Come to think of it, don’t I’ve got some shares that Boss Zhuang verbally gifted me?
This matter started without any follow-up, and the full terms boiled down to: –From now on, you’re one of the owners, I’ll notify you when there’s breaking news, but you’ve gotta put your heart into working for the inn for free, and show up to be the bodyguard when things go down.–
These past few days, if it weren’t for Boss Zhuang equating the big client with Jiazi Term, I’d probably not hear a whisper from this sole-frequency inn owner in half a year or more.
–Boss Zhuang, you should know how hard it is to earn that millennium supply. Even I have a tough time getting inside.– Yang Zicang said.
{Tough time? Wait, what’s with this –Boss Zhuang_-** business? How distant._**}
In the mental link, the short-statured Boss stood on a stool by the window, looking outward, his face a mix of shock and disappointment.
{Bro, can’t you cook up an excuse with half a brain? So many have bought your incense balls and gone into the mountains, yet you’re telling me you can’t get in?}
–Ah, alright, alright, we’re all on the same side here, old pal. I’m just venting a bit. From now on, we’ll handle this kind of business ourselves—with your big brother around, I promise you’ll make even more.–
–Mm… fine.– Yang Zicang pinched his nose and replied reluctantly.
{Hehe, I’ve already spread the word about your place. In a few days, more people should be coming over. Consider this a gift from me.}
–You’re being too generous, old pal. Just don’t send over some experts that are too tough to handle.–
{I figured you wouldn’t be that simple. Haha, don’t worry. They’ll definitely earn you an extra tens of thousands of Chronos.}
On that note, Boss Zhuang rubbed his fingers together in a low voice and said:
{Of course, if you’re willing to let me have a cut, I wouldn’t mind at all. The brothers below will also remember your kindness—it’s a contribution to the inn as well.}
Yang Zicang looked up at the faint specks of light playfully darting across the sky.
–We’ll talk about that later.–
……
Meanwhile, somewhere resembling an ancient village, distant and quiet.
Zolo descended from the worn-out watchtower, with a rustic middle-aged man dressed in homemade linen following at his side.
–You’re pretty lucky to have stabilized this village. Must have cost you quite a bit of Lost Moxels.–
–That’s what we villagers saved up over the years. We’d always hoped to find a place far from civilization to live in peace. Finally, our wish came true—it wasn’t in vain.–
–Not bad.– Zoro said, looking down at the sturdy otherworldly structure beneath his feet. –This watchtower—in the otherworld, it was probably used to keep watch for monsters.–
The middle-aged man replied, –Probably. But now, all the other terrain has collapsed, and monsters no longer appear. In the future, this watchtower will be just for climbing up and gazing into the distance.–
A woman dressed in coarse cloth clothing stood below the spiral staircase, holding a small basket of fruits and vegetables as she waited for them.
–But those magical patterns in that room—those we truly wanted to preserve. What a pity, the moment we try to record them, something goes wrong.–
–That thing? You just have to leave it to fate.–
–Xiao Luo, you know so many experts. Is there no one who understands otherworldly magical patterns?–
–There used to be one, but he left at the end of last year. According to what he said, just looking at the magical patterns is no big deal, but the more powerful they are, the harder they are to transcribe. Trying to record them damages your mental energy.–
–That’s truly a shame.–
The two came down to the ground. Zoro accepted the woman’s kindness and took the small basket of fruit—a precious commodity in the Shibin Wastes.
They gazes at the few children playing in the village.
–In the future, they’ll never know what Earth was like.–
The middle-aged man’s eyes were full of affection as he watched the children, a note of regret creeping into his tone.
–Skyscrapers, televisions, phones, airplanes, ships—all those things will just be legends from now on.–
A trace of regret flashed in the woman’s eyes as she spoke, –In two generations, no one will yearn for the world we once left behind. But they will always remember you.–
She turned to look at the man beside her, wearing a road-worn visor mask.
–Thank you for bringing us the seeds, the formulas, and that well engine—it’s what we urgently needed.–
A well would be used by many generations; someday, their children would gaze at the dim sky at night and tell their own children stories of the past: that old village well was brought by a traveler from afar in their grandparents’ time…
Zorro bit into a small tomato and chewed as he said:
_-**As the dispatch assistant to agricultural breeding expert Nvaya and the wasteland-builder Yang ZiCang…
–Delivering their research results to those in need across the Shibin Wastes is just my way of fulfilling a part of their idealistic endeavors during my travels.–
–Nvaya… Yang ZiCang…–
The few people nearby murmured these unfamiliar names over and over, and some young ones quietly memorized them, intending to carve them on the wellhead.
Zorro smiled, mounted his nightmare steed, and said, –Goodbye—I’ve yet to journey to more remote places.–
As the villagers watched under the gaze of twilight, the motorcycle vanished across the wilderness, painting a faint trail of crimson light through the dusky horizon.
……
After Bopoli, who had stayed up all night, went to sleep, Morris put on his black bowler hat and stepped out.
Though it was late June, the morning breeze here still carried a hint of chill.
