Author Archives: Thandar

Qin Weidong had set out early in the morning, still carrying the chill with him. Once Lin Wu came back to his senses, he quickly pulled him inside.

“Come in and warm your hands first!”

“Mm!” Qin Weidong stepped lightly into Lin Wu’s room, warming his hands by the radiator for a while. Then he pulled something out of his pocket, a grasshopper woven from straw. “Here!”

“What is this?” Grasshoppers were usually made from green grass, but this one was made from yellow straw. The craftsmanship was rough, and it didn’t quite look like one.

“I saw some kids at my uncle’s house playing with these yesterday, so I tried making one. What do you think?” Qin Weidong asked, his eyes bright. It was his first time making one, and he had wanted to give it to Lin Wu ever since finishing it.

“It looks pretty good.” Lin Wu examined it carefully. It wasn’t particularly well made, not as neat as the ones he used to make as a kid. He placed it into a glass jar on the desk, adding a few paper stars inside, then said, “I like it.”

Seeing that he really did like it, Qin Weidong sat on the bed with a smile. “The leaves right now are too yellow, so it doesn’t look great. In the summer, we can use palm leaves. Those turn out much nicer.”

“Okay.” Lin Wu listened attentively as Qin Weidong talked about the past couple of days. Then Qin Weidong pulled out two tickets from his coat. “I found these in my dad’s car. There’s a whole stack, all from his business partners. Want to go check it out this afternoon?” They were VIP passes.

“What time?” Lin Wu asked.

“They close at ten. If we get there around two or three, that’s fine.”

“Alright. Go freshen up first. It’s still early, we can get a bit more sleep.” It was only 6:10, and the entire neighborhood was quiet.

“Okay!” Qin Weidong set an alarm for noon, took off his socks and shoes, and as Lin Wu stepped out to heat some water, by the time he came back, Qin Weidong had already stripped down to his thermal layers and climbed into Lin Wu’s blanket.

“My blanket is too cold. I don’t feel like warming it up again,” he said from under the covers.

“…Mm.” Qin Weidong had been climbing into his blanket often these days. Lin Wu didn’t say anything, just pulled the curtains and got in as well.

Qin Weidong naturally wrapped an arm around him, and the two of them fell back asleep together.

At three in the afternoon, they took a taxi to the amusement park. It was the New Year holiday, and the place was packed. With VIP passes, they skipped the lines and had a great time.

At 7:50, they boarded the Ferris wheel.

“There’s a fireworks show at eight. We should be able to see it from the top,” Qin Weidong said. The cabin held just the two of them. From inside, they could see out, but people outside couldn’t see in. He sat down beside Lin Wu right away.

“This is my first time on a Ferris wheel,” Lin Wu said, looking around curiously. Xuhu hadn’t had one before. He had only seen it on TV.

“Mine too.” Qin Weidong had gone to amusement parks before with Qin Jianzhang, but he didn’t like thrill rides. The Ferris wheel wasn’t thrilling, but he had always thought it pointless, going up just to come down again.

As the wheel slowly began to move, he quietly took Lin Wu’s hand. It felt surprisingly nice.

Lin Wu glanced down but didn’t pull away.

The entire ride lasted twenty minutes. At eight, the wheel reached its highest point. Fireworks burst across the sky, dazzling and brilliant. From their height, they could see the nightscape of Xuhu spread out below, the whole world wrapped in lights and shimmering color.

Lin Wu watched, delighted.

At that moment, Qin Weidong turned slightly and leaned in, placing a light kiss at the corner of Lin Wu’s lips.

The world suddenly fell silent.

All Lin Wu could see were Qin Weidong’s eyelashes and his face, so close. Seeing him frozen, Qin Weidong, still unsatisfied, leaned in and kissed him again before reluctantly sitting back.

Even though it was just a simple kiss, neither of them opening their mouths or going further, it felt different. Their hearts raced, far more intensely than before.

“You…” Lin Wu wanted to ask why he had kissed him, but he felt that if he said it out loud, something between them would change. He didn’t know whether that would be good or bad, so he stiffly changed the subject. “Should we get something to eat when we get down?”

“Lin Wu…” Qin Weidong lightly scratched his palm, wanting to take the chance to ask if Lin Wu liked him.

“We’re close to the college entrance exams,” Lin Wu said after a pause.

Qin Weidong understood. He didn’t want to affect Lin Wu at such a critical time. After thinking for a moment, he leaned his head against Lin Wu’s shoulder instead. “I really want the exams to be over soon.”

After three seconds, Lin Wu softly replied, “Mm.”

Five minutes later, they got off the Ferris wheel.

“What do you want to eat?” Qin Weidong asked.

“Fried skewers?” Lin Wu had only said it to change the topic, so he wasn’t sure.

“Alright!” Qin Weidong led him to a crowded skewer stand. There were many people in line, but the variety was great.

“Vegetarian patties, chicken cutlets, meatballs, veggie rolls…” Qin Weidong ordered a bunch based on Lin Wu’s taste, then asked, “Do you want chili?”

Lin Wu liked spicy food, but not too spicy. After hesitating, he said, “Mild.”

“Got it, everything mild!” Qin Weidong said confidently.

Five minutes later, they each held a bundle of skewers and left.

“No, this is too spicy.” As they walked and ate, Lin Wu took a bite and felt the heat shoot straight to his head.

“That spicy?” Qin Weidong asked.

“Yeah, it’s stronger than the market ones.”

“I’ll try.” They stopped in a dim corner. Qin Weidong hadn’t ordered that item, so he leaned in and took a bite directly from Lin Wu’s hand.

“…Too spicy. You won’t be able to eat this. Give them to me, and we’ll buy more outside.” After tasting it, he frowned and naturally took the skewers from Lin Wu.

“…Okay.” After a moment’s hesitation, Lin Wu handed them over.

It was now 8:30. After the fireworks show, many people began leaving the amusement park. The two of them walked toward the exit together. Even though they tried to be careful in public, as they walked side by side, they couldn’t help brushing hands or shoulders from time to time. To an outsider, it looked like ordinary closeness between friends, but on closer inspection, there was an unmistakable hint of something more.

“President Qin, what are you looking at?” Not far away, someone followed Qin Jianzhang’s gaze and asked curiously.

“Nothing…” Qin Jianzhang had returned from his hometown at three in the afternoon. After meeting business partners for dinner nearby, he had come to watch the fireworks, not expecting to see his son.

His son had seemed distracted last night, eager to come back. He had thought something important had come up. Now it seemed… he had simply made plans to come to the amusement park with someone.

Qin Jianzhang watched the direction they were leaving, frowning.

Over the next three days, Lin Wu and Qin Weidong fell back into their routine of sticking together, going to school together, coming home together, sleeping side by side. During that time, Qin Weidong went home once, then came back again the next day.

At noon on January 7, Lin Wu went out alone to buy food. Just as he reached the entrance, he ran into a familiar figure—

“Classmate Lin, we’ve met before. You remember me, right?” The man looked about thirty, wearing a leather jacket. It was Zhao Hongyu.

“Mr. Zhao,” Lin Wu greeted, puzzled. He had met him before when Qin Weidong was hospitalized.

“Our President Qin, Xiao Dong’s father, would like to have a meal with you. The car is just up ahead. It won’t take long. Do you have time now?” Zhao Hongyu asked politely, even using formal address despite Lin Wu being just a high school student.

“…Alright.” After a moment’s hesitation, Lin Wu followed him.

The car window rolled down. In the back seat sat a middle-aged man with a commanding presence.

“Hello, I’m Qin Jianzhang.” He looked Lin Wu up and down as he spoke.

The dream ended.

…

Lin Wu woke up again.

This was a memory from this life. Aside from seeing it from his own perspective, he had also glimpsed parts of it from a third-person view. This time, the memory update stopped at January 6. Along with his own and Qin Weidong’s memories, he had even seen fragments from the synchronized timeline on the 18th.

He found it kind of interesting. Before, memories would refresh at 10:12 each night. Now… every time he slept, it was like watching episodes of his own life unfold.

It was 7:20. After getting up, Lin Wu brushed his teeth while recalling the contents of last night’s dream. This seemed to cover the period from Sun Xiaotao’s arrest up until Qin Weidong left the country. From what he had learned yesterday, in this timeline, Qin Weidong still went abroad around January 2005, just like before.

Then he thought of where the memory had paused—Qin Jianzhang.

He hadn’t asked much yesterday about their relationships with others. He only knew that Qin Jianzhang and Wang Manshan were aware that he and Qin Weidong were together. Based on the dream, the next scene should be Qin Jianzhang pulling out a check and saying something like: leave my son?

The thought amused him. Most of his interactions with Qin Jianzhang had been in the previous timeline. No matter what, Qin Jianzhang clearly loved his son deeply.

Ten minutes later, Lin Wu walked into the living room.

“You’re up early today. I was just about to wake you,” Qin Weidong said, standing in the kitchen frying eggs.

“I woke up early. Couldn’t fall back asleep.” Lin Wu sat at the dining table and asked, “What time are you heading out later?”

“Nine. I probably won’t be back until around seven tonight.” Qin Weidong brought the eggs over, sounding a bit helpless. Lin Wu had lost his memory, and he had originally wanted to stay home to take care of him, but there was a government-related internet conference he couldn’t reschedule.

“I lost my memory, not my ability to live,” Lin Wu said with a smile. “Don’t worry.”

“…Alright.” Even as he said that, Qin Weidong still looked a bit uneasy. Before leaving, he asked, “Is there anything you want to eat? I can bring it back tonight.”

“Nothing for now. I’ll check the shopping app later. If I want anything, I’ll just order it.”

“Okay. I’ll head out then. If anything happens, call me. Or call the company…”

“Got it!”

After repeating his reminders several times, Qin Weidong finally left.

Left alone, Lin Wu first sorted through some work matters, then thought of last night’s dream… and Qin Jianzhang.

He picked up his phone, planning to find Qin Jianzhang’s contact information. To his surprise, he found it immediately under the “Q” section. He then opened WeChat, intending to search for his contact there as well. There were over three hundred contacts, and he hadn’t paid much attention when scrolling before.

Just as he was about to search carefully, his phone rang.

Caller: Qin Jianzhang.

Lin Wu paused, then answered.

“Xiao Wu, something this big happened to you and you didn’t tell me? I only found out because a friend of mine saw you at the hospital. You’re at home now, right? Wait there, I’m almost at your neighborhood. About ten minutes.”

Lin Wu had always thought of Qin Jianzhang as reserved and composed. It was the first time he had heard him sound this open.

“…I’m home.”

“I’ll be there soon. See you in a bit!” Qin Jianzhang said before hanging up.

Lin Wu stared at his phone, a little dazed.

It seemed… in this life, his relationship with Qin Jianzhang might actually be quite good.

✧˖°.──⋆⭒˚.⋆💌⋆⭒˚.⋆──✧˖°.

Next

Maybe it was because of what he had seen in the purchase history, but during his midday nap, Lin Wu had a strange dream—

In the dream, in a pitch-dark room, he was tangled on the bed with a man. The man had his back to him, the muscles along his back smooth and defined, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin. They moved together intensely, and after a long while, it was like fireworks going off. Exhausted, they lay there for a moment, then got up together to shower and sleep.

Through the hazy blur, he saw their faces—

Himself, and Qin Weidong.

They lay under the same blanket, like two vines intertwined. At the bedside was a black electronic watch.

Then the dream ended.

…

Haa—

Lin Wu woke up.

“Mr. Lin, for dinner tonight, would you like stir-fried pork or shrimp with cucumber?” The caregiver was tidying the room and asked when she saw he was awake. Those were two dishes he had mentioned the night before.

