The next maglev train to Jiangcheng was scheduled to arrive in about half an hour.

Their journey to Jiangcheng had been temporarily interrupted, so the two found a quiet spot, away from the people who kept appearing, seemingly intent on hindering their progress.

A crack began to open in the tightly sealed door of Ji Yushi’s heart, revealing some long-buried memories.

“On April 6th, 1439 of the Xingyuan calendar, it was just an ordinary morning. Spring had arrived, and it had been raining steadily from midnight until dawn,” Ji Yushi began slowly. “I didn’t wake up early, because my father was always the first one up. He was working and, as usual, made me breakfast—crude egg sandwiches with slightly sweet hot milk. The table was a mess, covered with formulas I couldn’t understand at the time. I moved those papers aside and ate my breakfast, and he didn’t even notice. Just as I was about to leave, he caught up to me and handed me a raincoat, apologizing because he had to work late again that night.”

These fragmented details might not have been important to the case, but they were Ji Yushi’s last memories with his father.

Song Qinglan didn’t interrupt, listening quietly.

Ji Yushi continued, “After I left that day, my father didn’t go to work, because he was murdered at home, with a knife stabbed into his chest.”

With simple sentences, he brought a scene from seventeen years ago to life for Song Qinglan.

Ji Yushi said, “Based on the time of death, he was killed not long after I left. The police investigated the case and checked all the entry and exit records of the neighborhood that day. From the surveillance system, they identified a suspect.”

“A suspect?” Song Qinglan couldn’t help but ask, “The case wasn’t solved?”

Ji Yushi nodded lightly, confirming this. He seemed a bit lost, as if he were reliving the memory.

Then he turned and told Song Qinglan, “That morning, I passed by the suspect in the hallway.”

Song Qinglan felt a tightness in his chest, making it hard to breathe: “…”

1439… how old was Ji Yushi then?

Only eight years old.

Ji Yushi didn’t seem emotional or sad as he recounted the story. He just stated it plainly, “I was too young to see the suspect’s face. Even though I later developed hyperthymesia, allowing me to recall many things, I can remember the suspect’s clothes and walking posture from that day, but I still can’t remember his face because I never saw it.”

Ji Yushi’s hyperthymesia.

Song Qinglan remembered that Ji Yushi had mentioned during their time in the rainforest that his hyperthymesia wasn’t something he was born with but was something he suddenly discovered one day, realizing he could recall every experience and detail.

Could Ji Yushi’s hyperthymesia have developed because of this event?

Losing his father in childhood, he had desperately tried to remember, gradually being able to recall everything, but unable to change the past.

How great must that despair have been?

It was unimaginable how a child in such a situation could cope. Looking at Ji Yushi now, Song Qinglan finally understood why he had grown up to be the person he was.

The inability to forget.

For someone with deep wounds, this was a cruel reality.

“Later, I was adopted by my father’s friend, who is now my teacher,” Ji Yushi said. “He’s an excellent psychologist. I wouldn’t be who I am today without him.”

Song Qinglan asked, “The person who just called you?”

Ji Yushi nodded, “Yes. With my teacher’s help, I entered the Sky Vault System and became a Recorder.”

Song Qinglan understood.

To complete 100 Recorder missions, to withstand the trials of history, and to become a Recorder who could truly remain unmoved by history—only then could Ji Yushi return to that day in 1439 to face his father’s death. The reward he sought was to remember the suspect’s face. Even though it was over a decade late, he still wanted to see justice served.

Ji Yushi’s life so far had been entirely dedicated to this goal. Despite having hyperthymesia, he continuously reviewed history, filling his mind with irrelevant images, enduring the pain repeatedly, all for that sliver of hope.

When a person’s lifelong goal is too heavy, they become lonely, as if there’s nothing else in life worth holding on to besides that goal.

In the terrifying world filled with zombies and black walls, Ji Yushi didn’t give up.

In the chaotic time rift with no clear direction, Ji Yushi didn’t give up.

Yet this time, he almost gave up.

Song Qinglan now understood how powerful the temptation from that phone call must have been for Ji Yushi.

At the same time, he also began to understand what Ji Yushi meant when he had said, “I don’t have such a reality.”

Although Ji Yushi had regained his senses, Song Qinglan was certain that after receiving that phone call, Ji Yushi must have seriously considered giving up, seriously thought about staying in this reality. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have lied to him on the train.

Because Ji Yushi knew that the reality they were in had only diverged from his true one about 15 years ago, and for him, as long as he could return to 1439 to complete his goal, it really didn’t matter which reality he lived in.

What had changed Ji Yushi’s negative thoughts?

Song Qinglan couldn’t guess, but he was relieved.

He tried to lighten the mood, “Consultant Ji, if I had known you sooner…”

Ji Yushi looked at him with clear eyes, “?”

