“What’s the situation inside?”

Song Qinglan’s voice echoed in Ji Yushi’s mind.

Through the subcutaneous communicator, Song Qinglan tried to maintain his usual calmness, but the urgency in his tone was unmistakable.

Ji Yushi stepped onto a stair, his movements mechanical, and paused when he heard the question.

“Ji Yushi,” Song Qinglan commanded sternly, “Speak!”

The hallway fell silent.

The other footsteps disappeared.

Ji Yushi turned around and saw the small figure with a backpack downstairs through the hallway window. The yellow raincoat was made of waterproof material, and the light rain formed dense droplets on it. The figure passed under the shadow of the camphor trees and quickly disappeared from view.

“It’s me,” Ji Yushi replied to Song Qinglan in his mind, his tone much calmer than he had expected. “The so-called ‘killer’ I encountered in the hallway back then, wearing a purple hoodie and whose face I couldn’t see, was me.”

They had been waiting for the killer to appear, but it wasn’t until Song Qinglan had put the hood on him, soaking wet from the rain, that Ji Yushi realized everything.

Song Qinglan’s breath paused for two seconds, then he cursed quietly.

He, too, understood what Ji Yushi’s so-called verification was about, what the phrase “doing what needs to be done at the right time” really meant. They had already experienced such a verification in the Ouroboros mission!

Even as an outsider, Song Qinglan’s palms were sweaty with cold at this moment, let alone Ji Yushi, who was in the thick of it.

No killer… Could Sheng Yun’s case really be suicide? Or was there another killer?

Song Qinglan almost rushed into the community because he understood Ji Yushi’s situation and feelings better than anyone at that moment.

But he couldn’t comfort Ji Yushi at such a time, nor could he interfere with what was about to happen next. Shocked, he could only suppress his agitation and quickly asked, “What do you plan to do?”

Ji Yushi parted his lips. “I plan to… continue.”

He resumed his steps, heading upstairs.

Seventeen years of clouds looming overhead.

He had been searching for a face he couldn’t remember, even thinking he had never seen it, but he had never considered that it was his own.

Everything was the cause, and everything was also the effect.

What he was doing now—how much of it had been done back then, and what had changed? He didn’t know. He could only follow his first instinct and act on it. Perhaps that was the only way to truly complete this circle—this was also the only way he could find the truth.

Hearing his answer, Song Qinglan’s voice in the private channel was terrifyingly low.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll stay here with you.”

Ji Yushi wasn’t sure if he had responded to this, maybe he had replied with a “Hmm,” or maybe not.

He stopped at the next floor.

He hadn’t noticed how his breathing had become so rapid, nor how fast his heart was beating.

In front of him was a familiar black old door.

A minute ago, eight-year-old Sheng Han had closed it and left for school.

Seventeen years ago, Ji Yushi had said his final goodbye to his father here.

He raised his hand and pressed the doorbell.

No answer.

He pressed it again, knowing that his father was still at home.

This time, the door opened.

A young professor wearing glasses appeared in the gap, looked at him, and asked, “Who are you?”

Hearing Sheng Yun’s voice, Song Qinglan’s breathing on the private channel suddenly tightened.

Ji Yushi’s eyelashes trembled slightly. It was unclear whether it was due to the simulated face or because he was so numb from the emotional collapse that he seemed calm and natural. “Hello, Professor Sheng, my name is Ji Yushi.”

Not Sheng Han.

Ji Yushi.

The name was a code, but it was enough to change the goal he had been pursuing all his life.

“Ji Yushi?”

“Yes, Professor Ji sent me. May I come in?”

Hearing that his friend had sent someone, and that person happened to have the same surname as him, Sheng Yun hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Come in.”

Ji Yushi stepped into the house.

No one knew how significant that step was for him.

The house, where only the father and son lived, had no feminine touch and was somewhat messy.