“Stir-fried pork,” Lin Wu answered casually, then checked the time. 5:20.

“Alright, Mr. Lin.”

After the caregiver left, Lin Wu thought back to the dream—

It had felt like watching a very real adult film. Before sleeping, he had been thinking about who was on top and who was on the bottom. He hadn’t expected to dream something like that… and in it, he had been the one pressing Qin Weidong down.

A little embarrassed, he calmed himself, then went back to scrolling through the purchase history.

And then—

In the shopping cart, he saw a black electronic watch.

Exactly the same as the one in the dream.

That hadn’t been a dream. It was something that had actually happened in this life.

…

“The hospital parking lot entrance is frozen over. A lot of cars can’t get in, and there’s already a line of more than thirty outside.”

At seven that evening, Qin Weidong arrived early at the hospital, holding an umbrella. It was cold, a thin layer of frost settling on his shoulders.

“Where did you park?” Lin Wu asked.

“At a mall nearby.” Qin Weidong hung his coat on the rack, then asked, “How are you feeling today?”

“Nothing serious. I can be discharged tomorrow.”

There were medical records by the bedside. After hearing that, Qin Weidong looked through them carefully, more seriously than if he were reviewing a classified file.

Lin Wu watched his profile. From any angle, Qin Weidong looked handsome. But with only his high school memories and past timelines, facing this version of Qin Weidong in a new ending made him strangely nervous.

…

“Why did you come out in weather like this?”

At the same time in 2004, seventeen-year-old Lin Wu stepped out of the police station and saw Qin Weidong waiting.

After Sun Xiaotao was arrested the night before, Lin Wu had been at the station from then until now, cooperating with the investigation. He had only just been released.

“I didn’t have anything else to do, so I came to check on you,” Qin Weidong said. Snow was falling lightly. He wore a white down jacket and carried a bag. Inside were a scarf and hat he had just bought. He took them out and helped Lin Wu put them on.

“How’s my mom?” Lin Wu asked, letting him fuss.

“She was just frightened. When I left, she was fine. Aunt Hao is with her at your place,” Qin Weidong replied.

Lin Wu let out a breath. “That’s good.”

Just then, an officer came out. “I was just looking for you. Didn’t expect you to already be out. Come on, I’ll drive you back.”

“It’s okay, I can go by myself,” Lin Wu said.

“I’ve got to head to the steel plant anyway. And you’ve been here all day, we can’t just leave you to figure it out yourself.” The officer smiled, then looked at Qin Weidong. “You’re his classmate, right? I saw you waiting earlier. Come on, get in.”

“When did you get here?” Lin Wu asked.

“Not long ago.”

“Almost two hours. He was waiting in the lobby at first, then came over here when it took too long,” the officer explained.

“…Thank you,” Lin Wu said softly.

“I had nothing better to do anyway,” Qin Weidong replied lightly. He wanted to ruffle Lin Wu’s hair, but with the officer there, he held back.

Twenty minutes later, they were back at the residential complex.

“Here. The message from 2024 yesterday. I was with Uncle Wang at the time, so I didn’t get a chance to reply.” Qin Weidong handed him the phone.

Lin Wu looked at it. The message confirmed that Sun Xiaotao was indeed the killer of Luo Xiaorong. After his arrest, Wang Manshan’s family, Li Jing, Lin Wu, and Qin Weidong all went on to live smooth, successful lives.

“It’s finally over…” Lin Wu exhaled.

The case of Luo Xiaorong’s attempted murder had involved three perpetrators: Guo Chengchun, Zhao Fangli, and Sun Xiaotao. Now everything had settled. Their profiles all matched what he had seen in the fifteenth timeline. The case was completely resolved.

“You’re not mad anymore, right?” As they walked, Qin Weidong looked ahead, but quietly reached over with his right hand, hooking Lin Wu’s hand and lightly scratching his palm. He meant the earlier incident of sending messages without telling him.

“I’m not mad anymore. But don’t let it happen again,” Lin Wu said. He had already calmed down, but still felt it had been too risky.

“I promise it won’t!” Qin Weidong grinned.

At 8:30, the two of them arrived home.

“Your mom had some porridge and buns tonight. She’s fine now. After a night’s sleep, she’ll be completely better.” Hao Shuqin had been staying with Luo Xiaorong the whole time. When she saw Lin Wu return, she stood up and said this.

“Thank you, Aunt Hao. I’ve really troubled you and Uncle Wang!” Ever since calling the police yesterday, everything had been chaotic. Without Hao Shuqin’s family helping out, he wouldn’t have been able to focus on cooperating with the investigation.

“It’s no trouble. Everyone in the compound has been talking about this. Who would’ve thought something like this could happen…” Hao Shuqin had seen Sun Xiaotao at the steel plant before and thought he was quite friendly. She never imagined he was a potential murderer. After saying that, she looked at Qin Weidong. “Xiao Qin, are you staying here tonight?”

“Yes, Auntie. It’s not easy to get a taxi back now,” Qin Weidong replied.

“Something this big just happened, you should stay and keep Lin Wu company these next few days.” Hao Shuqin had a good impression of him. She checked the time. “Your Uncle Wang is still waiting for me at home, so I’ll head back first.”

“Alright, Aunt Hao. Take care on the way,” Lin Wu said, seeing her out. Then he went to Luo Xiaorong’s room to check on her. She was already asleep, her brows relaxed, looking fine.

He returned to his room. Qin Weidong had already made the bed.

“Still going to read tonight?” Qin Weidong asked.

“No, I need to rest,” Lin Wu said with a small laugh. So much had happened these past two days, he couldn’t focus on reading at all.

They took their things and went to the bathhouse. After everything that had happened, they went straight to bed when they got back. They turned off the lights and pulled the blackout curtains aside, leaving only a sheer layer. Dim moonlight filtered in, so the room wasn’t completely dark.

Lin Wu lay there, staring at the ceiling.

“Now that Sun Xiaotao’s been caught, everything will be fine from now on,” Qin Weidong said, turning onto his side to reassure him.

“Mm.” Lin Wu wasn’t worried about Luo Xiaorong anymore. He was just processing everything that had happened over the past two days. There was a strange sense of relief, as if a heavy weight on his chest had finally lifted.

Seeing him still lost in thought, Qin Weidong scooted closer. “I’m wearing my pajamas tonight.”

“Hm?” Lin Wu didn’t understand.

“They’re freshly washed too. Pretty clean.” As he spoke, Qin Weidong pushed aside his own blanket, pulled his pillow closer, lifted Lin Wu’s blanket, and squeezed inside.

Lin Wu: …

“You can lean on me.” After squeezing in, Qin Weidong turned sideways and gently pressed Lin Wu’s head toward his shoulder. He wasn’t thinking anything suggestive. The day had been meaningful, and he felt Lin Wu needed some comfort, maybe a kind of quiet celebration.

Lin Wu stiffened at the contact.

They had done other things before, brushed hands, held waists, touched, but they had never hugged like this. He had never leaned on someone’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Qin Weidong noticed how tense he was.

“I’m not used to this…” Lin Wu said.

“Try it. My pajamas are really warm.” Qin Weidong gestured at his fluffy sleeve. The fabric looked soft and comfortable.

Lin Wu tried, just a little.

It felt broad, steady, reassuring.

“…Sorry. I’m still not used to it.” After three seconds, he pulled away.

He could accept Qin Weidong’s other gestures, but not this. Leaning on someone’s shoulder felt too vulnerable, too easy to grow dependent on. It made him want to stop immediately.

“Not used to it?” Qin Weidong was a bit puzzled. No one had leaned on his shoulder before, but classmates had joked that his build looked comfortable. He hadn’t expected Lin Wu to dislike it.

He thought for a moment, then shifted down slightly. One arm slipped behind Lin Wu’s lower back, the other rested at his waist, pulling him closer. Then he leaned his head against Lin Wu’s shoulder. “What about this?”

There was a warm, sweet feeling in his chest. He just wanted to be close.

Lin Wu felt awkward, but after a moment said, “Fine…” Maybe it was because it was cold. Having a warm human presence under the blanket wasn’t so bad.

At 10:12, the time channel opened.

After finishing his conversation with 2024, Lin Wu pulled the curtains shut and returned to bed.

Getting in and out of bed had let in a bit of cold air, but Qin Weidong quickly wrapped an arm around him, and the chill disappeared.

Lin Wu looked at the head resting on his shoulder. After hesitating, he gently patted it, then went to sleep.

He didn’t ask why Qin Weidong had insisted on getting into his blanket, and Qin Weidong didn’t explain why he wanted to hold him.

They simply fell asleep quietly, deeply, and peacefully.

…

“This is where we live now. Your bedroom is the one on the left. It has its own bathroom, walk-in closet, and workspace. It’s about 2.7 kilometers from your school, and you usually leave around 7:30 in the morning…”

On December 19, 2024, Qin Weidong and the caregiver helped Lin Wu back into the apartment. It was a 270-square-meter high-rise flat they had bought together, with five bedrooms and three living areas. The style was modern and minimalist, but the furnishings and decor felt warm and lived-in.

“Mm…” Lin Wu leaned on his crutches, looking around with curiosity. His leg had a minor fracture. Once healed, it wouldn’t affect his walking, and he should recover in about a month.

“Mr. Lin, Mr. Qin, here are the braces and topical medications. I’ll leave them here. If you need anything, feel free to contact me anytime,” the caregiver said as she set things down.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” The caregiver left, and in the blink of an eye, only Lin Wu and Qin Weidong remained in the apartment.

“Sit on the sofa and rest. I’ll cook,” Qin Weidong said, helping Lin Wu onto a beige couch that was soft and comfortable.

He went to change clothes. When he came back out, he was wearing warm-toned loungewear and an apron, already busy in the kitchen. It was an open kitchen, so Lin Wu could clearly see his movements. He looked very practiced.

“Did you cook for me often before?” Lin Wu asked, a little curious.

“Sometimes I cooked, sometimes you did. We’re both pretty good,” Qin Weidong replied with a smile.

Lin Wu nodded. Then he noticed a photo frame on a cabinet in the distance. Supporting himself with his crutches, he went over to take a closer look.

It was a photo of him and Qin Weidong, both around thirty years old, standing on a grassy lawn in a park. They were smiling brightly. In their arms was a large golden retriever, with a little pink flower tucked behind its ear, looking just as adorable.

Looking at the photo, Lin Wu couldn’t help but smile.

Ten minutes later, the food was ready.

“We used to have a golden retriever?” Lin Wu had seen pictures of it while scrolling through the album the day before.

“That was Maomao. We got him in 2016.” At the time, both of them had stable jobs. Lin Wu suddenly said he wanted a dog, so they went to a pet shop together and picked him out.

“What about Maomao?” Lin Wu asked.

“He got lost.” Qin Weidong paused.

Maomao had gone missing five years ago. By then, he had learned how to open the house lock. One day, when neither of them was home, he slipped out and was never found again.

They checked nearby surveillance footage. Maomao had been drugged and taken away. They eventually found the suspect, someone who had stolen and sold dogs for the first time. He had sold Maomao at a dog market, and then Maomao was bought by someone else and never traced again.

They had been devastated. Lin Wu had been so distraught during that time that he lost five pounds in a short period. In the end, they could only comfort themselves with the thought that Maomao was good-looking and likely hadn’t been sold for meat. It took them years to move past it.

Besides Maomao, they had also taken in a stray cat named Big Orange. Big Orange had passed away peacefully three years ago.

“…He got lost.” Even without the memories of this timeline, Lin Wu felt a quiet sadness.

