Chapter 13: Ingotfall and Low-Tech Allies
*CRUUUNCH-SCREEECH!!!*
The impact was deafening, bone-jarring! The entire 'Shadow-7' groaned, buckling like a tin can under the immense weight! The roof caved in dramatically, stopping just centimeters from our heads, plunging the cockpit into distorted shadows. The already cracked windshield spiderwebbed further, threatening to shatter completely. We were thrown violently against our restraints, stars exploding behind our eyes again.
"Ugh… cough… what the actual FUCK was that?!" I (Liang) groaned, my head spinning, vision blurry. Shaking my head to clear it, I peered up through the fractured transparency. The culprit – that absurdly huge, gaudily glittering golden ingot – was now firmly, ludicrously wedged into the mangled roof of our stolen police car, like a bizarre, oversized hood ornament, still emitting a soft, almost smug, golden glow.
That ingot… that specific golden sheen… that *modus operandi*… wait a second! It hit me! This wasn't enemy action! This was *us*! Or rather, one of our own ridiculously over-the-top, pre-programmed emergency protocols embedded in our bio-chips! Code name: "Sudden Wealth"! Designed to trigger under extreme duress when escape seemed impossible *and* a high-value 'asset' (like this Dragon Group car) was nearby! It would link to some forgotten, off-grid private stash (a defunct orbital station? A smuggler's cache?) and teleport the most visually ostentatious, mass-heavy, and seemingly 'valuable' (but actually useless) object directly onto the target!
The underlying logic? Exploiting a loophole in the Federation's ubiquitous USE GPS (Universal Sentient Entity Global Positioning System)! That system, obsessed with order and efficiency, flagged extreme chaos, irrational destruction, or 'imperfect interactions' (like a state-of-the-art police car being flattened by a giant gold ingot with wanted fugitives potentially inside) as low-priority, anomalous data! The more absurd the damage, the more 'imperfect' the situation, the fuzzier the GPS tracking became! It couldn't compute or tolerate such 'flawed' scenarios!
"Oh, for crying out loud… I remember programming this stupid 'Distraction by Bling' protocol… must have been seriously sleep-deprived…" I (Liang) muttered, half-laughing, half-groaning. Utterly ridiculous, yes, but it had inadvertently saved us from whatever attack was likely incoming, *and* scrambled our GPS signature! Chaos was indeed a ladder… or at least, a smokescreen.
"That… that ingot… that was *your* idea?!" Lu Zixian stared at the golden monstrosity overhead, his expression a mixture of disbelief and grudging admiration for the sheer absurdity.
"Less talking, more driving! It bought us time and GPS cover! Let's move!" I (Liang) slammed my hand down on what looked like the main power conduit initiator!
*Whirr-KABOOM!*
With a protesting screech of tortured metal and a violent shudder, the heavily damaged 'Shadow-7', still sporting its ridiculous golden hat, somehow roared back to life! The core anti-gravity emitters and fusion reactor kicked in! Dragon Group tech was built tough, gotta give 'em that!
"Hold on! Initiating 'Aggressive Repositioning'!" I (Liang) jammed the throttle control (a sleek lever) all the way forward!
*SCREEEEEECH!!!* The mangled car lurched, skidded sideways like a drunken crab, then shot forward with neck-snapping acceleration! The massive golden ingot, unable to maintain its perch, was violently flung off the back, tumbling end over end before crashing into the sand dunes behind us with a distant *thump*, raising a huge cloud of dust!
We were piloting a barely-flyable wreck, smoke and sparks trailing from damaged panels, but we were *moving*! Fast! Skimming low over the endless dunes, weaving erratically, following the faint coordinates embedded in the Indian Uncle's earlier info-dump – coordinates leading to a supposed safe haven, a hidden base belonging to some low-tech, non-hostile alien species who apparently had their own beef with the Warring States Empire!
The ride was hellish. Constant turbulence, jarring impacts as we clipped dune crests, warning klaxons blaring from the damaged console. Lu Zixian, white-faced and gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm, desperately tried to stabilize our flight path using the co-pilot controls. It felt like starring in a low-budget remake of *Mad Max: Fury Road*, but in a stolen, half-destroyed sci-fi police car.
After what felt like hours of white-knuckled, near-death driving (or maybe just minutes, time was warped), we finally reached the designated coordinates, deep in an uncharted sector of the wasteland. The landscape shimmered ahead – a massive optical camouflage field cloaking whatever lay beyond.
The battered car skidded to a halt before the shimmering curtain. The air before us rippled, like disturbed water, and a section parted, revealing a tunnel entrance glowing with a soft, welcoming blue light. Standing (or rather, hovering) just inside the entrance was… one of *them*.
It was roughly humanoid in shape, about two meters tall, but its body was composed entirely of a translucent, gelatinous substance, like a giant, vaguely man-shaped jellyfish. Within its semi-transparent form, swirling clouds of faint, multi-colored bio-luminescent energy pulsed gently, like captured nebulae. It had no discernible limbs or features, just a smooth, ovoid shape, hovering silently a few centimeters off the ground.
As we stared, a gentle, calm thought, not words but pure meaning, echoed directly in our minds:
*«Welcome, Travelers of the Timestreams. We sensed your distress, and the… unsettling aura of the Warring States pursuers.»* The 'voice' felt like a chorus of soft, feminine whispers, strangely soothing despite the alien nature of the communication.
So, this was the Indian Uncle's idea of allies? Low-tech, maybe, but telepathy was definitely a neat trick.
*«Who… who are you?»* I (Liang) projected back mentally, activating our own chip's translation and telepathy protocols.
*«We are the Sha'zhi, the Sand-Speakers, ancient custodians of this small star sector,»* the gelatinous being replied. *«Our technology is… rudimentary, stalled at what you might call the 'Genesis Point' era (roughly equivalent to your Earth's 2060s), but we remember the tyranny of the Warring States from cycles past. If you seek sanctuary from them, we offer what little aid we can provide.»*
*«We need help,»* I projected urgently, trying to sound trustworthy despite arriving in a stolen, wrecked police car. *«We need to fight back against the Warring States! Do you have any… special abilities? Technologies?»*
*«Our weapons are pebbles against their star-cannons,»* the Sand-Speaker conveyed, a touch of sorrow in its mental tone. *«But we hold an ancient art, passed down through generations, tied to the very pulse of this world… We can, to a limited extent… subtly influence or disrupt the rhythm and frequency of the planet's own energy field.»*
*«Manipulate planetary energy fields?»* Lu Zixian interjected mentally, skepticism evident even in his thought-pattern. *«That sounds… kind of useless? Can it stop a dreadnought?»*
*«Direct confrontation is impossible,»* the Sand-Speaker admitted frankly. *«But… perhaps, at a critical moment, it could create… unexpected interference? A brief moment of chaos? Enough to provide an opening. Many small drops can wear away stone.»*
Sounded pretty weak, yeah. But beggars couldn't be choosers. And any enemy of the Warring States was potentially a friend of ours right now.
*«Okay! We accept your help!»* I (Liang) decided quickly. *«And in return, if we survive this mess, we promise we'll find a way to help you upgrade your tech, or… at least help you deal with any lingering Warring States trouble!»* (Making big promises when cornered was kind of my thing).
*«It is agreed,»* the swirling lights within the Sand-Speaker brightened perceptibly. *«Then follow us quickly. This place is no longer safe for you. The pursuers' senses are unnervingly keen.»*
It turned slowly, gliding silently back into the blue-lit tunnel. Lu Zixian and I exchanged weary glances. Then, grimly, I steered the sputtering, mangled police car forward, following our strange, translucent host into the unknown sanctuary.