He turned his head and looked at the dried-up Boston fern on the round table in his memory. How many times had he thought in the middle of the night that he should have watered it more often?

“Please sit down.” Sheng Yun cleared away the clothes piled on the sofa to make room. “Sorry, the house is a bit messy.”

Ji Yushi: “Thank you.”

Sheng Yun had changed his clothes. He wasn’t wearing the outfit he had worn two or three minutes ago while having breakfast with Sheng Han.

In Ji Yushi’s memory, he clearly remembered that on this day, his father had worn a light gray shirt and black trousers during breakfast. His gaze shifted to the dining table not far away, where the dishes hadn’t been cleared. His father’s plate still had half a sandwich left—his father was usually very informal, and even if crumbs fell on his trousers during a meal, he wouldn’t bother changing as long as they weren’t visible. This had happened earlier during breakfast; his father had just patted the crumbs off his trousers and continued eating breakfast while taking notes.

But now, Sheng Yun in front of him had changed into beige trousers and even a different shirt.

As a guest, Sheng Yun went to pour water for Ji Yushi. “Why didn’t Professor Ji just call? Why did he bother to send you here? I usually would have left for work by this time.”

Ji Yushi: “I ran into your son just now, so I knew you were home.”

Sheng Yun’s voice came from the kitchen, “No wonder. When the doorbell rang earlier, I thought it was him forgetting something.”

Ji Yushi’s gaze fell on a stack of documents next to the bookshelf. These were the materials his father had organized—all his hard work over the past few years was in them.

They should have been in the study, but now they were in the living room.

He had recalled this countless times before, every time seeing that stack of documents, but why hadn’t he noticed this before?

The sound of water came from the kitchen.

It was Sheng Yun washing a glass.

Ji Yushi stood up and walked towards the stack of documents.

On top of the pile was the document his father had been writing at the dining table that morning, with his father’s transparent panel for work next to it.

He asked, “Are you packing up all these materials for a trip?”

The sound of water stopped.

Sheng Yun didn’t answer.

Ji Yushi instinctively took two steps forward, arriving at the study door.

The door was tightly shut, and blood was seeping out from under the doorframe. The bright red blood quietly flowed into the dark carpet, almost undetectable.

In an instant, Ji Yushi’s ears began to buzz.

Seventeen years ago, Sheng Han had come home from school to find his father’s body lying in a pool of blood in the study.

There was a soft “thud.”

Ji Yushi turned around. Behind him, Sheng Yun had set down a glass of water, leaving fingerprints on the rim.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of a clock.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Song Qinglan’s voice came through the private channel. “What’s wrong?!”

Ji Yushi looked at Sheng Yun and heard himself ask, “Who are you?”

Sheng Yun didn’t speak.

“Or rather, which year are you from?” Ji Yushi paused here for a moment, then quickly continued, answering the question for him with a statement, “I think you’re from a year ago, on April 6, 1435. That morning, you were about to leave for work when you realized you hadn’t had time to wash your matching clothes, so you had to hastily put together what you’re wearing now. These beige trousers were originally paired with a white shirt, but on October 14, 1434, after dinner, Sheng Han used the washing machine for the first time and accidentally ruined that shirt because he didn’t understand the symbols.”

The trivial details of life between father and son were recounted casually and with meticulous accuracy. Sheng Yun was wary: “Who are you?!”

Ji Yushi remained silent.

The bloodstain in the study continued to spread, darkening the color of the carpet.

By the time Sheng Han came home from school in the afternoon, the carpet would be completely soaked, the air filled with the smell of blood, and bloodstains would appear on the living room floor. Then, in his confusion, he would open the study door and see everything that would change his life.

Ji Yushi took out a small black-and-white game console. The back of it was worn and looked very old, as if it had been used for many years.

And now, on the side table where the water glass was placed, there was also a black, pristine game console, a small gift Sheng Yun had given his son a year ago.

Ji Yushi pushed the console forward.