Qin Weidong didn’t go to work that afternoon. Instead, he told Lin Wu about their life in this timeline. Mostly, Qin Weidong spoke while Lin Wu listened. It felt like he was sitting in on someone else’s story.

“Don’t worry about the memory loss for now. The most important thing is to recover from your injury first. You can slowly remember the rest later,” Qin Weidong said at ten that night, handing him a glass of milk.

“Okay.” Lin Wu lay down under the covers.

Aside from the forehead kiss on the first day, they hadn’t had any further intimate contact.

Lin Wu still had his high school memories, but they were both thirty-seven now. He hadn’t completely lost his adult reasoning, and to him, the current Qin Weidong still felt somewhat like a stranger. So they remained in an awkward space, both familiar and unfamiliar at once.

After Qin Weidong left, Lin Wu fell asleep. Memories from this timeline began to surface again—

…

From December 18 to 23, 2004, aside from going to the police station to assist with the investigation, Lin Wu spent the rest of his time going to and from school with Qin Weidong, and sleeping at home.

On the evening of the 23rd, things at the police station were mostly settled. The two of them rode their bicycles home after school. As they passed that familiar path, Qin Weidong naturally wrapped an arm around Lin Wu’s waist.

“Our school is holding an all-student assembly the day after tomorrow. No one’s allowed to skip. We won’t be able to go to the amusement park anymore. Why would they pick Christmas of all days to do this…”

He had been looking forward to the amusement park for days, and now it all felt ruined.

“We still have classes that day. Even if your school didn’t have the assembly, we couldn’t go anyway,” Lin Wu said with a smile as he pedaled.

“I’ve wanted to go for a long time.” Qin Weidong pressed his face against Lin Wu’s back, sounding a little down.

“We should have three days off for New Year’s. Want to go then?” Lin Wu suggested after thinking for a moment. The school hadn’t officially announced it yet, but rumors were circulating. For senior year, three days counted as a long break.

“Okay!” Qin Weidong immediately brightened.

A week later, both schools announced the three-day break. Qin Weidong wanted to go to the amusement park on the first, but Qin Jianzhang had just returned from a business trip and wanted to take him back to their hometown to visit his grandparents.

“I’ll probably be back on the afternoon of the second…” Qin Weidong texted Lin Wu, reluctant.

“It’s fine. I’ll be home these few days. Just let me know when you’re back,” Lin Wu replied seriously.

Qin Weidong went back to his hometown. Lin Wu stayed in his room and suddenly felt it was a little empty.

Qin Weidong had left on the afternoon of the 31st. Lin Wu waited for him, but there were many family obligations back home. When they finally met again, it was six in the morning on the third.

“I was going to come back yesterday afternoon, but my dad kept dragging me to visit relatives. This morning, Zhao-ge was heading into the city, so I hitched a ride back with him.”

At six in the morning, outside Lin Wu’s door, Qin Weidong stood there in a yellow down jacket and a beige scarf. He hadn’t told Lin Wu in advance, so Lin Wu, still groggy from sleep, was completely stunned when he saw him.

✧˖°.──⋆⭒˚.⋆💌⋆⭒˚.⋆──✧˖°.

“Don’t have the memories of the new ending?” Qin Weidong froze for a moment.

“You know about this phone, right?” Lin Wu looked at the phone in his hand, then at him, asking cautiously.

He remembered that in the twentieth ending, Qin Weidong had said he’d sensed something off about the unknown number from the very beginning, even guessed it might be his future self.

“I know. You’re the unknown number. At each new endpoint, you regain memories of the previous endings. The last time we contacted 2024 was December 16, 2004, so today you should’ve recovered those memories.” Qin Weidong frowned. “You don’t remember anything?”

“Not the current timeline. My last memory stops at December 16 in high school, plus the previous twenty-one endings.” As Lin Wu spoke, his thoughts drifted back to last night—

Last night, after watching a movie with Qin Weidong in the theater, the surroundings shifted, and he returned to Xuhu Hotel, while also receiving the new ending and the memories of the night of December 16, 2004.

…

“Last night the unknown number sent a message. I opened a new ending…” Qin Weidong said at 10:00 p.m., December 16, 2004.

“What message?” Lin Wu was startled.

“They said Aunt Luo would have an incident on the night of the 17th. I tried to rewrite the outcome…”

The principle of these timelines was like this: if person A is going to eat beef noodles tomorrow, they haven’t eaten them yet now, but for the A twenty years later, it has already happened.

Before, Lin Wu was that “person A.” Changing Luo Xiaorong’s fate was like “tomorrow’s beef noodles.” He had always been the one pushing the outcome forward.

But after yesterday’s message, Qin Weidong didn’t tell him. He became “person A” himself.

“You should’ve told me.” Seventeen-year-old Lin Wu was upset. Acting without discussion felt like crossing a line, and risky.

“I just wanted to try. We’ll get the new ending today. If there’s no message or something’s off, we can still change things…” Qin Weidong explained quickly, knowing he was in the wrong.

He had already thought it through. The reset point was the 16th, and Luo Xiaorong’s incident was on the 17th. If they didn’t get a good result, they still had time.

Worst case, they could just stay with her every day and not let her go to work. No matter what, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Lin Wu’s mother.

“I just wanted to help you,” Qin Weidong added. He still remembered that ending where Lin Wu got caught up in the factory incident. He didn’t want that to happen again.

“I appreciate you lending me the phone. But something this important… I don’t want it to happen again.” Lin Wu understood his intentions, but still didn’t like how it was done.

“I promise. It won’t happen again!” Qin Weidong said seriously.

After that, Lin Wu sat down, organizing his thoughts about Luo Xiaorong’s case. Qin Weidong sat on the bed. Silence settled between them.

Qin Weidong stayed quiet, worried he had angered him. Lin Wu stayed quiet because everything had happened too suddenly.

At 10:12, the channel opened.

[Is there a new ending?] Lin Wu immediately sent.

[On the night of December 17, Qin Weidong went to the second factory building and was attacked, becoming a vegetative patient. Luo Xiaorong is safe. When attacked, Qin Weidong tore a pen cap from the killer. No fingerprints. Cold case. Based on previous details, the pen cap belongs to Sun Xiaotao, a factory gate guard. Combining details, the killer is very likely Sun Xiaotao…]

In 2024, Lin Wu received the memory and immediately relayed everything.

[Qin Weidong became a vegetative patient?] Lin Wu froze at the words.

[Yes. Like Wang Jiahui in the first ending.]

In that first ending, Wang Jiahui’s muscles atrophied rapidly. The unknown number didn’t describe details, but both of them understood what that meant.

Over the next ten minutes, they discussed what to do next. Then the channel closed.

“Thank you…” Lin Wu said after it ended, looking at Qin Weidong with mixed emotions.

“It’s nothing. I didn’t know I’d end up like that either…” Qin Weidong looked baffled, then added quickly, “Being in a vegetative state is like sleeping. No pain, no feeling. We’ll have a new ending tomorrow. Don’t overthink it.”

“…Mm.” Lin Wu answered softly.

…

“So Sun Xiaotao really is the killer?” Lin Wu asked in the 2024 hospital room, first concerned about the past.

“Yes,” Qin Weidong replied.

In endings seven through fifteen, the killer seemed to anticipate all their actions. Lin Wu had even followed Sun Xiaotao at one point, yet Luo Xiaorong still died, so they ruled him out.

In endings seventeen through nineteen, Zhao Fangli was arrested, and the killer had no intent to act.

In the twentieth and twenty-first endings, the killer acted again. But unlike the timelines where Lin Wu died, the killer didn’t anticipate Qin Weidong lying in wait. It was as if he had suddenly become less cautious.

“It’s not that he became careless,” Qin Weidong said quietly. “He just couldn’t be as careful as he was in the beginning anymore…”

Linking all the endings together leads to a reasonable conclusion:

In the original timeline, Zhao Fangli and Sun Xiaotao were acting together. Zhao Fangli targeted high school girls, while Sun Xiaotao targeted Luo Xiaorong. Their cooperation likely formed sometime between October 21 and November 20, the period between Li Jing’s attack and Luo Xiaorong’s incident.

After intervention, Zhao Fangli was arrested on October 21. At that point, she had not yet formed any partnership with Sun Xiaotao. That also explains why, no matter how the police interrogated her, she never admitted to having an accomplice—because there truly wasn’t one yet.

From October 21 to December 9, once the timeline where they would have collaborated was altered, Sun Xiaotao had no intent to kill. It wasn’t until December 9, when he saw Luo Xiaorong again and formed the intent, that everything that followed was set in motion.

“So you’re saying that in endings seven through fifteen, they were working together?” seventeen-year-old Lin Wu asked after hearing the theory from his thirty-seven-year-old self.

“They both worked at the steel plant. Sun Xiaotao monitored the surveillance, and Zhao Fangli had freedom of movement. In theory, it’s feasible,” Lin Wu said.

He suspected that in those earlier timelines, Zhao Fangli carried out the attacks while Sun Xiaotao coordinated things.

Since Sun Xiaotao controlled the surveillance, he could see all routes leading to the crime scene. That would explain why, even when Lin Wu and Wang Manshan tried to set up an ambush, nothing happened that day.

Sun Xiaotao was extremely cautious. No matter how well they prepared, if he sensed even the slightest anomaly, he would abort the plan. For example, if he noticed someone entering a path and not coming out, or if he pretended to patrol while actually watching over Zhao Fangli’s surroundings—any of these were possible.

“This is all my analysis. I can’t say with absolute certainty that he’s the killer,” Lin Wu added.

“So tomorrow, do we continue the operation, or stop my mom from going to the factory?” the seventeen-year-old Lin Wu asked.

“Continue,” Lin Wu answered without hesitation.

They already knew the killer’s timing, entry point, and method. If they gave up this chance, they might fall into another unfavorable timeline. More importantly, they didn’t know whether the time-message system might change again. If Luo Xiaorong’s death became a fixed point, everything would be irreversible.

“Okay!” the younger Lin Wu agreed. “Then what do we do?”

“Call the police.”

This time, the purpose of calling the police was similar to when Li Jing was attacked. But instead of sending an anonymous letter, Lin Wu would go in person.

…

“I’m here to see Officer Xu…” On the morning of the 17th, Lin Wu took leave from school and walked into the criminal investigation unit, looking tense.

“Which Officer Xu?” a staff member asked.

“Officer Xu Qingtao.”

“Captain Xu is out on business right now. You can register first,” the staff member said, taking out paper and a pen.

“Please call him and tell him three words: ‘wutong tree,’ ‘News Broadcast,’ and ‘mop.’ He’ll understand.”

“Huh?” The staff member found it strange, but Xu Lake was a small city, and regulations in 2004 weren’t strict. Seeing that Lin Wu didn’t seem like a troublemaker, he decided to make the call.

Xu Qingtao had just arrived in the county when he picked up.

“What is it?”

“Captain Xu, there’s a high school student here looking for you…” the staff member explained.

“Wutong tree, News Broadcast, mop?” Xu Qingtao shot up from his chair.

“Yes…”

“Is he still there? If he is, put him on the phone!”

“Okay!”

“Hello?” Lin Wu spoke.

“How do you know those words?” Xu Qingtao’s voice was urgent. Those were the key phrases from the prediction they had received before Zhao Fangli’s arrest.

“Officer Xu, do you have time? I’d like to speak in person. It’s urgent…”

“I do. Right now. Stay there, I’ll be there in about forty minutes!”

He immediately handed off his current work and drove back. The thirty-kilometer trip took him only half an hour.

“Where is he?” Xu Qingtao asked as soon as he entered.

