Hou Biao had no idea that these ridiculous remarks made at the meeting had quietly gone viral on the Internet, and would eventually evolve into a massive attack against Professor Mei and the Third Space Foundation a few days later.
Netizens who couldn't afford the Space Box already harbored resentment. Taking advantage of a few unfounded rumors that came from nowhere, they fabricated many stories with great seriousness, claiming that there was already a lot of evidence to prove that the Space Box were alien black technology, and that Mei Yiqiu and the people of the Third Space Foundation had already been successfully parasitized by aliens.
Professor Mei initially paid no attention to these rumors, but as they multiplied and more people believed them, eventually becoming an unstoppable force, she couldn't ignore them. In particular, these rumors severely hampered the sales of the Space Box and the promotion of the Dream Guide game, even causing the factory to shut down at one point.
The spreaders of rumors and superstitious believers believe that Professor Mei and the suspected Parasites must provide sufficient evidence to prove their innocence. Otherwise, they should disclose the technical details of the Space Box to prove that the knowledge inside is entirely in the hands of Earthlings and has a causal relationship with Earth's past technological achievements.
Amidst this uproar, the players who had purchased the Space Box fell silent. They were also worried that the rumors might be true, and what if they had been tricked by aliens and become their experimental subjects?
The capitalists fell silent. Capital usually has the power to influence public opinion, but at this moment, no one dared to speak out against it, because that would bring trouble upon themselves. Once they were in trouble, the only thing they could rely on—their money—would be the easiest thing to burn to ashes.
The politicians did speak, but their words were like a mystery; you could never guess what they meant. One moment they supported Professor Mei, the next they declared they would follow public opinion, their words revealing an attempt to use the opportunity to attack their opponents and expand their own power. But the more they stirred things up, the more the public became agitated.
The United Nations Space Management Committee was forced to issue a statement claiming that Professor Mei and the research team under the Third Space Foundation had all received Lester Signature and could not possibly be parasitized aliens.
The masses neither understand nor can they approve Lester Signature. After all, Lester is dead, so who can prove the validity of his Lester Signature? Since it's something that most people can't approve or judge the authenticity of, it means that the referee's actions on the field are controlled by the privileged class and should be overthrown and abolished.
As a result, public outrage grew, and the uproar nearly caused the Space Box project to be abandoned midway through.
Of course, all of this happened later, but the source of this turmoil was actually a few words of gossip that Hou Biao overheard at the Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts.
Hou Biao's attention was entirely focused on the professor's safety. Fortunately, the entire event proceeded smoothly without any unexpected incidents. However, after the banquet, a small art exhibition in the adjacent hall instantly made Hou Biao's heart leap into his throat.
The host explained that it was a private art exhibition, and only Professor Mei and a select few were invited to view the paintings. Mei Yiqiu having to say goodbye to so many people after the exhibition, readily agreed, "It's good to see the paintings, it's good to see the paintings!"
Hou Biao also wanted to go in, but was stopped by the host. "And who is this?"
Mei Yiqiu said, "Oh, with me."
The host seemed to understand Hou Biao's identity and said nothing more.
Hou Biao rushed in before the professors, even though it seemed impolite. He didn't care about saving face; the professors' safety was his top priority.
Although it's called a small hall, it's actually quite spacious, enough for several hundred people to comfortably enjoy the view without feeling crowded. If there are fewer people, your footsteps will even echo.
The walls and display cases were filled with paintings of various types, including abstract, realistic, and even some photographs. Hou Biao wasn't very knowledgeable about art, but he could tell that this wasn't a formal art exhibition; it was more like a private collection.
He looked at each painting one by one, but couldn't make heads or tails of it. However, he always felt that something was off about the paintings, something strange, as if someone was always watching him while he was looking at them.
Hou Biao noticed a small painting on the side of the exhibition hall. It depicted a girl wearing a flower crown against a blurry green background. The painting was not particularly remarkable; in fact, it could be described as extremely ordinary. Even a crude person like Hou Biao could tell that it was by no means a superior work among all the paintings.
But the girl's eyes were drawn so interestingly that when you look at her, it's as if she's looking at you. No matter where you stand or what angle you look at her from, she's always looking at you, as if her eyeballs are alive and can move.
Her eyes held sadness and despair, yet also seemed to conceal a glimmer of hope. You could sense that she had something to say to you, and her pitiful appearance made you want to help her.
Hou Biao walked up to the painting and stood quietly for a few seconds. It was truly remarkable that a painting could evoke such associations in someone who didn't know much about art! How did he manage that?
After looking at it for a while, Hou Biao finally realized that the secret of the painting, besides the girl's eyes, lay in her fingers. Her hands were placed in front of her lower abdomen, with her palms naturally stacked together, but her right index finger was slightly raised, pointing to the left front, as if secretly telling the viewer—look, right there, all the secrets I want to tell you are there!
Hou Biao looked in the direction she was pointing. It was to his right rear. There was a simple picture on the wall, a road sign pointing the way. The background was a highway in a wilderness. The sign read, "Gas station 170 kilometers ahead."
The painting is brightly colored, yet it evokes an indescribable sense of desolation. A gas station is 170 kilometers ahead—what a desperate hope for a car nearly out of gas in the vast western wilderness!
Hou Biao vaguely recalled the days he spent at sea, hiding in a shipping container after being wounded. He felt that same despair then. He had escaped from the most dangerous place, no longer being chased, no longer hearing the sound of gunfire, yet it was more agonizing than ever before.
He took a deep breath and looked in the direction indicated by the road sign in the photo. Less than seventy miles away, in that direction, about seven meters away, there was a display case. Hou Biao knew that the paintings in the display case must be more valuable, otherwise they wouldn't be covered by glass.
He approached and examined the painting closely through the glass. The painting depicted an ancient church, where a man and a woman were being married. The groom was an old man with a receding hairline and sparse white hair, while the bride was a young woman in the bud of youth. An equally aged and near-death priest was placing a ring on the bride's finger. The bride held out her finger, her head bowed, her face showing not the joy of newlyweds or the shyness of a young girl, but a cold indifference devoid of any emotion.
It's yet another painting that evokes despair.
The bride holds a lit candle in her left hand, threatening to ignite her beautiful wedding dress at any moment. After staring at her for a while, you can't help but think, "Burn it! Burn it all!"
Hou Biao saw a label on the display case: Pukirev's " The Unequal Marriage ".
For some reason, the label on such an important painting was crooked. The triangle on the label pointed in another direction, Hou Biao looked in that direction and saw a large mural there.
The mural depicts a gray, rain-soaked street, deserted and devoid of pedestrians, yet reflecting the shadows of many people.
It's as if there are no living people in that world; only shadows are alive.