Two game consoles, one old and one new, identical.

Sheng Yun was struck like lightning, and in that instant, he understood everything. He stood frozen, “You—”

Tears began to fall from Ji Yushi’s eyes.

Sheng Yun snapped out of it, rushed forward, but instead of going to Ji Yushi, he headed straight for the stack of documents and the transparent panel beside him.

Ji Yushi had never felt so cold.

Even when he was about to freeze to death on the

 Chaos mission, it didn’t compare to how he felt now: “Why?!”

Sheng Yun gathered the documents, took two steps, then stumbled back: “I had no choice but to do this!”

Ji Yushi still asked, “Why?!”

Tears streamed down Ji Yushi’s face, the face beneath the simulated one fragile and broken. The truth had pushed him to the brink of collapse, ignoring all reason and composure, and he hysterically demanded, “Why did you do this?!”

“Listen to me, this is the only way to escape that project!” Sheng Yun clutched the documents and the transparent panel tightly. “These materials are crucial to me. I’ve been planning this for a year. I couldn’t do it a year ago because there were still many puzzles left unsolved. I gave myself a year, and this year was enough for me to understand everything! So, a year later, I can definitely do it!”

Facing the young man who looked almost as tall as him, Sheng Yun couldn’t use the tone of a loving father. It was less about giving his son an explanation and more about giving him a complete account: “Humans are not gods. Time must continue in a linear fashion; no one can change its operation! I have to stop it!”

Ji Yushi’s lips trembled: “So you…”

To escape the project, to completely detach from it, did you kill yourself?!

Sheng Yun’s eyes were red: “I just didn’t expect to meet you, coming from the future, on the day I had planned!”

As he said this, tears also welled up in his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Separated by seventeen years and one year, they met in the room that held their shared memories.

Two time travelers with different goals.

“So this was all predestined?” Ji Yushi’s vision blurred, “You planned your death a year ago?”

“In a biological sense.” Time was running out, and Sheng Yun spoke quickly, “I will return to the time point from a year ago and from there jump to another time and space, maybe a few years later, or maybe twenty years later. I’ll stay there for as long as possible until my project is completed. I’ll find a better way to balance things so that time can move forward smoothly!”

“Sheng Han.”

“Dad didn’t really die,” he said, “You have to be strong.”

…

“The inspectors are coming.”

Ji Yushi trembled.

When he came to his senses, the house was empty, except for the increasing stench of blood emanating from the study.

He suddenly bolted for the door, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

What was meant to happen had already happened; it was not about changing history. But he still had more to say, more questions to ask!

Through the subcutaneous communicator, Ji Yushi shouted in the private channel: “Song Qinglan!”

As if on standby, Song Qinglan replied without a second’s pause, “I’m here.”

Hearing those two words, hearing Song Qinglan’s voice, Ji Yushi’s nose stung, and he nearly burst into tears again.

Without needing Ji Yushi to voice his request, Song Qinglan, who had been listening to everything from outside the community, fully understood his thoughts.

“Don’t worry.” The cold male voice was reassuring, “I see him.”

Ji Yushi ran past the camphor tree shade he had walked under as a child, out of the community that had housed his childhood memories for eight years.

At this moment, Ji Yushi was still thinking, no wonder the incident was ruled a suicide back then!

A person jumping from the present to the future to kill themselves, as long as they return to the original time and continue living without changing their mind after killing their future self, they can wait for their past self to kill them. This was a perfect loop, flawless.

Past and future intertwined, tangled like an unsolvable spider’s web.

The more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became.

Wait!

Ji Yushi stopped in his tracks. If that’s the case, then—on the day of his death, his father should have already known that he would encounter both his past self and his future self!

In the face of life and death, remaining calm and indifferent—what kind of determination and perseverance would that take?!

Ji Yushi had too many questions and too much dissatisfaction that he wanted to resolve.

