The station launch was still over a month away, and Ryan finally had breathing room from assembly work.
He remembered the encrypted file Ruan Mei had left, and curiosity drove him to open it.
The screen expanded, and dense symbols and formulas instantly flooded his vision.
“Preliminary Exploration of Life Revivification Feasibility Based on Genetic Information Retrieval and Carrier Reconstruction.”
In plain terms: bringing the dead back to life.
“(°ー°〃)”
Ryan felt like his brain had been struck by a sledgehammer.
It buzzed.
He knew Ruan Mei’s research was profound, but he hadn’t expected her to jump straight to forbidden territory.
Shouldn’t this start with basic organisms?
He went back and double-checked.
Had he opened the wrong file?
The file was correct.
He pressed on reluctantly.
“Genetic information entropy reduction.” “Ontological memory carriers.” “Imaginary plane life imprints.” Every term was unfamiliar individually, and together they were still incomprehensible.
This far exceeded his understanding of biology.
“What… what is any of this?”
Ryan rubbed his temples miserably, feeling like an elementary schooler who’d just learned addition being thrown into an advanced mathematics competition.
A small Herta doll happened to pass by, saw Ryan’s distress, and asked in its flat tone: “Little one, encountering difficulties? Need sedation? The infirmary has tranquilizers.”
“Sedation my ass…” Ryan said weakly, pointing at the screen.
“This stuff… I can’t read it.”
He accepted it.
He simply couldn’t.
The doll’s purple eyes scanned the screen, data flickering rapidly: “This is Madam Ruan Mei’s frontier research in life sciences, involving advanced genetics, information ontology, and imaginary energy applications. Given your current knowledge base, your comprehension level is 0.03 percent.”
Zero point zero three percent?!
Lower than his gacha pull rates.
What difference was there from zero?
Ryan felt insulted—but it was the truth.
“I knew Ruan Mei’s research was deep…” Ryan slumped in his chair.
“But I didn’t expect even the basics to read like hieroglyphics. At best, I can do minor tricks at the cellular level. Her research is completely beyond me.”
The doll crossed its arms and spoke after a small huff: “According to database analysis, your biology knowledge level is constrained by Aerido Star’s educational standards. Madam Ruan Mei’s research requires at least Genius Society candidate-level knowledge. The gap exists.”
Ryan: “…”
Thanks.
He stared at the ghost-like formulas and terms, and a stubborn fire ignited.
Can’t understand?
Then learn!
From zero if necessary!
He refused to believe that someone who could hand-craft nuclear bombs and play with electromagnetic fields couldn’t conquer a few biology textbooks.
So in the following days, Ryan lived a full life—occasionally serving as a “human stabilizer” at the station construction site during the day, then diving into biology at night.
He accessed all the basic biology textbooks in the lab’s database.
Introduction to Cell Biology.
The Flow and Expression of Genetic Information.
Fundamentals of Molecular Biology.
Energy Fields and Life Activities.
Screens piled up around him, covered with notes and question marks.
The process was agonizing.
Unlike electromagnetics or materials science—where his abilities provided natural intuition—biology, especially the advanced kind Ruan Mei pursued, was completely foreign territory.
Many concepts were extremely abstract, requiring tremendous imagination and theoretical foundation.
He strongly suspected some of these abstract concepts were her own formulations.
Several days later, deep into the night, Ryan finally broke.
He collapsed onto his workbench piled with books and notes, body twitching slightly, muttering unconsciously: “Central dogma… epigenetics… information entropy… ontology… help…”
The Herta doll stood beside him and poked his shoulder: “You don’t need to self-destruct just to understand this.”
Ryan raised his pale face, eyes unfocused: “I don’t believe it… I can solve electromagnetic field equations… how can I lose to base pairing…”
The doll shook its head with a hint of sympathy: “Different knowledge systems can’t be compared. Forcibly understanding concepts beyond your cognitive range may overload your logic core. In terms you’d understand: you’ll break.”
Ryan knew he couldn’t force it.
He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.
Books alone weren’t enough.
He needed practical application.
He turned his attention to the botanical garden.
Plenty of research subjects there.
He took his data pad and compared what he’d just learned from Plant Physiology against the mutated plants, crouching nearby and observing carefully.
Material transport in leaf veins.
Energy expenditure in flower opening and closing.
Energy exchange between roots and soil.
He tried to understand these life activities through his newly acquired knowledge.
When he hit walls, he went to bother—er, consult—the Herta dolls in the garden.
“Hey, shorty, what does ‘phloem loading of photosynthetic products’ mean? Why does it require ATP?”
“Teacher Herta, how exactly do stomatal openings relate to ion channels on the cell membrane besides water and CO2?” The source of this chapter is g.com.
“The book says mitochondria are energy factories. How does the Arbor’s energy get used by them? Direct absorption?”
Most of the time, the dolls answered concisely or pulled up relevant 3D models and animations.
Occasionally, when annoyed, they told him to go read.
Through theory, practice, and the dolls’ well-timed pointers, Ryan finally gained a tiny sliver of understanding in life sciences.
At least cell structure diagrams no longer left him completely blank, and terms like ATP, DNA, and RNA meant something.
But when he gathered his courage and reopened Ruan Mei’s file…
He stared at the “genetic information retrieval” section for ten full minutes, then dejectedly closed the screen.
Still couldn’t understand it.
Like an elementary schooler staring at calculus.
He now understood the meaning behind the phrase “Can’t you even do basic calculus?” In a genius’s mouth, everything was simple.
Ordinary people could only gaze from afar.
Every symbol was recognizable, but their combined meaning was incomprehensible.
He sighed, but wasn’t discouraged.
Step by step.
Knowledge accumulates bit by bit.
He looked at the towering Arbor and then at his notes filled with plant data.
“Let’s start with understanding how you grow…” he murmured.
“One day… I’ll figure out how to cut you down.”
Arbor: Thanks.
I appreciate that.
The station would launch in a month, and he’d have to face Ruan Mei in person.
The thought re-tightened his just-relaxed nerves.
He resignedly reopened Advanced Genetics and continued his “hell-level” cramming.
The road of learning was long and arduous.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
I started a new translation and I would be very happy if you decided to check out my new translation for a rather rare fandom.
It’s a crossover based on Mondaiji (Problem Children Are Coming from Another World, Aren’t They?)
This story has a somewhat similar style to my other translation for this fandom (same author, after all), but it’s completely different from any other fanfic I’ve come across for this fandom!
It’s set thousands of years before the original novel/anime, and the MC literally plays a part in shaping the backstory of this world.
I really enjoyed it—hope you will too! com / MisterDarkTranslation