Chapter 14: Bonds of the Air Signs and Penniless Pasts
The wrecked police car, leaking fluids and trailing sparks, crawled deeper into the tunnel guided by the silently hovering Sand-Speaker. The tunnel walls weren't rough-hewn rock as I'd expected, but smooth, polished metal that glowed with a soft, shifting internal luminescence, cycling through calming blues and greens. The only sounds were the scrape of our car's damaged undercarriage on the floor and our own ragged breathing echoing slightly in the enclosed space.
Glancing over at Lu Zixian, who sat slumped in the co-pilot seat, cradling his broken arm, his face pale and etched with pain despite his stoic silence, a wave of complicated emotion washed over me (Liang). Us two… somehow always ending up like this. Battered, hunted, running on fumes, relying on nothing but each other and blind luck.
Funny, considering our stars. Both Libras, air signs. Astrologers (the dodgy AI ones online, anyway) always said air signs valued freedom, communication, balance – made good partners. Maybe there was something to it? Without his cool head balancing my impulsive ass, I probably would've gotten myself vaporized a dozen times over by now.
But it wasn't always like this, this ride-or-die camaraderie.
My mind drifted back… way back… to 2025? High school. Feels like another life. Information age overload, VR dreams brighter than the smoggy reality outside. Material stuff was tight; everyone scrambling. Crammed into those soulless government-assigned micro-apartments in towering concrete blocks. Just faces in the crowd, him and me. Both struggling for grades, for part-time creds, just trying not to get flagged by the damn school AI as 'low-potential human resources'. We weren't even really friends then. Barely acquaintances. More like rivals, secretly competing over stupid shit like game rankings or who could score the latest bootleg neural interface first. Typical teenage idiocy.
I remembered him back then (Lu Zixian) – even more withdrawn than now, if that was possible. Quiet kid, sharp eyes though, always watching, analyzing, with this unnerving, detached coolness that kept everyone at arm's length. Like he'd already seen too much, knew how the game was rigged. And me? (Liang) I was the opposite, trying too hard to be liked, Mr. Social Butterfly (or so I thought), cracking jokes, trying to fit in everywhere (Libra instinct, I guess), but underneath, just a bundle of insecurities, convinced nobody actually *got* me, or even liked me much.
Things changed… when was it? 2030? Yeah, the year the AI singularity *really* kicked off, society started going haywire, everything shifting under our feet. I remember one night, a massive power outage hit the city sector. Pitch black outside, except for the distant glow from the elite corporate towers. Our crappy apartment block was plunged into suffocating, humid darkness. Felt like the end of the world. Don't know what possessed me, maybe the apocalyptic vibe, maybe just sheer desperation for connection, but I gathered up all my courage, fumbled my way down the lightless corridor, and knocked on his door.
He opened it, just a silhouette against the deeper black of his room. Didn't say anything, just gave me that look – the one that silently asked, "Are you high or just stupid?"
"Talk?" I'd managed to stammer, my palms sweating in the dark.
To my surprise, he didn't slam the door. Just stepped aside, letting me in. His room was even smaller than mine, but neater, more organized. We didn't turn on any emergency lights. Just sat there on the floor, side-by-side in the absolute darkness, looking out the narrow window at the dead city skyline. The only sounds were our own breathing and the distant wail of sirens cutting through the oppressive silence.
"So… what do you think?" I finally broke the silence, my voice cracking slightly. "About… all this AI stuff? The future?"
And we talked. For hours. In the dark. About the crazy new tech, the excitement, the possibilities, but also the fear – fear of being replaced, becoming obsolete, losing control, maybe even being 'deleted' by some super-AI that decided we were inefficient. We even managed to get his ancient, battery-powered light-slate working long enough to access the public net, pulling up fragmented news reports and conspiracy theories via the clunky, almost comically unintelligent ChatGPT-9 (AI back then was so primitive!). In the darkness, he'd pulled out a dusty electronic harmonica (who knew he played?), breathing out a few halting, melancholic notes that seemed to capture the mood perfectly. We reminisced about stupid school stuff, fights over virtual items, crushes on the same unattainable girl from the next block (neither of us ever daring to speak to her, of course)…
As the first hint of grey dawn began to filter through the window, the conversation died down. An awkward silence fell. And then, dredging up years of buried insecurity, I (Liang) blurted out the question that had always haunted me: "Hey… seriously, though. Back in school… did you guys… all think I was annoying? Or like… an idiot? Seemed like… nobody really wanted to hang out with me…" My face burned in the darkness as I asked it.
He (Lu Zixian) was silent for a long, long time. So long I thought he'd pretend he hadn't heard, or just grunt noncommittally. I was already cringing, wishing I could rewind time and swallow the words back down.
Then, finally, his voice came, low but incredibly clear in the pre-dawn stillness.
"The past is the past."
A pause. Then, as if making a solemn vow: "From now on… In the future… you, Liang Yilun, are my friend."
Another pause, then, with a strange mix of resignation and maybe… warmth? "We're both Libras, right? Maybe… we're just fated to stick together. Whatever shitstorm comes next."
Something shifted in that moment. In the darkness. A connection forged not out of choice, maybe, but out of shared circumstance, shared uncertainty, shared astrological quirks? It felt… significant. Real.
And somehow, from that night on, we *did* stick together. Through the tech explosions, the societal upheavals, the bizarre accident that gave us our 'abilities' (another near-death story for another time), and then… onto this endless, chaotic, exhilarating, terrifying road of spacetime exile.
We'd dodged T-Rexes in primordial jungles, hacked corporate mainframes in gleaming star-cities, gotten lost in temporal paradoxes that nearly erased our existence… Faced down horrors that would break most minds, witnessed wonders beyond imagination. Yeah, we fought, constantly. Air signs, different moons – his detached Aquarius, my restless Gemini – we clashed. But somehow, when the chips were truly down, when annihilation stared us in the face… we always, *always*, found a way. Together.
Maybe *that* was it. This bond, forged in darkness and tempered in the fires of a thousand crises… maybe *that* was the real anchor keeping us sane, keeping us alive.
*Vmm…* A subtle vibration brought me back to the present. The wrecked police car had glided out of the glowing tunnel and come to a stop in a vast, cavern-like space.
This was clearly the main hub of the Sand-Speaker base. The air here smelled less of raw desert and more of machine oil and recycled air, with that faint underlying aquatic tang. Dimly lit, functional. Several strange, pod-like vehicles rested silently in docking bays along the rough-hewn rock and metal walls. The same soft, shifting colored light emanated from panels set into the walls.
Our gelatinous host hovered beside the car, the colored energy patterns swirling gently within its translucent form.
*«This area is shielded. You may rest here for a time,»* its thought-voice echoed in our minds. *«I have informed the Elders. Attendants will arrive shortly to tend to your wounds and provide sustenance.»*
"Thanks," Lu Zixian projected back, the weariness evident even in his mental tone.
Sanctuary. For now, at least.
Chapter 15: Digesting Cops and Temporal Collapse
We settled into a routine of cautious rest and information gathering within the Sand-Speakers' hidden base. The place felt ancient, carved deep beneath the desert, a blend of natural caverns and surprisingly robust, if dated, technology. The gelatinous aliens, while quiet and keeping their distance, were undeniably helpful. They provided nutrient paste (a bland, greenish-grey goo that tasted vaguely of seaweed and nuts, but packed a serious energy punch) and filtered water (still a bit chemically, but better than recycled sewage).
A 'medic' Sand-Speaker, distinguished by swirling patterns of soft green light within its form, tended to Lu Zixian's arm. Using a device that emitted focused sonic pulses and shifting energy fields, it expertly realigned the fractured bones and sealed the wound without any physical contact. Lu Zixian reported the pain significantly lessened, though the arm remained weak and needed time to fully mend.
We found a secluded alcove, leaning against the cool, smooth metal of the cavern wall, slowly consuming the nutrient paste, talking in low tones.
