Time: Spring, C.E. 55
Five-year-and-three-month-old Nangong Wentian crouched in a corner of the orphanage's back kitchen, facing a pile of "junk" — a leaky-bottomed iron pot, two rusty pipes, half a roll of discarded electrical wire, and a few worn-out batteries scavenged from the garbage dump.
His fingers were stained with grease, but his gaze was focused in a way uncharacteristic of a child.
"What are you doing?"
Xiao Guang's voice came from behind. Nangong Wentian didn't turn around, continuing to fiddle with the wire in his hands. "Playing."
"Liar." Ten-year-old Xiao Guang walked over and squatted beside him. "Every time you say 'playing,' you're making something strange."
Nangong Wentian finally turned his head to look at the only child in the orphanage who had made him "expose" a little. Xiao Guang was ten this year, thin and small, but his eyes were bright — the kind that lit up at the sight of mechanical parts.
"Then what do you think I'm doing?" Nangong Wentian asked.
Xiao Guang stared at the "junk pile" on the ground for a long time, then suddenly pointed at the rusty pipe. "This... you want water to come out? But the pipe is broken."
"Not water."
"Then what?"
Nangong Wentian fell silent for a moment. He needed a reasonable explanation — one a five-year-old could have, yet not entirely childish.
"I want to see why things float."
This was part of the truth. His experimental goal today was indeed to verify Archimedes' principle — not because he didn't know it, but because he needed to confirm: the physical laws of this world were completely consistent with those of the world in his memory.
Xiao Guang's eyes lit up. "Float? Like a boat?"
"Mhm."
"Then I'll help you!" Xiao Guang rolled up his sleeves, revealing thin arms. "What do you need me to do?"
Looking at him, Nangong Wentian felt a slight stir in his heart. Having lived in this world for five years, he had been observing, learning, and preparing in solitude. Xiao Guang was the first person to actively approach him — not because he was a "prodigy," but simply out of a child's pure curiosity.
"Hold this for me." Nangong Wentian handed him the leaky-bottomed iron pot. "I'll go get water."
There was a communal faucet outside the back kitchen. Nangong Wentian filled a small iron bucket with water, struggling to carry it back — the strength of a five-year-old was indeed limited.
Xiao Guang put down the pot and came over to help him lift it. The two placed the bucket on the ground, and Nangong Wentian propped the rusty pipe at an angle between the pot and the floor.
"Then what?" Xiao Guang asked.
Nangong Wentian didn't answer. Instead, he pulled something from his pocket — a small boat cut from a scrap of plastic, with a small piece of wax stuck to its bottom, which he had secretly made last night.
He placed the boat on the water's surface. It floated, steady and stable.
"Wow!" Xiao Guang exclaimed. "It really floats!"
Nangong Wentian picked up the boat again, smeared a bit of grease on the pipe, and then slid it down from the top. The boat slid into the iron pot, splashing a small spray of water, and still floated.
"Is this... a slide?" Xiao Guang scratched his head.
"I was thinking," Nangong Wentian said slowly, "why boats don't sink in water, but stones do."
Xiao Guang froze. He looked down at the crude contraption, then at the small boat floating on the water's surface, his brow furrowed.
This was the expression of a ten-year-old pondering a problem.
Nangong Wentian didn't disturb him, instead continuing with his own tasks—he needed to verify not just buoyancy, but also levers, inclined planes, fluid dynamics... all the fundamental principles of physics, he had to confirm them one by one.
He rummaged through the "junk pile" again and pulled out a long wooden plank. Placing a stone in the middle as a fulcrum, he made a simple seesaw. Then he placed two iron blocks of different sizes on either end—these were counterweights he had salvaged from discarded machinery.
Xiao Guang's attention was immediately captured. "I know this one! The heavier side will go down!"
"Then guess what happens if I move the heavier block forward a bit?"
Xiao Guang stared at the wooden plank, a glimmer of thought flashing in his eyes. Nangong Wentian didn't wait for his answer, directly adjusting it himself. When the heavier iron block slid closer to the fulcrum, the plank balanced.
"Huh?" Xiao Guang's eyes widened. "How come..."
"Lever principle," Nangong Wentian said, then immediately realized such words shouldn't come from a five-year-old's mouth. He added, "I read it in a book last time."
Xiao Guang didn't doubt him. He had already crouched down, fiddling with the wooden plank while muttering to himself, "Move the heavy one forward, and it balances... move it back, and it goes down..."
