This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Lin Xian opened his laptop, his eyes focused as he clicked on a folder. Inside were hundreds of blueprints—designs for all the components of the time travel machine. It was the result of his relentless effort over the last three months, working night and day.
Even after all that effort, he’d only managed to copy the core parts. He estimated that it would take at least another two months to copy the rest. It was more exhausting than when he had copied VV’s code, and every day of memorizing left Lin Xian with a throbbing headache.
“Once I find Du Yao, the timeline is bound to shift, right?” Lin Xian muttered to himself.
Honestly, he wasn’t sure when the point of no return would come. Would it be when he found Du Yao? Or perhaps when she made a breakthrough in her brain research?
“There’s still one question we haven’t answered,” Lin Xian said, scratching his head. “It’s 2024 now... how old is Du Yao? Has she even been born yet?”
Gao Wen’s handwritten letter mentioned that Du Yao died in the middle of the 21st century. If she really was a genius, she might have made her breakthrough in her twenties or thirties. If that were true, Du Yao might not have even been born yet.
And then there was the problem with her name. “Du Yao” wasn’t exactly unique. If Lin Xian searched the national database, he might find dozens of people named Du Yao, from infants to young women.
But then what?
Which one was the right Du Yao, destined for greatness in brain research?
There was no way to tell.
He couldn’t just bring every single Du Yao to Donghai City and protect them all. It was simply impossible.
“Ugh,” Lin Xian sighed, rubbing his temples.
How could he figure out which Du Yao was the one he was looking for? If she had already made a name for herself, it would be easier. But what if she was still a child? Or worse—what if she hadn’t even been born yet?
“If I can’t find her, I’m in trouble,” Lin Xian thought, narrowing his eyes.
Next month, on October 1st, Galileo would be able to use Einstein’s calculations to identify the correct Du Yao. Whether she was a baby or a high school student, they’d find her. Even if she hadn’t been born yet, Einstein could locate her parents. That would put Lin Xian in a tricky situation.
“It’s good that I’m going to the capital with Ying Jun tomorrow to meet her parents,” he said aloud. “Might as well arrange a meeting with Director Liu An too.”
Snap. He closed his laptop.
He wished he could go looking for Du Yao as soon as he finished copying the blueprints, but life didn’t work that way. He had to rely on others.
“I’ll have to trust Liu Feng and the modern scientists,” Lin Xian said. “I’ve copied the core components—that’s 80% of the job done. Liu Feng and the others should be able to figure out the rest.”
Although Gao Wen had called Liu Feng a “lucky fool” who stumbled into success, Lin Xian had faith in him. As Rhine’s top general, Liu Feng wasn’t just lucky—he was smart. He might not have Gao Wen’s or Chen Heping’s expertise, but when it came to unconventional thinking, Liu Feng was unbeatable.
After all, who else could have come up with discoveries like the Cosmic Constant Introduction or the Arithmetic Sequences? Not even Chen Heping could calculate the Universal Constant of 42 without Liu Feng’s insight.
“If Liu Feng can’t finish it, there’s still Nangong Meng Jie and the Research Institute,” Lin Xian reassured himself. “I’ll worry about the time machine when I need it. Einstein said it wouldn’t be ready until 2234, so it’s unlikely I’ll ever use it.”
Lin Xian got up from his desk, switched off the study lights, and walked into the kitchen. The soft glow from the insulated cabinet revealed a glass of milk that Zhao Ying Jun had left for him.
It was such a small gesture, but it made Lin Xian feel warm. Maybe that’s what people meant by warmth—someone thinking of you, leaving a warm glass of milk for you to drink when you finished working late into the night.
Sometimes, happiness wasn’t grand at all. Sometimes, it was just this simple.
Lin Xian drank the milk, feeling the warmth spread through his body. Then he turned off the kitchen lights and headed to the bedroom.
Their Pomeranian, VV, was sprawled at the foot of the bed, snoring softly. Lin Xian smiled; the dog had definitely put on some weight lately. VV hadn’t snored when he was leaner, so Lin Xian decided it was time to cut down on VV’s food.
Zhao Ying Jun lay quietly on the bed, her back to VV, her face turned towards her pillow. The faint moonlight filtering through the curtains outlined her soft features, giving her an almost ethereal glow.
Lin Xian carefully got onto the bed, his eyes drawn to Zhao Ying Jun’s flat stomach. It still looked the same, but he knew that a little life was growing inside.
“Goodnight, Yu’er,” he whispered softly.
In truth, he didn’t know if the baby would be a boy or a girl. Zhao Ying Jun had suggested they could ask the technician during an ultrasound, just to satisfy his curiosity, but Lin Xian had chickened out. He wanted it to be a surprise.
“You’re just scared it’ll be a boy!” Zhao Ying Jun had teased, tweaking his nose playfully.
“Don’t say that,” Lin Xian had replied. “People say you get what you fear most.”
Zhao Ying Jun had laughed at that, clearly amused.
“Then take a guess—boy or girl?”
