This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
October 28th, 1952.
The United States was still on daylight saving time, something Lin Xian had learned during his time there for a competition. He’d discussed it with the team leader, learning that in America, daylight saving time ran from the second Sunday in March until the first Sunday in November. The Western countries seemed to have an odd way of defining time—like “the second Sunday of the month” or “the first Friday”. Lin Xian found these definitions a bit impractical, but when in Rome, right?
During daylight saving time, New York was twelve hours behind the capital city of X Country. Once wintertime arrived, the time difference would increase to thirteen hours. Since it was still October, Brooklyn was twelve hours behind, making it slightly easier for Lin Xian, who wasn’t wearing a watch.
“Is this really the cheapest motel around?” Lin Xian asked, looking doubtfully at the crumbling building in front of them. CC led him through Brooklyn’s slums, stopping at a run-down place that barely looked livable.
“I can’t say for sure if it’s the absolute cheapest,” CC shrugged, “but I can’t afford places like this anyway. Ever since the orphanage closed, I’ve been sleeping under bridges or in parks. Only people with money stay in motels.”
“People with money?” Lin Xian looked at the shabby building, half amused, half exasperated. Who would call this a place for “people with money”?
Still, considering he only had one dollar and sixty cents to his name, he probably did seem like a rich man to CC.
“Lin Xian, are you sure about this?” CC’s gaze was worried. “It’s just for one night—you could sleep anywhere, so why waste thirty cents on a room? Even if you made two dollars today, you still need to eat, and there will be other expenses. I really think you should reconsider.”
Lin Xian shook his head. “I forgot to mention something, CC. I have this... strange problem. Once I fall asleep, I can’t wake up—not at all. Even if someone hits me with a stick, I won’t wake up. I stay completely out of it.”
He continued, “So you see why I insisted on a motel. It’s about safety. If we sleep in the park or under a bridge and there’s danger, you could run, but I can’t. Someone could hurt me, and I’d never even know—I’d just die in my sleep.”
“I wouldn’t run,” CC said firmly, frowning at him. “You’ve done so much for me—bought me a meal, took me to Brooklyn Heights Promenade to see the Manhattan skyline. You’ve been good to me. How could I run if you were in danger? What kind of person would that make me?”
Hearing this, Lin Xian smiled, warmth filling his chest. It made him even more determined not to let CC sleep out on the streets.
“Alright, alright. I’m paying anyway. Let’s just get inside.”
The motel they found had a thirty-cent room—the result of a long search. Most other motels were around fifty cents, and even one for forty cents had been rejected by CC as too expensive. She insisted they had to find something cheaper, and eventually, persistence paid off.
“You were lying, weren’t you?” CC suddenly turned to look at Lin Xian before they went inside.
“Honestly... I don’t think anyone could really sleep so deeply they wouldn’t wake up,” she said skeptically.
Lin Xian chuckled and shrugged. “You can test it anytime you want.”
He wasn’t lying, though. He understood better than anyone how important thirty cents was, especially now. It was a small fortune—but safety had to come first.
Having traveled back to 1952, Lin Xian faced two main problems: money and safety. He’d thought that with Reverse Forced Evasion, his life would be guaranteed. It was his trump card, the reason he’d dared to venture into this era. But after meeting CC, he realized things weren’t so simple.
The Millennial Stake wasn’t in place, the temporal displacement hadn’t happened, and even CC hadn’t become the Millennial Stake yet. His eyes hadn’t turned blue either. Would Reverse Forced Evasion still work under these circumstances?
Lin Xian pressed his lips together and shook his head. He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t willing to take any chances. What if it failed because the Millennial Stake hadn’t been set, or the temporal laws hadn’t been established? Would he end up dying here, in 1952, far away from home?
Lin Xian couldn’t take that risk—the price was too high.
Thinking back to the time he’d stolen a newspaper from a young Black boy and gotten chased by a dozen others, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that he managed to escape unharmed.
“Better to be cautious,” he thought, “until I’m sure Reverse Forced Evasion will work as it should.” It was also why he couldn’t use his “model citizen” tactics to earn money.
