Back in the rented apartment, Chen Mo set down the thick reference book and collapsed onto his bed with a deep sigh.
Lately, he'd been neglecting his reading in order to finish designing the smartphone motherboard. Most of his time had gone into taking apart old phones, reverse-engineering their components, and rebuilding the architecture piece by piece. The work was demanding—meticulous and hands-on—but ultimately rewarding.
After days of non-stop effort, the design was finally complete.
He chose not to fabricate the motherboard himself. The process—etching, punching, soldering—was too delicate for solo work, especially with his current tools. One mistake and the whole board would be ruined. Better to leave the production and testing to professionals.
So, he handed over the final motherboard design and the custom battery dimensions to Zhao Min. From that point on, he was done. The rest—prototyping, production, and launch—was her responsibility.
With the phone off his plate, he could return to his books.
Life settled into a calm routine again. Some days he went on little outings with Xiaoyu, just to relax and unwind. The rest of his time was spent quietly in the store, reading.
He still had hundreds of volumes left—1,000 books in total—and he'd just cracked number 300. The road ahead was long, but progress was steady. He had rested long enough. It was time to get busy again.
Lying back, Chen Mo closed his eyes and entered the Technology Library.
The moment he materialized, the same familiar sight greeted him: towering, 100-meter-high bookshelves stretching into infinity. He was used to it by now, but the scale still made him feel small.
Sometimes, when he wandered these shelves with Shu Lao, the two would talk—about other civilizations, strange discoveries, and the marvels stored within this place.
Shu Lao had once shown him books on powered armor, superpower development methods, interstellar ships, even quantum portals. There were pharmaceutical formulas to extend human lifespan. Unthinkable, wondrous technologies—many of which Chen Mo still struggled to believe were real.
If any of this knowledge ever leaked into the real world, the global landscape would flip upside down.
Today, Chen Mo strolled toward the central desk. A thick book sat there, glowing faintly. He reached for it—and just as he opened the cover, Shu Lao's translucent figure materialized from the light curtain beside him.
"Here for more technology?" Shu Lao asked with a knowing smile.
"Yep." Chen Mo nodded. "What options do I have today?"
"You've got both a random selection and a free choice available. Which one would you like to use first?"
Chen Mo winced.
The random selection was his monthly benefit from the [Trainee] level. It had reset a couple days ago, but he'd been putting it off. His first random draw? A production guide for slim sanitary napkins. It had taken a while to recover from that emotional trauma. His second draw—office software—was useful, but he still approached randomness with the same caution one might approach a landmine.
Still, he had to use it sometime.
"Let's just get the random one over with."
With his choice made, countless book icons floated up in the air, rearranging like shimmering tiles across a massive invisible wall. Then, one book began to spin.
Chen Mo crossed his fingers. Come on. Something useful. Something game-changing. Not... another menstrual product, please.
The spinning stopped. A hand formed from light reached out and caught the descending book. Shu Lao glanced at the title—and chuckled.
Chen Mo narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"
"Human Reproductive Supplementary Formula," Shu Lao read out loud.
"...What?" Chen Mo blinked.
Was this a joke? Human Reproductive Supplementary... that sounded way too close to—
"Wait—this is medicine?"
"A pharmaceutical formula, yes," Shu Lao confirmed, clearly holding back laughter.
"What kind of medicine?" Chen Mo asked suspiciously.
"A very useful one," Shu Lao said cheerfully. "It's an aphrodisiac. No side effects. Quite popular in some civilizations."
Chen Mo's expression froze. Five thunderbolts might as well have struck his brain.
"A-Aphrodisiac? Again with this kind of technology?! I—why does randomness hate me?"
"You're lucky," Shu Lao said between chuckles. "This formula is safe, potent, and stable. You'd be surprised how much value this kind of thing holds."
"Sure. Great. Fantastic," Chen Mo muttered, face hot with embarrassment. "So glad the Technology Library is giving me bedroom upgrades before warp drive."
Still, he didn't refuse. No matter how awkward, a valuable formula was still a valuable formula. He sighed.
"I'll take it."
With a nod, Shu Lao sent the formula into Chen Mo's memory. He could feel the data embedding itself like the last thing he wanted to think about before bed.
"I swear," Chen Mo muttered, "random tech draws are cursed."
"They're not cursed. Just unpredictable. You still have your free choice," Shu Lao reminded him. "Would you like to use it now?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Do you have an idea what kind of technology you want?"
"That's the problem. There's too much to choose from." Chen Mo thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you have any suggestions?"
Shu Lao raised a hand, and a book formed in his palm.
Computer Language Creation and Application
Chen Mo's eyes widened. "Wait... this teaches me how to create a programming language?"
"Correct," said Shu Lao. "It explains the theory and practice of designing a new computer language from scratch—including syntax, compiler logic, and architecture compatibility."
"I'll take it."
Chen Mo was immediately drawn to the idea. Most existing programming languages were built in English. But Chinese—its structure, logic, and nuance—offered entirely different expressive potential.
Chinese could be compact yet layered, poetic yet precise. If he could build a new language rooted in those properties, it could revolutionize coding in ways no one had ever imagined.
Shu Lao smiled. "Creation is the core of the Technology Library. In the end, it is not just a repository—it is meant to inspire invention."
The book dissolved into light and entered Chen Mo's mind.
Immediately, strings of information, keywords, syntax rules, compiler trees, and symbolic logic flooded into his brain. His eyes lit up. All the awkwardness from earlier vanished.
This—this—was worth it.
Exiting the library, Chen Mo sat up at his desk, fully focused.
For the next two hours, he studied the material deeply, reading it twice over. Then, he grabbed a notebook and began sketching out the foundation of his new language.
It was time to create something entirely new—a Chinese-based programming language, designed from the ground up.
One that belonged to him.