“Officer Xu.” Lin Wu stood up.

Three minutes later, they were in a private office.

“How do you know those words?” Xu Qingtao asked sharply.

After receiving the anonymous letter, they had verified its predictions and followed its instructions to set up an ambush, successfully arresting Zhao Fangli. It had been a major case, and the details were classified.

As he spoke, he studied Lin Wu—a clean-cut, well-mannered student with a calm demeanor.

“Officer Xu, I received two strange letters…” Lin Wu took them out.

The handwriting was deliberately messy.

The first letter contained five predictions: TV broadcast errors, News Broadcast content, natural disasters.

The second predicted Luo Xiaorong’s death.

“I received the first letter yesterday morning. I thought it was a prank. But when I got home and watched the news replay, everything matched. Even a neighbor’s argument came true…”

Both letters were actually written by them. Before sending them, the three of them had discussed whether to remain anonymous or have Lin Wu come in person.

“I’ll go myself,” Lin Wu had decided.

Previously, they had used anonymous letters because if something went wrong, they could still rewrite the outcome. But Luo Xiaorong’s incident was set to happen tonight. Once that moment passed, there would be no turning back. Lin Wu had to know every detail of the police’s actions to ensure her safety.

“Captain Xu, the letter says my mom might be harmed tonight, and told me to come find you. I know this sounds strange, but yesterday’s predictions all came true. I’m really scared…” Lin Wu said, his tone tense in a way that fit a high school student.

Xu Qingtao studied the letter carefully. It listed the time and location of Luo Xiaorong’s possible attack and suggested that the killer might be Sun Xiaotao, describing him as cautious, familiar with surveillance, and likely to abort if anything seemed off. It also warned that any police deployment would need to be handled carefully.

At the end, the anonymous sender clarified that identifying Sun Xiaotao was only a hypothesis, hoping not to interfere with the investigation.

“Where did you receive this letter?” Xu Qingtao asked seriously.

“In my bicycle basket this morning before I left home.”

The surveillance cameras in their bike shed were broken, and with people constantly coming and going, it would be impossible to trace.

As for the first letter’s five predictions… they had written it themselves the night before, based on events that had already happened during the day, so everything could be verified without needing input from 2024.

With the credibility of the earlier letters, they believed the police would take this seriously.

“Xiao Liu, call everyone. Emergency meeting!” Xu Qingtao ordered immediately. Whether the predictions were real or not, a potential murder case meant they had to prepare as if it were.

All of this had happened earlier that day. Lin Wu, now without the new memories, didn’t remember any of it.

…

“How’s my mom?” Lin Wu asked, shifting his concern to Luo Xiaorong.

“Look at your phone,” Qin Weidong said, handing him the smartphone.

Lin Wu unlocked it. The wallpaper showed a photo of the three of them—him, Qin Weidong, and Luo Xiaorong. He and Weidong stood on either side, Luo Xiaorong in a white down jacket in the middle, all smiling brightly.

He opened the gallery and saw more photos, taken in January that year.

“Just like you predicted, the killer was Sun Xiaotao. He lured your mom away, but was arrested by the police who had already set up an ambush. In endings seven through fifteen, there were likely two killers. After Zhao Fangli was arrested, it became just him, so he couldn’t cover every angle like before…” Qin Weidong explained.

In truth, Sun Xiaotao had still been extremely careful. Without their preparation, he wouldn’t have been caught.

Lin Wu searched online for “2004 Xuhu steel factory murder.”

There were images of Sun Xiaotao being arrested.

He had been twenty-seven, his face stunned under the flashing lights, as if he didn’t understand why he was being taken away. The raincoat, boots, mask, and axe matched exactly what Lin Wu remembered from the fifteenth ending. There had also been a pen in his pocket—something he had casually carried from the guardroom and forgotten to remove when putting on the raincoat, leaving behind a crucial clue.

“He’s finally been caught…”

Lin Wu read further. Sun Xiaotao had been charged with attempted murder, which normally wouldn’t result in a long sentence. But during deeper investigation, the police discovered he had committed a murder eight years earlier—his own mother. Due to the severity, he was sentenced to life imprisonment and remained in prison.

After confirming that the killer had been caught and Luo Xiaorong was safe, Lin Wu finally felt a sense of relief.

With that resolved, he looked down at his leg.

“Why am I in the hospital?” This was the first time he had woken up somewhere other than a hotel.

“Half a month ago, you were hit by a drunk driver at your school. It was pretty serious, but you’re okay…” Qin Weidong said.

Though he spoke simply, Lin Wu could sense the tension behind it. He hesitated before asking, “What’s our relationship now?”

“We live together.”

After answering, Qin Weidong asked, “What are we like in the other endings?”

“Except for the fifteenth and the previous one, we usually stopped contacting each other after you went abroad. I looked you up before—you always had a smooth life. I mostly worked at Jianghe University…” Lin Wu paused. “Does this timeline differ?”

“No…” Qin Weidong frowned slightly, wanting to ask why they lost contact, but stopped himself. Instead, he asked, “How are you feeling now? Does it affect your mood or life?”

“I’m fine. I’ve adjusted pretty well.” Lin Wu smiled faintly. If the time-message system was like a precise program, he felt like he’d encountered a bug. Like when Qin Weidong had lost his memory before, except this time he had only lost this timeline’s memories. His adult skills and social abilities were intact.

“That’s good. The accident happened at your school, so it’s classified as a workplace injury…” The crash had occurred around 8 p.m., caused by an outsider driving drunk into the campus. There was clear footage, and the driver had already been detained.

“You can go back to work once you recover.”

“So I don’t have to work for now,” Lin Wu said with a small laugh.

After chatting for a while, Lin Wu got ready to lie down and rest. Qin Weidong, meanwhile, took a folding bed from the corner, set it up, and lay down beside Lin Wu’s bed.

“You’re not going back?” Lin Wu asked, a little surprised. He didn’t know if they had a place in Jianghe, but Qin Weidong was tall, and sleeping like that couldn’t be comfortable.

“It’s fine. I sleep pretty well like this.” Qin Weidong lay on the folding bed, bending his legs so his feet wouldn’t hang off.

“Should we get a companion bed?” Lin Wu felt it looked too uncomfortable.

“There is one. I usually come after seven,” Qin Weidong replied.

“Why don’t you just sleep up here?” Lin Wu lifted the blanket, intending for them to share the bed.

“No need. I’m fine like this.” Qin Weidong waved it off and turned off the lights.

Lin Wu rested one hand outside the blanket, staring out the window. Even though he had lost his memory, he didn’t feel any panic or unease. It was… strangely calm.

Before going to sleep, he sent a message to 2004. The other side didn’t reply, probably still tied up with the investigation. After leaving a few coded lines they would both understand, he switched phones and went to sleep.

…

Early the next morning, Qin Weidong quietly washed up and got ready to leave for work. Before leaving, he almost leaned in to kiss Lin Wu, but seeing him still asleep, he stopped.

“I’m heading out. See you tonight,” he said softly.

“…Okay…” Lin Wu murmured sleepily.

At eight, the caregiver arrived. Lin Wu checked his medical records and learned he had already been hospitalized for half a month. Based on his recovery, he could be discharged the next day and continue resting at home.

He chatted with the caregiver for a bit, then had breakfast. After eating, he idly scrolled through his phone.

From messages and chat history, Luo Xiaorong and Wang Manshan were still living in Xuhu. Their homes were across from each other. Lin Wu had once tried to bring Luo Xiaorong to Jianghe, but she refused, and also didn’t want him staying home too long.

Luo Xiaorong and Hao Shuqin were close, just like in previous endings. They ran a bun shop together and lived happily. Lin Wu had arranged for a live-in helper. She was reliable, and Hao Shuqin would help if anything came up.

He usually went back every half month. There wasn’t much to worry about.

Since it had been late last night, he hadn’t called Luo Xiaorong. Now, he simply started a video call.

“Wuwu—” Luo Xiaorong was wrapping buns in the shop.

“Mom…” Lin Wu smiled. It really was her.

After chatting for ten minutes, he hung up and continued browsing his accounts—social media, shopping apps—trying to piece together traces of this life.

He was scrolling casually when one purchase record made him pause.

Item: condoms.
Purchase time: last month.

He scrolled further and found multiple purchases of the same item, along with other related things. The delivery address was a high-end residential complex near his school. Combined with Qin Weidong saying they lived together… that must be their place.

So…

They’d already gone all the way?

“…We’re adults. That’s normal…” Lin Wu tried to adjust his mindset.

Seventeen-year-old him would’ve been shocked, but now he was thirty-seven. Not completely amnesiac. He could… understand it.

He could accept that.

But then another question followed—

Between two men… who was on top?

He thought about Qin Weidong’s presence. Didn’t seem like the type to be on the bottom.

But himself… he didn’t like losing control. Personality-wise, he didn’t seem like he’d take that role either.

Up until now, he’d felt this timeline wasn’t too different from the others. But looking at those purchases—

Those missing twenty years of memory suddenly felt very, very important.

✧˖°.──⋆⭒˚.⋆💌⋆⭒˚.⋆──✧˖°.

Sun Xiaotao was forty-seven years old, about 172 cm tall. He had once been of average build, but in recent years, with a comfortable life, he had put on some weight. He no longer worried about food or money, his family was happy, and he wore a constant smile.

Hearing Lin Wu talk about Luo Xiaorong being dead, he looked concerned instead.

“Have you been under too much stress lately? Are you having some kind of episode?” he asked. “I’ve got some goji berries here. Take some with you when you leave, they help with sleep…”

As he spoke, he went to find the goji berries.

“On the night of December 17, 2004, you used some kind of excuse or pretext to lure my mother out. The factory was holding a celebration that day, everyone was busy, and no one noticed she was gone.

You led her toward the workshop. She probably sensed something was wrong and tried to leave. You knocked her unconscious. You took her into the workshop, preparing to kill her. At that moment, Qin Weidong appeared. He’s the other victim you left as a vegetative patient.

You were surprised. You couldn’t beat him, but he was worried about my mother. You struck him down. Then someone heard the noise and came over. You didn’t have time to finish what you started, so you ran.”

Lin Wu spoke calmly, watching him. “That’s roughly what happened that night. Some details might be off, but overall it should be close.

You’re a cautious person. You must have scoped the place out beforehand, checked the environment and nearby surveillance, made sure everything was foolproof before acting. That night you were probably wearing a black raincoat and rain boots, a mask, and besides the axe, you likely had a knife as well…”

In this ending, the killer hadn’t used a knife. That part was Lin Wu’s inference from the fifteenth ending, where his own death had occurred on December 5 in the same workshop. Without other variables, he believed the killer’s methods would not differ much.

Sun Xiaotao had initially seemed unconcerned, but at the mention of “raincoat” and “rain boots,” he paused briefly, then resumed searching for the goji berries.

“If you insist I’m the killer,” he said lightly, “then where’s the weapon?”

After the incident, the police had proposed three possibilities:

1. The killer stayed inside the factory after the crime, leaving the weapon there.
2. The killer stayed inside but smuggled the weapon out via trucks or transport vehicles.
3. The killer fled immediately and disposed of the weapon elsewhere.

When the police arrived, they quickly sealed all exits and investigated everyone and everything on site. The result: no weapon was found in the factory, none in any passing vehicles, and no suspicious drivers.

There had been about a thirty-minute window between the report and the lockdown. After a week of investigation, both police and workers concluded that the killer had likely escaped immediately, which matched typical criminal behavior.

“I was at the factory the whole time that day. I even helped the police secure the exits. I was among the first to be questioned,” Sun Xiaotao said. He had been near the gate and was one of the most thoroughly investigated people.

“If I were the killer, they would have found the weapon.”

“You probably disposed of it in the smelting furnace, or in the slag or scrap processing areas. That wouldn’t have been difficult for you,” Lin Wu replied.

That deduction came after he confirmed Sun Xiaotao as the killer. The steel plant spanned seven thousand acres, with thirty thousand workers. On the day of the incident, most people were gathered in the cafeteria or auditorium. Management twenty years ago had been lax, and with Sun Xiaotao’s familiarity with the environment and prior planning, the conditions had been ideal for committing the crime.

“By your logic, anyone could be the killer,” Sun Xiaotao said, raising an eyebrow.

“Not anyone. The victim was holding a pen cap.”

In this ending, Qin Weidong had managed to tear a pen cap off the killer. The police tested it for fingerprints, but it had likely been wet or heavily rubbed in a pocket. No second person’s prints were found. It was an ordinary cap with no identifying marks. It led nowhere.

Lin Wu had once obsessed over that pen cap, finding no clues, until the previous night, when memories from earlier endings returned.

He had seen that pen cap before.

“Divide a box of apples evenly among two or three children with none left over. What’s the minimum number of apples? Why did you write five?”

“Because two plus three is five.”

“Why are you adding? Count it out. How do you split five apples between two kids?”

“Then how do I calculate it…”

“Stop biting the pen cap, it’s filthy.”

…

That was a scene from the seventh ending. At the time, Sun Jinghui had been chewing on a pen cap while doing homework, while Sun Xiaotao impatiently taught him. The pen had been tied with string to the drawer in the gatehouse.

In that ending, Wang Jiahui lived, Luo Xiaorong died. From the seventh to the fourteenth endings, Luo Xiaorong often died in the workshop. Across those lives, Lin Wu had frequently visited the crime scene and grown familiar with Sun Xiaotao, often entering the gatehouse.

At one point, he had casually asked about the pen.

“This pen? The factory handed it out before the celebration. It writes well. I broke the cap, but it still works. Tied it on with string,” Sun Xiaotao had said.

He had strong personal boundaries. He disliked using others’ things and disliked others using his. That pen had been tied to his personal drawer. The factory had issued those pens for twenty years, and he had tied it there for twenty years.

When those memories surfaced, all the details finally aligned.

Lin Wu had identified the killer.

“Uncle Sun, why did you kill my mother?” Lin Wu returned to the original question. He truly could not understand why Sun Xiaotao had fixated on Luo Xiaorong.

“Your mother is alive and well. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t know anything about this pen cap,” Sun Xiaotao said, pouring him water. “Everything you’re saying is hypothetical. The raincoat, the knife… you imagined all that. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

“It is strange. But if I told the police, with modern criminal profiling and data analysis, they could very likely work backward from these assumptions to identify the killer.”

“Really?” Sun Xiaotao’s hand paused.

“Yes.”

He moved toward the door. By the entrance stood a snow shovel, a broom, and a dustpan.

He picked up the shovel.

Lin Wu’s back was turned to him.

“You came alone?” Sun Xiaotao asked.

“Yes,” Lin Wu said, nodding without turning around.

The room fell quiet, lit only by a dim yellow glow.

Three seconds later, Sun Xiaotao opened the door. A gust of cold wind swept in as he stepped outside with the shovel.

“The gate’s frozen shut. I’ll go clear it.”

Over twenty years, the steel plant’s entrance had been upgraded from a sliding iron gate to a modern electronic one. The track beneath it could easily freeze over with snow and ice.

He jogged over and began shoveling. From where he sat, Lin Wu could see him clearly, bundled in a thick coat, working hard, his face flushed red. He looked like nothing more than an ordinary middle-aged man.

“Still very cautious,” Lin Wu murmured, a hint of regret in his voice as he took out his phone.

The phone was recording in the cloud. He had also prepared a final message. If Sun Xiaotao made a move, with modern forensic methods, he would be caught without fail.

But Lin Wu had expected this reaction. Whether guilty or not, Sun Xiaotao had always been an extremely cautious person.

“The snow’s heavy. Clearing this much is enough.” Three minutes later, Sun Xiaotao returned, breathing out clouds of white air. He tested the gate with the electronic key. It now opened and closed normally.

“The forecast says heavy snow tomorrow,” he said as he sat down.

“Light turning to heavy,” Lin Wu replied.

They chatted idly, the atmosphere gradually easing.

Then Sun Xiaotao suddenly said, “I’ve been thinking about your hypothesis. Big data and criminal psychology are powerful these days. But without key physical evidence or fingerprints, accusing someone like that goes against the principle of presumption of innocence.

Big data and profiling are just auxiliary tools. The fact that the killer hasn’t been caught in twenty years shows he has strong psychological resilience. Even with profiling, it wouldn’t lead to anything.”

As he spoke, his tone carried a faint trace of excitement.

“You’ve studied presumption of innocence?” Lin Wu asked, slightly surprised.

“I watch a lot of crime dramas. Picked up a bit here and there,” Sun Xiaotao said, a little embarrassed.

“That makes sense,” Lin Wu agreed.

Sun Xiaotao seemed to grow more engaged. “Earlier you asked why I would kill your mother. Of course, I didn’t. She’s alive and well. I haven’t killed anyone. I’m just following your line of thought.”

“Mm,” Lin Wu said. He had asked that question twice already.

“I thought about it. If someone were to kill your mother, maybe it’s because they found her annoying.”

“Annoying?” Lin Wu frowned.

“Yeah. Your mom… she’s not mentally normal. Why would someone like that be happier than ordinary people?” Halfway through, noticing Lin Wu’s expression darken, Sun Xiaotao quickly added, “I’m not saying that about your mom. I mean from the killer’s perspective.”

“Mm.” Lin Wu’s reply was light and flat.

“It’s been twenty years. No evidence, no leads. The person who attacked your classmate will probably never be caught…” Sun Xiaotao’s tone sounded concerned, but beneath it was a faint, hidden pride.

“Who says there are no leads?” Lin Wu smiled faintly.

“What leads?” Sun Xiaotao froze.

“Do you think the killer still remembers how that pen cap broke?” Lin Wu asked, looking straight at him.

“How did it break?” Sun Xiaotao’s brows knit as he stared at Lin Wu’s face.

Lin Wu pulled open the drawer and shut it again.

Inside was now a “new” pen, its cap intact, tied in place just as before, as it had been for twenty years.

He opened and closed the drawer a few more times, then pointed at the hinge.

There were two hinges. The upper one was in use. The lower one was broken.

“Wasn’t it this one?” Lin Wu asked, pointing to the broken hinge.

His thoughts drifted back to the tenth ending—

That day after graduating, he had returned to the steel plant, as he often did, and gone to the gatehouse.

“This pen’s not writing again!” Sun Xiaotao had complained, shaking it irritably. He removed the ink refill and tossed it away, rummaging for another.

“You’ve used this pen for a long time. Why not replace it?” Lin Wu had asked, glancing at the pen and its cap.

“I’m used to it. Just change the refill.” Sun Xiaotao disliked switching things out. New pens from the factory went home. The old one stayed in use.

Lin Wu had nodded, then casually asked, “How did the cap break?”

“I was thinking about something, stuck it in the hinge, kept fiddling with it, and snapped it.”

That had been long ago, shortly after the pen was issued.

…

“That was twenty years ago. A pen cap alone can’t prove you’re the killer,” Lin Wu said calmly. “But with modern trace analysis, if they find metallic residue on the fracture that matches the hinge, it could overturn the original presumption of innocence.

Then the investigation would restart, centered on you. Your relationships across departments, whether you helped monitor boilers or accessed places where a weapon could be destroyed, surveillance footage from that time… all of it still exists.

With current technology, more details can be extracted. You’re careful, but you couldn’t have avoided every camera. Once they establish your movement toward the second workshop, everything can be pieced together into new evidence.”

He held Sun Xiaotao’s gaze.

Twenty years was a long time, but the evidence had been preserved well. That lower hinge had barely been used since it was replaced, leaving mostly natural rust. With modern methods, comparisons could easily be made.

“How… how is that possible…” Sun Xiaotao stared at Lin Wu, unable to comprehend how he knew about the hinge.

Beep, beep—

At that moment, the sound of police sirens came from the distance, growing closer and closer.

“You called the police?” Sun Xiaotao’s tone had lost all its earlier ease.

“Mm.” Lin Wu admitted it. He had called while the man was outside, but even if he hadn’t stepped out, Lin Wu would have found another way. Before coming here, he had already contacted a colleague. Even if he died, someone would report it.

“I’m not the killer. And the killer won’t be caught.” Sun Xiaotao tried to steady himself. He was just a gate guard, just an ordinary middle-aged man.

“The killer won’t be caught,” Lin Wu said evenly. “At least, not here.”

“…What?” Sun Xiaotao was clearly caught off guard.

“Because he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to roam free for twenty years,” Lin Wu said, each word deliberate.

As his voice fell, the clock on the wall pointed to 10:12, and the scene shifted once again—

Lin Wu slowly closed his eyes.

If nothing changed, Sun Xiaotao would be arrested in this ending. But as he had said, the man did not deserve twenty years of freedom.

Whether Sun Xiaotao had acted just now didn’t matter.

Whether the police were called didn’t matter.

Even if he wasn’t the killer, it didn’t matter.

Because after regaining his memories last night, Lin Wu had already decided to reset the ending.

No matter what happened tonight, everything would change again. Everything he had done just now was only a precaution.

If nothing changed twenty years ago, and he died in this timeline, the killer would still be caught. That would be the worst-case outcome.

Clearly, the man hadn’t acted.

But what happened twenty years later no longer mattered. What Lin Wu needed was a new outcome twenty years ago.

…

As the scene shifted, Lin Wu did not reappear in the Xuhu Hotel, but in a high-end hospital room.

He lay on a hospital bed, wearing blue-and-white striped patient clothes, a phone in his hand. The heating was on full, and two professional physics books sat on the bedside table.

Lin Wu: ???

He hadn’t yet received the new memories and felt disoriented.

Just then, a nurse with a sweet smile walked in. “How are you feeling today? Any discomfort or pain in your leg?”

Lin Wu looked down. His left leg was in a cast, faintly itchy.

“No…” he said.

“Mr. Qin is outside. He’ll be in shortly. I’m on night duty tonight, so if you need anything, just press the call button,” the nurse said before leaving.

Lin Wu was still trying to process which “Mr. Qin” she meant when the door opened again.

A thirty-seven-year-old Qin Weidong walked in, wearing a black shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up, holding a glass of warm milk.

“I heated this up. Do you want to drink it now or later?”

Compared to the previous ending, this Qin Weidong looked composed, relaxed, with a familiar ease reminiscent of the nineteenth ending.

“What’s wrong?” Qin Weidong noticed Lin Wu staring blankly and sat down at the bedside, pulling him into an embrace and placing a light kiss on his forehead.

Lin Wu: !!!

“Not feeling well?” Qin Weidong asked, sensing something off.

Lin Wu reached out and pinched his face. It really was Qin Weidong, but—

“I think… I don’t have the memories of this new ending,” Lin Wu finally said.

Before, at specific moments, he would regain the memories of his current life. But now, his memory stopped at before December 17, 2004, plus the previous twenty-one endings.

Clearly, this was the twenty-second ending—but at the moment it refreshed, he had lost his memory.

So he knew they had been close in high school… but why were they this close now?

When had they started living together?

Had Sun Xiaotao been caught?!

He had no memories of this timeline at all.

Simply put—

He had lost his memory.

He had lost everything between December 17, 2004, and December 17, 2024.

He… had amnesia.

✧˖°.──⋆⭒˚.⋆💌⋆⭒˚.⋆──✧˖°.

On December 17, 2024, under an overcast sky, Lin Wu got up, tidied himself, and carried a bouquet of flowers to the Xuhu Sanatorium, the most high-end comprehensive care facility in Xuhu. After entering, he went straight to a VIP room with practiced familiarity.

“Mr. Lin, you’re here early today.” Inside, caregiver Xiao Liu was making the bed. Seeing Lin Wu, he greeted him.

“I got up early today.” As he spoke, Lin Wu placed the flowers into the vase by the bed. There had been lilies in it before, but they were starting to wilt, so he replaced them with the sunflowers he had just bought.

“You’re really thoughtful, Mr. Lin. You always remember to change the flowers.” Xiao Liu’s praise was sincere. They had known each other for twenty years. Visit HololoNovels dot com for the complete chapter. During those twenty years, Lin Wu had come two or three times a week, almost without fail, rain or shine.

“It’s nothing much.” After arranging the flowers, Lin Wu asked, “Where’s Mr. Qin?”

“Xiao Chen took him outside for some sun.” Xiao Liu pointed out the window. The room had excellent lighting and a good view. From inside, one could see a large artificial lake, and at the edge of it were two blurry figures.

“I’ll go take a look.” Lin Wu headed out as if by habit.

“Mr. Lin!” By the lake, Xiao Chen had just paused the wheelchair to let him rest a bit. Seeing Lin Wu, he quickly stood.

“It’s fine. I’ll take over.” Lin Wu waved him off, signaling him to go do his own work, then took the wheelchair himself.

It was a well-made black wheelchair. Sitting in it was a young man in a blue-and-white hospital gown, gaunt to the point of skin and bones. It was winter now, so over the gown he wore two extra layers and an oversized down jacket. On his head was a fluffy hat, making him look very well bundled up.

“I’ll be just up ahead. If you need anything, just call me,” Xiao Chen said. He was quite used to this scene by now. After handing the wheelchair over and explaining a few details, he left.

“It’s pretty cold today. It’ll probably snow tonight…” Lin Wu pushed the wheelchair along the lakeside as he spoke. The man simply stared blankly at the water.

It was Qin Weidong.

And this was their twenty-first ending:

Luo Xiaorong lived. Qin Weidong became a vegetative patient.

Lin Wu had already refreshed the memories of the twenty-first ending and everything before it.

On the night of December 15, in the previous ending, he had contacted 2004. As before, he told his 2004 self that Luo Xiaorong would be attacked in the second workshop on the night of the seventeenth. Because time was short, he hoped the other side could stop her from going to work first, then they would re-plan as they had before.

Ten seconds after sending the message, the other side replied: 【Received.】

It felt like everything had returned to the days before Zhao Fangli was caught. The endless cycle of factory workshops. He was exhausted by it, but this was the only way to change the ending.

He had expected the new ending to appear as simply as before.

But the new memory was different.

On the night of December 15, 2004, he and Qin Weidong had been eating strawberries together. Someone came by to collect the water bill, and Lin Wu stepped out for half a minute. During that time, Qin Weidong received the message from 2024.

He did not tell Lin Wu.

Instead, he opened a new ending himself.

In previous resets, Lin Wu had changed the ending through a process of “forming an intention, then generating enough inner momentum to carry it through.” It was like deciding today that tomorrow you would eat beef noodles. Tomorrow had not yet arrived, but the intention was strong, no other circumstances changed, and so for that person’s future, tomorrow he would indeed eat beef noodles.

Previously, Lin Wu himself had gone to the workshop to change the ending.

This time, Qin Weidong went instead.

Just as eating the noodles fulfilled the intention, Qin Weidong’s involvement in the event also changed the course of 2024.

Lin Wu did not know the exact details of that night. All he had were witness accounts:

On the night of December 17, 2004, a heavy crashing sound came from the second workshop of the steel plant. A witness, hearing the noise, went to check. The back door of the workshop creaked as if someone inside had heard the disturbance and left.

The witness had assumed it was a wild cat or a rat. He turned on his phone flashlight and then saw a large pool of blood. Qin Weidong was lying in it. Not far away, Luo Xiaorong had been knocked unconscious.

“At first I really thought it was just cats or rats. I never expected someone had attacked people there!” the witness said later, still shaken.

After receiving the news, Lin Wu rushed to the hospital. After emergency treatment, Luo Xiaorong was out of danger. But Qin Weidong had suffered a severe blow to the back of the head and became a vegetative patient.

“How did my son end up at the steel plant…” It was in the hospital that Lin Wu first met Qin Jianzhang, a once vigorous middle-aged man who seemed to have aged ten years in an instant.

At the time of the crime, the steel plant had been hosting a celebration, and there had been a large crowd. Luo Xiaorong had been knocked unconscious. The killer had come prepared. Aside from a pen cap clenched in Qin Weidong’s hand, there were no other clues at the scene.

It was an ordinary black gel pen cap, the kind commonly used in factories and offices. Apart from a small chip on the clip, it was indistinguishable from countless others on the market. After investigation, no leads emerged. The case eventually went cold.

After Qin Weidong’s injury, Qin Jianzhang took him for treatment out of province, then abroad, trying all kinds of Western and Chinese medicine, but nothing worked. In the end, Qin Weidong was brought back to the Xuhu Sanatorium and placed under professional care.

In this ending, perhaps because the killer had nearly been caught, they never struck again after Qin Weidong. Luo Xiaorong and everyone else lived well.

Lin Wu continued living along the same old path, but unlike before, he did not go to Jianghe University. Instead, he chose to teach at Xuhu University. In recent years, his life had narrowed down to three places: home, the sanatorium, and the university. It was orderly, almost mechanical.

“It’s too cold. Let’s go back inside.” After pushing Qin Weidong around the lake once, Lin Wu returned to the room.

Inside, the caregiver had already cleaned everything thoroughly. Seeing Lin Wu, he said quickly, “Mr. Lin, the bed sheets and covers have already been changed, and the room temperature has been adjusted.”

“Thank you.”

Lin Wu nodded, then worked with the caregiver to move Qin Weidong onto the bed. The sanatorium’s environment and service were excellent, but after being in a vegetative state so long, Qin Weidong now weighed less than ninety jin. Visit HololoNovels dot com for the complete chapter. Touching him was like touching a skeleton. After settling him in, Lin Wu carefully tucked in the blanket around him.

“Mr. Lin, shall I head out now?” the caregiver asked after finishing up.

“That’s fine.” Lin Wu indicated he could manage alone from here.

The caregiver left with a complicated expression. He had worked here for twenty years and seen every kind of human warmth and indifference. But this was the first time he had ever seen someone visit a vegetative patient every few days like clockwork. That kind of patience alone was remarkable.

Lin Wu sat in the room for a while, then went to the sanatorium cafeteria for lunch. When he returned, he found Hu Wei had come by.

“Mr. Lin, you’re here too.” Hu Wei greeted him upon seeing him.

He had only come to know Lin Wu after Qin Weidong’s accident.

At first, he didn’t like Lin Wu at all. The reason was simple. He didn’t know why Qin Weidong had gone to the steel plant workshop, but he knew the incident had involved Lin Wu’s mother. She was a key figure in the case, mentally impaired, knocked unconscious from behind, and unable to recall anything. All of it left him furious.

On top of that, he remembered Qin Weidong’s strange behavior before the accident. According to the police investigation, Qin Weidong had been staying at Lin Wu’s home. Combined with Lin Wu’s reaction afterward, he felt there must have been something subtle between them.

He wasn’t the only one who thought so. Qin Jianzhang likely sensed it too.

Qin Weidong had a simple nature and a good character. Even if Lin Wu wasn’t the killer, he felt that Lin Wu must have had some ulterior motive in getting close to him. Because of that, he had been sarcastic and cold toward Lin Wu for a long time.

But as time passed, he saw that Lin Wu came to the sanatorium unfailingly.

Not for two months. Not for a short while. But day after day, for twenty years.

He asked himself honestly. Even if his own father had ended up like this, he might not have had the patience to keep showing up like that. His feelings grew complicated.

“Brother Qin was a really good person. Back in high school, my family wasn’t well off. My parents spent a lot of money to send me to private school, so I was always broke. A lot of people said I was just his lackey, but honestly, I think he wanted to help me without making me feel embarrassed.”

Hu Wei sat nearby, chatting casually.

His life had followed its original course. School, graduation, marriage. Now he and his wife ran a small supermarket, their child was seven, and their family lived happily. The only thing he couldn’t let go of was Qin Weidong.

“He really was a good person.” Lin Wu took out a nail clipper and carefully trimmed Qin Weidong’s nails.

“Twenty years have passed. You should try to move on,” Hu Wei said, rarely speaking so earnestly. Neither Lin Wu nor his mother had been the killer. Whatever his relationship with Qin Weidong had been, the past years hadn’t been easy.

After staying a while, Hu Wei left.

Once he was gone, Lin Wu leaned back on the sofa and read. He had picked the book at random from the lobby library. Perhaps by coincidence, it was David Copperfield. Qin Weidong had once read it to him, though back then it had been in English. This copy was a translated edition.

At five in the afternoon, Qin Jianzhang arrived.

“Mr. Qin.” Lin Wu stood to greet him. After Qin Weidong’s accident, Qin Jianzhang had never had another child. He continued working in real estate and hospitality, financially well-off, but visibly worn down.

“I called the sanatorium earlier. They said you were here, so I came by.” Qin Jianzhang looked at Lin Wu as he spoke.

“I didn’t have class today, so I came over,” Lin Wu replied.

“Mm.” Qin Jianzhang sat on the single sofa beside the hospital bed. They exchanged a few neutral words. After a pause, he asked, “What you said before… that once it reaches 2024, you can contact 2004 through that time channel. Is it really true?”

“Yes.”

“Then… will there be a new ending tomorrow?”

His thoughts drifted back twenty years.

Back then, after Qin Weidong’s accident, two clues had been left behind:

One, a broken pen cap.

Two, his phone.

There were no text messages on the phone, only a string of numbers saved in the drafts folder: 2024.12.16.

Neither he nor the police understood what it meant. But when Lin Wu heard about it, he immediately understood.

December 16, 2024, was the next point in time when a message could be sent again.

And he understood Qin Weidong’s intention. Qin Weidong had once died in that second workshop. This time, he had gone in Lin Wu’s place.

Before going, he didn’t know whether anything would happen, so he had cautiously left that message. The same set of numbers had also been found in his notebook, written before he left, ensuring Lin Wu would see it no matter what.

Lin Wu no longer remembered exactly how he had felt when he saw it back in high school. At the time, he had only one thought:

Live well until 2024, and then rewrite everything.

Before the accident, Qin Weidong had deleted all the chat history. The time-space messages could not be recovered. Only the regular messages from 2004 could be restored. The police recovered those records, and Lin Wu did not hide them.

Most of them were simple things:

“Have you eaten?”
“What time do you get out of school?”
“I’ll wait for you at the school gate.”

But Qin Jianzhang was sharp. From those messages, he understood the nature of their relationship. His feelings toward Lin Wu became even more complicated.

He knew Qin Weidong’s accident wasn’t Lin Wu’s fault. But if not for Lin Wu, his son would never have gone to the steel plant.

He didn’t know why his son went there, but he felt it had something to do with Lin Wu. He carried that resentment for a long time.

His upbringing kept him from acting harshly, but he remained cold toward Lin Wu, until one day, Lin Wu came to him.

“Qin Weidong isn’t completely gone. We can still change the past.”

