Ji Yushi boarded the maglev train and found his business class seat. The space was ample, and there weren’t many people around. He casually tossed his bag onto the floor and took out his phone. Only after completing this action did he realize how careless he’d become—he was picking up Sky Vault Squad Seven’s habits.

There was a missed call from Song Qinglan.

To Ji Yushi, whether or not he saved phone numbers didn’t really matter; once he saw a number, he could remember it. For him, it made no difference whether the screen displayed a name or a set of digits.

Still, for the sake of consistency, Ji Yushi opened the number and started creating a new contact.

He first typed the name “Song Qinglan.”

As he typed, he idly thought about the meaning of “Qinglan”—“lan” referred to the mist in the mountains, and “qinglan” seemed to mean a light mist on a clear day.

After typing the three characters, he stared at the blinking cursor behind the last one. This name might not appear on his phone screen often in the future. After looking at it for a few seconds, he suddenly deleted it and typed “Captain Song” instead.

As if the phone was refuting his decision, it buzzed with a new message right after he saved the contact.

Captain Song: [What’s the full name of that Minister Wang you mentioned?]

Ji Yushi: [Wang Xiaoqian.]

Song Qinglan didn’t reply again.

By the time Ji Yushi returned to Ning City, it was already 4 p.m.

Before leaving for Jiangcheng, he had parked his car in the lot at Ning City North Station. But when he walked to the spot where he remembered parking, he saw a strange car—a black SUV with 22-inch wheels, entirely undecorated and covered in a thin layer of dust, as if it hadn’t been moved in a long time.

The confusion only lingered briefly.

New memories surfaced in Ji Yushi’s mind—when he replaced his car a year ago, he had debated between this model and another, ultimately choosing this one.

This was different from his original memory, where he’d rejected this car for being too large.

Ji Yushi didn’t dwell on it too much. He unlocked the car with his fingerprint and drove home smoothly.

When he got home, he didn’t take the time to check for any changes in the house and went straight to the bathroom.

Cold water cascaded from his head, but in the summer, it wasn’t enough to make him shiver.

The grandfather paradox, Novikov’s self-consistency principle, and other intricate theories filled Ji Yushi’s mind, making it difficult to distinguish between reality and memory. What had changed? What remained the same? His new memories were blending with his old ones, and it was all becoming overwhelming.

After showering, Ji Yushi leaned over the ceramic sink, water still dripping from his hair onto his chin, collarbone, and hands.

He opened the mirror cabinet and found a bottle of medication.

He had taken some with him before leaving, and there wasn’t much left in the house.

He poured a pill into his hand and swallowed it, bending down to gulp water directly from the faucet.

Apart from the initial confusion during the Ouroboros mission, it had been a long time since he’d taken medication twice in such a short period.

The reflection in the mirror wasn’t a pleasant sight—in fact, he looked rather haggard.

He silently stared at himself for a while, then turned to find a towel to dry off, knowing that Ji Minyue would arrive soon.

Ji Minyue was punctual. He said he would arrive before 7 p.m., but he showed up before 6.

“You’ve lost weight,” Ji Minyue complained as soon as he walked in. “One mission takes a whole month—what exactly did they have you guys doing?”

Everyone working at Sky Vault had signed confidentiality agreements, so they could only share limited information. Ji Yushi’s family knew he was on a mission but had no idea what it entailed. Originally, Ji Yushi’s mission in Ning City was supposed to last just a week, but he’d been gone for a month. His family had been extremely worried but had no other choice. As for time hijackings, zombies, and rifts, his family would never know, and neither he nor his team could tell them.

Ji Minyue carried a cat carrier in one hand and cat supplies in the other.

He talked as he came in, placing the carrier and items on the floor.

“You could’ve called me to help,” Ji Yushi asked.

“Meow—”

A strange meowing sound came from the carrier.

“What help? If you’re going to help, at least shut the door. What if the cat escapes?” Ji Minyue retorted.

He shut the door, then noticed Ji Yushi standing there, looking shocked, as if struck by lightning. He laughed, “Your cat might’ve gained a bit of weight, but no need to be that surprised.”

Cats were prone to stress, and Ji Yushi’s cat carriers were always opaque.

He opened the carrier to find a round-faced orange tabby staring up at him sweetly—a cat he didn’t recognize.

But quickly, just like when he’d seen Minister Qi and the car, a flood of memories rushed in.

Ji Yushi remembered that he didn’t own three familiar black cats anymore.

Two years ago, late at night, he’d found a flea-ridden kitten crying miserably near a trash pile. It was just a few days old, abandoned. He had brought it home and given it a very uncreative name—like his previous cats, Big Black, Second Black, and Little Black, names chosen with minimal effort.

This one was called Little Orange.

Little Orange had gained a lot of weight but still moved gracefully as it jumped out of the carrier.

“Meow,” it purred.

As soon as it saw its rightful owner, it immediately began to act cute, rubbing against Ji Yushi’s legs, tail sweeping around as if trying to bind him, clearly excited.

Ji Yushi bent down to pick it up.

Little Orange began purring contentedly the moment it was in his arms.

“It’s really put on a lot of weight,” Ji Yushi remarked to Ji Minyue. “What are you feeding it?”

Ji Minyue, shorter than Ji Yushi by two or three centimeters, had always been the one to lose their childhood fights because he was also skinnier. But after two or three years of married life, he had grown more solid, and if someone didn’t know better, they might think he was Little Orange’s owner, given their resemblance.

