A day later.
New York, beneath the iconic slanted roof of Citigroup Center in Midtown Manhattan, the trading floor was silent as death.
Because the Bloomberg Terminals no longer displayed the Dow Jones Index or the Nasdaq-100. Instead, they showed a static close-up of an Eastern face, with a countdown beneath it. The vivid red numbers resembled readings on a cardiac monitor, each beat striking against everyone's hearts.
Tokyo, on the enormous outdoor screens in Shibuya, where Sony's latest games and music videos from popular idol groups usually played on a loop, that same face and countdown had now taken over.
Thousands upon thousands of people stood frozen at crosswalks, heads tilted upward, the glow of their phone screens casting mottled blue light across their faces.
The entire world was waiting.
Waiting for one man—and a livestream that would decide civilization's fate.
At exactly seven o'clock in the evening, China time, the countdown reached zero.
The static image on every screen switched to live footage.
Zhang Qi appeared before the camera. Behind him was pure black, without a single marker or symbol. He wore a simple dark-gray training uniform, with no rank insignia and no unnecessary adornments.
"I'm Zhang Qi."
"A great deal has happened over the past period of time. Now, it's time to explain everything to you."
17
Zhang Qi began his account.
He started with the device he had activated. Then came that Giant of Light, a lifeform beyond the scope of human understanding.
Finally, he spoke of the Trisolaran Civilization's end.
"—The Trisolaran First Fleet, Second Fleet, and their home planet have all been destroyed—"
The words were like a bomb thrown into deep water, yet they failed to raise the expected towering waves. There was only an eerie silence.
Because victory had come too quickly,