"So, these Sand-Speakers…" I (Liang) mused, scooping up the last of the goo with my finger. "Friendly enough, sure. But their 'ancient art' of tickling the planet's energy field… seriously, Zixian, you think that's gonna do jack squat against a Warring States battlecruiser?"
"Better than nothing," Lu Zixian countered pragmatically, carefully flexing his newly-mended arm. "Every little bit helps. Besides, they gave us shelter, medical aid, and intel. And their base is well-hidden. For now."
"Yeah, 'for now' being the operative phrase…" I was about to launch into another skeptical rant when—
*BEEP-BEEP-BZZZT!*
The insistent, jarring sound erupted from the mangled wreckage of the 'Shadow-7' parked nearby! We both jumped. The police car's internal comm system, which we'd completely forgotten about in the chaos, had somehow sputtered back to life! On its cracked main screen, a bright red incoming call icon flashed insistently, displaying the unmistakable emblem of the New Sino Federation local planetary police!
"Shit! I forgot about the damn cops!" I (Liang) smacked my forehead, nearly dropping my empty paste container. "We stole their car! They must have tracked its internal locator signal! How did they pinpoint it *here*?!"
"They didn't track it *here*," Lu Zixian corrected instantly, his face paling. "The signal is coming *from* the car! Its emergency transponder is still active! We have to shut it down *now* before they triangulate the signal source and expose this base!"
"Shut it down? How?! This is Dragon Group tech! It's gotta be triple-encrypted with anti-tamper protocols out the wazoo!" Panic surged through me again.
"Then smash it!" Lu Zixian suggested desperately, looking towards the noisy comm unit.
"Smashing it will probably trigger a 'dead man's switch' alert straight to Dragon Group HQ, you idiot!" I (Liang) countered, my mind racing, the devious part of my brain kicking into high gear. "Wait… I have an idea! A stupid one, but maybe… We 'digest' them!"
"Digest?" Lu Zixian looked baffled.
"Yeah! With our low-level matter reorganization tech!" I explained quickly, a mischievous grin spreading across my face despite the situation. "That stuff is useless against high-tech targets and probably flags the Geocore Chain, but against basic planetary police cruisers and their dumb-ass occupants? Perfect!" I rubbed my hands together. "We use their incoming signal to lock onto *them*, then… poof! Teleport the whole pursuing police unit – cars, cops, donuts, everything – straight into… yeah, back to that charming 'Desert Rose' diner! We'll even program a little extra treat – auto-generate some steaming plates of mystery meat stew and synth-ale right in front of them! By the time those poor saps finish their unexpected 'free lunch', they'll have completely forgotten why they were chasing us in the first place!"
"That is… profoundly messed up," Lu Zixian said, his mouth twitching slightly despite himself. "But… I admit, it's probably the least worst option right now. Do it fast, before they lock onto the signal origin!"
I (Liang) didn't need telling twice. I scrambled over to the police car wreck, accessed the still-functioning comm panel, and quickly activated the pre-loaded 'nuisance relocation' protocol from our own embedded chip tech. Fingers flew across the holographic interface, locking onto the incoming police signal frequency, setting the destination coordinates (Desert Rose Diner), adding the 'culinary distraction' parameters…
A few seconds later, the annoying beeping stopped abruptly. The screen flickered, then displayed a confirmation: 'Target(s) successfully relocated and temporarily pacified via gastronomic inducement. Estimated duration: 2-3 standard hours.'
"Done!" I (Liang) slumped back against the car, wiping sweat from my brow. Then I frowned. "Weird, though… The system feedback showed a much stronger USE GPS signal interference spike than expected… Could it be… that acts of blatant rule-breaking and chaos, like stealing a cop car and teleporting officers into a diner… actually *work* better at scrambling the GPS tracking?"
"Possibly," Lu Zixian mused, filing the information away. "Disorder as a cloaking mechanism… Interesting. An unexpected data point."
Just as we thought we could finally relax for more than five minutes, maybe even debrief properly with our gelatinous hosts—
*Woo-woo-woo… Woo-woo-woo…*
A different alarm klaxon sounded throughout the base! Lower pitched, more insistent, less like an external breach alert and more like… an internal security warning? The ambient lighting shifted to a pulsing, cautionary yellow.
"What now?! Not an attack?" Confused and instantly wary, we exchanged uneasy glances.
We moved quickly from the vehicle bay towards the main observation platform overlooking the base entrance tunnel. And froze. Standing just *outside* the shimmering blue energy barrier of the base, peering in with wide, curious eyes, were… two figures. Two ridiculously, horrifyingly familiar figures.
Wearing the standard-issue blue and white uniforms of Bentong Town High School, circa 2025 AD. One looked eager, slightly awkward, a familiar stubborn set to his jaw. The other, quieter, more observant, pushing his glasses up his nose.
They were… Teenage Liang Yilun. And Teenage Lu Zixian.
*Our past selves.*
How?! How in the name of all cosmic absurdity did they end up *here*?! This specific hidden alien base, miles out in the unmapped desert?! From the looks of the two high-end electric scooters parked haphazardly behind them (the souped-up, long-range models Uncle sponsored us with back then!), they must have skipped afternoon classes, gone joyriding way, way off the beaten path, and somehow stumbled upon the camouflaged entrance to this top-secret alien sanctuary! The sheer, astronomical unlikelihood of it was staggering!
And the worst part? The *absolute worst* part?
They saw us.
Standing there on the observation platform inside the alien base. Two figures identical to themselves, but older (in experience, if not appearance), clad in ragged, unfamiliar clothes, radiating an aura of desperation and… something else. Something not quite human anymore.
Four pairs of eyes met across the energy barrier.
Time shattered. Air solidified.
On the faces of Teenage Liang and Teenage Lu: utter, gobsmacking shock. Blank incomprehension quickly morphing into dawning, primal terror. Mouths agape, eyes wide as saucers, bodies frozen mid-gesture. Like seeing ghosts. *Impossible* ghosts.
And on our faces (Future Liang and Lu): a mirror image of their terror, amplified a thousandfold. Cold dread, absolute panic, the screeching internal siren of a fundamental cosmic law being violated!
*Temporal paradox! Self-encounter! Catastrophic contamination!*
Our deeply ingrained, genetically encoded 'Crisis Override' protocols slammed into effect, bypassing all rational thought, all emotion. One cold, brutal imperative screamed through our minds:
ERASE THE THREAT! NEUTRALIZE THE PARADOX! MAKE THEM DISAPPEAR! NOW!
Almost as one, moving with robotic, pre-programmed precision, Lu Zixian and I raised our wrists. Activated the emergency protocol embedded in our chips – the one designed specifically for this unthinkable contingency: 'Memory Wipe and Secure Relocation'.
A wave of soft, barely visible blue energy pulsed outwards from our wrists, passing harmlessly through the base's energy shield, enveloping the two stunned, terrified teenagers outside.
For a nanosecond, their forms flickered, like faulty holograms.
Then, silently, instantly, they vanished. Gone. As if they had never been there.
A 'Procedure Complete' notification pinged softly in our minds. According to the protocol, they had been safely teleported to a secluded, scenic spot ("Lovers' Waterfall," ironically) several hundred kilometers away, with the last hour of their memory replaced with a fabricated recollection of swimming and goofing off. They'd wake up feeling tired and slightly confused, but with no memory of the desert, the alien base, or the terrifying encounter with their future selves.
"Hhhhuuuu…" I (Liang) let out a long, shuddering breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My legs felt like jelly; cold sweat drenched my back.
"Too… fucking… close…" Lu Zixian whispered, his voice hoarse, leaning heavily against the platform railing, his face ashen.
We'd averted immediate disaster, yes. Slapped a digital band-aid on a gaping temporal wound. But the damage was done. The observation had occurred. The timeline had been irrevocably contaminated, however subtly. We'd directly interfered with our own past in the most dangerous way imaginable.