Ji Minyue flopped onto Ji Yushi’s sofa. “It’s been stealing the dog’s food every day. How could it not gain weight?”

The dual sets of memories played out simultaneously in Ji Yushi’s mind.

In this version, Ji Minyue had also adopted a corgi.

Much like his original memories, Ji Minyue still taught at a nearby university and had an evening event at the school. Little Orange had just been bathed the day before by Ji Minyue’s wife, and it smelled fresh and clean. As Ji Yushi petted the cat, he chatted with his brother.

He acted completely normal. Aside from being a bit thinner after the mission, his mental state appeared unchanged.

Ji Minyue asked, “So, how was your time with that Captain Song, who had such a strong bias against you? Did he give you a hard time?”

He emphasized the word “hard,” knowing better than anyone that Ji Yushi didn’t take kindly to being bullied. If someone dared to, they hadn’t been born yet.

When Ji Yushi had refused to help in Jiangcheng, Minister Lin had even called Professor Ji for assistance, and in the process, revealed some of the reason behind Ji Yushi’s refusal. This had given Captain Song a bad reputation, not just at the Ning City branch, but also among the Ji family—an impression that wasn’t easily corrected.

Ji Yushi replied, “It wasn’t bad. Rumors get twisted over time. With his skills, he has every right to be proud.”

In other words, Captain Song wasn’t as bad as Ji Yushi had initially thought.

Otherwise, Ji Yushi wouldn’t have defended him with even a single word.

Ji Minyue laughed. “And what about him supposedly being homophobic? Is that just another rumor?”

The image of Song Qinglan’s deep, dark eyes flashed in Ji Yushi’s mind. He answered, “He’s… just a typical straight guy.”

Ji Minyue couldn’t stay long. After chatting for a bit and confirming that his brother was fine, he got up to leave, reminding Ji Yushi as he left, “Come home for dinner tomorrow. Dad will probably want to have a long chat with you, so be prepared for a lecture.”

Little Orange jumped out of Ji Yushi’s arms, its soft paws padding noiselessly around the room before returning to rub against his legs, meowing for water.

Ji Yushi stood up and went to the kitchen to get some water. It was only then that he noticed something different about his home.

The glass he had broken was still intact on the table. A few books he’d already read were scattered on the dining table. The place on the wall where a black-and-white photo had once hung now displayed a family portrait from ten years ago. There was only one cat tower left in the house, and just one food bowl sat by the wall…

Memories flooded in, causing his head to throb. He knocked a bowl of water to the floor.

Ji Yushi knelt on the floor, panting slightly.

The cat circled around him anxiously, rubbing its face against his hand, as if asking what was wrong.

Suddenly, he remembered something and quickly pulled out his phone, searching “Sheng Yun.”

The search results popped up: “Sheng Yun, male, renowned physicist, born August 2, 1405 (Star Era), passed away April 3, 1439, at home…”

Seeing this, Ji Yushi immediately closed the page.

Nothing had changed.

He realized that incident had occurred far earlier than the timeline alteration 15 years ago.

Ji Yushi ordered takeout for himself.

Fortunately, his usual restaurant hadn’t disappeared along with the changes. After placing the order, he found the bottle of wine Ji Minyue had brought over last time and poured himself half a glass, just like he had at the “Transfer Station.”

Late at night, rain began to fall outside.

Ji Yushi got up to close the window and noticed that, despite the brightly lit, bustling street below, not a single car was in sight. Stunned, he realized the city outside had changed—everything was perfectly symmetrical, like a mirror image.

At a distant intersection, a person appeared on the zebra crossing, holding something glowing in their hand.

Ji Yushi’s eyesight was sharp, and he could see it clearly—it was a glowing flower. And the person holding it, as if sensing his gaze, looked up at him.

Startled, Ji Yushi stumbled backward and quickly shut the window.

He hurried back to his bed but then noticed something—a pool of blood behind the door.

In the blood was a black-booted leg.

His body began to tremble violently.

A warm hand covered his eyes, and a familiar voice whispered by his ear, “Don’t look.”

…

Ji Yushi woke up from the nightmare, drenched in cold sweat.

His chest felt heavy, weighed down by something soft and furry—the cat, peacefully sleeping on his chest.

Ji Yushi moved the cat aside, and Little Orange let out a spoiled “meow,” seemingly displeased, before jumping off the bed.

He reached for his phone, intending to check the time, and noticed a new message.

Captain Song: [Did you make it home?]

The message had been sent seven or eight hours ago, right when Ji Yushi’s train had arrived in Ning City. He hadn’t even noticed it at the time.

Seeing the message brought Ji Yushi back to reality, grounding his thoughts. He replied, [I’m home.]

The rain grew heavier, and Ji Yushi suddenly realized he really hadn’t closed the window.

He got up, closed it properly, and returned to bed, realizing it was already early morning, and here he was replying to messages.

To his surprise, Song Qinglan hadn’t gone to sleep either. The reply came almost instantly.

Captain Song: [Still awake at this hour?]

Ji Yushi could almost picture Song Qinglan raising an eyebrow in surprise. He replied, [Woke up in the middle of the night.]

This time, it took a while for Song Qinglan to respond.

Captain Song: [Take care of yourself.]

Ji Yushi understood that this was a sign the conversation was over. He turned off his phone and got out his black-and-white handheld gaming console from his travel bag, which he hadn’t unpacked yet.

Amidst the sound of rain, he played Tetris until he reached 200,000 points when his phone buzzed again.

Ji Yushi looked at the new message, feeling puzzled.

Captain Song: [Take care of your health.]