BOOM!!!
BOOM!!!
BOOM!!!
At precisely 00:42, a blinding white light enveloped everything, consuming history as time itself swallows the past.
Lin Xian awoke to the musty scent of old furniture. Disoriented, he scanned the unfamiliar room, then sat up and drew back the curtains to reveal a nearly full moon.
Amid stacks of waterlogged books, not a single history book was to be found. This was bizarre. Were history books deliberately withheld from circulation? Was history being manipulated to prevent people from learning about the past? What could be the purpose?
Rubbing his head in confusion, Lin Xian pondered, “History has already occurred. Its main roles are to educate, warn, and foster understanding. It’s not considered ‘useful’ knowledge. Unlike engineering, physics, and other sciences, history has no productive or destructive power; it’s static and unalterable.”
Then he remembered something Zhao Ying Jun had mentioned, “History doesn’t change.”
A chill breeze whisked through the sealed room, sending a shiver up Lin Xian’s spine. What if history could be altered?
Revisiting his previous thoughts, he considered that from a temporal perspective, history could indeed be destructive. For someone capable of changing history, it could become the ultimate weapon of time.
“Like me,” Lin Xian realized. With a precise and detailed history book documenting every significant event, time, location, and impact, he might reshape the future as he desired.
This was mere speculation, yet even minor manipulations of the temporal butterfly effect could have terrifying consequences.
For instance, if Lin Xian disliked the future depicted in his second dream, with its towering walls in the new metropolis, he could trace its origins. He could identify who first proposed the metropolis concept and why, trace their lineage back to 2023, and determine who gave birth to this visionary centuries later. By preventing this individual’s ancestors from meeting, he could obliterate the steel cities of 600 years hence.
While radical and challenging, Lin Xian knew it wasn’t impossible. This was just one simple example. With detailed historical records, the possibilities were endless.
“Could it be that to prevent such alterations, the future world tightly controls history, creating historical gaps?”
This thought fascinated Lin Xian. He believed the true history was preserved somewhere, controlled or concealed as it might be. Even if fragmented and chaotic, traces of history must exist.
In his first dream, though details were vague, the list of World Cup champions had survived. Even lacking specifics, that too was history—a trace of the past.
Zhao Ying Jun raised her glass in response, smiling warmly. “And I am fortunate to have a team member like you.”
They sipped their wine, then continued their discussion, touching on the Rhine Cat project, Xu Yun, and other topics.
Lin Xian learned that Zhao Ying Jun had postponed a meeting with a director to dine with him tonight. Her schedule was packed, meeting with composers one day, directors the next, and artists thereafter.
Reflecting on her hectic life, Lin Xian realized such a demanding routine was far from the commanding CEO lifestyle he had imagined.
“Sometimes, taking it easy isn’t so bad,” he thought but kept these thoughts to himself. Outwardly, he remained the ambitious professional, always prioritizing advancement at MX Company.
After dinner, Zhao Ying Jun offered Lin Xian a ride home, but he declined, citing plans with friends nearby. He had chosen the restaurant close to her home for safety reasons, ensuring she wouldn’t have to travel far at night. Caution was always prudent.
“Then I’ll be off,” Zhao Ying Jun said as her driver closed her car door.
Rolling down her window, she smiled at Lin Xian. “Thanks for dinner. The caviar was indeed excellent.”
“Goodbye,” Lin Xian waved as her car pulled away. She was only a five-minute drive from home. Checking his watch, he noted it was just past 9 PM, far from “midnight.”
“Tonight, everything should be fine.”
The next day, Lin Xian checked his phone for news about Donghai, scanning for any reports on shootings or related incidents.
“Nothing.”
Shootings were rare and heavily reported in this country. If something had happened in Donghai City involving Zhao Ying Jun, it would have made the headlines.
This meant the predicted shooting incident that could have ended Zhao Ying Jun’s life hadn’t occurred.
Checking the date on his bedside clock, Lin Xian noted, January 14, 2023. “Tonight... is Zhao Ying Jun’s date of death.”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation