Ji Yushi’s heavy eyelids struggled to open just a sliver, letting light in and causing his pupils to contract slightly from the brightness.

A brilliant aurora appeared once again, breathtakingly beautiful.

Green, blue, and purple glows.

They rippled across the dark sky in waves, disappearing at the horizon.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, so quiet that Ji Yushi could almost hear his own heartbeat and breathing.

Where was this?

Oh right, they had started a new mission.

Ji Yushi’s memory lingered on the moments before their departure.

After emerging from PU-31, they had taken several days to rest and recover at the Sky Vault system’s time-space transfer station, ensuring everyone returned to their best condition. After a discussion, they accepted the new jump mission.

Everything had been normal up until they entered the capsule.

But what happened after that?

Ji Yushi’s body was frozen stiff, a layer of white frost had formed on his dark eyelashes.

He used all his strength but could only manage to lift his eyelids slightly, just enough to see his capsule not far away. The silver-white capsule was damaged, with a large hole in it, and the transparent panel was shattered like a spider’s web. Safety buckles were scattered, and the exposed wires inside the capsule were a tangled mess, occasionally sparking with tiny bursts of electricity.

An accident had occurred during the jump.

“Zzz.”

A mechanical arm was bent at an awkward angle, seemingly detecting the Guardian’s life force. It held out a nutrient solution, attempting to deliver it to the lifeform.

But it was too far away.

It repeatedly extended and retracted, creating the only sound in the area.

Ji Yushi looked around and felt as if he was in a massive junkyard.

Countless mechanical wrecks and discarded parts were piled into a towering mountain, emitting the stench of oil and something rotting. The debris had likely been there for a long time, as vines had grown through the gaps, wrapping around the mechanical remains and blooming with fluorescent, transparent flowers.

Where was this?

Ji Yushi looked away, realizing he was lying in a strange position within the junk pile, the pain in his body surpassing any he had ever endured, yet he couldn’t make a sound.

“Bang!”

A sound echoed from a distance, far out of Ji Yushi’s sight.

“Bang! Bang!” The sound grew closer, as if someone was stepping on the mechanical debris, approaching him step by step.

The night sky above him was suddenly obscured.

A shadow appeared over Ji Yushi, someone looking down at him from above.

A red-bearded, blue-eyed man with a ruddy nose and a fat, unkempt face framed by messy reddish-brown hair. Their eyes met.

The man’s breath, reeking of alcohol, blew onto Ji Yushi’s face, making him feel nauseous.

Ji Yushi couldn’t move and wanted to speak, but all he could do was blink.

The bearded man looked at him for a few seconds, then reached out and roughly grabbed Ji Yushi’s chin, turning his head side to side as if confirming he was still alive. Then he muttered something in a gruff voice, speaking a language Ji Yushi couldn’t understand.

The man then walked away, the debris clattering noisily under his feet, scattering everywhere as he moved.

A minute later, the bearded man returned.

This time, he was holding a thick iron chain. He used it to bind Ji Yushi, locking it with a heavy clasp.

Then, the man grabbed the other end of the chain and began dragging Ji Yushi in another direction.

Ji Yushi gritted his teeth, trying to muster some strength, but he couldn’t make a sound.

His entire body was in excruciating pain, and the addition of the iron chain only worsened his already heightened sensitivity to the pain. The hard chain, combined with the mechanical debris underneath him, intensified his suffering. He broke out in a cold sweat, dreading what might happen next—this person didn’t seem to be rescuing him.

After dragging him a short distance, the bearded man seemed to notice something, dropped the chain, and quickly walked back.

Ji Yushi strained to see, only to catch sight of the man’s massive body blocking his view of the capsule.

“Bang—”

Another loud noise rang out as the bearded man tore off the mechanical arm and threw it into the junk pile. When he turned around again, he was holding Ji Yushi’s nutrient solution as if it were a prize.

The bearded man seemed pleased.

He examined the nutrient solution, muttering a few more words in that rough voice, then stuffed it into his dirty pocket.

Ji Yushi was dragged further along.

The farther they got from the highest pile of junk, the more the view opened up.

Despite the intense pain, Ji Yushi continued to observe, realizing they were in a massive junkyard, possibly several football fields wide. Besides his damaged capsule, there were satellites, rockets, and even space stations—expensive, advanced materials discarded here like trash.

The sky didn’t seem like the sky he knew.

It was incredibly dark and hung low, perhaps only a few hundred meters above the ground, like a shroud of chaos enveloping the earth.

The aurora-like beautiful lights seemed like mere reflections projected from somewhere into the void.

In his line of sight, there was nothing but the junk piles and the wildly growing vines.

These vines thrived tenaciously, growing out of every crack, drawing nutrients from the ruins.

From a distance, the entire junkyard was covered in these vines, their glowing transparent flowers giving the scene a desolate beauty, like Christmas lights decorating a tree, exuding a melancholic charm.

Ji Yushi was thrown onto a wide, filthy, makeshift two-wheeled cart.

Then, he saw the bearded man toss a few more items onto the cart.

A dirty blanket, a chair, some brass utensils, and a few cans that might have been damaged and expired, leaking fluid.

The last item was thrown in.

Ugh!

Ji Yushi let out a muffled groan as his chest was struck with a painful thud.

The object was cold and black, and with just a glance, Ji Yushi’s heart sank.

—Shen Mian.

It was Song Qinglan’s gun.

Lying on the cart, Ji Yushi desperately tried to stay conscious, but the unchanging sky above him only intensified his fatigue, and the cart’s jolting movements threatened to lull him into sleep.

Even when he was thrown off the cart, he didn’t fully wake up.

The white frost on his black combat uniform had melted into moisture, the cold seeping through his skin to his bones.

Ji Yushi shivered in his sleep, aware that he was lying on a hard, cold surface but too weak to curl up for warmth.

He didn’t sleep peacefully, despite his exhaustion.

Where was he?

What had happened to his teammates?

Why was Song Qinglan’s gun here?

What was the bearded man planning?

These thoughts swirled in Ji Yushi’s mind, tightening into a string of tension that kept him alert, reminding him not to fully fall asleep.

He didn’t know how long he had slept, but he heard someone speaking softly to him, though his hearing was dulled, and he couldn’t make out the words.

Then, someone lifted his stiff upper body and wrapped something around him. Through his half-lidded eyes, Ji Yushi saw that it was the dirty blanket the bearded man had thrown onto the cart with him. Made of wool, it had cigarette burns and stains that looked like years-old sweat, likely harboring countless bacteria—hardly sanitary.

Even though every cell in his body wanted to escape from this filthy blanket, Ji Yushi couldn’t refuse, and he couldn’t reject the slight warmth it offered. Gradually, he began to regain some feeling in his limbs.

But he still didn’t sleep well.

After a long time, he finally managed to move his head slightly.

The dirty blanket continued to radiate warmth, which came from human body heat, indicating that someone was holding him through the blanket.

The feeling wasn’t pleasant, and Ji Yushi wanted to struggle. In his daze, he saw a familiar face—one he recognized deeply.

That face seemed different, but Ji Yushi couldn’t quite pinpoint what had changed.

He couldn’t tell if it was a dream or reality, but seeing that face made Ji Yushi suddenly let go of all his tension and abandon all his caution.

Then, sleepiness overwhelmed him.

Ji Yushi fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke again, his body had regained its sensation, and the pain in his limbs had mostly subsided. Except for the burning pain on his back—a result of being dragged—Ji Yushi felt much better.

He wasn’t fully awake, but he opened his eyes.

He saw a smooth floor, a ceiling, walls made of something resembling ABS alloy, and a circular airlock door. Through the round window in the wall, he could see the still-dark, unchanged sky outside.

This place resembled a magnified version of the interior of a capsule. More precisely, it was likely a small room within a space capsule.

“Awake?”

Someone spoke.

Only then did Ji Yushi realize that Song Qinglan was sitting beside him.

Song Qinglan had one leg bent, his head and back resting against the wall in a bored posture.

So it wasn’t a dream.

Ji Yushi finally understood why Song Qinglan seemed different.

Although he was unruly and careless, Song Qinglan was always meticulous about his appearance, usually striking and well-groomed. But now, his face, usually described as handsome, was covered in stubble, giving him a slightly disheveled look. If one had to find a positive spin, it added a rugged, manly charm.

For Ji Yushi, only a short time had passed since he had entered the capsule and been separated from his teammates.

But judging by the stubble on Song Qinglan’s chin, they had been apart for much longer.

Ji Yushi was lying on a small rectangular bed in the room, still wrapped in that dirty blanket.

The two of them were now a normal distance apart, but Ji Yushi was certain of why he had felt warm earlier—he wouldn’t mistake that.

He opened his mouth to speak, managing only a few words: “Earlier, thanks…”

It would have been better if he hadn’t spoken—Ji Yushi hadn’t realized how hoarse and scratchy his voice was from not speaking for so long, sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

“You’re welcome,” Song Qinglan’s tone was as casual as ever, his eyebrows slightly raised. “If I didn’t warm you up, you would’ve frozen to death.”

He paused, seeming to feel that his actions earlier might have been inappropriate, then awkwardly asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”

Ji Yushi looked puzzled—why would he mind?

Shouldn’t Song Qinglan be the one who might mind?

Song Qinglan seemed to think of something and smiled slightly.

Whether anyone minded or not, he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. After all, he would have done the same for any other teammate.

But Ji Yushi… his obsession with cleanliness might be a bit too extreme. Even though he was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, he still didn’t want to use that blanket. In his sleep, with his eyes closed, he even sighed, as if he was reluctantly compromising with himself. It was clear that he truly despised that blanket.

Moving on from the topic, Ji Yushi had many questions: “Where are we? When did you get here?”

He still remembered the bearded man who dragged him back. The mountain of junk. And the transparent glowing flowers blooming amidst the ruins.

Song Qinglan answered, “I don’t know where we are either.”

Speaking of this, Song Qinglan’s lazy expression gradually became serious. Then, he began to explain what he knew: “I only remember that we entered the capsule, and then I seemed to lose consciousness midway. When I woke up, I was already here.”

