Its name: Zhuishu! (12,000 words)

In Beijing, inside a heavily guarded courtyard in Xicheng.

A few yellow leaves drifted down from the trees.

The gentleman held a cup of hot tea, basking in the sunshine with narrowed eyes.

A middle-aged man in a black suit walked in and placed a document on the stone table.

"Sir, this is the report from Zhang Ting."

The gentleman murmured an acknowledgment, set down his teacup, then reached for the document.

At first, he glanced through it casually. Then his brow furrowed.

The middle-aged man stood quietly beside him, making no attempt to interrupt.

Ten minutes later, the gentleman finished the last page and closed the document.

"Understood."

The middle-aged man nodded, picked up the document with both hands, then turned and left.

The gentleman picked up his tea again. It had cooled somewhat. Gazing at the sky beyond the courtyard wall, he remained silent for a long time.

Across the ocean, in Poughkeepsie, New York State.

The wind blew along the Hudson River Valley to IBM's quantum data center.

Inside a temperature-controlled machine room beneath the complex, Dawn's Starling—hailed by foreign media as the dawn of industrial-grade fault tolerance—was running.

On the large screen in the center of the room, the logical trajectories encoded from more than 200 physical qubits were climbing.

Seven or eight people stood in the observation room outside.

David Sulman, head of IBM's quantum platform, stood at the front with his arms folded.

Beside him were several visitors from Washington, D.C.

These visitors developed cryptographic systems for the National Security Agency.

Among them was a bespectacled young man who looked to be in his early thirties: Elias Weber, one of the designers behind those systems.

Sulman glanced casually back at the people behind him, pride in his voice.

"Starling has now performed more