The next morning arrived with a pale, washed-out sunrise, the kind that seemed hesitant to warm the world. The sky looked thin, stretched almost too tightly, as though something behind it pressed faintly against the veil. Long Xingchen had felt that pressure all night—soft, distant, but undeniable. The fragment had stirred in his sleep, humming like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
He dressed without hurry, smoothing his collar, straightening his tie, brushing his sleeves. His movements were precise, calm. He looked like an ordinary student preparing for an ordinary school day, but his eyes were sharper than the edge of an unsheathed blade.
Six days left before the next jump.
Six days before the Great Silence noticed him again.
Six days before he walked into a world untouched by ruin.
Downstairs, the villa hummed with the subdued energy of a household preparing for something important. His father wore a crisp suit, the dark blue fabric pressed sharply. His mother fussed with his tie, and Long Tianhai allowed it for once, standing patiently while she adjusted the knot six times.
"Does it look alright now?" she asked, stepping back.
Her husband smiled gently. "Perfect."
His expression shifted when he saw Xingchen. A mixture of relief and strain.
"You're ready?" his father asked.
Xingchen nodded.
"Yes. I'm coming with you."
His father hesitated. "I know you insisted, but—this meeting isn't a school project. The Qin family isn't a group of teenagers. They're—"
"I know exactly what they are," Xingchen said softly. "That's why I'm going."
Long Tianhai studied him for a moment longer, then nodded slowly.
Breakfast was quiet. No jokes from Haoxuan, no chatter from Mingyue, no news updates playing from the kitchen. Even the dogs outside barked less than usual. The air carried the weight of something neither spoken nor fully understood.
When they left the villa, the security detail Xingchen hired followed discreetly behind in a black SUV, tinted windows gleaming. His father noticed but didn't comment.
The drive through the city felt slower than usual. The buildings blurred by, their reflections streaking across the car window. Pedestrians waited at crosswalks. Street vendors arranged their stalls. Cyclists zipped through narrow lanes. Life moved on as if nothing extraordinary existed beneath the surface.
But Xingchen saw too much.
He saw the man pretending to fix his motorcycle mirror, eyes flicking toward their car.
He saw the woman waiting at the bus stop who didn't check her phone once.
He saw the sedan turning into the same lane just a bit too precisely.
Shadows watching.
Measuring.
The Qin family's network was tightening.
He spoke without turning his head.
"Dad. After today, don't answer any calls from unknown numbers."
Long Tianhai's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "That serious?"
"Yes."
His father didn't ask more.
They arrived at a tall, mirror-walled building in the business district. The glass reflected the sky, catching the morning light and bending it into sharp angles. A receptionist greeted them warmly, guiding them to the 27th floor.
Everything felt polished. Expensive. Professional.
Too professional.
Xingchen felt the air change the moment the elevator doors slid open.
A coldness.
Subtle.
Intentional.
The Qin family had prepared this room for intimidation.
The conference hall was long and immaculate, with a polished wooden table stretching toward a wall-wide window. Modern art hung in curated positions. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and new carpet.
Three men stood at the far end.
One older, in his fifties, face expressionless.
One in his thirties, smile polite but eyes sharp.
And—
The last one turned slowly, smirking.
Qin Shaoyang.
Xingchen's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Ah," Shaoyang said, stepping forward with the confidence of someone who had never been told no. "You brought your son. Excellent. I thought he might hide."
His father stiffened beside him, misunderstanding Shaoyang's tone.
Xingchen stepped forward slightly.
"Why would I hide from insects?" he said calmly.
Shaoyang's smile cracked.
"You—"
The older man raised a hand, stopping him.
"Let's begin," he said with a neutral, chilly politeness. "We're here to discuss cooperation, not personal disagreements."
Xingchen and his father sat. The Qin representatives sat opposite.
A waitress set tea on the table, though her hands shook faintly—not with fear, but with recognition. She had seen meetings like this. Many ended in victories for the Qin family. None ended well for the weaker party.
The oldest Qin man spoke first.
"Long Tianhai," he said, folding his fingers together. "The Qin Group has always believed your company shows potential. We're willing to invest generously."