And the chilling efficiency of the memory wipe… it felt… wrong. Disturbing.
We couldn't stay here. Not now. The risk of further contamination, or of attracting unwanted attention (from Time Wardens, maybe?) was too high.
"We have to leave. *Now*," I (Liang) said, forcing a semblance of calm back into my voice, pushing down the lingering horror and the unsettling ethical questions. "Inform the Sand-Speakers, grab whatever supplies they offer, and initiate the next jump. We need to find that Desert Crystal, Zixian. We need to stop running reactively and start *acting*."
But as I looked out at the empty desert where our younger selves had stood just moments before, a cold shadow lingered in my mind. Can memories truly be erased so easily? Can the threads of causality be rewoven so cleanly? Or had we just planted a ticking time bomb in our own past?
Chapter 16: Peeking at the Past and Midnight Knocks
"Jump where? To do what?" Lu Zixian countered, his voice still tight with tension, rubbing his temples with his good hand. The encounter with our past selves had clearly shaken him more than he let on. "Chasing the Desert Crystal is like chasing a myth right now. We have zero leads. And jumping blindly after that… temporal near-miss… feels reckless. What if we *did* attract something nasty? Some kind of… temporal clean-up crew?"
"So we just sit here twiddling our thumbs?!" I (Liang) snapped back, frustration bubbling up again, though deep down, I felt the same unease. That encounter felt… *wrong*. Too easy to fix, almost. "We can't stay, you know that! This base is compromised!" "But… maybe…"
That insidious little thought, the one born of lingering anxiety and a perverse curiosity, resurfaced. The need to *know*.
"Maybe… before we jump…" I (Liang) began hesitantly, glancing sideways at Lu Zixian, "we should just… double-check? Make sure?"
"Double-check *what*?" Lu Zixian frowned, already suspicious.
"That… those two kids… are really okay? That the memory wipe actually *stuck*?" My voice was low. I knew it was stupid, unnecessary, potentially dangerous. Peeking at the past, even remotely, carried risks. But the image of those terrified young faces… and the unsettling ease with which we'd 'fixed' it… The control-freak, data-hungry part of my brain *needed* confirmation.
Lu Zixian stared at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. Logic screamed against it. Prudence warned against it. But… maybe his own lingering unease, that faint flicker of responsibility for the 'ghosts' we'd almost created, resonated with my neurotic need for certainty? He sighed, a long, weary sound. He didn't explicitly agree, but he didn't object either. That was Lu Zixian's version of consent when it came to my dumber ideas.
Right. Operation: Stalk Our Younger Selves. We hurried back to the wrecked police car – our only remaining link to sophisticated tech. Using its surprisingly intact sensor array interface, coupled with the processing power of our own bio-chips, we hacked back into the local planetary civilian surveillance network (security here was a joke compared to Federation standards). We established a temporary, heavily encrypted, multi-spectral tracking link, locking onto the unique bio-signatures of Teenage Liang Yilun and Teenage Lu Zixian.
The car's main holographic display flickered to life, showing a slightly distorted, grainy feed. Signal wasn't great across timelines, but it was watchable.
As programmed, the feed showed the two boys appearing near the picturesque 'Lovers' Waterfall'. They looked soaked, hair plastered to their heads, shivering slightly but laughing, splashing each other playfully at the edge of the cascading water. They looked… completely normal. Excited and tired after an afternoon swim, with absolutely no recollection of a terrifying encounter in the desert.
Seeing them acting so normal, so oblivious, brought a wave of relief, tinged with a strange melancholy.
The feed followed them as they 'woke up' fully, found their scooters stashed nearby (as per the implanted suggestion), and started heading back towards Bentong town, complaining about being late and how much homework they had. They zipped along the winding mountain roads, two carefree figures against a backdrop of lush green jungle.
Signal handover, tracking them into the familiar streets of Bentong. Not straight home, though. They were cruising aimlessly down 'Bentong Road,' the main drag, scooters humming softly, weaving between slower traffic, occasionally racing each other like idiots.
Then, hunger struck. They pulled up outside a rather fancy-looking Chinese restaurant – the "Double Happiness Palace," red lanterns swaying outside its ornate wooden entrance. They hesitated, clearly debating if their combined pocket money could handle the prices. Teenage Liang, typically the bolder (or greedier) one, eventually dragged Teenage Lu inside.
We lost visual feed inside the restaurant, but audio pickup (from nearby street mics) caught snippets of their cheerful chatter about food, girls, and some upcoming physics test.
Watching these two ghosts of our past, so utterly consumed by the trivial dramas of teenage life, while we, their future selves, were fugitives fighting for our very existence across time and space… the contrast was brutal. It was funny, in a dark, twisted way. But mostly, it just hurt. A deep, aching nostalgia for a life of simple problems and uncomplicated joys we could never have again.
Later, as dusk settled, the feed showed them finally returning to the familiar apartment block. Yellow lights flickered on in the stairwells.
Teenage Lu went home first. We saw his dad – a stoic-looking man in a technician's vest (different from the dad in *my* core timeline memory, interesting…) – tinkering with some broken appliance outside their door. A brief, almost silent exchange, then Teenage Lu vanished inside.
Then, Teenage Liang. Sounds of TV and female voices (Grandma? Sisters?) drifted from his apartment as he let himself in, heading straight for his room.
Night fell. The surveillance feed switched to low-light, thermal imaging (hacked from local security drones, probably illegal, but who cared now?). We watched the two boys settle into their respective beds, outlines glowing faintly under thin blankets. Soon, their breathing evened out. Deep asleep. Oblivious. While two temporal voyeurs watched from the shadows of spacetime.
And then… that mischievous, reckless impulse hit me (Liang) again. Maybe it was the stress relief, maybe the sheer absurdity of it all, maybe just the deeply buried teenage delinquent in me resurfacing after years of suppression.
*"Hey, Zixian,"* I projected mentally, a wicked grin spreading across my face in the darkness of our mental link. *"Wanna… mess with them a little?"*
Lu Zixian's mental 'eyebrow' raised. *"Mess with them how? And why?"*
*"Just for kicks! Payback for making us worry!"* I argued, though I knew it was mostly just boredom and a need for some kind of control in our chaotic lives. *"Short-range teleport. Pop up outside his door. Knock knock. Then poof! Gone. Imagine his face!"*
Lu Zixian hesitated mentally. It was childish. It was risky. But… maybe a tiny part of him, the detached Aquarius observer, found the psychological experiment intriguing? Or maybe he just needed a release too? After a moment… a mental shrug. Fine. Don't break anything.
Yes! Game on! Using the last dregs of power reserved for micro-jumps (low energy, hard to track), I pinpointed the coordinates: right outside Teenage Liang's bedroom door!
*Zip!* Instantly, I was standing in the familiar, dimly lit corridor, the smell of dust and stale air thick in my nostrils. Silence, except for my own pounding heart. Trying hard not to giggle, I raised my hand and knocked lightly, rhythmically, three times on the wooden door adorned with faded anime posters.
*Knock… knock-knock.* The sound echoed eerily.
Instantly, rustling sounds from inside. Then, Teenage Liang's voice, thick with sleep, mumbled irritably, "Who is it?... Uncle? Stop messing around, it's late…"
*Zip!* I teleported back to our 'virtual' observation point just as I heard footsteps approaching the door from inside.
A moment later, the door creaked open. Teenage Liang stood there, rubbing his eyes, hair sticking up wildly, peering out into the empty corridor with a confused and annoyed expression. He looked left, looked right, even stuck his head out to glance down the stairwell. Nothing. He scratched his head, muttering, "Weird… wind? Or maybe Zixian playing tricks…"
Just then, from the next room, Teenage Lu's voice, muffled but clearly irritated, floated out: "Oi! Liang Yilun! Stop stomping around out there! The floorboards are creaking! I'm trying to sleep!"
