Reborn in 2014: A One-Man Tycoon

Chapter 711 Aliens Take the Initiative to Contact Meng Chuan

The starship hangs in the boundless universe, like a forgotten withered leaf.

Outside the porthole, the silvery-white light still lingered quietly, neither too close nor too far.

Meng Chuan leaned back in the driver's seat, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the cold armrest.

He could feel Yingdie's gaze on him, carrying a hint of barely perceptible dependence.

"Don't panic."

Meng Chuan turned his head, his voice more steady than he had expected:

"It's just an instrument malfunction. The starship's hull is made of titanium alloy, so even if something happens, it can hold out for a while."

These words were less a way of comforting Yingdie and more a way of convincing himself.

Meng Chuan was naturally panicked, just like when he was cornered by a group of thugs in an alley next to a hospital in Beijing back then.

Meng Chuan's palms were sweaty, but he didn't even dare to blink.

But Meng Chuan also knew that the more panicked he was, the less useful he would be, and the faster he would die.

Faced with this light of unknown origin and the malfunctioning equipment, panic is the cheapest emotion.

Yingdie nodded, but her fingers were still on the control panel.

She cannot give up until the very last moment.

Try again, and the chances are better.

Meng Chuan reached out and pressed down on Ying Die's hand, saying in a deep voice:

"It's no use, all we can do now is wait."

Meng Chuan looked up at the light outside the porthole again:

"If it wanted to do something, it would have done it already. For now, we can only wait until they leave, and maybe everything will be back to normal."

Yingdie was stunned for a moment.

But she obediently stopped what she was doing.

But despite saying those words, Meng Chuan's inner gloom remained undiminished.

Meng Chuan couldn't help but think of the Earth's command center and Zhan Qi's volatile temper.

The current War 7 has probably already overturned the command center.

And then there's Zhan Yi, who might be rushing onto the starship with bloodshot eyes.

There were also Prince Fu and Prince Bi, his old brothers who had followed him through thick and thin.

Of course, there's also Liu Qian, and everyone who cares about him.

They're probably as anxious as ants on a hot pan right now.

But there's no use in being anxious.

The starship's communication equipment had all failed, and he couldn't even get a message like "I'm fine" out.

However, waiting is often the most agonizing part.

Meng Chuan stared at the light, trying to discern something from the soft halo.

Is it the aircraft's outer shell reflecting light?

Or is it a manifestation of some kind of energy field?

But the light is too even, as even as a polished moonstone.

You can't see any sharp edges or any details.

Meng Chuan even had some doubts: could this "light" itself be the form of "them"?

Could extraterrestrial life be a life form that exists as energy?

Time passed slowly, and what felt like ten minutes felt like more than ten days.

The starship was so quiet you could hear each other breathing.

As Meng Chuan counted his heartbeats, he pondered the "aliens'" intentions.

If it's malicious, there's no need to go through all this trouble.

Destroying the starship directly, or attacking it in a more direct way, is more effective than the ineffective action of "cutting off the signal".

If it's a well-intentioned gesture... then why greet someone in such a creepy, spying-like way?

Perhaps it was "curiosity"?

Just like when humans see a new species, they observe it from a distance and dare not approach it rashly.

Just as I was thinking, suddenly—

"Fuck-"

A sharp crackling sound suddenly erupted from the spacesuit's built-in communicator.

It made Meng Chuan's eardrums go numb.

He and Yingdie were both startled, and they exchanged a sharp glance, both seeing surprise in each other's eyes.

"what happened?"

Yingdie subconsciously reached for the communication button on the side of the helmet.

Meng Chuan didn't speak, but listened attentively.

The static was intermittent, like an old radio with a faulty connection.

Interspersed with some indistinct "gibberish" sounds.

It wasn't any language he had ever heard before.

It lacks clear syllables and sounds more like the guttural sounds of some kind of creature.

The rise and fall were somewhat probing.

"Has the signal been restored?"

Yingdie's voice was filled with immense surprise.

But the huge screen on the control panel was still filled with static.

Meng Chuan and Ying Die held their breath, trying to discern a pattern from the chaotic sounds.

But it was no use; the sounds were too unfamiliar, just vague tones that had no meaning.

Just when Meng Chuan thought the sound would disappear like an electric current,

The chattering on the communicator suddenly stopped.

Immediately afterwards, a broken but clear English voice came out:

"Hey! Can you hear me? Can you hear me?"

It was standard American English, although the intonation was a bit flat, like it was machine-generated, but every word was clearly audible.

Meng Chuan and Ying Die were both stunned, then overjoyed surged into their hearts.

"It's Earth!"

Yingdie suddenly grabbed Meng Chuan's arm, her eyes shining with an astonishing light:

"It's command center! They've contacted us!"

Meng Chuan's heart also raced.

He almost spoke up immediately, but the words caught in his throat and he swallowed them back down—no, that's not right.

The command center knew their communication channels.

Even if a backup signal is used, the code name should be announced first, or his name should be called.

Why would you use such a tentative "feed"?

Moreover... the sound was too "clean," without any background noise, unlike anything coming from a distant Earth.

Furthermore, even the Earth's command center should speak Chinese, not English.

Because almost all the important positions in the command center have been replaced by people from the Green Gang.

Just as Meng Chuan was about to remind Ying Die, a voice came from the communicator again, still in English, with a hint of muttering to itself:

"It seems they still don't understand. Let's try a different electromagnetic band."

Meng Chuan's heart sank.

It really isn't Earth.

Could it be "them"?

Meng Chuan suddenly looked out the porthole.

The light is still there.

Could it be that they are testing their communication channels, trying to communicate with themselves in a language that humans can understand?

Meng Chuan wondered to himself.

Clearly, Yingdie shared the same idea as Mengchuan.

The ecstasy on her face froze and slowly faded.

Instead, a complex expression appeared—a mixture of tension, curiosity, and disbelief.

But they dared not respond at all.

The next second, the voice in the communicator changed.

It was no longer stiff English, but fluent and clear Chinese.

His tone was steady, even with a subtle rhythm, like that of a seasoned broadcaster:

"Hey! Intelligent being, can you hear me? Can you understand what I'm saying?"

This time, Meng Chuan was completely stunned.

He even doubted that he had heard correctly.

This Chinese is so standard, without any accent, it's more authentic than many people from southern China.

How did they learn it?

Did they intercept Earth's radio signals? Or...did they already record their language while "spying" on Mars before?

"Don't you understand yet?"

The voice from the communicator rang out again, tinged with a barely perceptible hint of confusion:

"Looks like we'll have to change it again..."

"and many more!"

Meng Chuan snapped back to reality, took a deep breath, and spoke in a deep voice into the microphone inside his helmet:

"I can understand!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough.

The starship fell silent instantly, even Shadow Butterfly's breathing became softer.

There was silence on the other end of the communicator.

There was no electrical hum, no noise, only utter silence.

Meng Chuan could even feel that the light outside the porthole seemed to pause for a moment—although he knew it might be an illusion.

About ten seconds later, the Chinese voice sounded again, this time with a hint of confirmation in its tone:

"Great, we've finally matched an electromagnetic waveband that you can understand. Do you understand what I mean?"

A surprised sound came from the devices in Meng Chuan and Ying Die's helmets.

"can."

Meng Chuan nodded, trying his best to keep his voice steady:

"May I ask what kind of being you are?"