Chapter 127: Password (10)
127 – Password (10)
At four in the morning, the world should have been silent, with most people deep in sleep.
Yet Xue Xin’s reply arrived almost instantly—to be honest, this didn’t surprise Lin Xun in the slightest.
Xue Xin sent back just two short words: “Nutshell.”
Lin Xun understood his meaning. Since he didn’t have a holographic pod in his own room, he tiptoed into An Quan’s room and opened his gaming pod. Why not use Jia Gou? It wasn’t because he had any issue with Jia Gou, but because An Quan slept like a log.
After successfully slipping into the holographic pod without waking An Quan, he closed the lid, entered the holographic world, and logged into his account via iris scan. He had set his default location to his home space—still that massive starship sailing through the galaxy.
Then, the moment he stood in the silver-white cabin, an access request popped up:
“User ‘PlayerX’ requests access to your home space. Accept/Reject.”
PlayerX—Lin Xun remembered this ID. It was Xue Xin’s player ID.
He tapped “Accept.” PlayerX appeared at the teleportation point. Xue Xin’s virtual avatar was a young man in a white lab coat, looking extremely meticulous, like the kind of scientist you’d find in a sci-fi novel.
“Senior,” Xue Xin looked at him.
“Hello,” Lin Xun sat down at the long silver mechanical table and asked, “Why meet in Nutshell?”
“I wanted to see you, Senior,” Xue Xin said first, then quickly laughed, “Just kidding. Because it’s relatively safe here.”
He emphasized the word “relatively.”
Lin Xun: “Why isn’t it safe outside?”
Xue Xin didn’t answer directly. Instead, he looked at Lin Xun and said, “What did you want to talk to me about, Senior?”
“A lot of things,” Lin Xun replied. “But first, I want to confirm that I can communicate with you without barriers, and second, that I can trust you.”
“You can confirm however you like, Senior,” Xue Xin said.
Lin Xun thought for a moment, then said, “Prove it yourself.”
“That works too,” Xue Xin walked over and sat down across the long table. “I’ll think about how to prove it.”
Lin Xun hummed in acknowledgment and fell silent.
In the virtual world, it was absolutely quiet. Time flowed by like this. After about five minutes, Xue Xin snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it.”
“Senior must already know a lot, and I also know a lot,” he looked at Lin Xun. “But Senior obviously won’t trust me easily. And the environment we’re in isn’t necessarily safe—maybe a single keyword could bring danger.”
Lin Xun raised an eyebrow slightly. “So?”
“So, let’s play a game, Senior,” Xue Xin stood up from his seat, placed his hands on the table, and leaned slightly toward Lin Xun, enunciating each word clearly: “Zero-knowledge proof.”
Lin Xun crossed his arms and looked at him, smiling. “Alright.”
As is widely known, a secret is called a secret because it hasn’t been leaked. The best way to transmit a secret is to minimize the leakage of information. Hence, there is the zero-knowledge proof—a classic proposition in cryptography.
The entire proof process involves two parties: the prover and the verifier.
The prover holds a secret and must convince the verifier that he possesses this secret. However, during the proof process, he cannot reveal any knowledge about the secret. For example, Xue Xin possesses a photograph of Lin Xun’s bedroom, and he must make Wang Anquan believe he has this photo without mentioning any furniture, decorations, colors, or details in the room, let alone holding the photo up to show others. The amount of information leaked must be zero.
Lin Xun looked at Xue Xin, waiting for his proof.
“I’ll only say one word and two numbers. Senior will definitely understand what I mean.” Xue Xin’s character left the mechanical long table, took a few steps across the room, and stopped before the silvery control console of the spacecraft. Above his head floated his ID: “Player X.”
“This word is simple,” Player X extended four fingers. “Four characters, a very simple proposition.”
Lin Xun curled his lips into a smile. “Just say it.”
Player X enunciated each word clearly: “Caesar cipher.”