"Alright, alright! Going back to bed!" Teenage Liang grumbled back, still looking bewildered, before shutting his door with a disgruntled *thud*.
Back in our 'mental space', Lu Zixian and I finally broke down, muffling silent laughter until tears streamed down our faces. The sheer childishness, the absurdity, the tiny act of rebellion against our own past… it was a much-needed, albeit twisted, release valve for all the pent-up tension and fear.
Watching the two sleeping figures on the monitor, the prankster urge satisfied, the laughter died down, replaced by that familiar weariness and emptiness.
"Okay, okay, fun's over," Lu Zixian said, his mental voice regaining its usual composure. "Seriously now. We can't keep doing this. It's too risky. We need to get out of this timeline, find a place to recharge properly, and figure out a real plan."
"Yeah," I (Liang) agreed, shutting down the surveillance link. The brief escape into mischief was over. Time to face reality again. "Where to next?"
Lu Zixian rummaged in his nearly empty dimensional pouch and pulled out a small, rolled-up object – one of the 'spacetime scrolls' we occasionally salvaged, containing coordinates and fragmented mission data for various random timelines and locations.
"Let's just pick one at random," he said, unrolling it slightly. The scroll glowed faintly, displaying cryptic symbols and shifting star charts. "A short, low-risk jump somewhere completely different. Clear our heads. Escape… for a little while." He offered it to me.
I took the scroll, the ancient material feeling cool and slightly brittle beneath my fingers. My gaze drifted over the swirling symbols, randomly stopping on one that looked vaguely like a stylized bird.
"This one," I said, tapping it.
The scroll flared with a soft light. The familiar disorientation of a temporal jump began to wash over us. Where would this random roll of the dice take us next?
Chapter 17: University Turmoil and the Pokémon Corridor
The nauseating lurch of the temporal jump faded, replaced by… the smell of freshly cut grass, old paper, and something vaguely resembling cafeteria mystery meat? Sunlight, bright but diffused, filtered through large windows. And the sound… a low, buzzing cacophony of youthful chatter, the distant clang of weights from a gym, and… was that cheesy pop music playing somewhere?
We materialized, unseen thanks to our active camouflage, in a bustling, sunlit corridor. Tall lockers lined one wall, plastered with colorful flyers and graffiti. Students, looking slightly older than our high school selves – maybe late teens, early twenties – streamed past, absorbed in their personal data slates or chattering excitedly. Their clothes were a chaotic mix of styles, no uniforms in sight.
"A university?" I (Liang) murmured, taking in the scene. The energy here was completely different from the high school vibes – more freedom, more chaos, more… hormones? "Did the scroll send us back to our college days? Or *a* college days?"
"Checking coordinates…" Lu Zixian consulted his wrist-mounted device. "Alternate timeline, parallel university experience. Estimated timeframe: somewhere between 2023 and 2027 AD. Huh. Nostalgic… though I mostly remember being broke and stressed back then too."
Our attention was snagged by a commotion near what looked like the main entrance to a large dining hall. A long, disorderly queue snaked out the door.
"What's the big deal? Limited edition synth-noodles?" I (Liang) wondered aloud.
"Looks like… the university distributes free nutrient bread every morning?" Lu Zixian zoomed in on a banner above the door. "Wow. This timeline's college actually cares about student welfare? Back in our day, we were lucky if the water fountains worked."
And then, inevitably, we spotted them. Squeezed into the middle of the chaotic bread line, looking distinctly uncomfortable. University-aged Liang Yilun and Lu Zixian.
Teenage awkwardness had mostly faded, replaced by a veneer of young adult confidence, though 'Liang' still sported a ridiculously floppy haircut popular back then, while 'Lu' now wore thick-rimmed glasses that made him look vaguely intellectual. And, true to form, they seemed to be attracting trouble.
They were arguing with a group of rough-looking guys in front of them, led by a lanky dude with bleached yellow hair.
"Hey! Buttinski! Saw you cut in line!" Yellow Hair shoved Young Liang roughly.
"Cut in line? Your eyes need recalibrating, asshole! We've been standing here for half an hour!" Young Liang instantly fired back, chin jutting out belligerently, refusing to back down an inch. (Classic Liang: Libra fairness combined with Sun/Jupiter/Mars impulsiveness).
"Ooh, feisty freshman?" Yellow Hair's buddies smirked, closing in menacingly.
Young Lu stepped partly in front of Young Liang, adjusting his glasses, trying to de-escalate with forced calmness. "Look, guys, we're all just here for bread, right? No need for trouble. We really were here first." (Classic Lu: Libra diplomacy meets Aquarius cool, but lacking the Martian punch).
"Shove it, four-eyes! Newbies wait at the back!" Yellow Hair ignored him, reaching out to grab Young Liang's shirt.
A fight seemed imminent.
"Should we… uh… create a distraction?" I (Liang) muttered, feeling that old protective instinct kick in.
"Absolutely not!" Lu Zixian clamped a hand on my arm. "Rule one: Observe, don't interfere! We're just passing through! Remember?!"
Thankfully, just as fists were about to fly, the dining hall doors banged open, and a burly security guard emerged, bellowing at the crowd to maintain order. Yellow Hair and his crew shot some final glares before grudgingly moving forward. Young Liang muttered curses under his breath, while Young Lu visibly relaxed, pulling his hot-headed friend towards the bread distribution counter.
We shadowed them invisibly into a massive, echoey lecture hall for what appeared to be an advanced physics class. The professor droned on about something involving multi-dimensional string theory, but most of the hundred-odd students were either zoning out or discreetly interacting with their wrist terminals.
We located our younger selves near the back. Young Lu actually *seemed* to be paying attention, occasionally jotting notes onto a data slate. But Young Liang… I (Future Liang) had to stifle a snort. He had propped his textbook upright as a shield, and behind it, was intensely focused on his personal terminal… playing a ridiculously primitive, pixelated game called 'Pokémon'! His fingers were a blur on the screen!
Some things never change, I guess. Still a master procrastinator.
But then it got weirder. After catching some digital monster, Young Liang looked up, not at the professor, but at the long, tiled corridor visible through the lecture hall's side entrance. His eyes lit up with a manic, almost feverish gleam. He pulled out a stylus and started sketching furiously on a spare notepad, muttering excitedly to himself: "Okay, if I reroute the ambient energy field here… use localized spatial distortion projectors there… overlay with interactive AR projections… YES! A 'Pokémon Battle Corridor'! Students walk through, BAM! Random wild encounter! Or a trainer battle! Epic! Now, how to crowdfund the particle emitters…"
I (Future Liang) stared, utterly flabbergasted. This kid's imagination was seriously off the rails. Remodeling university property for a real-life Pokémon game? Where did he even get these ideas? Or the belief he could actually pull it off? (Ah, right. Sun conjunct Jupiter trine Uranus… boundless optimism meets revolutionary weirdness).
Meanwhile, Young Lu, seemingly oblivious to his friend's descent into mad science, wasn't looking at the professor either. His gaze kept subtly drifting towards a girl with long, dark hair sitting a few rows ahead! And his hand, hidden below desk level, was discreetly tapping messages onto his own terminal… sending them *to her*?!
Holy crap! College Lu had a girlfriend?! Or at least, was actively trying to get one? And from the faint blush on his cheeks… maybe even succeeding? Well, well, well. Mr. Cool-and-Detached Aquarius Moon wasn't so detached after all. Maybe that Libra Venus/Sun/Mars combo was working its magic?
Later, between classes, we witnessed another bizarre campus ritual. The roof of the main academic building was… covered in pumpkins. Hundreds of them. Just… sitting there. Students had to navigate through the pumpkin patch to get back inside after breaks. We watched our younger selves carefully weaving through the orange maze, dodging rolling gourds, while small drones buzzed overhead, filming the spectacle. "'Pumpkin Pageant'? Seriously? What is wrong with this university?" I muttered.
