As my finger glided over the news about Chang'e-6 lunar soil research on the screen, the glass in my hand nearly slipped from my grasp—who could have imagined that the Moon, which looks as cracked and barren as dead wood in the night sky, unable to even "retain" starlight, actually hides the code to "drinking water" deep within its rock layers? Those soil particles that traveled back from the desolate far side of the Moon, coated in eons of cosmic dust, hold secrets far more vivid than humanity’s perception of the Moon as a "barren wasteland."
Honestly, when we talked about water on the Moon in the past, it always felt like a trivial detail in science fiction: either tiny ice crystals frozen in the permanent shadows of the polar regions, or molecular traces so sparse that even detectors could barely capture them—like insignificant stardust casually scattered by the universe. But when the analysis report from the Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS) was laid out before me, it came as a shock to realize that those seemingly ordinary lunar soil particles are actually tiny "water reservoirs." This doesn’t mean the Moon "drinks water" like a living being; instead, each grain of soil quietly traps water molecules, and under specific conditions, can even trigger a surprising reaction where hydrogen and oxygen collide in mineral gaps to form liquid water.
Just think about it—this discovery is like a mind-bending cosmic magic trick! When scientists placed the basalt samples brought back by Chang'e-6 under precision instruments, the water content data from the lunar mantle source area left the entire team holding their breath: the number was astonishingly low, even sparser than the water content of the same type of rocks on the near side of the Moon. It wasn’t until the researchers turned their attention to the South Pole-Aitken Basin—the massive scar left by an asteroid impact—that the mystery slowly unfolded: it was likely that catastrophic collision that vaporized nearly all the already scarce water in the lunar mantle, leaving only the dry "memory" of rock layers we see today. Even the reviewers at Nature couldn’t help but praise this as a milestone breakthrough in lunar exploration history. Looking back now at the images of Chang'e-6 landing on the far side of the Moon, we finally understand that this "soil collection mission" was actually a retrieval of a geological "history book" gifted by the universe.
The origin of water in the lunar soil is even more like a romantic interstellar encounter. At first, I always thought it was comets, trailing icy tails past the Moon, that sprinkled water molecules across this desolate land. But later I learned that the true "water deliverer" is actually the Sun—high-energy hydrogen particles surging out from the solar wind, crashing into the Moon at hundreds of kilometers per second, penetrating the mineral lattices of the lunar soil, and combining with oxygen atoms there to form hydroxyl groups and water molecules. What’s more fascinating is that the finer the lunar soil particles, the stronger their ability to "store" water—much like the sponge used to wipe tables at home: the denser the fibers, the better they can lock in every drop of water.
What thrilled me most was the "soil-to-water" miracle that unfolded in the laboratory. When researchers placed lunar soil samples in a high-temperature environment, the once inert soil particles seemed to "breathe," as wisps of water vapor rose from the gaps in the minerals. According to calculations, one ton of such lunar soil can yield dozens of kilograms of water—enough to meet the daily needs of dozens of people. This is no ordinary soil; it’s clearly a "magic stone" holding cosmic codes! Later, I heard from industry insiders that ilmenite in the lunar soil plays a crucial role: its interior is crisscrossed with nanoscale pores, like "storage boxes" specially designed for hydrogen atoms. Each molecule can firmly trap several hydrogen atoms, and over time, this precious "water reserve" accumulates.
Yet the story takes an unexpected twist: despite being collected from the more distant far side of the Moon, the water content of these samples is the lowest ever reported. It turns out the Moon’s "water intake" is just as selective—on the same celestial body, the near and far sides have drastically different water distributions. Perhaps the ancient impact at the South Pole was so powerful that it not only left a huge basin on the lunar surface but also completely evaporated the water deep in the lunar mantle, leaving behind the dry rock layers we see today. If we could witness such a spectacular scene with our own eyes, it would probably be more shocking than the sight of all Earth’s rivers and lakes drying up in an instant.
In the past, when I watched sci-fi movies where astronauts fetched water from faucets at lunar bases, I always thought it was just the screenwriter’s fancy. But now I realize that scientists have already paved the way to such a future in laboratories: using large reflectors to concentrate sunlight, heating lunar soil to a specific temperature, condensing the evaporated water vapor into liquid water, and even further breaking it down into oxygen and hydrogen. Maybe in a few decades, when humans establish a permanent base on the Moon, every drop of water flowing from the faucet will have been molecules that lay dormant in lunar soil for eons—reawakened by human wisdom to regain the "life" of flowing liquid.
I still remember the afternoon I first saw this research report: I immediately took a screenshot and sent it to a friend, with a caption saying, "From now on, we won’t need to carry huge water tanks to the Moon—just dig up some soil and make water!" My friend replied that I was being too simplistic, but looking back now, this seemingly whimsical idea actually holds real potential. Those hydrogen atoms lying quietly in the lunar soil particles may have existed since the Moon’s formation. Having endured countless meteor impacts and solar wind bombardments without dissipating, they seem to have been waiting for humanity’s arrival—waiting for us to unlock this cosmic gift with the key of technology.
Now, when I look at photos of the lunar soil samples brought back from 380,000 kilometers away, every grain of soil seems to come alive. They not only tell us stories of the Moon’s "water-drinking" past and its "water-storing" wisdom but also subtly light a beacon for humanity’s future lunar exploration. It turns out that space exploration is never just about "digging soil" and "collecting samples"; it’s a dialogue across time and space. We use detectors to touch the "skin" of celestial bodies, use scientific instruments to "listen" to the memories of rocks, and with each mind-blowing discovery, we gradually lift the veil of the universe’s mysteries. This is perhaps the most moving aspect of human wisdom: always curious about the unknown, and always able to find traces of life and hope in places that seem utterly barren.
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