He ran all the way out of the community, where the rain was still falling, and the bus across the street had just left, taking with it a group of busy commuters and students. Sheng Yun was more familiar with the surveillance system here than he was, so he definitely wouldn’t have gotten on that bus.

With the bus gone, the street was much quieter in the rain.

Ji Yushi suddenly looked in one direction, his breath quickening. With his keen eyesight, he saw Sheng Yun’s figure flash past, rushing into the shade of the yellow wood fragrance!

It was precisely where he and Song Qinglan had been earlier!

His expression tightened, and he gritted his teeth as he rushed toward the wooden shed behind the bench.

Through the heavy rain, he saw that Song Qinglan, using his grappling skills, had successfully restrained Sheng Yun and said something to him. Both of them turned to look at him, their expressions changing drastically.

“Watch out—”

“Bang—”

A silenced bullet shot out.

At that moment, time seemed to slow down infinitely.

Song Qinglan’s voice ripped through Ji Yushi’s ears, and at the same time, the bullet entered his body.

The feeling of the bullet tearing through muscle and bone was so familiar, first a heavy blow, then excruciating pain came crashing down. Blood splattered, and he slipped, falling into the mud.

It hurt so much.

Ji Yushi’s face pressed against the cold street, his eyelashes wet from the rain. He saw several people in dark blue uniforms, all armed and looking serious, emerge from a hidden spot on the street.

They were the inspectors who had arrived at the scene after the incident years ago.

And he had been mistaken for the killer described by Sheng Han.

Suddenly, someone pulled him into their arms, their face pressed against his, bringing a trace of warmth.

“How are you…?”

That person held him tightly, their voice trembling uncontrollably, almost inaudibly, as they repeatedly tried to press down on the wound in his chest.

“Ji Yushi, talk to me, answer me.”

Warm liquid continuously dripped onto Ji Yushi’s face. He struggled to open his eyes and saw an unfamiliar, unremarkable face crying, only recognizing the pair of black eyes.

He didn’t have Lin Xinlan’s ability to recognize Song Qinglan even when he used a simulated face, but he recognized those eyes.

“Song… Qinglan.”

He spoke unconsciously.

Song Qinglan’s hand was soaked in blood, and he kissed Ji Yushi’s forehead with cold lips: “… I’m here.”

Ji Yushi looked toward the wooden shed. Not far away, a figure knelt under the yellow wood, face filled with sorrow, not daring to step out of the shadow that concealed him.

On the other side, several inspectors were approaching them with guns drawn, and pedestrians on the roadside screamed.

Held in Song Qinglan’s arms, Ji Yushi didn’t want to move a finger. He actually wanted to tell Song Qinglan that this was what it meant to complete that “predetermined task.”

But he was really out of strength.

He exerted all his effort, managing only to mouth two words silently to that figure: “Run away.”

Go and do what you were meant to do.

Go to another time and space.

Go and find the balance that will emerge in a few decades, go and realize the mother system of the Sky Vault.

Let me, with my last strength, complete this circle.

The young professor, who had been bearing everything alone, finally disappeared under the wooden shed.

Ji Yushi felt a deep sense of calm.

The inspectors surrounded them, and facing their guns, Song Qinglan looked up and said something, roaring like an enraged beast.

Ji Yushi couldn’t hear it anymore.

Somehow, the trash can on the roadside had tipped over, and trash was scattered everywhere, revealing the small cake that the shop owner had given him.

Last time, he had forgotten the small cake on the bench.

This time, the sweet aroma of the small cake attracted stray animals scavenging through the trash.

The rain had lessened, the drizzle fine and dense.

It was like a layer of mist covering his eyes.

In his blurred vision, Ji Yushi saw three tiny kittens, seemingly just weaned, no more than two months old.

The mother cat was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were too hungry, meowing softly, barely able to walk steadily, yet eagerly nibbling at the sweet cake.

They were three little black kittens.

Their fur was pitch black, without a single strand of different color.