Lin Wu did not mention the phone, only said that in 2024 he would be able to contact 2004. If they could establish that connection, there was still a chance to rewrite everything. He also explained why Qin Weidong had gone to the second workshop: he had received information from 2024 and wanted to save Luo Xiaorong.

“That’s impossible!” Qin Jianzhang had dismissed it as absurd, a fantasy born from grief.

“It’s true.” Lin Wu had simply said.

Qin Jianzhang didn’t believe him at first. But as the years passed, he began to think it might be real. It would explain the numbers on his son’s phone.

If it were true, then they should have made contact yesterday.

And tomorrow… a new ending would appear.

“Did you make contact?” Qin Jianzhang asked, his lips trembling slightly. Twenty years of waiting had been too long. He had placed his hope in something intangible, almost imaginary.

“We did.” Lin Wu took out his phone. On it were all the messages from yesterday and before.

Qin Jianzhang stared at the screen, stunned. He didn’t know if it was real.

But he wanted it to be.

“I hope it’s real…” he murmured, as if wishing to start everything over again from 2004.

After speaking, he looked at Lin Wu.

Lin Wu was wearing a dark black down jacket, his face pale against it.

Qin Jianzhang lifted his hand as if to pat Lin Wu on the head, but in the end he only sighed.

“If the past could really be changed, I think I would have liked you very much. Whether you were a man or not, we would’ve gotten along well.”

He truly admired Lin Wu. If nothing else, the fact that Lin Wu had come to the sanatorium day after day for twenty years to care for his son… that kind of devotion could not be explained by guilt alone.

But no matter how much he admired him, there was still the matter of his son becoming a vegetative patient. No matter how rational he tried to be, he could not say there was no resentment in his heart.

“I hope we can meet again in 2004,” Qin Jianzhang said at last, pulling Lin Wu into a brief embrace. He hoped they could start over. With how much he loved his son, even if Lin Wu was a man, he felt he would try to accept it.

Lin Wu was a good child. He hoped everyone could have a better beginning.

…

At eight that evening, Lin Wu took a taxi to the Xuhu Steel Plant.

The Xuhu Steel Plant had once been a major local enterprise. At its peak, it employed thirty thousand workers. After forty years of rise and decline, the employees had all moved to the new plant. The old one was scheduled to be demolished and shut down next year.

Outside, sleet was falling.

After paying and getting out of the car, Lin Wu opened his umbrella and walked to the gatehouse.

“Oh, Lin Wu, you’re here?” Sun Xiaotao, an old employee of the plant, was sitting by an electric heater in a padded coat and hat, warming himself. He looked a little surprised. “Here on business?”

“No business. Just came to sit for a bit. Is it alright if I stay a while?” Lin Wu closed his umbrella.

“Of course it is. There’s barely anyone here these days. It’s boring sitting alone. Come, warm yourself first.” Sun Xiaotao pushed the heater closer, then chatted casually, “Your mom’s bun shop is doing pretty well, huh? I went the other day to buy some, but they were all sold out.”

“That was probably around mealtime. It’s usually not that crowded,” Lin Wu said. In this ending, Luo Xiaorong had not been harmed. She had opened a bun shop with Hao Shuqin, just as before.

“I went around seven in the evening. Maybe it was busy then.” Sun Xiaotao nodded, then sighed. “Your mom was always good at making buns even before she retired. Now it’s like she’s retired and started a second career.”

“It’s alright.” Lin Wu chatted with him.

Sun Xiaotao was a longtime worker. He had married in 2010, divorced, then remarried. Lin Wu had often run into him when picking up Luo Xiaorong after work, so they were familiar with each other.

They talked about the plant’s early days, the relocation a few years ago, and the upcoming closure next year. After nearly an hour, Sun Xiaotao grew a little puzzled.

“You really didn’t come here for anything today?” In the past, Lin Wu would chat for a bit and leave. Today, he had stayed much longer.

“There’s nothing at the plant. I actually came to see you about something,” Lin Wu said.

“What is it?” Sun Xiaotao asked.

“Uncle Sun, our families aren’t close, and we’ve never wronged you. Why did you kill my mother?”

The moment the words left his mouth, the gatehouse fell silent.

Inside, the warm glow of the heater flickered. Outside, wind howled, and the sound of heavy trucks passing echoed faintly.

Lin Wu looked at Sun Xiaotao.

Sun Xiaotao looked back at Lin Wu.

“Your mother is alive and well. When did I ever kill her?” After three seconds, Sun Xiaotao smiled, as if he had no idea why Lin Wu would ask such a strange question.

✧˖°.──⋆⭒˚.⋆💌⋆⭒˚.⋆──✧˖°.

The Xuhu Ski Resort is located in the eastern part of Xuhu, about seventy kilometers from downtown, and is the largest artificial ski resort in the area. On the afternoon of December 16, 2024, Lin Wu and Qin Weidong arrived at the parking lot.

“Sorry, the snowmaking machine broke down. We can’t operate right now,” a staff member wearing a red armband said, knocking on the car window just as they were about to get out.

“When will it be fixed?” Qin Weidong asked, rolling the window down.

“Not sure. It just broke at noon, and the repair team hasn’t arrived yet. Probably tomorrow.”

“Alright, thanks.” With the resort unusable, they could only drive away.

“Sorry, I should’ve checked ahead,” Lin Wu said, a little helpless. He had looked up the operating hours, but hadn’t expected something like this.

“It just broke today. No way we could’ve predicted that.” Qin Weidong steered the car back onto the main road and asked casually, “So where to now?”

“I don’t know…” Lin Wu had planned to stay until six, then head back to the city for dinner. Now everything was thrown off.

“Let me handle it?” Qin Weidong suggested.

“Okay.”

Lin Wu thought he might plan something like an art exhibit, but instead they drove back into the city and stopped at an arcade inside a mall.

“I’ve always wanted to play these, just never had the time.” Qin Weidong exchanged for a big bucket of tokens, and they started with claw machines. Lin Wu hadn’t played in years, but he got lucky and caught two teddy bears. Qin Weidong tried for a blue plush toy, but after more than ten attempts, he still hadn’t gotten it.

“Let me…” Lin Wu finally said, unable to watch anymore.

“Thanks.” Qin Weidong stepped aside.

Lin Wu was steady. It didn’t take long before he caught it.

“Here.” He handed the toy over.

“For me?” Qin Weidong asked with a smile.

“That was the point.” Lin Wu smiled faintly.

Qin Weidong put the three plush toys into a bag and carried them the whole time. After the claw machines, they played fishing games and basketball shooters, then had dinner at the mall. At eight in the evening, they went to a private cinema.

“There’s a private theater here?” Lin Wu asked as he followed him in. It was in the basement of a high-end villa, about a hundred square meters, with luxurious décor.

“Had it installed a few years ago. I don’t come often, but there’s a cleaning service that keeps it in order.” Qin Weidong switched on the system. Since he’d been there recently, the fridge was stocked with fresh drinks.

“What do you want?” he asked, opening it.

“Soda. Room temperature.”

“Got it.” He grabbed two bottles and sat down beside Lin Wu.

The black leather sofa was wide and soft. In front was a marble table, and beyond that a projection screen with excellent sound and picture quality.

“What do you want to watch?” Qin Weidong asked, handing him a drink.

“Anything.”

Lin Wu had taken off his light gray down jacket, leaving a gray turtleneck underneath. Full translation available on HololoNovels dot com. Qin Weidong had also shed his coat and suit jacket, keeping only his vest and shirt. The room was warm.

“Then I’ll pick.” After browsing, Qin Weidong chose an old film from twenty years ago, Men in Black.

“We watched this in theaters before. I didn’t finish it back then. Let’s try again.” He smiled.

“Mm.” Lin Wu didn’t ask why.

The film began. In the darkness, they watched in silence.

“At this time… the light bulb in your place should’ve gone out, right?” Qin Weidong suddenly said.

“If nothing else has changed, it probably has.” Lin Wu checked the time. 9:02.

On December 16, 2004, at 9:02, they had returned home. The bedroom light bulb had suddenly gone out. It had been snowing, and they had walked together through the snow to buy a new one.

That had been their last night living together.

And it had happened in a timeline where no spacetime message had been received.

He had already sent the message yesterday. The new outcome wouldn’t appear until 10:12 tonight. With that change, he didn’t know if they would still go buy a light bulb together…

…

At the same time in 2004—

“The bulb’s burned out.” Qin Weidong twisted it off.

It was 9:02. They had been getting ready for bed when it suddenly failed. The flashlight didn’t work either, so they relied on moonlight.

Qin Weidong stood on a stool while Lin Wu steadied it.

“Any spare bulbs?” Qin Weidong asked after jumping down.

“No. I just bought this one recently.” Lin Wu frowned, then checked the time. “The hardware shop should still be open. I’ll go take a look.”

“It’s snowing. I’ll go with you.” Qin Weidong grabbed the old bulb in a plastic bag to throw out later.

“Okay.”

They stepped outside. A thin layer of snow had already settled. They hunched their shoulders against the cold as they walked to the market, arriving just before the shop closed.

“Do you still have light bulbs?” Lin Wu asked quickly.

“What wattage?”

“Twenty.”

“Hold on…” The shopkeeper searched, then found one wrapped in cardboard. “Good thing you came now. I was about to close.”

“We’re lucky,” Lin Wu said. But three seconds later, things felt less lucky.

When they had arrived, the market was still lit. Now it was 9:30, and most of the streetlights had gone out, leaving everything in darkness.

“Should we buy a flashlight?” Lin Wu asked.

“No need. We can still see.” Qin Weidong judged the light.

“Alright.”

They started walking back. After a while, Qin Weidong slipped his hand into Lin Wu’s pocket.

He had done it often these days. But this time, Lin Wu’s hand was already there.

Lin Wu didn’t pull away.

Qin Weidong separated his fingers and slid his own between them.

Shoulder brushing shoulder, hand pressed to hand, they walked home together through the snow.

In 2024, Lin Wu and Qin Weidong sat side by side on the sofa. This time, they weren’t holding hands. Both of them watched the movie with unusually serious expressions.

“Lin Wu…” At 9:40, Qin Weidong spoke.

“What is it?” Lin Wu asked.

“Can I kiss you?”

They had only just reconnected as old acquaintances, so the question felt abrupt no matter how you looked at it. Lin Wu didn’t move. After three seconds, he said, “Okay.”

Qin Weidong turned slightly, leaning closer. At last, he cupped Lin Wu’s head with one hand and placed a light kiss on his forehead.

“Try to be happy. We’ll see each other again tomorrow.”
They would meet again, just as different versions of themselves on another timeline.

“Will we really meet again tomorrow?” Lin Wu asked, eyes lowered.

“Mm. Tomorrow will be a different life.”

“If it’s a different life, then why do you keep getting involved with me in this one? Didn’t we stop contacting each other the day of my mom’s funeral? What right do you have to send flowers to my school, to help me deal with the deposit, to take care of my secondhand things?”

The graduation flowers, the landlord deposit, the secondhand items. All of those had been things Qin Weidong did in this timeline. And there were many more like them.

Lin Wu’s chest rose and fell sharply. Ever since the suppressed memories had resurfaced, he had been holding everything in.

Perhaps because he was too angry now, he suddenly climbed onto Qin Weidong’s lap and grabbed his collar tightly.

“We only knew each other for three months in high school. Just three months! What right do you have to interfere in my life like this?”

“How did you…” Qin Weidong started to ask, but seeing Lin Wu’s expression, he swallowed the question and simply yielded. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? Why are you apologizing!” Lin Wu laughed in anger.

