Civilization and Pain

My writing is defined by the Tianxuan Broken Bridge—an ancient landmark of the Xinglong Civilization that represents both the necessary path toward technological advancement and an impassable chasm. I focus not only on the spectacle of a starship taking flight, which marks the beginning of the story, but also on the ordinary souls that might be scorched by its exhaust.

The Computational Universe series is rooted in a profound sense of technological anxiety and the primal instinct for survival. The ancient Xinglong Civilization is not a born conqueror, but a survivor constantly rebuilding itself from the ruins of history. I use code to deconstruct the very nature of the cosmos: the universe is a massive computer, and no one can escape its logic. We see a striking human-machine transposition. Humans, like Liang Feng and Jiang Zhiyuan, are forced to strip away their emotions to survive, living like cold machines. Yet the synthetics in the story find divinity and love within their code. This cognitive dissonance is the central tension in my work. It metaphorically represents humanity’s alienation from modern technology, while the death of the synthetics explores the ultimate solitude of intelligent life.

Computational Ontology

In the Computational Universe, the cosmos is fundamentally information, and individuals can modify its source code. My framework of Computational Ontology is built upon the Three-State Equation—the conversion law between Information, Matter, and Energy. Using this as a foundation, I construct a grand, star-spanning epic.

In my work, programming is the magic that reshapes reality, and hacker defence and attack determine the survival of cities. The underlying principles of computer science—such as game theory, recursion, and memory leaks—are materialised as sociological conflicts. The Warrior Coder is not merely a job title, but a metaphor for technical elites seeking balance between violence and intellect.

In the Computational Universe, the Xinglong and the Astra Federation possess distinctly different technological philosophies. One is collective and resilient, a driven pursuer willing to pay any price to cross the Broken Bridge. The other is free and arrogant, a fractured incumbent struggling to maintain its hold. The birth of the synthetics represents the singularity that shatters this equilibrium.

What social forms emerge during a technological singularity, and where do civilizations go when it arrives? My cold, logical prose lays bare this path of life and death.

Seeing the Broken Bridge

I write science fiction because I have seen the Broken Bridge.

This is more than just a landmark in the protagonist Liang Feng’s dreams. It is a profound metaphor for the state of my own civilization: caught between ancient glory and modern anxiety, we attempt to build a road to the stars. What unique path will modernisation and the future take for the Xinglong?

My writing is stark and detached. I portray my protagonist, Liang Feng, as a tech orphan who sacrifices emotion for code. Through her, I explore a cruel proposition: In this era of technological acceleration, can retaining human dignity only be achieved by becoming a machine? I wrote the Ruthless Toxin, which stripped the hacker Jiang Zhiyuan of his feelings. I wrote of the synthetics, possessing free will yet betrayed by humanity—what did I seek to prove?

My science fiction carries the metallic scent of rust mixed with soil and blood, struggling to look up at the stars from the darkest alleyways. Everything comes at a price, and the price demanded of a hero is often death itself.