A1-04 Telling the Truth

The hospital corridor smells of disinfectant. You walk past row after row of doors before stopping at Room 3012.

You push the door open.

Yun Tianming is propped against the headboard, much thinner than you remember. His cheekbones jut out, his eye sockets are sunken, but those eyes — when he sees you, they brighten for a moment. That glimmer sends a stab of pain through your heart.

"Cheng Xin?" His voice carries surprise and unease. "What are you doing here?"

You sit down by the bed. You tell yourself: he deserves to know everything.

"Tianming, I'm here because there's something I need to discuss with you." You take a deep breath. "I won't beat around the bush — you deserve to hear the full truth."

You start from the beginning: the concept of the Staircase Project, the constraints of the propulsion technology, the 50-kilogram payload limit... and then the conclusion.

"What we're sending is a human brain."

He freezes.

"We hope that after the Trisolarans intercept the probe, they'll use their technology to revive the brain. That way, we would have a person inside the enemy's ranks — a human individual capable of thinking, judging, and transmitting intelligence at the right moment."

You look into his eyes. "But I have to tell you all the risks: First, the probe may be destroyed during acceleration. Second, the Trisolarans may ignore or destroy the brain. Third, even if you are revived, you can never come back. Fourth, we aren't even sure whether a frozen brain can retain consciousness and memories."

"After decades of drifting through space, you would face an alien civilization completely alone. No backup, no communication, no way home."

Silence.

Yun Tianming lowers his head and stares at his emaciated fingers. You notice his nails have a faint purple tinge — a sign of late-stage circulatory failure.

"Why me?" he asks.

You don't look away: "Because you're a terminal patient. You... don't have much time left. This mitigates the ethical controversy — the military considers it not 'killing,' but offering a dying person 'another form of continuation.'"

What you don't mention is that you were sent because you know each other. Because the military believes you can "persuade" him.

But he already understands. He looks at you, a bitter smile at the corner of his lips.

"They sent you because they know I'll listen to you."

You have no answer for that.

He turns his head to look at the gray sky outside the window. A long silence passes.

"Let me think about it," he finally says. "Give me a day."

The next day. You return to the hospital.

Yun Tianming's expression has changed — no longer yesterday's shock and confusion, but a strange calm.

"I agree."

You open your mouth, wanting to confirm that he truly understands everything. But he raises a hand to stop you.

"Cheng Xin, what I want to say is — it's not because you came to find me, and it's not entirely because of humanity's fate or anything like that." His voice is very soft. "It's because... my life is almost over. This disease won't leave me anything. No children, no legacy, no one to remember me. But if the Staircase Project succeeds, my brain will fly toward the stars. Even if the Trisolarans don't revive me, even if my brain freezes solid in space, I'll still be the one who flew toward the stars."

He smiles. "That's better than rotting in a hospital bed."

Your eyes burn with tears.