–Morning, Morris. Eaten yet?–
–Good morning, Mrs. Li.–
The lady smiled, carrying food as she walked past him.
Streetlights along the cobblestone path were still on. Morris glanced at the address on the business card in his hand, then turned down the street.
–Number 15, Emerald B Road.–
The streets were filled with youths and pretty girls. After Morris rounded the corner, two people across the street behind him halted and turned their heads to look.
–Hey, Brother Xin, wasn’t that foreigner just now the one from our team?–
–You mean Alexander? He still hasn’t had all his Chronos seized yet?–
The red-haired young man lifted his head to take in the retro rock-and-log buildings lining both sides of the street.
–Hah, how interesting—calling this place home. Rent here must be at least two hundred Chronos a month. How could that guy have any Chronos to burn?–
–Probably splitting the rent with a few others,– the woman said. –Let’s go. First, let’s grab the supplies the captain asked for.–
The red-haired young man eyed these towering houses with envy.
The space inside had to be more spacious than the cramped room his team rented—though that room was just a stopover in Hubville. Still, who wouldn’t want to live someplace better?
And Emerald Road B was precisely such a tranquil, spacious, and comfortable place. Even the shops operating here appeared upscale, instilling a sense of awe.
Morris pushed open the dark solid wood door inlaid with frosted glass.
–Welcome, Mr. Alexander Morris.–
–I have a reservation.–
The man in the vest behind the counter nodded in acknowledgment, then walked over to pour a cup of fragrant milk tea from an exquisite kettle.
–Ms. Wheat Aphid is already inside.–
–Thanks.– Morris took the teacup and took a sip, instantly feeling as if he were standing on a breezy prairie. He looked at the cup with a hint of surprise.
–Different flavors bring different experiences. I wish you a pleasant time.–
The man smiled and pointed to the passage beside Morris. –Ms. Wheat Aphid entered the town through proper channels. Don’t do anything that would put her in a difficult position.–
–I understand.–
Morris stepped into the back, where several room doors were tightly shut, except for one adorned with an emerald bead curtain hanging as decoration, which remained open.
–I’m over here.– A middle-aged woman’s warm, enthusiastic greeting came from inside.
Morris reached up to part the beaded curtain and stepped inside. He glanced around at the decor—unlike the candles, mystical runes, and crystal balls he had imagined, the room was filled with intricate clocks, airplane models, mechanical structures, and artistic statues.
–So you’re the foreigner who made the appointment.–
–Mr. Wang referred me here.–
A somewhat chubby woman sat with bright red lipstick and large black-rimmed glasses.
She sat down behind the desk. –In that case, he must have told you, then—what the consequences of this phone call are.–
–I know. But I believe my luck should be good enough, and the outcome certainly won’t be too bad.–
May Wen nodded. –Out of my clients, nine out of ten are quite optimistic. Yet in the end, only half of them get to laugh last. A reminder, though—if you try to forcibly change the future, there’s a high chance you’ll die inexplicably.–
She pointed to the chair across the table.
–The fee to make the call is $5,999. If you’re sure about this, then have a seat. I’ll warn you again: the conversation with the future lasts only a minute, and the content will almost certainly lock in your fate. So once you dial, no matter whether you like what you hear or not, don’t even think about trying to change it.–
Morris gave it serious thought, but the moment that figure came to mind, he couldn’t find peace.
–Yang Zicang will surely take me onward to a more distant future.–
Muttering to himself, Morris sat down with his clothes still on.
–I just want to know if the future me ever found Julia. That information shouldn’t cause any serious consequences.–
Morris took a deep breath. –She should be in some city by now.–
With a smile on her lips, Mā-Yǎ chuckled. –Anyway, my advice is not to exceed three years. After all, that alone will cost me three thousand Chronos now. Beyond that, every single extra day consumes exponentially more Chronos—no one can afford that.–
Thinking back to the fleeting scene that brought him here—his lover, his fiancée, seemingly having entered this world too—Morris harbored a constant knot in his heart.
But before this moment, even self-preservation had been a struggle for him, and the mere thought of that graceful silhouette filled him with despair and powerlessness. It was only now that he finally found the resolve to seek his fiancée.
Mā-Yǎ smiled coyly, her carmine lips pursed. Reaching for the antique rotary phone beside her, a gem-like iris within the red artistically designed dial slot rolled lazily toward the man.
–Chronos 5999, thank you.–
Morris handed her a shimmering, softly glowing banknote before taking the receiver.
[I authorize the use of another version of my kin.]
[I am initiating a call to my future Chronos code.]
–Enter your date of birth first, then enter the future year, month, and day you wish to contact, ending with the hashtag key.–
{I will automatically calculate the time difference. Please, start.}
The phone, whose body was a rotary dial, emitted a hazy telepathic voice.
Though it appeared as an old-fashioned pulse-dial telephone, there were still star and pound keys within the dial, and that pound key was unmistakably a flickering Quad.
Both the edge of this dial and the key itself radiated a faint red glow.
It was the Quad’s Nightmare.
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