Ji Yushi’s surprised expression was unexpectedly cute, and for some reason, Song Qinglan’s heart felt a mix of bitterness and tenderness.

The next thing he had planned to say was, “I could have been there for you sooner,” but as the words reached his lips, he realized how inappropriate they were, so he cleared his throat, “If I had known you sooner, I would have had you transferred to the Sky Vault’s Seventh Team earlier to earn points. Then you could have completed your mission sooner, returned to that day sooner, and wouldn’t have ended up stuck here with me. So, it’s kind of my fault.”

Ji Yushi: “…”

Was this comfort too clumsy?

Just then, Song Qinglan’s phone rang—it was Duan Wen.

They had nearly lost Ji Yushi to this reality, and they hadn’t yet contacted their teammates to warn them. The timing of this call was perfect.

Earlier, on the way to the station, Ji Yushi had used Song Qinglan’s phone to send Minister Wang’s information to everyone in the group. It wasn’t clear whether the others had remembered like they did.

The two exchanged glances, and Song Qinglan answered, “Old Duan.”

Duan Wen’s voice was urgent, “Captain Song, I’m with Tang Qi and Tang Le right now. Where are you guys?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Song Qinglan noticed Ji Yushi touching his earlobe, a small gesture that made Song Qinglan smile faintly. He didn’t mention Ji Yushi’s situation and just said seriously, “We were delayed on the way, waiting for the next train. We should be in Jiangcheng soon. Did you all see the information?”

“Yeah, we did!” Duan Wen seemed to be smoking, taking a deep drag. “One question: Is this place not really our world?”

Song Qinglan replied, “I’m afraid not.”

Duan Wen: “… Damn.”

It wasn’t surprising that Duan Wen found it hard to accept. What about his wife and daughter?

Tang Le took the phone, exclaiming, “Captain Song, we gained a little sister. Can you believe it?”

Song Qinglan narrowed his eyes, “The rumored Tang Rongrong?”

The twins were named Tang Qi and Tang Le.

When they were younger, they often fought, and every time they got fed up with each other, they would demand that their parents have another child, a sister, and name her Rongrong, so together the names would mean “harmony.”

Whenever Tang Le got scolded by Tang Qi in the team, he would always joke about having a sister instead.

Who would have thought that in this reality, they really did have a sister?

With the overlapping memories, that sister became real in Song Qinglan’s mind too—a lively, adorable girl who loved to act cute.

Tang Le sighed, “Yes! Her name is really Tang Rongrong!”

The voice on the phone changed again, this time to Tang Qi, “Chun’er’s phone is off, and Old Zhou’s phone rings, but no one answers. Not sure what’s going on. Captain Song, what should we do now?”

The trust among the team members was deep. Their first question upon learning the truth wasn’t whether they should return or why this was happening, but rather, “What should we do now?”

Even as their captain, Song Qinglan felt a bit moved.

But real men don’t get sentimental. He said, “For now, we’ll take it one step at a time. Old Duan, you head to the sanatorium first.”

The speed at which this world interfered with their “observation” behavior was astonishingly fast. They hadn’t even reached Jiangcheng yet, and one phone call had targeted Ji Yushi’s weakness, nearly keeping him here.

So it was possible that Minister Wang would also be interfered with. Duan Wen needed to go there first to make sure nothing happened.

Song Qinglan continued, “You two go find Chun’er and Old Zhou. As soon as Consultant Ji and I arrive, we’ll meet at the sanatorium.”

Everyone agreed.

“Wait!” Song Qinglan added, “You might run into people you know or don’t know along the way who will try to stop you. Watch yourselves… and whatever you do, don’t follow them.”

The call ended.

A sweet announcement echoed through the station, informing them that the maglev train to Jiangcheng East Station was about to arrive.

Song Qinglan said, “We should go.”

Ji Yushi nodded.

The two strode toward the platform.

As they appeared, several people in the waiting hall—those reading projected books, drinking water, chatting, or just passing by—turned their gaze toward them. These people put down whatever they were holding, their expressions blank, their eyes vacant, as they stood up and began following them toward the platform.

Ji Yushi walked quickly, following behind Song Qinglan, feeling more tense than ever.

His phone was ringing, but he instinctively knew who was calling.

Song Qinglan noticed this and turned back, saying, “Give it to me.”

Ji Yushi hesitated briefly before pulling the phone out of his pocket.

Song Qinglan snatched it and, without even looking at the screen, saw the name “Teacher” displayed, signaling another attempt to interfere with Ji Yushi. Without hesitation, he threw the phone into a nearby trash can as they walked.

Ji Yushi looked back: “!”

He almost couldn’t resist the urge to dive into the trash can and retrieve it.

But Song Qinglan grabbed his wrist, and no matter how much Ji Yushi struggled with himself, he was dragged onto the platform.

The train arrived, and the two boarded a random carriage.

People were getting off, others were getting on.

