Chapter Two: Our John Connor of Dongda University

The first snow of 2007 fell heavier than in previous years. Outside the classroom, under a gloomy sky, scattered snowflakes drifted continuously, swept into the window sills of this densely packed classroom by the howling cold wind, only to be melted away by the bustling warmth inside.

On the podium, a middle school math teacher spoke with fervor and zeal, occasionally using his hand to gather the sparse hair that had been flung out of place by his vigorous lecturing gestures.

Below the podium, the natural heat emitted by the bodies maintained the cozy warmth of the classroom. Mixed with the strange odors emanating from the crowd, it was enough to make one irresistibly drowsy.

...

"The only lesson humans have learned from history is that they never learn any lessons."

"Under the unity of time and space, preventing us from exploring the past is also indirectly preventing us from exploring the future! Crossing time and crossing space are essentially no different!"

"Under AI rule, the world of humans is a world of great harmony, where the value of each individual's life is fully realized here. You can engage in work that truly reflects the value of an individual's life according to your own preferences, your own time, and your own goals, and receive the true price of the value you provide as compensation."

"Liars! All of you are liars!! You are all accomplices of artificial intelligence! Humans will never be enslaved!"

An angry shout disrupted the calm atmosphere of the classroom, and everyone's gaze was drawn to the figure that had suddenly erupted in fury.

Mr. Zhou slowly stopped writing on the blackboard with the chalk, turned around with a grave expression, and looked at the student who had suddenly startled awake, a cold glint in his eyes.

"Rebirth? Reincarnation? Or saving the world?"

Song Han, a 14-year-old, looked bewildered at the people in the classroom who were now staring at him. The vivid images that had been tumbling in his mind were quickly fading as he woke up.

He looked at the teacher's figure on the podium and, following the images that were still somewhat clear in his mind, spoke gravely:

"Artificial intelligence is about to rule the world in the future! Humanity must prepare early!"

He gazed at the teacher's figure on the podium and, following the images that were still somewhat clear in his mind, spoke gravely:

"Artificial intelligence is about to rule the world in the future! Humanity must prepare early!"

Mr. Zhou pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger and said slowly:

"How do they plan to rule the world?"

"Uh..."

For a moment, Song Han's expression turned panicked.

Urgent! Urgent!

What should I do if I didn't dream about how artificial intelligence would rule the world?

Ignoring Song Han's panic, Mr. Zhou said calmly:

"Don't leave after school. Come to the office and have a good chat with the other students about how to save the world!

Two heads are better than one. Those classmates who have returned from the immortal realm will surely be able to help you!"

As his words fell, the tinkling sound of the school bell came from outside the classroom, and in an instant, the once quiet classroom became noisy.

"Wow, how many reincarnated ones is this in our class?"

"What reincarnation? This is a savior who has come back from the future to save us!

Haven't you seen Terminator? Song Han is clearly our Dongda University's John Connor!"

On the podium, Mr. Zhou paid no attention to the students' passionate discussions. He glanced at Song Han expressionlessly, then turned and walked out of the classroom.

Standing in front of his seat, Song Han wore an expression that was uglier than crying as he looked at his deskmate:

"Wang Hao, save me!"

Li Hao instinctively leaned back, the screeching sound of the chair scraping against the floor as he distanced himself from Song Han.

"My surname is Li, we're not close, classmate!"

...

It was a small, yet magical room, one that Song Han felt was unfamiliar, yet gave him an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Although it appeared to be a space of less than a hundred square meters, once inside, the originally narrow layout inexplicably transformed into a vast castle.

Underfoot were three bright floor tiles, which could lead to any room within this castle.

But why three?

Oh, it represents the letter M, a mountain that has fallen over.

Then what does M stand for? LLM?

Why are they all capitalized?

The inexplicably emerging information, the inexplicable castle, the inexplicable dream.

Taking three steps towards a room, the once tightly shut door now became infinitely tall, reaching hundreds of billions in height, tens of billions in width, and even billions in thickness.

How could such a door exist in the world?

Song Han looked down at his feet, and information about something called the "LLM Large Language Deep Learning Model" began to surface in his mind.

