The night was starry and silent, with the chill of frost melting away. Oliver Scott just came out of the shower and heard his phone buzzing on the sofa. He wiped his hair with a towel, casually draped it over his head, and walked over to pick up the phone. As soon as he answered, he heard Steve Singleton’s roaring voice from the other end— "Oliver! Did your prize arrive? How was it delivered?" "The prize from God Z’s lottery!" Oliver pulled the towel off, leaned back into the soft, sinking sofa, glanced at his text messages, and said, "I filled in the school address, no delivery notification yet." "Haven’t you seen the news?! God Z’s prizes are being sent out! Not through mail, but delivered personally!" Steve, filled with excitement, babbled on and poured out everything he had gathered from social media and netizens’ discussions to Oliver. The situation was rather bewildering. From shock to calmness, it took Oliver a moment. Finally, under Steve’s relentless questioning, he slightly furrowed his brow, thought it over, and said, "Quite a few people visited my house today, but no one brought me a gift." "How is that possible!" Steve remarked in astonishment. "It’s New Year’s Day, school’s on break today." Steve, slow to realize, pondered and asked, "Do you mean it’s possible they might deliver it to school tomorrow?" With Steve’s earlier narration still lingering in his mind, Oliver, slightly confounded, focused some attention and analyzed for him: "If Zero’s following through with this delivery method, it can’t be ruled out." "True! But really, this God Z is incredible, no idea who they are, but they’ve managed to find local help in so many places..." Steve continued to express his admiration and awe. Oliver distractedly listened, turned on the phone’s speaker, got up to sit at his desk, moving his hand over the mouse, and the computer screen lit up. He logged onto Weibo to search for the news Steve had mentioned. Scrolling through some popular posts, he intended to check a few winners’ Weibo profiles. Upon refreshing, he saw the latest post from one of them. [SoleScenery]: I’ve studied it carefully, if this box isn’t a prank, it might be the legendary mechanical box? Anyway, I fear my intelligence is beyond saving. Can any netizens figure this out? The post included several photos, all close-ups of the wooden box. The phone still echoed with Steve’s excited chatter, but Oliver muted his words, focusing entirely on the wooden box photos. At ten in the evening. Nora Scott, setting down her paintbrush, pinched her eyebrows, got up to the living room to pour water, and casually took the phone she’d silenced and thrown in the drawer. Seeing the message, she opened it. [Butler Loxley]: Miss Scott, are you asleep? I just made some supper, would you like some? Time, three minutes ago. Nora replied with a [Sure]. Exiting the app, she saw a series of messages from Eleanor Taylor, twenty to thirty in total, glancing over them, all about "Zero’s Gift," complete with screenshots and statements full of excitement and thrill. Additionally, multiple group chats were buzzing with messages, and upon glancing, Nora found that even those unrelated to the comics scene were discussing "Zero’s Gift." Nora raised an eyebrow. Upon exiting, she noticed a message from her WeChat contacts, unsurprisingly from [Kieran Shawn, CC Comics Editor-in-Chief]. This persistent editor sends a friend request every day, come rain or shine. Without blocking him, Nora neither accepted his request, and opened Weibo. Messages were flooding in by the thousands, with her fan count surging by five million in a day, directly hitting the thirty-million mark. The buzz was unending. Upon refreshing the homepage, eight out of ten posts were about her, the latest was from Clement Winter— [Singer Clement Winter V]: @Zero, why was mine delivered by mail? Not creative at all! No matter, I need an explanation. (PS: How do you open the wooden box?) His fans were coaxing and teasing him, casually tagging Zero for an explanation. Nora chuckled softly and reposted with a reply. [Zero]: You were the only one sent by mail, that’s unique. The mechanical box has a simple structure, study it slowly. After replying, Nora exited Weibo. She could have someone reach out to Clement, but there wasn’t any need. Having finished her water, she went next door to knock. She wasn’t aware that under the repost, the original blogger immediately left a comment— [Singer Clement Winter V]: So sneaky! [Pouting][Pouting][Pouting] Fans and netizens were joyously laughing. [Hahaha, really unique when you put it that way!] [Zero, this shameless scoundrel, sweet-talking Winter yet again.] [You can see Winter’s pouts through the screen. Don’t cry, don’t cry, mommy’ll hug you.] [Is it really a mechanical box? Was it made by God Z himself?] Clement Winter, camping by the phone and wailing under Zero’s comment, casually refreshed his earlier post’s comments. When he received the gift, he had posted a Weibo with photos of each item. Under this post, a comment caught his attention. [YarnOfInches]: Winter’s mechanical box is the authentic one, right? I’ve seen all the mechanical box photos, only his has a ginkgo leaf emblem, others don’t. [LeftRightLeft Eduardo replied @YarnOfInches]: Exactly, special treatment confirmed, Winter is definitely Zero’s favorite son. Also, this ginkgo leaf design looks familiar, I think I’ve seen it at my grandpa’s house, but he doesn’t let us touch his collection. Winter only took a glance, inadvertently refreshed, and the comment vanished amidst the flow, not causing any stir. He was stunned for a moment, then set the phone aside, hurrying to the desk to pick up and carefully examine the long wooden box. Upon finding the ginkgo leaf emblem, his fingers gently caressed it, pondering. Clement exhaled, then started bellowing: "Mom Winter—Gorgeous Winter—Living Lu Ban—" The door swung open with a kick. A beauty stood at the doorway, wearing a face mask and a bathrobe, with wide, round eyes, black as night, shooting two furious glances his way. "What are you howling about?!" Clement shrank his shoulders, weakly raising the mechanical box in his hand, offering an ingratiating smile, "Your good son needs an intelligence boost..." "Talk about it tomorrow!" Unimpressed, his mom glanced at him, slammed the door shut, and walked away nonchalantly. Scratching his head with his fingers, a long-standing doubt resurfaced in Clement’s mind— Could it be that he was really adopted?