Xingchen could practically see the trap woven beneath the words.
Generously = control.
Investment = acquisition.
Partnership = submission.
Long Tianhai answered with cautious respect. "We appreciate the interest. But we must ensure all terms benefit our company's long-term stability."
The younger Qin man smiled politely.
"But stability comes from backing," he said. "And backing comes from those stronger than you."
Xingchen tapped the table lightly.
The sound cracked through the room like a pebble thrown at glass.
"If you want to intimidate someone," he said quietly, "try picking someone closer to your level."
Three Qin faces shifted.
The older man's eyes narrowed.
Qin Shaoyang leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
"You're awfully confident for someone whose entire family hangs on a thread," he said.
Xingchen stared at him without blinking.
"So you finally admit you're the one holding the scissors."
A ripple of tension ran through the room.
The older Qin executive cleared his throat. "Enough of this. We came to offer investment, not to entertain childish bravado."
Xingchen smiled.
"Childish?" he repeated softly. "Let me correct your misunderstanding."
He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a low timbre.
"You didn't summon us to invest. You summoned us to see if we're weak enough to crush."
The Qin executives didn't speak.
Xingchen continued.
"You leak false investment proposals."
"You send watchers to our home."
"You probe our school, our perimeter, our business connections."
"You changed the meeting date to test our preparation."
"You sent Shaoyang to provoke me at my gate. Twice."
No one at the table blinked.
"How predictable," Xingchen whispered.
The youngest Qin man swallowed.
Shaoyang broke the silence with a sneer. "You think you can talk to us like—"
"Quiet."
Shaoyang froze mid-sentence.
The single word struck him harder than a slap.
The older Qin executive leaned forward slowly.
"You are very observant," he said. "But observation alone won't save your family."
Xingchen smiled faintly.
"You're right," he said. "That's why I prepared something else."
He reached into his pocket and placed a small device on the table.
A black square, smooth and featureless.
The Qin executives tensed instantly.
"What is that?" the older man demanded.
Xingchen tapped it.
A soft chime rang.
All three Qin phones vibrated at once.
They checked.
A single message was displayed:
"Your surveillance systems have been disabled."
The color drained from their faces.
Xingchen spoke calmly.
"In the last three days, I dismantled every digital and local surveillance asset you placed on the Long family."
The younger Qin executive swallowed hard.
Impossible—yet the evidence was in his hand.
"I also traced the source of yesterday's business leak," Xingchen continued. "Your subordinate bribed a weak-willed employee. He has resigned."
The older man's jaw clenched.
"Your operative near the villa's boundary? He's recovering from three broken ribs."
"The one on the rooftop?"
"Dislocated shoulder."
"The one disguised as a teacher?"
"Unconscious. I returned his phone to your headquarters."
Qin Shaoyang's face turned red.
"You—"
"I told you to be quiet."
This time, Shaoyang actually obeyed, teeth grinding.
Long Tianhai stared at his son as if seeing him for the first time.
The oldest Qin executive exhaled slowly, forcing calm into his voice.
"You may have disrupted a few superficial operations," he said, "but do you truly think—"
"My mistake," Xingchen interrupted.
All three Qin men stiffened.
Xingchen's eyes darkened, sharp enough to carve through steel.
"I didn't disrupt your operations," he said. "I dismantled your opening move."
Silence.
Cold.
Hard.
Absolute.
"And now," Xingchen said softly, "the meeting is over."
He stood.
His father rose after a stunned moment.
The Qin executives remained seated, pale and shaken.
Xingchen added one final line at the door.
"Next time you move a piece… I'll remove your whole board."
They left the meeting room, walked down the hallway, entered the elevator, and the doors closed.
Only then did Long Tianhai finally ask, voice trembling:
"Xingchen… who are you?"
Xingchen looked at the descending floor numbers.
"Someone who will protect this family," he said quietly. "No matter what timeline I stand in."
When they reached the lobby, a gust of wind blew through the glass doors.
It carried something faint—something ancient.
A whisper.
A warning.
The fragment stirred in his soul.
Six days left.
Six days until he stepped into the era where jade corridors stood unbroken.
Six days until he learned how the heavens fell.