Inside the spacecraft cabin, silence fell.
Lin Xun turned to look left, toward the ship’s massive porthole.
The Galaxy flowed, nebulae shifted, and in the distance, a pulsar flashed rhythmically. Pulsars are a type of neutron star. In the universe, whenever a neutron star appears, it signifies the aging of a massive star. People once believed stars were eternal and unchanging, but they later discovered that even the sun has its day of extinguishing. All constantly updated scientific theories tell people that the world you perceive is not the real world.
Lin Xun leaned back in his chair. As if a long time had passed, he let out a soft sigh and looked at Xue Xin. “And the two numbers?”
Xue Xin’s voice echoed in the empty cabin: “Two numbers: 6, 3.”
Then, Player X lowered his fingers. “That’s all I wanted to say, Senior. Has my verification passed?”
Lin Xun looked into his intense gaze.
The Caesar cipher, one of the simplest cryptographic systems, requires only a shift operation for both encryption and decryption. The number of shifts is the key needed to crack this cipher.
If the key is 4, then every letter in the alphabet is replaced by the fourth letter following it. ABCD becomes EFGH. When an emperor sends a secret command “withdraw” to his general, it doesn’t matter if it’s intercepted by the enemy, because after encryption, “withdraw” becomes “zlwkgudz”—a meaningless string of gibberish, unless they decipher that the encryption method for this string is Caesar with a key of 4.
The computational effort required for such decryption might have been difficult in the era when the Caesar cipher first appeared, but now—or for Lin Xun—it was simple.
Dong Jun was very busy with work, and there were many times when he wasn’t around, leaving Lin Xun unable to reach him. Sometimes, in the morning, when Lin Xun woke up, he was already gone. Other times, even on weekdays, this person could spend the entire day being affectionate with him. And there were also times when this person’s work hours seemed unusually late, allowing Lin Xun to sneak out to fight monsters without being discovered. His busyness and off-duty hours seemed irregular—unless observed from a different perspective.
Sometimes Lin Xun wished he truly had an unstable work schedule simply due to Galaxy’s various emergencies. Because when he shifted every 24-hour period over these past twenty-some days, he suddenly discovered another clear, patterned rotation of time.
Surface chaos is often governed by deeper order. Time shift by 6, date shift by 3. Dong Jun used his weekends to work alongside him, using nights after work wrapped up to accompany his idle daytime hours.
The dream-control collar informs the dreamer through fluctuations of electric current that this is a dream. For those without a collar, what markers should they establish to remind themselves this isn’t real?
For Lin Xun, the numbers 6 and 3 were already enough.
He lowered his eyes and said, “Passed.”
Xue Xin replied earnestly, “Then senior has also passed my verification.”
Lin Xun smiled. “You’ve learned well.”
“I’ve learned a lot over these years, all to get a little closer to you, senior.” Xue Xin smiled self-deprecatingly. “But you’ve walked so much faster than me. My talent is limited; even with my utmost effort, I can only run a bit faster than others, but you’ve always been in the sky.”
“Thank you.” Lin Xun responded noncommittally, “But you’ve already achieved fame and success, while I haven’t even sold a product yet.”
“Senior clearly knows all this is—” Xue Xin seemed about to blurt something out but then stopped himself. “I need to be more careful with my words.”
Lin Xun found this junior quite amusing. After years apart, not only had he achieved career success, but his cultural literacy had also greatly improved, using idioms one after another.
“Galaxy,” Xue Xin looked at him, “Senior, do you know that when I, and many others, see the words ‘Galaxy,’ the first thing we think of is you, and only then him.”
“Is that so.” Lin Xun’s tone was casual, even changing the subject as he asked, “Which version has Nutshell been developed to?”
Xue Xin answered, “The latest on the market is 5.0. As for which version Galaxy has developed to, I don’t know.”
Lin Xun raised an eyebrow. “Eagle can’t even gather that kind of intel?”
