. He hadn’t expected such a weighty task: to lead a scientific expedition to Yunnan to carry out the secret “Frozen DF Project” in support of the glacier experimental station.

Before he could collect himself, Director Ji Dongsheng of the Academy summoned him to the office.

Ji personally briefed He Yunfei on the project’s details and requirements with earnest gravity, emphasizing that as Beijing’s special envoy, he must coordinate with Captain Zheng Hongwei of the Southwest Special Police to ensure the project documents were securely delivered to Yunnan.

At just 28 years old, He Yunfei was a rising star. Standing about 1.78 meters tall, his casual attire could not conceal his distinguished aura. His upright features, sharp eyebrows, and confident demeanor immediately conveyed his exceptional character.

His past was legendary. He had been the direct disciple of Li Xuanqing, a Daoist master at Wudang Mountain’s Golden Summit. As heir to the Wudang Taiji and Bagua Palm traditions, he entered the Daoist path in adolescence, embarking on a dual journey of literary and martial cultivation. Even then, he showed a deep interest in ancient astronomy and geography, often reading ancient texts by moonlight in the temple’s attic.

When he left the mountain, Master Li earnestly told him, “Yunfei, remember this: science without humanity is ignorance, and humanity without science is perilous.”

Those words planted a seed deep in He Yunfei’s heart.