First, this was the real world, not a dream. There was no “save and reload” option—he only had one life. Second, without the protection of Reverse Forced Evasion, he couldn’t risk stirring up trouble in Brooklyn, potentially ruining his plans to save the world and uncover the truth.
With a wry smile, Lin Xian muttered, “I never thought I’d end up being a genuinely ‘law-abiding citizen.'”
CC turned to look at him. “Isn’t being law-abiding what you’re supposed to do? What else were you planning?”
“Nothing.” Lin Xian shrugged. “Just lamenting that this isn’t my home turf in Los Angeles. Alright, enough chit-chat. Let’s get that room.”
Thirty cents.
In Brooklyn’s poorest neighborhood, in the cheapest motel, in the cheapest room—there really wasn’t much to expect.
“One standard room for thirty cents,” Lin Xian said, placing two coins on the counter. The owner took them, found a key, and tossed it to Lin Xian.
...
Returning to the room, Lin Xian locked the door behind him. CC was already in bed, wrapped up in her clothes and the thin, worn blanket.
“Are you really going to sleep on the floor?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.
Lin Xian nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Just for tonight,” he said. “Someday, when I’m rich, I’ll book us a double room.”
CC let out a light laugh, resting her head back on the pillow. “Such ambition... Alright then. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Lin Xian settled onto the narrow patch of floor between the bed and the window. The wooden floor was hard and cold, but he didn’t mind. Thinking about how much worse CC had it for so long made his discomfort seem insignificant. Besides, once he fell asleep, the hardness of the floor wouldn’t matter.
He pulled his coat tighter around himself, trying to ward off the chill of the Brooklyn night. A cold breeze seeped in from somewhere, and he felt the temperature drop. He breathed slowly, evenly... until he drifted off to sleep.
...
...
Rustle, rustle, rustle...
Lin Xian stirred, half-conscious. He felt a weight on him, something pressing down. His body felt heavy, almost as if he was pinned in place—sleep paralysis?
His muddled mind struggled to focus. Was this a dream? Something felt different, unfamiliar. A sense of unease crawled over him, urging him to wake up.
Suddenly, he bolted upright, his heart pounding.
“Ah!” CC yelped, startled.
Lin Xian blinked, rubbing his eyes. CC was standing there, wide-eyed, a blanket in her hands.
“CC? What are you doing?” he asked groggily.
She pointed at the blanket, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I... I was trying to cover you with this. A cold front came through, and I saw the window was frosted over. I thought you’d be freezing down there, so I wanted to give you the blanket. But look at you! You said you couldn’t wake up once you fell asleep, but I barely put this on you, and you jumped right up.”
Lin Xian held up a hand, a frown forming on his face. “Wait, hold on a second.” Something wasn’t right. He pulled back the curtain and glanced outside. The sky was still dark, the moon hanging low on the horizon.
“What time is it?” he muttered. He turned to CC. “What’s the time now?”
CC came over, looking out at the moon. Without hesitation, she said, “It must be around three or four in the morning.”
Lin Xian’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t make sense... I shouldn’t be awake before twelve forty-two. I shouldn’t be able to wake up at all before then. How could I wake up just because you put a blanket on me?”
He fell silent, his mind racing. The more he thought about it, the more unsettling it seemed. His heart pounded faster.
This was the first time, in all his twenty-six years, that something like this had happened—he hadn’t dreamed at all!
“How is that possible?” Lin Xian whispered, confusion and worry gnawing at him. Since he was born, he’d never gone a night without dreaming. Always, he’d dreamt of August 28th, 2624. It was as reliable as the rising sun.
But tonight... nothing. Just a void—no images, no sounds, no memories.
This year, 1952, was anything but ordinary. Temporal laws were failing, the Millennial Stake hadn’t been established, and even his ability to see the future in his dreams had vanished.
What was causing this?
Lin Xian opened his eyes, looking at CC, who stood by the bed, her face full of confusion. The first-generation stake—the key to everything.
Could it be...
Was his ability to dream of the future, six hundred years ahead, somehow connected to the formation and stability of the Millennial Stake?