As December arrived, the situation deteriorated further.
Song He became extremely uncomfortable, gradually losing his ability to think deeply for long periods. In the past, he could stare at completely unfamiliar data and rack his brains for hours, finding the slightest clue in his mind like a detective solving a case.
But now, he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His restlessness grew worse by the day. He had originally set himself the goal of solving 1% of the blueprint every three days. It was a steady and cautious target, already quite conservative compared with his previous breakneck pace of research and development.
Yet even this conservative goal remained out of reach. After gaining nothing in three days, he habitually raised the stakes in his mind, swearing that over the next three days he would complete 2% in a row and catch up. The result was another three days without the slightest progress, and he raised the stakes even further.
He no longer went downstairs for walks or runs. Vigorous running only helped him vent the hormones secreted during moments of anxiety; it could not inspire him in the slightest. Instead, the more he ran, the more time he wasted. Especially after each run, when he realized that running had been a form of escape, his restlessness grew even worse.
But staying at his desk still brought him no inspiration. The passage of time seemed magnified in his mind. He forced himself to stare at the data and seek enlightenment, yet he simply could not enter the right state of mind. The blueprint data filling his vision and the experimental data on the computer seemed to turn into utter blankness before his eyes. How could he derive Black Technology that surpassed the times from a blank?
Starting in mid-December, Song