Chapter 5: Silent Night
Taiwan Edition v7
Location: Mirror Realm · Emerald Isle (Parallel Universe No. 15) Time: December 1022 Protagonist: Lin Zhao-ming
December 24, 1022. Christmas Eve.
Lin Zhao-ming was at home, on vacation.
Every December, he took a long vacation. It wasn't a company mandate; it was simply what he preferred. He would accumulate his leave for the entire year and take it all at once around Christmas. This year was no exception.
Before going on leave, he had done one thing.
He had written a report proving that there was no issue with the energy core module.
Here was the situation.
There was a new Mirror Screen terminal utilizing a new system architecture. The energy core module—the part supplying power—was an older model, a design that had been in use for years and had always been impeccably stable.
After shipping, user complaints rolled in. The system would occasionally malfunction. Not constantly, just occasionally. Under certain circumstances, with certain timing, anomalies would occur.
These intermittent problems were always the hardest to pinpoint.
Aura Synthesis's standard operating procedure was: Tell the supplier to test the energy core module.
But Lin Zhao-ming had looked at the data and felt something was off.
The energy core module had been used for years without a single issue. The supplier had tested it for months, passing every single time. The only variable that had changed this time was the new system itself.
If the problem existed at the intersection of the new system and the old module—in the integration layer, the timing layer, or the handling of some obscure edge case—you could tell the supplier to test the module until the end of time and they would never find it. Because they only had the module on hand, not the entire system.
Before going on leave, Lin Zhao-ming wrote a report.
He organized all the data. The supplier's test results—hundreds of runs, entirely passed. The failure cases—every single one occurred on the new system. The old system, using the exact same energy core module, operated flawlessly.
He wrote it with absolute clarity: "Based on current data, there is a very high probability that the issue does not lie with the energy core module. It is strongly recommended to shift the focus of the investigation to the system integration layer."
The report was sent out. No one replied.
But he thought that, at the very least, he had exposed this truth. Black and white, recorded right there.
And then he went on vacation.
December 24. A little past 1:00 AM.
The phone rang.
Lin Zhao-ming woke up in bed and picked up the phone. It was someone from the manufacturer's side. Engineer Chen.
He answered.
"Hello," Lin Zhao-ming said.
There was silence on the other end for a moment. And then came a voice, a voice that sounded unimaginably exhausted.
"Mr. Lin... I'm sorry to call so late," Engineer Chen said.
"What is it?" Lin Zhao-ming asked.
"I just finished a meeting..."
"What meeting?"
"About the energy core... started at nine o'clock, kept going until just now... four hours..."
Lin Zhao-ming sat up in bed and glanced at the clock. 1:20 AM.
"Four hours? What happened?" Lin Zhao-ming asked.
Engineer Chen didn't answer immediately. A pause. And then he began to speak.
The meeting had been convened by Aura Synthesis. Billed as an urgent review.
There were over a dozen people in attendance. Aura Synthesis brought Peter, K, Legal, and Supply Chain. The manufacturer's side had Engineer Chen and a few other engineers. There were other people there too, people Engineer Chen didn't even recognize.
Started at 9:00 PM.
Throughout the entire meeting, Aura Synthesis relentlessly bombarded them: "Where is the problem?" "Why haven't you found it yet?" "How many tests have you run?" "Why can't you test out the anomaly?"
Engineer Chen explained: "We've run it hundreds of times, and it passes every single time—"
Aura Synthesis: "Which means your testing methodology is flawed."
Engineer Chen: "Our tests are conducted perfectly to spec—"
Aura Synthesis: "Then that means the spec is flawed. You need to find out why."
Engineer Chen: "But you're the ones who wrote the spec—"
Aura Synthesis: "This is your responsibility. You need to conceive new testing methodologies. You need to find the problem."
An endless loop. The same questions. The same answers. And then the same questions asked again. Refusing to let you pause, refusing to let you say it couldn't be found. Demanding you continuously test, continuously invent new methods, continuously try again.
Four hours.
"In the end, they told us... to keep testing," Engineer Chen said. "Told us to come up with new testing protocols. And if we can't find it, Legal will be stepping in to follow up."
Lin Zhao-ming said nothing.
"We've tested it hundreds of times, passing every single time," Engineer Chen said. "They tell us to go think some more, try some more, look some more. It feels like it's never going to end."
Lin Zhao-ming continued to listen in silence.
"I don't know what to do..." Engineer Chen said. "I've been in this industry for over a dozen years, and I've never seen anything like this... They don't want us to find the answer. They just want us to infinitely keep looking."
Engineer Chen's voice began to tremble.
"After the meeting ended, I just sat here in the company, sitting here until now... I don't even know what I'm thinking about... I called you because I didn't know who else I could possibly call..."
Lin Zhao-ming gripped the phone tight.
"I really..." Engineer Chen paused for a very long time. "I've thought about dying."
Silence.
Engineer Chen's voice was vapor-thin: "It's not just this job. It's... I just don't want to keep holding on anymore."
Lin Zhao-ming listened. He listened all the way until Engineer Chen finished speaking.
He didn't interrupt once. At a little past 1:00 AM, when someone calls you to say they can't hold on anymore, you don't say, "Let's talk about it later."
He absorbed the entire thing right then and there.
"Listen to me," Lin Zhao-ming said. "Go home first. Don't think about anything. Go to sleep."
"I don't know... I really..."
"Listen to me. Go home first. I will handle the rest."
"Mr. Lin, you're on vacation—"
"I know. I'll handle it."
Silence. A very long silence.
"...Thank you."
Call ended.
Lin Zhao-ming sat on the bed, staring at his phone.
His wife turned over beside him. "Who called?"
"Someone from a vendor," Lin Zhao-ming said.
"This late?"
"They just finished a meeting."
His wife didn't press further and soon fell back to sleep.
Lin Zhao-ming sat there for a long time.
"I've thought about dying."
"It's not just this job. It's... I just don't want to keep holding on anymore."
Those words spiraled inside his head.
He got out of bed, walked to the study, and booted up his computer.
The meeting minutes were already uploaded. He opened them and read from top to bottom.
His report had been boiled down to a single sentence under "Discussion Items": "Lin Zhao-ming submitted an analytical report suggesting a shift in investigation direction; noted for reference."
Noted for reference.
Four words. Months of data analysis. Hundreds of test results. Entirely concentrated into "noted for reference."
And the conclusion remained unchanged: The supplier must continue testing. The supplier is mandated to submit localized new testing protocols.
Lin Zhao-ming stared at those lines of text.
He thought of three things.
First thing: Engineer Chen. He could message him. Tell him: "The testing direction might be flawed. The problem probably isn't on your end." But the only word he could use was "probably." He didn't have the backend logs, didn't have the system-layer data. All he had was an analytical report, and that report had just been condensed into four words under "Discussion Items." If Engineer Chen asked, "Do you have proof?" He didn't. He could only infer which layer the problem was on. BIOS, firmware, drivers—he hypothesized it was one of these, but he couldn't definitively say which. If you want a man to halt testing, to defy that boardroom conclusion, you must give him a bulletproof reason. He couldn't provide one.
Second thing: Escalating it up the chain. He considered writing down his visceral feelings and sending them to the boss. But as far as the boss was concerned, his analytical report had already been "noted for reference." To keep speaking, to speak in a way that commanded someone to listen, he needed the backend logs—that black box he had no access to. Without those logs, everything he said was "I feel," "I infer," "the data implies"—all stalling out at the exact same juncture. Speaking up would yield the precise exact same result as saying nothing.
Third thing: What if he was wrong. The supplier tested it hundreds of times and passed. But he had never seen the backend, had never seen the macroscopic production system data. His analysis was built entirely upon the isolated fragment of visibility he possessed. Was that fragment enough? He didn't know. That was the most agonizing part. It wasn't that he didn't dare to speak. It was that he couldn't speak with the absolute certainty that he was right.
Three things, every single one dead-ending at the same wall. He couldn't move forward, and he couldn't step back and pretend the meeting minutes weren't drafted exactly as they were. He closed his computer.
He didn't entirely understand it at the time. But some things were beginning to breach the surface.
If the problem truly lay with the supplier, and they couldn't find it after hundreds of tests, the standard operating procedure was to swap suppliers, or halt the production line to investigate the macroscopic system. You didn't demand they "think of new methods and keep testing."
Unless—the answer was never what they wanted. What they wanted was time.
Countless things could hemorrhage on the system side. Clock conflicts, edge cases in the integration layer, BIOS, firmware, drivers—every layer was a potent suspect. Tracking them down took a massive amount of time. You could hunt for months and still not isolate it.
Demanding the supplier endlessly test, endlessly invent new methods, endlessly submit new proposals—it kept the heat entirely on them. No one would ever pivot and ask, "Could it be a problem with the system?" While under the table, the people handling the system bought themselves the oxygen to slowly, quietly troubleshoot.
He vaguely sensed this that night, sitting in his study. But he couldn't clearly articulate it yet.
He only knew one thing for certain: A four-hour meeting had cornered a man to the brink of dying. And the objective of the entire enterprise had likely never been to find an answer.
Lin Zhao-ming sat in his study until the sun came up.
The next morning. Christmas Day.
Lin Zhao-ming went to work.
He sent several emails. Fired off several messages. Made several phone calls.
He spoke with absolute finality.
"Testing is suspended immediately."
"This is my decision."
"If anyone has a problem with it, come find me."
And Peter?
Peter didn't actually say much of anything.
Lin Zhao-ming called for a halt, and they genuinely let him halt it. No one blocked him, no one stepped out to say he couldn't do it.
Looking retrospectively at the entire affair—that meeting, those four hours, those relentless questions, that brutal conclusion—it all seemed entirely disconnected from Peter.
And yet the meeting had been convened under his name.
Lin Zhao-ming didn't know why. He didn't know at the time. He only slowly began to realize it later.
Someone replied: "But the conclusion of the meeting was—"
Lin Zhao-ming: "I will deal with it."
Someone called him: "Zhao-ming, you're on vacation—"
Lin Zhao-ming: "I know."
The other side: "You don't need to—"
Lin Zhao-ming: "I will deal with it."
Call ended.
When he was executing these actions, he didn't think too much. He just executed them.
A man had thought about dying over a meeting.
The testing stopped.
On the manufacturer's side, Engineer Chen and his team were finally permitted to breathe.
Christmas. New Year's. Finally, a moment of rest.
Christmas morning.
His wife woke up and saw him sitting in the living room.
"You're up early?" she asked.
"Yeah," Lin Zhao-ming replied. He didn't mention he hadn't slept at all.
His wife walked over. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas."
He stood there. A perfectly ordinary morning. The sunlight streaming in.
"You look exhausted," she said. "Didn't sleep well last night?"
"Someone from a vendor called. I had to handle some things."
"You have to handle things even on vacation?"
"Some things can't wait."
His wife looked at him. "What happened?"
Lin Zhao-ming thought for a moment.
What happened.
There was a man, on the eve of Christmas, who said over the phone that he wanted to die. He had listened to it all, and then single-handedly absorbed the entire shockwave. No one knew.
How could he possibly explain that?
"Nothing," Lin Zhao-ming said. "I handled it."
His wife didn't press the matter. "Let's eat breakfast."
"Okay," Lin Zhao-ming said.
They sat down and ate breakfast.
The sunlight outside the window was beautiful. An ordinary Christmas.
Lin Zhao-ming picked up his coffee cup. It was bitter.
Somewhere out there, Engineer Chen was probably just waking up. For the first time on a Christmas Day, he wouldn't have to report to the office.
And inside this house, everything was perfectly normal. Breakfast, coffee, sunlight.
No one knew what had just transpired.
But no one knew what Lin Zhao-ming had done either.
He didn't announce it in any meetings. He didn't issue any global broadcasts. He didn't CC a single soul.
He simply spent that Christmas methodically making calls and sending messages one by one, manually ripping the momentum away from the machine.
No one knew.
Engineer Chen knew. But Engineer Chen would never tell anyone else. Because this was an incident no one would ever want to resurrect.
At the time, he thought this incident would pass.
His vacation would end, he would return to the office. He would bring it up again. Someone would listen.
What he didn't know was that this was only the prelude.
He thought that when the machine stalled on Christmas Eve, it would remain stalled indefinitely.
After the New Year, his mother was hospitalized. He immediately flew back to Intermediary Island.
JUICY POINT:
"A man thought about dying over a single meeting. Lin Zhao-ming heard him—he didn't wait until tomorrow, he processed it immediately, and single-handedly slammed the brakes on the entire operation. No one knew. No one thanked him. He thought that by doing the right thing, the machine would stop. But what he didn't know was that when a person isn't physically present, the system weaponizes everything they've ever done into leverage for others. The architecture explicitly designed to marginalize him had quietly initiated its countdown the very second he made the phone call to halt those tests."