The day devolved further into chaos. That evening, we saw some scummy-looking guy named Li Jianhong actually *steal* Young Liang's terminal right out of his pocket and sprint off into the night! Young Liang chased him, yelling bloody murder, but lost him in the campus's poorly lit back alleys. He was furious, pacing back and forth, almost calling the campus police on his backup comm. Thankfully, the thief apparently got spooked and ditched the terminal in some bushes later, where Young Liang eventually found it, miraculously undamaged.
And just when I thought the 'highlight reel' of our alternate university selves couldn't get any weirder, a stray memory fragment, triggered by Young Liang's earlier anger, flashed through my mind – another delightful nugget from *our* timeline's past…
High school graduation summer. A stupid fight with my actual brother (the math whiz one) over some girl neither of us ended up with. He, being older and usually smugger, tried to pull rank, shoved me, took a cheap shot at my arm. Didn't really hurt, but it pissed me off royally. Years of simmering resentment boiled over. Before I even thought about it, my hand lashed out – a solid, open-palmed slap right to his gut. *WHAP!* The sound echoed. And the look on his face… utter shock, turning to fear. He just… folded. Clutched his stomach, face red, completely speechless. Didn't dare retaliate. Just scurried back to his room like a kicked puppy. Watching that memory play back now… damn. He really was all bluster, wasn't he?
Enough. Observing these alternate pasts was becoming… draining. And weirdly uncomfortable. We'd even caught ourselves subtly intervening – using micro-telekinesis to stop a vital component falling off Young Liang's physics model, anonymously ordering Young Lu's crush's favorite synth-latte to be delivered to her study group 'by mistake'…
But we noticed something unsettling. Our interventions, however small, seemed to be… accelerating their awareness? They were starting to question the 'lucky coincidences', showing flashes of that same analytical suspicion, that same questioning of reality, that had eventually led *us* down this path. Were we inadvertently creating more versions of ourselves doomed to this exile?
"We need to stop," Lu Zixian stated firmly, pulling me back from trying to remotely 'fix' Young Liang's Pokémon game save file which had apparently corrupted. "Any more interference could have serious consequences for their timeline. And potentially for us."
"…Yeah. You're right." I reluctantly agreed. Time to leave these echoes to their own fate.
One last detour, though. Curiosity gnawed at me (Liang). Was *that* company, the massive tech conglomerate we'd briefly worked for (as glorified interns) before everything went sideways, also present in this timeline? We teleported to the coordinates of its gleaming headquarters tower in the city center. Just a quick peek from outside…
We materialized on the sidewalk opposite the towering glass and steel structure. And immediately wished we hadn't. Through the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse executive suite, bathed in the soft glow of expensive mood lighting, the scene was… unmistakable. A portly, balding executive, probably the CEO, had his much younger, scantily clad female assistant bent over his enormous obsidian desk, engaged in an activity that was definitely *not* in her job description. The sounds… thankfully muffled by the thick glass… were still implied.
"Nope! Nope! Nope! Abort! Abort!" We recoiled simultaneously, faces burning, scrambling to activate the teleport again. This alternate timeline was just one giant Cringe Compilation waiting to happen. Time to find somewhere… anywhere… else.
Chapter 18: Reunion with the Yellow Clad Teacher and the Pluto Brand
The jarring transition from voyeuristic embarrassment to the familiar non-space of temporal transit was almost a relief. We reappeared back in the dim, metallic confines of the Sand-Speakers' subterranean base, the faint hum of their primitive (by our standards) technology a welcome return to something resembling our current 'normal'. The brief, chaotic trip down memory lane (alternate memory lane, anyway) hadn't exactly been restful, leaving us feeling strangely drained and… slightly grubby.
We were just about to seek out our gelatinous host again, maybe try to barter some salvaged tech components for more reliable energy cells, when an urgent, high-priority communication request bypassed all our personal firewalls and pinged directly onto our neural interfaces!
Not a standard comm signal. This felt… different. More direct. Almost invasive. Signal source: Unknown. Encryption level: Beyond anything we currently possessed. But the sender ID, displayed in stark, simple characters against our internal vision… it made us both freeze, hearts instantly pounding.
"Yellow Gown"
Her?!
Lu Zixian and I exchanged wide-eyed, incredulous looks. It couldn't be… could it?
Yellow Gown! Our enigmatic mentor from those early, terrifying days navigating the timestreams! The woman who had taught us the basics of temporal mechanics, survival, paradox avoidance… who had always seemed one step ahead, possessing knowledge and abilities far beyond ours. The one who always, *always*, wore striking yellow dresses or coats, hence our private moniker.
We'd assumed she was long gone. Lost in some temporal storm, fallen victim to one of the myriad dangers lurking between realities, or simply… succumbed to old age in whatever baseline timeline she called home. By all natural laws, she should be dust! Yet… here was her unique identifier, punching through layers of security we thought impenetrable! How was she still alive?! And how did she know where to find us?! Did she also possess some form of… extended lifespan?
The communication wasn't audio or visual. Just a stream of tightly encrypted text, decrypting directly into our minds:
*"Children. It has been a long time. I know you're in dire straits, hounded by the 'Fifth Threat'. Don't be alarmed that I still draw breath. A minor genetic workaround, you see. Trigger a biological reset a year before the programmed endpoint – seventy-two, in my case – and one sidesteps the messy business of decay. Relative 'freedom', wouldn't you agree? Heh."*
(A chill traced its way down my spine. 'Relative freedom'? What did that imply?)
*"Rest assured, I am not your enemy. In fact, during your encounters with the 'First' and 'Second' Threats,"* (The numbering was deliberate, chillingly clinical, confirming our current pursuers were indeed the fifth major power we'd angered) *"I offered… subtle assistance from the shadows. You likely never noticed."*
(Subtle assistance? Or manipulation? My suspicion warred with a flicker of old gratitude.)
*"I know about your quest for the Desert Crystal. And I know the Warring States covet it as well. The situation is… complex. Dangerous. We need to talk. There are things you must understand."*
*"Meeting place: 'The Sunflower Scripture'. Time: Now."*
The message ended.
'The Sunflower Scripture'? Lu Zixian and I locked eyes again, a shared memory surfacing. Not a real place, but a specific frequency, a pocket dimension resonant with high psychic energy we'd used for meditation training under her tutelage years ago. Its defining feature: an endless field of enormous, luminous white sunflowers, their faces perpetually turned towards a formless, non-physical light source.
Choosing *there*… it meant she wanted absolute privacy. Away from prying sensors, away from the Geocore Chain, away from the Warring States' reach. It suggested… she was genuinely trying to help? Or at least, didn't want *them* to know she was contacting us? The calculation was swift, the decision immediate.
"We go," Lu Zixian stated, his voice firm.
"Agreed," I nodded. Friend, foe, or something in between, we couldn't ignore this. We needed answers. We needed help.
Pulling out our salvaged temporal coordinate device, we input the unique dimensional frequency and psychic beacon code for 'The Sunflower Scripture'.
Reality dissolved in a cascade of shimmering light. The next instant, we stood bathed in the soft, pearlescent glow of that strange, ethereal dimension.
An endless ocean of giant white sunflowers stretched before us, their petals like carved alabaster, heads the size of dinner plates, all turned towards the formless luminescence that served as the 'sky'. The air was impossibly fresh, clean, carrying a delicate, soul-soothing floral fragrance that seemed to wash away the grime and fear of our recent ordeals. Beneath our boots wasn't soil, but a ground composed of fine, powdery white crystals that emitted a faint inner light, soft and yielding to the step. It felt… sacred. Peaceful.
And there, in the very center of the luminous field, stood a figure. Clad in a flowing gown of brilliant yellow silk that seemed to ripple with its own internal light. Back towards us, seemingly contemplating the impossible vista. Her posture was as regal and elegant as we remembered, though her once raven-black hair now cascaded down her back like a waterfall of pure, shimmering silver.