“A boy,” Lin Xian said confidently.
“Why do you think so?” Zhao Ying Jun had asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lin Xian had grinned. “Because, based on my experience... my guesses are usually wrong.”
Zhao Ying Jun had huffed. “At least you’re self-aware,” she’d said, her eyes twinkling.
Lin Xian looked at her now, at the peaceful scene in front of him, and felt a deep sense of responsibility. As a man, a husband, and soon a father, he knew what he had to do.
“I’ll protect this,” he whispered, brushing a gentle finger across her cheek. “I’ll protect our present, and our child’s future.”
The next day, Lin Xian and Zhao Ying Jun went to Pudong Airport and flew to the capital.
Zhao Ying Jun’s family took their visit very seriously. Her father, Zhao Rui Hai, invited many relatives to a big dinner to welcome Lin Xian.
“This is Lin Xian,” Zhao Rui Hai said proudly, introducing him to everyone. “You must have seen him on TV, right?”
“Whoa!” Zhao Ying Jun’s young nephew jumped up excitedly. “It’s Donghai 007!”
Everyone laughed.
Zhao Ying Jun leaned over to Lin Xian and whispered, “That’s the one who talks nonsense all the time.”
Zhao Ying Jun’s uncle smiled at Lin Xian. “Not only is Lin Xian a young hero, but he also won the world hacking competition,” he said. “I once met Director Gao Yan of the Research Institute, and he couldn’t stop praising Lin Xian.”
“Tang Xin.”
That was it.
Tang Xin had graduated from Johns Hopkins University. When she’d come back to Donghai, she’d told Lin Xian all about her time abroad—the food, the university, the pressures of studying.
Her university was Johns Hopkins.
“I know now,” Lin Xian said, taking a deep breath.
Memories flashed in his mind, and Lin Xian realized where he’d seen the name “Du Yao” before.
It was in their old chat logs.
Last year, during his cat-and-mouse games with Ji Lin—when Ji Lin had faked chat logs between Tang Xin and other men—Lin Xian had come across so many real and fake conversations, it had all blurred together.
But now he remembered.
In those chat logs, somewhere... there was the name “Du Yao.”
Without wasting a second, Lin Xian rushed to the Donghai City Police Bureau.
He requested Tang Xin’s case files and found the printed chat logs.
There it was.
“Yao Yao.”
Lin Xian stared at the name, written under a profile picture of a smiling girl.
The chat log wasn’t long. It started just two weeks before Tang Xin’s accident. Everything before that was missing.
Lin Xian understood why.
Tang Xin’s workplace had given all employees new phones as a perk. She’d shown it off during dinner one night—a new, top-of-the-line Samsung. She hadn’t transferred her old chat history, so everything had been lost.
Tang Xin had even complained about the phone’s clunky system, and Lin Xian had tried to help her figure it out—but he’d found it just as frustrating.
He quickly skimmed through the chat log. Details could wait—for now, he just wanted to confirm if this “Yao Yao” was really Du Yao.
Most of their conversations were short—just a message here and there, often days apart. And they mostly chatted late at night.
“Found it!”
Lin Xian’s heart raced as he found what he was looking for.
It was an image—a volunteer application form for humanitarian work in Africa, stamped with a blue seal. Along with it, there was a victory hand emoji and a message: “I got accepted!”
The form was in English. Back then, when Lin Xian and Ji Lin had been fooling each other, he hadn’t given it a second glance.
But right there, amidst all that English, two familiar characters stood out.
“Du Yao.”
“It really is her,” Lin Xian said, letting out a deep breath. “She was accepted for aid work in Africa... Everything matches Gao Wen’s letter.”
He stared at the printed pages, his chest tightening.
Tang Xin, a girl whose memory still haunted him, had been close friends with Du Yao.
He didn’t know what to say.
He just felt... an ache in his chest.
Because...
On the following pages, most of the messages between Du Yao and Tang Xin were about him.
“Yao Yao, you were right. Lin Xian forgot about covering me with his school uniform back in high school. When I mentioned it, he had no reaction. But it still happened, even if he forgot, right?”
“Hehe, I watched a movie with Lin Xian today. You know what, Yao Yao? He’s still the same—just as caring and gentle as before.”
“He suddenly grabbed my hand today! I must have blushed so much... Luckily, I had some alcohol in me, so maybe he didn’t notice.”
“Oh come on, he’s not like that. We talked at a bar, and then he took me home—really! We’re... it’s almost like we’ve just met again.”
“I prepared a gift for Lin Xian—a special one. Do you think he’ll remember how he saved me back then when he sees it?”
Tang Xin’s last message to Du Yao was filled with excitement.
The rest of the printed chat log was blank.
Lin Xian stared at the last lines, feeling his throat tighten.
Those final messages were from Du Yao to Tang Xin.
“Haha, I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t come back last night. You must have made the first move!”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t text last night—didn’t want to bother you two lovebirds.”
“Now we can talk, right? How’d it go, Little Xin Xin?”
“Did you confess? Did it work?”