Xue Xin: “Galaxy’s security isn’t so poor that even Nutshell would leak information.”
“True.” Lin Xun said, “What year is it now?”
Xue Xin: “2030.”
Lin Xun: “My most pressing question is, is it a time of peace?”
Xue Xin smiled. “Of course, it’s a very good era.”
Lin Xun fell silent for a long while.
“Senior has nothing else to ask?” Xue Xin said, “I have a lot I want to say to you.”
Lin Xun interlaced his fingers, looking at him. “But I… don’t really want to hear it.”
Xue Xin lowered his eyes, his expression seeming to dim. “You’ve always been like this.”
“But actually, there’s a lot I can’t say either, since we can’t guarantee the current environment is absolutely safe.” Xue Xin sighed.
“Mhm.” Lin Xun responded faintly, then said, “2030. I’m already 27 years old.”
“You’ve already achieved fame and success.” Xue Xin seemed to be weighing his words, saying, “But even though Galaxy is becoming more and more successful, there are fewer and fewer updates about you from the outside world. Your social media accounts rarely get updated, and you seldom make public appearances. I haven’t seen you once at those conferences or product launches. Sometimes, this situation reminds me of some early rumors about Dong Jun and his family.”
Lin Xun crossed his arms again, looking at him. “What are you trying to say?”
Xue Xin shook his head, his voice slightly hoarse. “I just wanted to remind you that there really are ways in this world to imprison someone forever, and they would never even realize it.”
Lin Xun heard his own voice turn cold. “Then why did you want me to find out?”
“Because you shouldn’t be that kind of person!” Xue Xin’s voice suddenly rose for a moment before softening again. He looked out the window, speaking softly, “I think you should be free. You should be able to see new technologies and knowledge in 2030, work with the world’s most brilliant teams, undisturbed by anyone. You should be able to do whatever you want, work with whomever you wish.”
Lin Xun smiled.
He sat up straight, leaning toward Xue Xin, and asked, “So how are you going to help me get out? And what evidence can you give me to… trust you?”
“You don’t have to trust me, and I’m not the one who can help you escape.” Xue Xin said, “I just wanted you to know the truth. My abilities and qualifications are limited—I can only do this much… I’m sorry.”
Lin Xun stared at him.
“But there are plenty of people in this world willing to fight for you. Your family, your friends, and even many you don’t know or would never expect.” Xue Xin continued, “I don’t know if anything unusual has happened in the world you’re in, but if it has, there must be a reason. Someone has been creating opportunities for you.”
“Thank you,” Lin Xun said. “I’ll cherish those opportunities.”
Xue Xin finally looked relieved. “Then I’m truly glad—earlier, your behavior made me think you didn’t want to leave.”
After such a long and cryptic conversation, Lin Xun was tired. Distracted, his voice was light, carrying a hint of weariness. “Since I can leave, why wouldn’t I?”
“Well…” Xue Xin seemed to want to say more, but before he could finish, a blood-red floating triangle suddenly appeared before Lin Xun’s eyes.
“Warning: Someone is violently striking the holographic pod shell and cutting off the power. The system will forcibly shut down in 3, 2, 1…”
Lin Xun: “…”
The system was forced to shut down, plunging him into darkness as he returned to the real world. He got up from the pod and pushed open the lid himself. Sure enough, Wang Anquan was standing there, holding the unplugged power cord in one hand and pulling him up with the other, his voice furious. “What the hell are you doing hiding here playing games? We thought you’d been dragged off by monsters again! Your master has been looking for you for a while!”
Lin Xun: “…Huh?”
How did his master get involved again?
He poked his head out of the holographic pod, and as soon as he did, he saw Old Man Huo striding quickly toward him.
Old Man Huo’s brows were tightly furrowed, his expression grave, and he spoke rapidly. “The Red Sky Dragon Sparrow Sword has been stolen! Hurry upstairs with me!”