It was her. Yellow Gown. Our teacher. Our mystery.
A wave of conflicting emotions surged through me (Liang) – relief, excitement, apprehension, the awkwardness of a student meeting a long-lost, formidable mentor.
As if sensing our arrival, she turned slowly. Her face, framed by the silver hair, was largely unchanged by time, perhaps a few fine lines around her eyes, but they only added to her aura of profound wisdom and timeless beauty. A gentle, knowing smile touched her lips, the same smile that could disarm or chill depending on her intent. Her eyes, clear and deep as ancient pools, met ours.
"It has been a long while, my… unique pupils," her voice resonated, melodic and clear as struck crystal, carrying easily across the silent field.
We started forward, eager, hesitant, questions bubbling up…
But then, something felt… *off*. The smile… it didn't quite reach her eyes. There was a subtle stiffness in her posture, a flicker of something… hollow behind the familiar warmth.
She suddenly bent down, her movement slightly jerky, unnatural, as if examining a sunflower at her feet.
And as she straightened back up, in that minuscule fraction of a second—
Her form wavered. Blurred. Like a heat haze, or a faulty transmission. Then, like ink dropped into water, her image dispersed, fragmented, dissolving silently into the surrounding brilliance of the white sunflowers! Gone! As if she were nothing but a projection!
"What the—?!" Alarm bells screamed in my head! A setup!
Simultaneously, an agonizing, searing pain erupted from our feet! Like branding irons pressed directly onto our flesh!
*Sssssss!*
We cried out, staggering back, looking down frantically! And saw it! On the tops of our feet, spreading rapidly from the toes, a mark! A complex, ugly sigil made of jagged, interlocking lines and alien glyphs, glowing with a malevolent, pulsing dark red light! It was burning itself into our very skin, into our *bones*!
"The… the alien 'Compliance Brand'!" Lu Zixian choked out, his face instantly draining of all color, replaced by sheer terror and fury. "We've been… tricked! She… she led us right into it!"
This brand! We'd seen variations of it before! On captured species, on mind-slaved thralls, on horrific bio-engineered abominations created by the Warring States! The specific pattern differed, but the energy signature – vile, invasive, designed for absolute control and subjugation – was unmistakable!
It meant *they* had marked us! Tagged us like cattle! They could track us now, anywhere, anytime, across dimensions! Worse, this type of brand was rumored to allow remote influence, pain induction, even… detonation of the subject's life force!
And Yellow Gown… our revered teacher… she wasn't free! She wasn't helping us! She was *their* pawn! Her appearance, her words, her very presence here was a sophisticated, cruel trap! Her 'freedom' was a lie! She was a puppet, her strings pulled by the very monsters we were running from!
"Damn her! DAMN THEM ALL!" I (Liang) roared, rage and a profound sense of betrayal overwhelming the physical pain. Our trust, our hope… twisted and used against us!
The Warring States! Based on fragmented intel, their primary command resided on Pluto – a planet they had terraformed into some kind of bizarre gas-giant fortress! Now, this cursed brand was a direct line back to them! A leash! A target painted on our very souls!
And the agony! The burning wasn't just skin deep! It was sinking *in*, spreading up our legs like virulent fire! I could *feel* something fundamental shifting within me, tissue warping, genetics forcibly rewriting themselves!
Looking down in horror, I (Liang) watched my own leg hair retract, the skin lose its normal texture, becoming rough, hard, taking on an unnatural, metallic reddish hue! Tiny, scale-like keratinous plates began to emerge, overlapping, forming a hideous carapace! A raw, alien power surged through my veins, violent, unfamiliar, threatening to tear me apart from the inside!
"Genetic… mutation! They're… forcibly altering our bodies!" Lu Zixian gasped, revulsion and panic warring in his voice. His legs were undergoing the same horrific transformation!
"Not… like this…" I (Liang) gritted my teeth, fighting against the agonizing changes, the violation. Being hunted was one thing. But being forcibly *changed*, turned into one of *their* monstrous creations… that was a fate worse than death! We had to break free! Now!
Chapter 19: Quoting Gangsters and the S-Shaped Forest
"Be reasonable… Heh, why are you quoting Gao Qiqiang *now*? Think playing gangster movie trivia is funny at a time like this?"
Just as the blinding pain and the utter violation of the forced transformation threatened to shatter my (Liang's) sanity, Lu Zixian, somehow, through gritted teeth and shuddering breaths, managed to spit out that completely random, bizarre line. His voice was distorted with agony, yet held a sliver of that weird, dark, gallows humor he sometimes defaulted to under extreme pressure.
Gao Qiqiang? That… infamous crime boss character from some ancient, pre-AI-era Chinese TV drama that went viral back in the 2020s? Seriously? *Now*?! My brain, already overloaded, struggled to process the sheer incongruity.
"Fish… fishmonger… Boss Qiang… my bad…" I (Liang) managed to gasp out a nonsensical reply, playing along with the absurd reference for a split second before another wave of agony ripped through my legs, nearly making me black out. "Aaargh—!"
No! Can't lose it! Can't let them win! Have to get out of this damn illusion! Break this cursed brand!
Focus! I (Liang) desperately tried to concentrate through the pain, tried to reach out with my mind, back to… the Sand-Speakers! Their weird energy field manipulation! Maybe, just maybe, it could interfere with whatever energy frequency was powering this brand, this forced mutation? A long shot, utterly desperate, but—
*Shift.*
Reality flickered again. Not a teleport this time. More like… the channel abruptly changed.
The luminous white sunflower field vanished instantly, replaced by… darkness. Dampness. The smell of decay.
We weren't standing on soft crystal anymore. Our feet (rapidly becoming less human) sank into thick, cloying, black mud that squelched sickeningly and smelled strongly of wet earth and rotting vegetation. Towering, grotesquely twisted trees loomed over us, their canopy so dense it blotted out almost all light, creating a perpetual twilight. The air was heavy, humid, chillingly cold despite the lack of wind.
A narrow path, equally muddy and treacherous, snaked away from us, disappearing into the oppressive gloom of the deep woods. The path… it wasn't straight. It curved distinctly, unnaturally, like a serpent slithering through the mire. An S-shape.
I (Liang) knew this place. Or rather, a deeply buried, compartmentalized memory clawed its way to the surface. This smell, this oppressive atmosphere, that *S-shaped path*… This was the Whispering Mire! A cursed forest I'd been forced to navigate years ago, during a completely different, equally screwed-up 'off-world contract' mission. With… Li Enhui. That volatile, unpredictable woman with the reality-warping powers… we'd barely made it out of here alive last time.
The trees here were wrong. Gnarled, blackish bark covered in weeping sores that looked like boils. And clinging to almost every trunk were those… things. We called them 'Boundary Wards' back then. Black, shield-shaped, semi-translucent growths, like hardened fungus or insect carapaces, pulsing with a faint, almost subliminal energy. They seemed to warp perception, messing with your thoughts, your sense of direction… extremely bad news.
Through the thick tangle of branches and unnatural shadows, I could just make out… the edge of the forest? And beyond it… a paved road? Modern asphalt? Strange. And figures moving on the road… indistinct shapes… Were they… flying drones? Small, recreational quadcopters, buzzing erratically? And people… running around, chasing the drones, laughing? It sounded like… celebrating something?
Mid-Autumn Festival? The ancient, almost forgotten holiday name popped into my head, completely out of context. Why now? Was this specific memory fragment tied to that time?
The carefree sounds of their play, drifting faintly through the oppressive silence of the cursed forest, contrasted so starkly, so cruelly, with our current agony. Legs burning, mutating, trapped in this nightmare memory… The sheer, brutal absurdity of it threatened to snap my already frayed sanity.
The mutation wasn't stopping! The burning, tearing pain intensified! I looked down. The hard, reddish, scale-like plating had reached my knees, creeping higher! Muscles beneath writhed and bulged unnaturally! I was becoming something monstrous!
Got to focus! It's a memory! An illusion! But the *pain* is real! The *transformation* feels real! How do I get out?!
"Grandma's House…" Another memory fragment, even older, more deeply buried, bubbled up. Somewhere… deeper in this cursed S-shaped forest… there was a place… referred to by the locals (or the shadowy organization members) only as "Grandma's House." Not a real house, of course. A hidden base? A den of… something sinister?
I remembered… another mission… being forced to go there… wait for someone? A chef? Yes! A tall, unnerving figure in a pristine white chef's uniform and toque? He was supposed to help me… 'dispose' of some highly sensitive, highly illegal… 'ingredients'? What the hell kind of messed-up jobs did I used to take?!
Why am I remembering this *now*? Is *that* the key? Do I have to go *back* to 'Grandma's House' in this memory-hell?
"The badminton court…" The mental channel switched again. Another image surfaced. To the right of the forest… a steep, high hill. And on the very summit… a derelict, chain-link fenced, outdoor badminton court? Overgrown with weeds, marked with faded yellow 'Danger' tape? Why would I remember *that*? I remembered… waiting there. Waiting for a very, very long time… nearly falling asleep from boredom and exhaustion… waiting for… a 'benefactor'? Someone in a black suit?
What happened next? My mind throbbed, the memories fragmented, chaotic, drowned out by the searing pain in my legs.
Chapter 20: The Men in Black and the Mousetraps
The memory coalesced, stabilized. I (Liang) found myself slumped, not sitting, on the cracked, weed-choked concrete of that derelict hilltop badminton court. Faded white lines marked phantom boundaries. Rusted poles stood sentinel at either end, nets long since rotted away. Tattered yellow 'Danger - Keep Out' tape fluttered feebly from the surrounding chain-link fence in a chill, damp wind that carried the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves. The sky overhead was a uniform, oppressive grey, threatening rain. An immense weariness settled over me, a bone-deep exhaustion born of waiting endlessly for something I couldn't quite recall. My eyelids felt like lead weights. Just close them… just sleep…
*Vrrrrmmmm…* A sound so faint it was almost subliminal – the whisper of an high-end electric engine. I forced my heavy eyelids open, peering down the winding, muddy track that led up the hill. A car. Impossibly long, impossibly black, sleek as polished obsidian, gliding silently up the slope like a phantom hearse. It stopped just outside the flapping yellow tape. Tinted windows hid its occupants.
The driver's door opened with a near-silent *hiss*. A man emerged. Tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, narrow black tie. Sunglasses, large and dark, hid his eyes. His movements were precise, economical, radiating a cold, professional competence. Immediately, two more men, identically dressed, equally tall and impassive, emerged from the rear doors, flanking him like bodyguards or undertakers. Their posture was rigid, alert, hands held loosely at their sides, ready for action.
The lead man in black scanned the dilapidated court, his gaze landing on me with unnerving accuracy. "Mr. Liang," his voice was flat, utterly devoid of inflection, like a poorly programmed android. Cold. Hard. "Please come with us." He gestured towards the waiting car. "The 'Matron' has summoned you. Back to 'Grandma's House'."
Matron? Grandma's House? The names clicked, unlocking the corrupted memory file. Yes! This was it! That damn mission! Forced into service for that shadowy organization run by the ruthless old crone they called 'Matron' or 'Grandma'! And 'Grandma's House' was their hidden, heavily guarded headquarters!
As I hesitated, still reeling from the recovered memory and the sheer unpleasantness of it, one of the flanking bodyguards stepped closer, leaning in slightly. His voice was a low, menacing whisper, carrying a clear warning. "Exercise caution on the return journey, Mr. Liang. The main access via Bentong Road is currently under complete police lockdown. Extremely volatile situation. We'll be taking the alternate route."
Bentong Road? The road bordering the S-shaped forest? The one where I'd seen people playing with drones just 'now' in the other memory fragment? "Locked down? Why? What happened?" I asked, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach.
"An infestation," the bodyguard replied, a flicker of something cold – amusement? Contempt? – in his tone. "Of 'rats'. Specifically, a large number of… ah… *rebellious students* have been setting 'mousetraps' all along that section." He elaborated, seeing my confusion. "Improvised devices. Cleverly disguised. Designed to disable vehicles at speed – tire shredders, localized EMP bursts, slicks. Kid stuff, mostly, but causing chaos. Multiple pile-ups, fatalities… The local authorities are overwhelmed, hence the lockdown. They're trying to flush the 'rats' out."
"Rebellious students? Why would they do that? Just for kicks?" It seemed insane.
"Who understands teenagers?" the bodyguard shrugged dismissively. "Thrill-seeking? Anti-authoritarian posturing? Or perhaps…" He paused, letting the implication hang. "Our intelligence suggests they've been… *encouraged*. Funded, equipped, even protected by a certain… *organization* that enjoys seeing the authorities embarrassed." He didn't need to name the organization. It was clearly the Matron's.
"And," he added, his voice dropping further, "these aren't just average delinquents. They're resourceful. Using rapid-fabrication tech, they've even erected unauthorized structures along the roadside – bizarre shanties covered in garish, flashing LED graffiti. Turned the whole highway into some kind of anarchic, post-apocalyptic street party. The police can't even get close."
His gaze sharpened, meeting mine directly. "And the one pulling the strings behind this chaotic little puppet show… our sources indicate… is the Matron herself. 'Grandma'."
What?! The Matron, 'Grandma', was *behind* the mousetraps, the chaos, the potential deaths?! My mind reeled. This wasn't just a shady organization; they were actively orchestrating terror!
"Why would she…?"
"Not our place to ask why, Mr. Liang," the lead man in black cut me off sharply. "Our place is to follow orders. The Matron requires your presence for an important… *negotiation*. Your unique… skills… are apparently needed."
Negotiation? Skills? It hit me like a physical blow. This wasn't a simple retrieval or delivery mission! I wasn't a courier; I was the *subject* of the negotiation! A pawn! Or worse, a scapegoat! The memory was incomplete, corrupted! What had I agreed to?!
Just as panic threatened to engulf me, another figure appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Emerging from a side path leading deeper into the woods – the path associated with 'Qiu Jiahui' and the 'Magic Forest' in my fragmented recall. It was the young boy in the yellow school uniform again, the one with the innocent smile.
He walked right up to me, ignoring the menacing men in black. "Mr. Liang?" he asked again, his voice clear and polite, his eyes wide and guileless. "Are you alright? There's someone waiting for you this way. She said you'd understand… about the Magic Forest…" He gestured towards the dark, forbidding path.
Go with the potentially treacherous men in black back to the manipulative Matron's den? Or follow this unsettlingly calm boy into a legendary forest of no return, possibly towards Li Enhui? Both options screamed danger.
"Mr. Liang!" The lead man in black stepped forward aggressively, blocking the boy's path, his voice dangerously low. "Stop wasting time! The Matron is waiting! Get in the car! *Now*!" His hand hovered near the inside of his suit jacket.
I looked at his cold, implacable face, then at the boy's unnerving smile. And a wave of absolute revulsion and defiance surged through me.
No. I wouldn't go back to 'Grandma's House'. I wouldn't be their pawn. I wouldn't face that manipulative old hag. I wouldn't get dragged into their sick games with the police, with those misguided students! Screw their negotiation! Screw their mission!
And my legs! The burning! The transformation! It was getting worse! I couldn't delay! I had to get out! Out of this memory! Out of this trap!
"Get lost!" I snarled, shoving the lead bodyguard aside again, ignoring the boy, spinning around, focusing all my will on the Chrono-Watch, on escape!