Gu and Qiao Wen opened the central control bay’s lower panel. A narrow copper strip linked the ledger to the old command bus. The book’s pages remained bound and readable; the strip was the part that could send a written order to a barrier valve.
The archive clerk stood beside the table with a numbered sleeve and a ruled log. Qinghe asked him to copy Qiao’s wiring sketch before the strip was removed. The clerk checked the drawing against the panel and wrote the channel numbers along its edge.
“Both ends?” Qiao asked from the test board.
“Both ends,” Gu said. “If one stays connected, the book can still reach the bus.”
Gu cut the strip at its first contact, then at the second. He laid the pieces in the sleeve rather than on the table. The local controls remained attached to their barriers. The old book could no longer link a household entry directly to a valve.
A surge shook dust from the ceiling. A small stone clipped the back of Yan’s hand where it rested on the inner ring. He flexed his fingers. The impact left a bruise, but his grip stayed firm. Final Offering continued to return its intrinsic costs as cultivation; the falling stone did not become a personal benefit.
