Chapter 71: Butterfly

“He’s so handsome! Even better than in the photos!”

“Mr. Ji Lin, can we have your autograph?”

“Congratulations, Mr. Ji Lin! I love your work, Broken Bridge!”

“Can we take a photo with you?”

As soon as Ji Lin stepped out of the car, he was immediately encircled by a swarm of young fans, all vying for his attention.

He paid them no mind and headed straight for the funeral hall. Behind him, a few staff members from the funeral home hurried to keep the crowd in check, preventing any disruptions.

“Quiet, please... Please don’t gather here.”

“This is a memorial service; please show some respect.”

“Respect the deceased and keep the noise down.”Fịndd new updates on n(o)v/e/lbin(.)com

Once inside the funeral home, the clamor from outside began to fade. Ji Lin walked through the hallway, his eyes locked on Lin Xian. Hands in his pockets, he slouched as he moved, his face expressionless.

Lin Xian returned the gaze. As the fans had pointed out, Ji Lin was strikingly handsome. Despite Lin Xian’s aversion to such delicate terms, he found it apt for the boy approaching him with his sharp, clear features.

Ji Lin was not particularly tall, standing around 1.75 meters, and was quite slender. His posture made it difficult for Lin Xian to gauge his true height. Pale as snow, his complexion lacked any hint of a healthy flush, lending him a frail, languid look. His long, slightly curly black hair partly obscured his eyes, adding a touch of disheveled grace.

His pace was slow, his expression blank. Yet, his gaze never strayed from Lin Xian, his eyelids half-lowered as if he were barely awake, exuding an air of fatigue and indifference. He resembled a fading sea otter, sinking slowly into the depths of the ocean—and he wasn’t sinking alone. His empty, weary eyes seemed like a net, dragging Lin Xian down into a dark abyss...

“Lin Xian?”

Zhao Ying Jun’s gentle voice snapped him back to reality. He turned to see Zhao, a few steps ahead, beckoning him.

“Stop daydreaming; we need to go.”

Lin Xian nodded and followed the vice presidents through another corridor. Before rounding the corner, he looked back at Ji Lin, who continued his slow trek toward the funeral hall, hands still in his pockets, his hunched figure moving step by step, his gaze fixed forward, unchanging.

“......”

Lin Xian realized he had been mistaken. That guy hadn’t been staring at him. His eyes weren’t drowsy or myopic. It had all been Lin Xian’s own misinterpretation.

Later that evening.

“Hey-yo!”

Gao Yang threw an empty beer can into the river with all his might. Plop. The can made a small splash as it hit the water, then floated away with the current.

“How about that, Lin Xian! Hehe~ How would you rate that?” Gao Yang chuckled triumphantly.

Gao Yang flipped the fish tofu, opened another beer, and offered a toast.

“To Professor Xu Yun!”

Clink. After toasting, Gao Yang downed his beer, then crushed the can and tossed it across the Huangpu River—

Splash. It flew farther this time, making a larger splash before sinking.

“Let’s toast to your manners first.”

The riverside barbecue wrapped up early. Neither could stand the cold, and they soon called it a night.

Back home, Lin Xian felt dizzy and sniffled.

“Shit...” he muttered. “Am I getting a cold?”

He quickly showered in hot water and drank two packets of herbal tea. Then, turning off the lights, he went to bed.

Lin Xian pondered. Where was the hot, dry summer breeze he’d known for over twenty years? Where were the cicadas and the playful children in the square he’d heard for so long? Why was it so quiet tonight?

He opened his eyes—Brick walls, low houses, narrow alleys, lanterns, stone tiles, moss... All around him were makeshift homes, haphazardly packed together. Crowded, outdated, silent, desolate... It looked like a poor, backward village.

“What’s going on?”

Lin Xian looked around, startled by the flickering tungsten bulb in a nearby window. Everything had changed. No square, no children playing, no bustling shops, no electronic billboards, no bright streetlights.

“Where am I?”

He turned, finding himself still on a winding stone road lined with uneven, low-built houses. The narrow lanes seemed designed without any thought for vehicles. He looked around, but the chaotic buildings blocked any broader view.

“Could it be...”

His heart sank. Had he traveled to another timeline? Another world? What year was it?

Lin Xian turned and spotted a small corner shop lit by a large yellow bulb, reminiscent of scenes from 80s and 90s TV shows. He hurried inside. An elderly man in a white vest laughed, munching sunflower seeds, fanning himself, and watching a bulky television.

“Dear viewers, the evening news brings you the time!”

On the low-resolution TV screen, a smartly dressed female news anchor smiled at Lin Xian and announced:

“The current time is August 28, 2624! Ten o’clock sharp!”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation