Chapter 122: No One Rescued Him

Shuyun repeated the question through the closed mechanical door.

Luo’s answer returned through the steel, muffled but understandable. He hadn’t touched the valve. Mr. Du had adjusted several valves before Luo entered the room and hadn’t recorded which ones.

Shichen opened the maintenance history. The valve had stopped reporting its position 34 minutes earlier.

"He closed it manually," Shichen concluded. He enlarged the affected section for Luo. "The system is attempting to circulate coolant through a line with no return path."

Luo studied the diagram on Shuyun’s phone before asking whether he should reopen the valve.

"Not yet." Shichen traced the pressure through the isolated line.

Opening C-17 too quickly could release the accumulated pressure through the connection Luo would be standing beside. "Go to the emergency cabinet outside the room. There should be a protective face shield, gloves and a maintenance tablet inside."

Luo found the cabinet while Shichen watched the pressure continue rising.

The engineer put on the equipment without complaint, then held the tablet where Shuyun could connect it to the call.

Zhiyi established a direct link with the building’s local controls. Once the tablet appeared on their network, she replaced the missing sensor data across the communications wall.

"The valve position is reporting as 11 percent open," she said. "The manual wheel was probably turned until it resisted, but the valve didn’t close completely."

The partial opening explained why the line hadn’t failed already. It also gave them a safer method of restoring circulation.

Shichen calculated the required adjustment before directing Luo back into the mechanical room. "Turn C-17 counterclockwise by one-quarter rotation. Then step away and wait for the pressure to respond."

His father remained on the call while Luo entered the room.

Jianye didn’t understand the system displayed beside his son, but his gaze shifted between the pressure reading and the corridor protecting his family from the machinery.

For the first time, he appeared to understand why Shichen hadn’t accepted the ten minutes he demanded.

Luo found the valve and positioned himself to the side rather than directly in front of the connection.

He completed the quarter turn, withdrew from the line and directed the tablet toward the pressure gauge.

The reading stopped rising.

It remained motionless for several seconds before decreasing by a fraction.

Shichen watched the graph until the downward trend became consistent. "Another quarter turn."

Luo repeated the adjustment. The pressure fell more quickly, but the vibration reading on the secondary pump increased.

"Stop there," Shichen instructed. He checked the balance between both sides of the system before assigning the next step. "Leave the valve half open until the pressure reaches the normal range. Do not adjust anything else."

Luo backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

The building wasn’t safe yet.

Two intakes remained covered, three fans required reactivation and every unauthorized mechanical change needed to be reversed. However, the immediate risk of losing the cooling loop had decreased.

Shichen divided the remaining work into a checklist and sent it to Luo.

He added photographs of the correct settings because written instructions had already proven to be insufficient inside Qingsong.

Only after Luo began removing the next insulation panel did Shichen return his attention to his family.

His father still held Nian, though the five-year-old had awakened during the repair. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and watched her uncle through half-open eyes.

Shichen examined her face for signs of heat illness before asking his mother, "How much water has she had today?"

Wenlan gave a tired laugh that contained no amusement. "Hello to you too, son."

The rebuke made everyone inside Xiling look away from the communications wall with varying degrees of success.

Zeyu failed completely.

He continued eating crackers while watching the family call as though Shichen had invited him to observe it.

Shichen understood what his mother wanted from him.

The correct sequence should have involved a greeting, concern for their health and an apology for not calling.

Apparently, manners that his mother had drilled into him before the end of the world mattered just as much now as it did before.

"You appear well," he said after making the effort to correct himself. "All four of you."

His mother’s expression softened slightly. "We are alive. That isn’t the same thing."

"I know."

"Do you?" Liang Jianye asked.

His father’s anger had become quieter while Shichen stabilized the cooling system, but it hadn’t disappeared. "You confirmed our location through the security network and decided that was enough. Your sister had to contact you because strangers were changing the building. Otherwise, how long would you have continued watching our access records without speaking to us?"

Shichen didn’t have an answer that would satisfy the other man.

He had checked their location every morning and evening.

Their access records showed movement between the apartment, storage rooms and underground common areas. Their water use remained normal, and none of their medical profiles had generated an emergency alert.

Every piece of information suggested they were surviving just fine.

Calling them wouldn’t have improved those conditions.

Not to mention, he would have been expected to explain where he was, why he had known enough to place them in Qingsong before the Heat and why he couldn’t bring them into one of the private shelters.

Those questions had no answers his family would accept.

"I didn’t know what to say," Shichen admitted.

The statement silenced his father more effectively than an argument would have.

Shuyun leaned against the corridor wall and adjusted the phone so their parents remained visible.

She had spent the last week waiting for the same call while refusing to send the first message until the building required him.

"You could have asked whether we were alive," she said. Her tone lacked the accusation their father’s carried, but the simplicity of the suggestion made it more difficult to dismiss. "We would have answered."

"I knew you were alive."

"You knew our access cards were moving," she countered.

Shichen looked at the four members of his family gathered around the phone. The distinction should have been insignificant. In practical terms, the access records had provided the answer.

It wasn’t insignificant to them.

Nian lifted her head from her grandfather’s shoulder. Sleep and heat had flushed her cheeks, but her eyes remained clear when she studied the image on the phone.

"Uncle Shichen," she said carefully, speaking louder than necessary because she was addressing a wall, "are you coming to our house?"

His mother closed her eyes while Shuyun looked away, and his father tightened one hand against Nian’s back.

No one attempted to rescue Shichen from the question.