The promotional video shoot began.
Rong Yu stood before the holographic projection of the core module's docking mechanism, her head slightly tilted back. The lighting fell on her sharply defined profile as the camera operated silently, capturing every micro-expression.
She was fully immersed, and the filming proceeded exceptionally smoothly.
After finishing in the exhibition hall, they still needed to shoot some additional scenes of aerospace personnel at work.
Minister Zhu led the director and the filming crew towards the laboratory.
Under the bright white lights, precision instruments were arranged on anti-static workbenches. In the central inert gas glove box, a lunar soil sample was being analyzed. The researchers in white lab coats glanced up at the filming crew, then quickly looked down again—
Rong Yu was familiar with that kind of gaze. It wasn't indifference or unwelcoming; it was complete immersion in the world of research. Anything happening externally simply couldn't penetrate the researchers' train of thought.
Minister Zhu had already coordinated with this department beforehand. The group walked to a row of workbenches at the side and began setting up lights, camera mounts, and other equipment.
Rong Yu was discussing the blocking with the director. Once everything was confirmed, the filming officially started.
Dressed in a white researcher's coat, she stood among a group of researchers, intently analyzing data... Just as the shoot was nearing its end, a sharp, jarring sound suddenly pierced the air.
"Sample analysis data anomaly! Verification failed!"
The air instantly froze.
An associate professor, off-camera, strode over. "What's going on?"
A flustered junior researcher frantically tapped the keyboard. "The database suddenly reported an error. All the original files have become garbled..."
The associate professor's brow furrowed deeply as he looked towards the experimental area. "Investigate carefully. Figure out exactly what happened."
That young junior researcher suddenly looked up, his gaze landing on Rong Yu. "You were filming in this area for the past five minutes. Did you do something?"
"The system ran fine for a whole week, and it crashes the moment she touches it?" another researcher chimed in. "We've been running this data for a month, and now it's just gone."
"Celebrities will be celebrities. Just a touch can cause such huge losses. Wonder who approved the filming permit."
"Now any Tom, Dick, or Harry can get into the core lab. Next time, should we invite internet celebrities to livestream experiments?"
"What do you guys know? This is called tech crossover. Their fans can't understand the data anyway. They can film her back and hype her up as a genius girl."
"..."
The group of researchers, who moments ago had seemed like cold, detached lab machines, now seemed activated, their pent-up frustrations spilling out.
The results of their month-long work had just vanished.
Anyone would be upset.
"Enough," the associate professor said with a grim face. "If you understand the seriousness, then hurry up and troubleshoot the problem. Quickly!"
"Data verification failed!"
"System recovery impossible!"
The associate professor's expression grew increasingly grim. "Minister Zhu, let's end today's shoot here."
Every industry has state-mandated promotional tasks, aimed at uniting public sentiment, boosting national confidence, and enhancing patriotic spirit... He didn't see anything wrong with the aerospace institute filming a promotional video, which was why he had been so cooperative in showcasing their current work.
Although this experiment wasn't of the highest specifications, the data was crucial.
Now, with this mess, the project progress would be delayed by at least a week.
"Can I give it a try?"
Rong Yu spoke calmly.
The laboratory fell silent instantly.
The associate professor turned, his brows furrowed so tightly they could crush a fly. "This isn't a script, nor is it acting. Please don't add to the chaos. We'll replace the lab footage with other shots. That's it."
"The data is already corrupted," Rong Yu said. "Let me try. The worst outcome won't be any worse than the current situation."
She walked straight over.
Perhaps her aura was too commanding, her gaze too focused. In that moment, the young junior researcher mistook her for a colleague and instinctively stood up, vacating his seat.
Rong Yu walked to the main console, her fingertips lightly tapping the keyboard a few times, pulling up the system logs.
Her movements were so skillful they didn't seem like an outsider's.
But the way she scanned the lines, rapidly scrolling the mouse, also made it seem like she was just messing around.
Code scrolled rapidly across the screen. Her gaze locked onto an anomalous node.
"There's a memory overflow error here," she said after looking for about seven or eight minutes. "The beta system didn't have sufficient boundary checks. Exceeding the data threshold causes a crash..."
Most researchers here specialized in physics, mathematics, aeronautics, materials, etc., and had certain knowledge blind spots when it came to programming.
She pressed a few key combinations, forcibly booting the system into its underlying recovery mode.
Three seconds later, the shrill alarm abruptly ceased.
The red warnings on the screen gradually faded, replaced by the familiar operating interface. The data stream began scrolling normally again, finally settling on a complete analysis report.
"System recovery complete."
"Data integrity verification passed."
The entire process took less than ten minutes.
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the screen as if they'd seen a ghost. The researchers who had been complaining earlier stood with their mouths agape, unable to close them for a long moment.
"Th-that simple?" The associate professor's pupils constricted. "You understand this too?"
This operation, seemingly simple, actually encompassed knowledge from at least five major disciplines. How could a minor celebrity from the entertainment industry manage it?
Rong Yu said offhandedly, "I know a little."
She had only just entered this era. There was still so much, so very much she needed to learn—various derivative disciplines, all kinds of books, she devoured them daily with hunger... To be honest, she really did only know a little bit.
A young junior researcher forced a dry laugh. "Knowing just a little bit can solve such a big problem. You got pretty lucky."
The associate professor also attributed it to luck.
After all, from start to finish, Rong Yu had spent over nine minutes looking at logs, and the actual operation was just a couple of clicks.
He spoke up, "For the remainder of the shoot, please avoid touching these sensitive machines again. After all, no matter how important the celebrity effect is, it can't compare to tangible scientific research results."
Minister Zhu finally found an opportunity to speak. He pulled up the footage. "Let me clarify something. From the moment our promotional team entered the lab until now, no one has touched any equipment in the laboratory. The machine malfunction has absolutely nothing to do with Rong Yu... Of course, if you insist that even touching the floor had an effect, then I have nothing more to say."
The associate professor was left speechless.
Minister Zhu looked at Rong Yu. "The audience won't understand this lab stuff anyway. Forget it, we won't film here. Let's go. We'll reshoot a few shots at the launch center."
The group packed up all their filming equipment and left quietly.
The associate professor's face darkened completely.
Higher-ups had given strict orders to cooperate with the recording, and now they just left?
When the final broadcast aired and there were no lab shots, wouldn't the blame still fall on him?