Straddling him, Lin Wu could clearly see Qin Weidong’s face, while his own remained hidden in shadow.

He reached up, placing a hand over Qin Weidong’s brow, studying him carefully for the first time.

A high nose bridge. A clean jawline. Deep, defined features.

Qin Weidong had always said Lin Wu was good-looking. But Qin Weidong himself was, too. A steady, quiet kind of handsome.

“Kissing someone isn’t like that…” Lin Wu’s fingers traced from his brow to his nose, then to his lips. Full translation available on HololoNovels dot com. They felt slightly dry. After rubbing them lightly, he leaned in.

“Lin Wu… don’t do this.” Qin Weidong’s voice was hoarse as he tried to push him away.

“Don’t do this?” Lin Wu repeated.

“…Don’t.”

“Sorry.” Lin Wu paused, then shifted as if to get off him.

Qin Weidong grabbed his wrist tightly.

“What are you doing?” Lin Wu asked.

“I…” Qin Weidong didn’t know either. He looked at him, then instinctively pulled him into his arms.

Their lips met.

It was their first kiss. Neither of them knew how. They could only fumble forward, instinctively seeking, teeth bumping clumsily before the storm softened into something lingering and intimate.

Lin Wu’s arms wrapped around his neck. They both sank into the kiss.

As they kissed, Lin Wu’s hand slid down to Qin Weidong’s belt.

“Don’t—” Qin Weidong tried to stop him, but Lin Wu bit him sharply, forcing his hand away with an unyielding insistence.

Qin Weidong’s hand loosened.

The world fell into darkness again.

Twenty years ago, Qin Weidong had played a passionate “piano rhapsody” for Lin Wu. This time, Lin Wu played one for him, soft and entangled.

Everything stirred back to life. Fireworks bloomed once more in the dark.

At ten o’clock, Lin Wu went to wash his hands. Qin Weidong had already straightened himself out. They returned to the sofa.

The movie was nearing its end.

Back then, Qin Weidong hadn’t finished watching it. Neither had Lin Wu. In the theater, Lin Wu’s eyes had been on the screen, but his senses had already drifted away with the touch at his fingertips. Qin Weidong just hadn’t known.

Now they sat side by side again. Qin Weidong gently drew Lin Wu’s head to rest on his shoulder.

Lin Wu’s body was tense. He didn’t move. The gesture felt too vulnerable.

“Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new beginning,” Qin Weidong said softly.

Slowly, Lin Wu relaxed and leaned against him. After a long pause, he said, “I’m sorry.”

He meant the night of the funeral.

Back then, after Luo Xiaorong’s death, he had already decided to reach 2024 and rewrite everything. He had pushed Qin Weidong away for three reasons.

First, they were both anchors between timelines. Getting too close might affect the spacetime phone. He didn’t dare risk it.

Second, after Luo Xiaorong’s death, he chose to continue living as before. He couldn’t allow something as significant as “falling in love” to disrupt that path.

Third, his future self had said that Qin Weidong would have a successful career and a happy life. He couldn’t let himself alter that.

Qin Weidong knew about the spacetime phone. It was like knowing from birth that your memories would disappear. If they grew too close, it would be too cruel.

So in previous timelines, Lin Wu had only changed things related to the killer. He avoided interfering in anyone else’s life, especially Qin Weidong’s.

He was like a butterfly in time, trying not to flap its wings, walking along the same old path.

“Why?” Lin Wu asked quietly. His reason always outweighed emotion. They had only known each other for three months. Why would Qin Weidong spend twenty years with him?

“I told you. I’d stay with you,” Qin Weidong said, brushing his chin lightly against Lin Wu’s head.

Lin Wu paused, then remembered September 25, the day after Qin Weidong first learned about the messages—

“I’ll stay with you.”
He had thought it only meant walking him home.

He hadn’t realized it meant staying through every timeline.

“You…” Lin Wu didn’t know what to say.

“Back then, I didn’t know if I liked you. I just felt… bad for you.” Qin Weidong had stayed up all night that time, thinking about how Lin Wu wandered through twenty years of loneliness in another life.

He had only thought that if someone stayed with him, it wouldn’t feel so lonely.

“I don’t know what I’m like in other endings. But I know that if I meet you, I’ll probably like you. So don’t be sad. I’m happy in every timeline. I’ve lived more happy twenty years than anyone else.

Don’t tell seventeen-year-old you any of this. I want to grow up with you happily. Once we rewrite everything, we’ll both be happy.

Lin Wu… I think I was pretty likable at seventeen. If none of this had happened, you might’ve accepted me. I can be pretty persistent…”

He rambled on.

Lin Wu’s eyes were already wet.

He thought that maybe, back then, he really had liked him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept giving in. Letting him slip his hands into his pockets, hold his waist, hold his hand…

His seventeen-year-old heart had once beaten wildly.

Those memories had always been quietly kept, hidden deep inside.

“We’ll meet in the next ending.” At 10:12, Qin Weidong kissed his forehead again.

Even without these memories, they would still meet again.

The moment the kiss landed, the scene dissolved.

The theater was gone.
The soda was gone.
The solid warmth of that shoulder was gone.

The turtleneck became black sleepwear.

The twenty-first ending had begun.

…

At the same moment in 2004—

“Lin Wu… there’s something I didn’t tell you.” After fixing the light bulb, Qin Weidong hesitated.

“What is it?” Lin Wu asked casually while packing his bag.

“Yesterday, the unknown number sent a message. I started a new ending…”

✧˖°.──⋆⭒˚.⋆💌⋆⭒˚.⋆──✧˖°.

“I thought you might be discussing work with a friend. Sorry, I guessed wrong,” Qin Weidong said after a brief pause.

“I don’t have friends, and there’s nothing to send,” Lin Wu replied, standing by the door.

“Mm… then I’ll get going.” Qin Weidong draped his coat over his arm, nodded, and turned to leave.

“Alright.” Lin Wu didn’t walk him out any further.

In the warmly lit corridor, Lin Wu watched his back recede. It was a tall, straight, steady figure. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he suddenly strode back.

“Do you even realize it’s the fifteenth today?” Qin Weidong’s voice came out through clenched teeth. He brushed past Lin Wu, went straight into the room, and picked up the phone on the table. Without hesitation, he opened the message interface—

【Yueyang Road Xingxing Internet Café. Save two computers for me. I’ll be there at 10:30!】

【Who exactly are you?!】

【Could the killer switch targets from a female high schooler to a male high schooler?】

【What is Lin Wu like in the future?】

【What’s my relationship with Lin Wu in the future?】

【Are Lin Wu and I happy in the future?】

…

A long string of messages filled the screen, all sent between September 5 and December 2.

Qin Weidong stared at them, then took another phone out of his pocket. It was an old Motorola K5. The message history on it matched Lin Wu’s phone exactly, except one was the inbox and the other the outbox.

On Lin Wu’s phone, the timestamps were within the last three months.
On his, they were from twenty years ago.

The two phones were separated by twenty years of time.

“How did you figure it out?” Lin Wu asked, watching him. It was obvious now. Qin Weidong already knew he was the “unknown number.”

Qin Weidong loosened his tie and sat down on the sofa, a faint self-mockery in his voice. “Lin Wu, I’m not an idiot.”

If there was a moment things started to feel off, it was probably from the very beginning.

Back then, when he asked the unknown number where Lin Wu had gone, the reply was that Lin Wu had undergone a minor procedure and couldn’t text, so the “friend” was relaying messages.

He believed it.

But afterward, every time the timeline was rewritten, it was always that “unknown number” communicating. That didn’t make sense. By then, the 2004 Lin Wu already knew about the spacetime messages. With his personality, there was no way he would let some “friend” handle something so important. Even lying in the ICU, Lin Wu would have found a way to communicate personally.

And more than that, in the early exchanges, the other side hadn’t hidden their typing habits. For example, when stating conclusions, they liked to add a period at the end. Lin Wu had the same habit. Later, once the three of them were “cooperating,” that habit suddenly changed, as if deliberately concealed.

On top of that, the tone, the logic, the way of thinking…

Anyone who looked closely enough would reach the same conclusion.

He had sensed something was wrong from the start. But he didn’t care.

No matter what the future was, he and Lin Wu had already met. The future would be written from the past. They would grow up together, go to school, start working…

He had been full of anticipation.

Until Luo Xiaorong died again, and they went their separate ways.

Twenty years later, when Lin Wu returned to Xuhu, Qin Weidong finally confirmed it.

Lin Wu was the unknown number from 2004.

“There are only two days left.” Qin Weidong checked the time, then handed the phone to him.

“If I send it… do you know what will happen to you now?” Lin Wu asked.

“It won’t matter,” Qin Weidong said with a faint smile. “When a new ending appears, it’ll just be a new day.”

“A new day…” Lin Wu closed his eyes.

When a new ending formed, everything would change again.

This was their twentieth ending. Lin Wu remembered every one of them.

Qin Weidong did not.

Each time Lin Wu started a new timeline, Qin Weidong’s twenty years of life would vanish completely, just like the last version of him, dissolving like bubbles.

For Lin Wu, each reset was a new beginning.
For Qin Weidong who had known him, each one was an ending.

“Go ahead,” Qin Weidong urged again.

“…Alright.” Lin Wu began typing, numb. Even if Qin Weidong hadn’t turned back just now, he would have sent this message anyway.

In a daze, he remembered the fourth ending.

Back then, he, Luo Xiaorong, and Wang Jiahui had lived happily together in Shenhai. He had told them the truth. They had watched fireworks by the sea.

When the fireworks bloomed, he had felt like he had killed four people.

And in this ending—

He was killing the Qin Weidong in front of him.

His memory of the past twenty years wasn’t detailed down to every second. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. The vivid playback had only reached 10:12. Based on what he remembered, at this exact time back then, they had still been eating strawberries together.

Before Luo Xiaorong’s death, they had been inseparable.

Half a minute later, Lin Wu finished typing the details of Luo Xiaorong’s impending death on the night of December 17 and sent it to 2004.

Sent successfully.

Ten seconds later, a reply came.

Everything followed the same rhythm as before.

Lin Wu let out a breath.

“Qin Weidong… let’s go skiing tomorrow,” he said, looking at him.

“Okay.” Qin Weidong picked up his coat. He didn’t refuse.

…

At the same time, in 2004—

“The water bill collector came by. People are busy during the day, so they usually collect at night.” Lin Wu walked back into the room holding a red receipt.

Half a minute earlier, someone had knocked on the door while they were doing homework. He thought it was Wang Manshan, but it turned out to be the building’s water fee manager. They had used 0.7 tons of water that month, totaling 1.12 yuan. Probably because of winter, they used less than in summer.

After explaining, Lin Wu noticed Qin Weidong sitting on the chair, still in his dinosaur onesie, holding his phone, staring blankly.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Wu asked.

“Nothing…” Qin Weidong looked at him, opened his mouth, then added as if emphasizing, “Just zoned out for a bit. It’s nothing.”

Lin Wu put the receipt into the drawer, not noticing his expression. Then he asked, “Can you still contact 2024?” Even though the connection seemed closed, they would still try occasionally.

“No. Looks like the channel’s completely shut now.” Qin Weidong handed him the phone. Aside from the failed message from two days ago, there was nothing new.

“Guess things are back to normal,” Lin Wu said, not thinking much of it.

At 10:50, they turned off the lights and went to sleep.

That night, December 15, was quiet.

Qin Weidong lay properly under the covers, his mind replaying the message he had just received—

A message from 2024, about Luo Xiaorong’s impending death.

✧˖°.──⋆⭒˚.⋆💌⋆⭒˚.⋆──✧˖°.