Nangong Wentian watched him, a complex emotion welling up in his heart. This child had a natural sensitivity to mechanics and physics. In a normal education system, he might have become an outstanding engineer. But in the orphanage, he could only satisfy his curiosity by tinkering with broken toys.
"Xiao Guang," Nangong Wentian suddenly said, "do you like these things?"
"Yes!" Xiao Guang replied without looking up. "Even more than eating!"
"Then from now on, I'll teach you."
Xiao Guang finally looked up, his eyes shining. "Really?"
"Really."
This was Nangong Wentian's promise—not a casual one, but a serious one. He needed an assistant, someone who could understand what he was doing but wouldn't ask too many questions. Xiao Guang's talent and curiosity made him the most suitable candidate.
Moreover, this ten-year-old child deserved a better future.
"What about now? What do we do next?" Xiao Guang asked eagerly.
Nangong Wentian glanced around. Although the back kitchen was secluded, Chef Tanaka could come by at any time. They had done enough "experiments" for today; it was time to clean up.
"That's all for today," he said, starting to gather the items and stash them in a corner. "Help me hide these."
Without another word, Xiao Guang began helping. The two of them hastily stuffed the "junk" into a worn-out wooden crate and closed the lid. Xiao Guang even stomped on it to make sure it was sealed tight.
"Can we come again tomorrow?" he asked.
"Not tomorrow," Nangong Wentian shook his head. "The day after."
"Okay! Then I'll come back the day after!" Xiao Guang said, then skipped away.
Nangong Wentian stood at the back kitchen door, watching his figure disappear around the corner. Then he lifted his head and looked toward the distant sky.
Spring in Orb, the sky was blue. But beneath this azure expanse, the shadow of war was gathering.
He remembered the original timeline—C.E. 55, ZAFT of PLANT had already been established, and the Earth Federation was beginning to expand its military in preparation for war. Within Orb, the peace faction and the hawkish faction were fiercely debating whether they should possess their own military force.
In another fifteen years, war would break out.
"Fifteen years..." Nangong Wentian murmured softly, "Is that enough?"
He didn't know. But he knew he had to start preparing now, step by step.
"Wentian?"
The voice of the cook, Tanaka, came from behind. Nangong Wentian turned and saw Tanaka approaching with a basket of vegetables, looking puzzled. "What are you standing here for?"
"Looking at the sky," Nangong Wentian pointed upward.
Tanaka followed his finger but saw nothing. He looked down at the five-year-old child and sighed. "You're always so mysterious. Come inside, it's time for dinner."
Nangong Wentian nodded and followed him into the kitchen.
As he passed the old wooden crate, his gaze lingered for a moment. Inside that crate were more than just a few pipes and pieces of iron—it was the starting point for verifying this world and the beginning of his efforts to change it.
During dinner, Xiao Guang sat across from him, occasionally glancing up and giggling quietly.
"Xiao Guang, what are you laughing at?" Sayuri asked from beside him.
"Nothing!" Xiao Guang quickly lowered his head and shoveled rice into his mouth.
Nangong Wentian ate silently, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips.
At five years old, he finally had his first true helper.
Even though this helper was only ten, even though they could only conduct crude experiments hidden away in the greasy kitchen, even though the path to real change was still long—
At least, he was no longer alone.
Outside the window, the setting sun sank, casting golden light into the kitchen. The rusted pipe gleamed with a dark red hue in the fading glow, like a silent witness to the first "collaboration" between this five-year-old child and his ten-year-old companion.
Nangong Wentian finished his last bite of rice and set down his bowl and chopsticks.
In his mind, the "Star Core" system was recording today's experimental data: buoyancy verification passed, lever principle verification passed, inclined plane mechanics verification passed... The physical laws of the SEED world were completely consistent with those in his memory.
That was enough.
With this foundation, the technologies in his mind—Minovsky Physics from the UC Era, the GN Particle System from the 00 Era—could all potentially be recreated in this world.
All it would take was time, effort, and... companions.
He looked at Xiao Guang, who was secretly slipping a sweet potato into his pocket—a treat for the stray cat in the backyard.
Nangong Wentian smiled, stood up, and left the table.
As night fell, the children in the orphanage gradually fell asleep. Nangong Wentian lay flat on his wooden bed, closed his eyes, and let his cons
ciousness sink into the vast library of knowledge.
Today was only the beginning.
Tomorrow, there would be more experiments to conduct.
The day after, Xiao Guang would come again.
And in the future, more people would join.
He believed.