Chapter 299

Chapter 299

Diana suddenly spoke, turning a page in her book.

Oscar's voice came to an abrupt halt.

Everyone at the conference table held their breath.

"Ms. York's meaning is..." Oscar asked tentatively.

"The frog calls and insect chirping from tropical rainforests would disturb thinkers who need quiet. The flamingos at Crimson Crystal Lake—their droppings would alter soil pH levels, affecting surrounding vegetation."

Diana's tone was calm. "A good environment, first and foremost, doesn't intrude."

Rupert set down his documents and looked at Oscar. "Did you hear that?"

Cold sweat broke out on Oscar.

He understood immediately.

Diana wasn't rejecting the proposals—she was defining Cradle's underlying logic: 'non-intrusion.'

"Understood! I'll have Remy's team redesign immediately, with 'tranquility' and 'minimal footprint' as core principles!"

The briefing continued.

"...Regarding the landscaping of the residential area, we plan to introduce three hundred species of rare plants from around the world, with different blooming seasons, ensuring the grounds are spring-like year-round..."

"Only ginkgo, ash, and maple trees," Diana spoke again.

Oscar: "What?"

"I like watching leaves turn yellow, then fall."

Diana's gaze finally left her book. "Four distinct seasons are a kind of order. Don't disrupt it."

Rupert told Oscar: "Add that to the project's highest design principles."

Oscar frantically took notes while mentally wailing.

At the end of the meeting, Oscar displayed the design plans for Area A—the core of the research institute, a cluster of top-tier laboratories.

"...This will be equipped with the world's most advanced quantum computers, gene sequencers, and high-precision mass spectrometers. All equipment will be connected through underground intelligent tracks, forming a highly efficient central experimental platform."

...

Late at night, in the study.

Diana pushed the door open. She'd just showered, her hair still carrying faint moisture.

"There's a problem with Area A's design." She walked to his desk.

Rupert looked up.

"Too concentrated." Diana drew a circle on the virtual blueprint. "The flip side of efficiency is oppressiveness. Disperse the central laboratory."

"After dispersing it, equipment sharing will slow down, and operating costs will at least double," Rupert stated the facts.

"Then double them." Diana's response was matter-of-fact.

She enlarged the blueprint, pointing at the building modules planned as laboratories: "Split them into independent courtyards, scattered across the entire peninsula."

Rupert watched her quietly.

Under the lamplight, her eyes were bright and clear, sparkling with a focused, engaged light.

This was her most comfortable state.

Not in a hospital bed, but in a world she could control, could create.

"Also," Diana's finger landed on the southernmost point of the peninsula, the area with the best view and greatest quiet, "leave this empty."

On the blueprint, that spot was marked 'Diana York'—a penthouse suite Remy had designed for her.

"Why?"

"The place with the best scenery should belong to everyone."

Diana said, "Change it to a twenty-four-hour observation deck and café."

Rupert's gaze moved from the blueprint to her face.

He'd built this island for her, wanting to give her the very best.

Yet she wanted to share what she considered the best with those 'kindred spirits' she recognized.

He fell silent for a moment, then picked up his terminal and connected directly to Oscar.

"Area A plan—scrap everything and start over."

From the other end came a muffled thud, as if someone had fallen out of bed.

Hanging up, Rupert looked at Diana, the corners of his mouth lifting in an extremely faint smile.

"Anything else?"

"Nothing for now." Diana finished speaking and turned to leave.

"Diana," Rupert called after her.

She turned back.

"Your lab access has been restored," he said.

Diana's steps paused, a barely perceptible ripple passing through her eyes.

She said nothing, only nodded lightly and walked out of the study.

Rupert watched her figure disappear beyond the door, returning his gaze to the blueprint that had been modified beyond recognition.

Costs doubled, timeline extended, design restructured.

None of it mattered.

What he wanted was simply this—her critiquing and directing his world.

Oscar felt he was going mad.

Voyager Institute had carved a mark of magic realism into his career.