Something must have gone wrong.

When Song Qinglan woke up, he was lying in that huge junkyard as well.

“Maybe the capsule broke during the jump, causing the temperature to drop rapidly, which made the surface of our bodies freeze quickly, leading to sensory overload.” Song Qinglan paused before continuing, “When I arrived here, I was in a similar state as you—unable to move—lying in the junkyard for a long time before I was forcibly dragged back by a big guy—the same one who dragged you back.”

“After I woke up, I was kept in this small room by that big guy.”

“After observing for a while, I noticed that this place doesn’t seem to have day or night, and I haven’t seen the sun. That guy took everything from me, including my communicator, so I have no idea how long I’ve been locked up. But if I had to estimate, I’ve been here for at least five or six days.”

Ji Yushi frowned, his delicate eyebrows furrowing. “That long?”

Song Qinglan nodded. “Yes, it has been a long time. And that’s just my conservative estimate—it could have been even longer.”

No wonder Song Qinglan looked the way he did. But to Ji Yushi, the passage of time felt like it could only be measured in hours.

It seemed that time had passed differently for the two of them, though it hadn’t led to different outcomes.

They had arrived at the same point in time, just at different intervals.

Ji Yushi asked, “What about the others?”

Song Qinglan replied, “Aside from that red-haired giant, there’s no one else here. I haven’t seen our teammates either.”

No one else?

Ji Yushi wondered if their teammates might also have experienced a time discrepancy, perhaps arriving here even later than they had.

Seeing Ji Yushi deep in thought, Song Qinglan seemed to reach the same conclusion. He said, “I thought for a while that only my jump had gone wrong and that I’d be stuck here with the bearded guy until we both grew old. But luckily, he picked you up too, so it seems likely that the rest of our team will show up here as well.”

Being separated in the vast river of time, in an unknown place and time, and locked alone in a room without sunlight—no one in the world would even know where they were. If it were an ordinary person, they might have already broken down mentally.

Yet Ji Yushi couldn’t detect even a trace of fragility or fear in Song Qinglan’s tone or expression.

Song Qinglan, perhaps joking, added, “I should thank him for bringing you back. Now, even if we can’t return, at least I won’t die of boredom.”

Ji Yushi: “…”

Ji Yushi said, “No wonder you were so worried I’d freeze to death.”

“Of course, at least now I have someone to talk to,” Song Qinglan said with a slight smile. “You have no idea how hard it was to communicate with the giant guy. He doesn’t speak our language, so I had to shout and make a fuss to get him to understand anything. After all that, he finally rewarded me with this blanket, and I used it to wrap you up.”

So that’s where the blanket came from.

Noticing something in Ji Yushi’s expression, Song Qinglan teased, “Is it warmer now?”

Ji Yushi had given up struggling.

After sleeping, his whole body felt soft and weak. He had resigned himself to the situation—no matter how dirty the blanket was, he didn’t want to move: “Yes, thank you.”

As they were speaking, there was a sudden knock on the airlock door two meters away.

Behind the glass panel on the airlock door appeared a mass of red beard, which then moved down to reveal a ruddy nose and blue eyes.

It was the bearded man who had brought them back.

Seeing that Ji Yushi was awake, the bearded man quickly opened a small rectangular compartment at the bottom of the airlock door. His blue eyes peered at them through the compartment as he muttered another string of words, sounding like he was asking a question.

Song Qinglan seemed almost accustomed to it and coldly stared at the airlock door.

Ji Yushi also didn’t understand what was going on, nor did he understand the language.

The bearded man continued speaking to himself for about a minute or two, his tone shifting through various pronunciations and questions. Then, as if his patience had run out, he suddenly banged his fist on the airlock door in frustration before tossing something through the compartment.

A can rolled across the floor, and the compartment was closed as the bearded man stormed off angrily.

Ji Yushi was puzzled. He felt like they were being treated like pets: “Is he feeding us?”

“He probably still wants to communicate with us,” Song Qinglan replied. “Every once in a while, he comes by like this. At first, he would talk to me endlessly. But after realizing I couldn’t understand him, he just started tossing food. Now that you’re here, he’s talking again.”

Song Qinglan stood up, walked over to the door, and picked up the can.

The label was in English. Its origin was better left unexamined, but it appeared to be a can of luncheon meat.

Overall, this meal wasn’t too bad.

Except that the bearded man seemed to be bad at math—now that there were two people to feed, he still only gave them one can.

After long sleep without any food, Ji Yushi’s stomach growled with hunger, and he had no choice but to drag his aching body up to share the can with Song Qinglan.

“It was much better back at the transfer station,” Song Qinglan remarked, “We could eat whatever we wanted.” He ate very little, seemingly dissatisfied with the taste of the canned meat, and eventually handed the rest of the can to Ji Yushi, “We need to find a way out of here. We can’t stay locked up forever.”

“What do you suggest?”

Ji Yushi, still lowering his eyelashes while eating, maintained a refined demeanor even in hunger.

Song Qinglan watched him, “There’s no rush. Now that there are two of us, let’s talk after you finish eating.”