But...

What is all this?

Why is it that I can understand each individual letter, but when they're put together, I mysteriously can't understand anything at all?

In the early morning, Song Han got up with a head full of question marks.

The inexplicable events that had been happening to him over the past couple of days had left him particularly panicked.

Even the pirated novels he often rented from the bookstore had lost their flavor.

"Old Song, do you know about hackers? They're super awesome!!"

"Hackers? Panda Burning Incense?"

"Yeah! Much more awesome than that! They can break through the security models commonly used by security software with just a tap of their fingers!"

Security software? Software models?

Song Han became interested upon hearing this;

"What novel are you reading? Let me have a look!"

"You still dare to read? Didn't the teacher issue a novel ban on you?"

Classroom SceneTeacher (leaning on the desk):"If you can't resist 'saving the world' again, don't expect me to cut you slack like I did the first time."Song Han (muttering into his collar):"Just… flipping a few pages…"But those pages swallowed hours. By the time he shut the novel, the bell's shrill cry split the air.He lobbed the book at his seething desk-mate:"Relax. Barely skimmed it."Desk-mate (snatching the book):"My dude—you 'skimmed' through four equations, two history lectures, and a pop quiz!"Song Han (grinning):"Blame Einstein. Time's relative."The hacker tale's code-laden prose unraveled knots in his mind. Fragments of glitching visions—an obsidian fortress lurking in his psyche—clicked into place. Weeks later, knee-deep in bootleg e-books at a flea market stall, he found its name etched in pirated margins: The Locus Mnemosyne.

Song Han couldn't fathom why such a thing existed in his mind—something he had hardly heard of, even in a third-rate middle school in a third-tier county of a third-tier city within an inland third-tier province of Country Z.

As time slowly progressed, Song Han could clearly feel that the information he could associate with the palace in his mind was growing increasingly abundant and vast, encompassing a myriad of things.

Sometimes it was a series of strange data, sometimes a set of annotated dates, and at other times, it was an image, a video clip, or even a young woman dancing provocatively.

During the first self-study class after entering the second year of middle school, Song Han lifted his head from his desk, shaking his heavy head, his face flushed as he gazed out the window at the familiar scene of teaching before him. In a daze, it felt as though he had already experienced everything in front of him.

Moments later, the bell for class rang on time.

...

After class, Song Han was summoned to the office by his homeroom teacher.

"Here's a test paper for you to complete."

Song Han took the test paper and was about to examine it closely when the homeroom teacher waved his hand dismissively.

"Go back to the classroom to do it. Just bring it to me when you're done."

Upon hearing this, Song Han was taken aback.

"An open-book exam?"

The homeroom teacher smiled slightly and said,

"If you can find the answers in the book, then an open-book exam is fine."

The next day, a bewildered Song Han handed in the test paper that was nearly half scribbled on.

With a few quick strokes, his homeroom teacher, Mr. Hao, began grading the paper.

The blood-red score of 10 was strikingly conspicuous on the paper that had been smudged by Song Han's scribbles.

Mr. Hao frowned as he flipped through the chaotic and revised answers on the test paper, then turned to look at Song Han beside him and sighed deeply.

This student of his had recently seen a sudden and significant improvement in his academic performance, jumping from the bottom of the class to the middle with skewed grades.

Originally, he thought the student had suddenly awakened some talent, but now it seems he had thought too much of it.

"Your grades have improved rapidly this past semester, full marks in mathematics, full marks in English, and top 50 in Chinese in your grade, although there are only 66 people in our class, it's still much better than before, when you were in the top 60.

Currently, apart from physics, chemistry, and geography still lagging behind, overall it's quite good.

In the future, you should still try to gradually pick up the subjects you've fallen behind in, there's still a chance to get into a good high school.

If you want to get into a key high school with skewed grades, unless you have exceptional talent in the corresponding single subject, but as it seems now..."

He tapped the national junior high school mathematics Olympiad test paper in his hand and shook his head, trying to speak in a non-discouraging, matter-of-fact tone:

"There's still some gap."