Some moved like zombies, leaving their seats to follow behind them, or standing in their way.

Song Qinglan ignored them all, pushing past them roughly, eliciting curses from the normal passengers.

They made their way to the last carriage, and as the train’s departure announcement sounded, Song Qinglan opened the bathroom door and pushed Ji Yushi inside.

The people interfering with them lost their target and gradually dispersed.

The bathroom was clean and tidy, but the space was small. With two tall men inside, it became even more cramped. The situation felt strangely familiar to Ji Yushi, reminding him of the time during the Ouroboros mission when Team B had left Runjin Tower, got separated from their teammates, and hid in a small room where he had accidentally stepped on Song Qinglan’s foot.

The difference this time was that as soon as the door closed, a cold object clicked around Ji Yushi’s wrist.

A sharp “click” sounded.

Ji Yushi looked down and saw a handcuff on his wrist. As he thought back, the details of passing through the carriages resurfaced in his mind.

They had encountered a train police officer on duty in one of the carriages.

Ji Yushi was shocked, “Captain Song?!”

Song Qinglan had no intention of discussing it with him. Another “click” and he cuffed himself as well.

He raised his hand, the shiny handcuffs binding them together, looking quite pleased with himself. “I swiped these from the train police.”

Ji Yushi was speechless, “I wasn’t planning on running away that easily.”

Leaning against the washbasin, Song Qinglan seemed to finally relax, lazily saying, “Who knows? Don’t worry, Consultant Ji, you’re not getting away this time.”

Outside the small bathroom window, the scenery blurred as the train reached maximum speed.

Suddenly, the carriage swayed violently to the right, and a strong sense of weightlessness hit them. Both men instinctively grabbed onto something to steady themselves as they heard the passengers outside screaming.

“What’s happening?!”

“I don’t know!!”

Before they had time to say much more, a loud crash accompanied by the sharp sound of screeching metal filled the air as the train car spun violently, being thrown forcefully in one direction!

“Ah!!!!”

More screams and cries of pain filled their ears.

The train car overturned and hung suspended, alarms blaring continuously. The shatterproof glass broke, falling in a web-like pattern.

A sudden gaping hole revealed a lake far below, hundreds of meters down. Passengers and items were falling from the train windows, barely making a splash as they hit the water.

Ji Yushi was hanging out of the window, with rolls of toilet paper from the bathroom unrolling and drifting in the air.

Even if it was just water below, falling from such a height would mean certain death.

“Ji Yushi!!”

Song Qinglan grabbed his hand.

Thanks to the handcuff, Song Qinglan had just enough time to react.

The young, tall man had incredible strength. In this situation, he managed to grip another adult male with one hand, his arm muscles bulging with the effort.

Ji Yushi grabbed onto Song Qinglan in return, his body teetering precariously like the unspooling toilet paper, as if the slightest breeze would send him plummeting.

With his other injured hand, Song Qinglan clutched the bathroom’s storage rack, relying on this single support. If the rack broke, they would both fall to their deaths.

“Ahhhh!”

Another person fell from a window into the lake below.

“Don’t look!!” Song Qinglan’s face was flushed, and he struggled to push the words through clenched teeth, “Hold on to me!”

Ji Yushi turned away, forcing the image from his mind, and grabbed Song Qinglan with his other hand as well.

In this dire situation, Ji Yushi’s training in jiu-jitsu came into play. He curled his body, extending his long legs to reach the sink, finding another point of support like a skilled acrobat.

Narrowly escaping death, Ji Yushi managed to open the bathroom door.

The maglev train had completely crashed, now overturned and hanging from the elevated track.

The intense heat from the track made Ji Yushi sweat profusely. With one hand still handcuffed to Song Qinglan, who was holding it up to give him room to move, Ji Yushi climbed out, then painstakingly pulled Song Qinglan up as well.

There were already several passengers standing on the track.

Some stood frozen in shock, while others were crying.

Even after escaping danger, the two barely had time to catch their breath before being stunned by what they saw.

On the elevated track, a ghostly image of the maglev train had appeared.

The color of the train was identical to the one they had just been on, as if its presence had caused their train to be pushed aside.

The ghostly image was indistinct, its front and rear ends blurred as if it were still in high-speed motion, yet it appeared as if someone had pressed a pause button—there was no sound at all.

Song Qinglan picked up a loose object from the ground and threw it at the ghostly image.

The object bounced off.

The ghostly image had a physical form.

Ji Yushi’s clothes were torn, and after the harrowing experience, he looked a bit disheveled. “It’s an overlap…”

His mind raced, and suddenly his eyes sharpened, “Captain Song, the two realities are overlapping—we must have encountered something critical!”

Song Qinglan glanced at his phone, “Old Duan has found Minister Wang.”

As soon as he finished speaking, everything around them suddenly fell silent.

They turned to look and saw that all the surviving passengers on the elevated track were staring at them.