Over the next three days, every few hours, Wen Ya would shove a cup of coffee and some food through the door.
Shen Sixing barely nibbled at bread during this time, surviving mostly on caffeine.
When Wen Ya pushed the door open again, she found something on the desk.
A black metal box.
It was the size of a palm, perfectly square, with no markings or buttons on it.
Shen Sixing had washed up and was now collapsed on the nearby sofa, covered with a blanket, his face buried in a throw pillow. His breathing was steady, as if he had drained his last ounce of energy.
Wen Ya crouched down, picked up the box, and turned it over in her hands.
The surface was smooth, cool to the touch, and it had a solid, dense feel that exceeded its size.
She sat on the edge of the sofa and nudged Shen Sixing's shin with her foot.
"What's this?"
Without opening his eyes, Shen Sixing shifted his face slightly in the pillow. His voice was muffled by the fabric, slurred and distant: "A small gift for Xiao Yi."
"…"
"Maybe she'll find it useful," he murmured, his voice fading as if caught between sleep and waking, "or maybe she won't. I hope she doesn't need it…"
Wen Ya shook his leg again. "Sit up and explain clearly."
Shen Sixing rolled over, the blanket slipping off his shoulder, revealing his face—ravaged by three days of sleep deprivation and caffeine.
He blinked his bloodshot eyes and spoke in a tone hovering between consciousness and haze:
"My great invention."
Wen Ya clapped her hands together in slow, sarcastic applause. "A great invention that took three days and three nights?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Is this thing even reliable?"
Shen Sixing sat up, took the box from her hand, and weighed it in his palm.
His fingers traced the seam along its edge until he pressed a hidden contact point. The lid popped open with a soft click.
Inside, the structure was delicate.
An ultrathin embedded screen sat against the inner lid, beside it a compact recording module and a tiny password input panel.
The panel had no number keys—only six slightly recessed contact points arranged in two rows of three. The circuit board beneath was laid out with meticulous precision, smooth and symmetrical, with clean lines that looked like they had been drawn with a ruler.
"What exactly is this?" Wen Ya leaned in closer.
"A password-protected recording box," Shen Sixing said as he easily flipped the lid fully open to reveal the entire mechanism inside. "Triple-layer shielding inside. No standard signal scanning device can detect it in operation. If someone tries to force it open, the internal storage chip will instantly format itself."
Wen Ya frowned. "You're giving your daughter a recording box? What for? She's not a spy."
Shen Sixing paused before answering.
He closed the lid, which snapped shut with a crisp, seamless click.
Holding it in his hand, he was silent for a moment, then looked up at Wen Ya.
There was a seriousness in his eyes she didn't often see.
"If she's unlucky enough," he said, "to run into the past version of me after her time-travel…"
He looked down at the box in his hand, tapping its smooth top gently with his fingertip. "That version of me would be very dangerous to her."
Shen Sixing had been a textbook antisocial personality as a teenager.
Emotionally indifferent, adrift, never understanding the point of his own existence, never bothering to think about anything beyond himself.
He had no interest in human relationships—other people's joys and sorrows were something he observed and documented, never empathized with.
Peers his age were just background noise to be dealt with when necessary. Adult lectures went in one ear and out the other. He saw through the power struggles of his family more clearly than anyone but couldn't muster the motivation to participate.
Back then, he had pessimistically believed he would never form any real bonds with anyone.
Any emotion would not become his anchor—it would only become his weakness.
So he locked himself in a transparent shell, keeping everyone at just the right distance so they never truly touched.
Shen Yi wasn't a very good actress, at least not as far as Shen Sixing was concerned.
If she actually encountered his teenage self—the young Shen Sixing at the center of a family power struggle, sharp-edged and in his prime, nothing like his current lazy self—
His powers of observation would be sharper, not weaker.
She couldn't stand in front of him for more than three minutes before he'd see right through her.
Shen Sixing had to ensure that if his daughter accidentally crossed paths with him, she wouldn't end up eliminated.
To him, anyone who suddenly appeared out of nowhere with suspicious behavior and obvious secrets—Shen Sixing had never hesitated to deal with them ruthlessly.
"Shen Sixing." Wen Ya reached out with both hands and lightly grabbed his neck, shaking him a little.
"I never thought our daughter's biggest threat would be you."
She let go. "And seriously, you're borrowing trouble. Xiao Yi herself isn't even sure where she'll end up. And you're already imagining she might run into the past you?"
Shen Sixing let his head tilt to the side as she shook him, his messy hair pressing into the sofa back. He just smiled and said,
"Better safe than sorry."
…
The Visconti family disaster had wiped out an entire household, forcing the original plan for the sea banquet to be postponed for some time.
Before joining the operation to rescue her brother, Shen Yi made a special trip home to say goodbye to her mother.
She didn't give too many specifics, just said, "I have to go out for a while."
Wen Ya didn't press her. Instead, she turned around and started packing for her.
She packed everything: a gun, a combat knife, a first-aid kit, compressed biscuits, waterproof matches—and she also stuffed in a thick coat.
As she loaded the bag, she muttered to herself, "It's windy at sea. Wear it if you get cold. The knife goes in the outer side pocket. Sometimes cold steel works better than firearms. I've adjusted the safety on the gun for you—just squeeze the trigger firmly. Don't be afraid of accidental discharge."
Shen Sixing, on the other hand, took Shen Yi aside for a private chat.
He slid the black box across the table to her.
Shen Yi picked it up and examined it from every angle.
The design was unique—a black cube the size of a palm, smooth enough to see your reflection, with no buttons or ports.
She tried to open it in every way she could think of: pressing, prying, twisting, even holding it up to the light to examine the seams.
No luck.
"What is this?" she asked.
"A gift for you," Shen Sixing said, speaking more slowly than usual. "You must keep it on you at all times."
"Is it important?"
"Yeah. Keep it close." His normally calm eyes grew serious. "And you have to promise me—you will keep it with you."
He looked stern—completely different from his usual playful, careless attitude with her.
Shen Yi paused, then nodded. "I promise, Dad."
After agreeing, she looked at him again, feeling that he never did anything without reason.
She ran her fingers over the smooth metal surface. "What does it do?"
Shen Sixing thought for a few seconds before replying, "When you meet certain people, it might come in useful."
Shen Yi stared at him.
She suddenly realized the "certain people" he mentioned was probably not a vague reference.
The girl blurted out, "Will I run into you?"