He could never again look calmly at architectural blueprints, couldn't see a lawn without calculating photosynthetic efficiency, couldn't view a lake without analyzing its acoustic environment.

His team suffered equally.

Landscape designers went from studying rare plant catalogs to botanical passages in literary classics. Acoustic engineers crossed over from material absorption coefficients to bird call frequencies.

The finance department, facing a project with no budget ceiling, whose KPI was 'comfort,' and whose decision-makers would overturn entire plans over a leaf's color, repeatedly questioned whether the boss was conducting an unprecedented work of performance art.

Oscar could only pat colleagues' shoulders: "Don't ask. If you must ask, it's philosophy."

The three young people from Pure Project were among the first to know the inside story.

Seeing the design plans thoroughly revised by Diana, they fell into prolonged silence.

"So in the future, we can research signal entropy in places with kitchens and ocean-view terraces?" Carlos's tone was dreamlike.

"I can write underlying code in a seaside library?" Longing flickered in Ben's eyes.

Aiko gazed at the area originally belonging to 'Diana York' that had been converted into a twenty-four-hour observation café, softly saying: "She left the best scenery for everyone."

They understood—this wasn't a research institute, but an ideal nation. A habitat prepared for all 'misfits.'

An invisible community formed before the buildings were even completed.

Carlos fought passionately over laboratory outlet layouts, Ben submitted fifty pages of network cabling suggestions, and Aiko deliberated with designers over every path's curvature.

Oscar suffered and rejoiced, finally no longer facing philosophical interrogation alone.

Three years flowed by as Greyharbor Peninsula transformed from a construction site to a tranquil garden.

Low buildings lay like natural reefs at the meeting of sea and land, ginkgo and maple trees turned gold and crimson red in their first autumn, fallen leaves carpeting the stone paths.

Opening day had no ribbon-cutting ceremony, remaining quiet as always.

Diana stood before the window of the 'Diana York' suite.

Rupert had ultimately gone against her wishes, preserving this private space at the peninsula's best ocean-viewing location, though reducing its size by two-thirds and completely concealing its entrance.

The sea surface was transitioning from deep blue to pale dawn.

In the garden below, Rupert looked up at her window.

Years had painted extensive silver frost at his temples, starkly vivid.

She dialed his phone: "You look a bit old."

Rupert below, corners of his mouth lifting slightly: "That's alright. You're still young."

He was trading his time for hers—felt it was a good deal.

Diana hung up. Her reflection in the mirror remained young and calm.

But certain things had changed completely.

"Athena, initiate 'Reverse Time' project. Priority: highest."

A massive plan involving gene editing, telomerase, and cellular aging reversal instantly constructed itself.

Fields once deemed 'uninteresting' now become unprecedentedly clear.

He had built her a world to house what was 'interesting.'

Now, she would reverse time for him.

No matter the cost.

Voyager Institute's first batch of 'residents' didn't arrive through recruitment, but through invitation letters personally signed by Rupert, gathered from elite institutions worldwide.

Electric buses glided silently into the peninsula.

On board, over twenty young scholars averaging twenty-five years old—brilliant rising stars in their respective fields.

"This is the research institute?"

A dreadlocked physicist from Ravenholt School of Technology pressed against the window, gazing bewildered at rolling lawns and winding streams.

The technology fortress he'd imagined was replaced by natural scenery.

"More like a national park."

A female PhD from Greyford University studied the roadside trees intently. "For ash and maple trees to be maintained this well at this latitude, the horticulture team must be exceptional."

The bus stopped before an open lawn.

Oscar stood in a fitted suit, no welcome banner behind him.

"Welcome to Voyager Institute." Oscar attempted to make the welcome ceremony seem formal. "I'm the director, Oscar Howard. My team will ensure you can all focus on research in a comfortable environment."

Before he finished, a frisbee whizzed over his head—two engineers not far away arguing heatedly over frisbee aerodynamics.

Oscar's mouth twitched slightly.