What happened next was exactly as Shen Yi had predicted.
Not long after her birth, Song Yi was kidnapped. She was passed from place to place, and no one knew where she eventually ended up.
Shen Yi stood on the shore of time, quietly watching it all unfold.
She was waiting for an answer. Was this the past she had personally lived through, or was it the story of her previous life?
Confirming this was actually quite easy.
Shen Yi did not need to change anything. All she had to do was see where Song Yi went after turning five.
When Song Yi was still living in the orphanage at the age of six, Shen Yi understood.
This was not Shen Yi’s past.
It was her previous life.
The true timeline that belonged to Song Yi.
There had been no rebirth, and nothing had been changed. This was the previous life exactly as it had happened.
Besides, Shen Yi thought, she had already dealt with White Sparrow and eliminated the troubles that would threaten her family in the future.
If this was merely a story from the past, then none of those troubles would ever appear, and she would have no need to keep traveling back through time.
Shen Yi knew better than anyone what had happened in her previous life.
And so, during this long journey, Shen Yi went to see the grown-up Song Sijun one more time.
Song Sijun sat by the window, his thin profile looking like a scrap of paper that might be blown away by the slightest breeze.
The light fell across his pale face, casting a faint bluish shadow beneath his lashes.
To make the wary Song Sijun believe who she was, Shen Yi removed the little square box she had always worn around her neck and held it out to him.
“I’m from the future, Song Sijun.”
“There’s plenty of evidence inside to prove it.”
Song Sijun lifted his head. His gaze slowly moved from her face to the small box in her palm. Clearly, he thought she was playing a prank on him.
He looked exhausted, but he still slowly reached out and took it.
He lowered his head and casually scrolled through the contents.
Inside were photographs of Shen Yi from childhood to adulthood.
There were pictures of her walking beneath the plane trees beside Shen Sixing, of her sneaking off to visit Wen Ya, of her crouching on a street corner with a bouquet of flowers in her arms, one after another—and pictures of her with Ni Yue as well.
Song Sijun’s finger stopped on one of them. For a long while, he did not move it.
Then he looked up and stared at the girl before him, whose face was identical to his sister’s.
Confronted by this sudden, unfamiliar older sister, Song Sijun’s pale face twisted slightly. His voice was very low.
“You’re from the future? Then why did you come here?”
Shen Yi did not answer.
Song Sijun asked her several questions in succession, but she answered none of them.
In the end, he asked about the one thing he cared about most.
“Are you happy in the future?”
Shen Yi looked at him. “I’m doing very well.”
She did not tell him anything else.
Song Sijun lowered his head and looked at the smiles in the photographs. Clearly, he believed her.
The corners of his lips slowly curved upward.
“That’s good,” he murmured.
Then he leaned forward. Suddenly, he grabbed Shen Yi by the wrist and pulled her toward him. His grip was forceful, carrying a stubbornness that allowed no refusal, and he held her tightly against himself.
Shen Yi did not know that Song Sijun had made a decision not long before.
On this day, he had originally arranged to meet his sister, Song Yi, here.
Before he left, he wanted to see her one more time.
He simply had not expected Song Yi to be the first person to arrive.
Instead, the one who came was her future self.
But it did not matter.
She was the same person.
Her future self.
She was much happier than she was now.
His sister would be as happy as this version of her, wouldn’t she?
If she was happy, then the decision he had made must have been the right one.
Thinking this, Song Sijun smiled in satisfaction and tightened his arms, embracing her even more closely.
Just as the two of them had once nestled against each other in their mother’s womb before they were born.
Two tiny, curled-up lives pressed together in the same warm space, their heartbeats passing through their thin skin.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
It was impossible to tell whose heartbeat it was.
Shen Yi could hear his breathing. It gradually slowed from ragged and hurried to calm and steady.
She raised a hand and gently patted his shoulder, once, then again.
Shen Yi had come to see him only to persuade him.
To tell him to stay alive—that only by living could he have a future.
But the words of persuasion were still caught in her throat, not yet spoken, when—
“Song Sijun!”
The door was thrown open.
Someone burst inside and collided head-on with Shen Yi.
It was Song Yi.
Two identical faces met each other’s gaze.
For one instant, the air seemed to be sucked away, and time froze within the crossing of their eyes.
Shen Yi’s heart sank.
At that very moment, she felt the floor beneath her feet begin to tremble. Space and time shattered and reassembled around her.
An invisible force yanked her off the ground and dragged her back into the future.
But the little box she had carried from the future into the past remained in her brother’s hands.
…
After Shen Yi vanished, Song Sijun, just like Song Yi, had no memory whatsoever of anyone having appeared there. He only noticed that he was holding a little box.
Without thinking, Song Sijun hung it around his neck. The metal rested against his chest, and wisps of coolness seeped into his skin.
He looked at Song Yi standing before him.
He smiled.
Song Yi, however, remained completely unaware. She was still sitting across from him, chattering excitedly about the future.
“I’ve already figured out what to do. Anyway, I’ll do my best to get you out of here.”
The girl, now in her teens, had developed a clear sense of self. A sharpness that had only just begun to take shape showed in her eyes and brows as she counted on her fingers, analyzing the people who might be useful.
As she spoke, she suddenly stopped and tilted her head at him.
“If I can get out of this awful place, I plan to keep going to school and experience a normal life for once. What about you? Is there anything you like or want to accomplish in the future?”
Song Yi realized that she had probably never asked what he wanted.
The two of them rarely spoke from the heart.
She reached out and pinched his cheek.
Song Sijun was slightly startled. His expression relaxed, and the corners of his lips lifted a little.
“…Me?”
He lowered his eyes. His fingers silently kneaded the hem of his clothes, and his voice was very soft.
“I don’t know.”
Then, all at once, he opened his arms and hugged her tightly.
Song Sijun was astonishingly strong that day. He squeezed her so hard that Song Yi let out an “Ow.”
He buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder and gave a bitter laugh.
“I think… all I’ve ever thought about was you.”
Sister.
Song Yi did not hear the weight hidden in those words. She merely laughed and patted his back.
“Stop being so cheesy.”
After she left, the room fell silent again.
Outside the window, the sky darkened from deep violet into thick, heavy ink.
Song Sijun took out the firearm he had arranged for someone to purchase in advance.
The weight of the metal sank heavily into his palm. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles paling with the force.
The muzzle was cold.
The skin beneath his hand prickled with fine tremors.
Bang.
The boy collapsed into a pool of blood.
Dark-red liquid slowly spread from the wound.
He died in a night no one knew about.
The room was tightly sealed, the curtains drawn firmly shut, blocking out all moonlight and starlight.
No one discovered what had happened until the next day.
Shen Xun was the first to arrive.
He was carrying a bag of snacks, having climbed through the window, with a lollipop between his teeth.
He had come to see his Plastic Friend.
Although Song Sijun was always rather indifferent toward him, Shen Xun was used to dropping by every few days just to bother him.
He jumped down, landed on his feet, and then froze.
The sickly sweet stench of blood rushed into his nostrils.
In the middle of the room, his best friend lay soundlessly amid the wreckage.
Shen Xun found no trace of anyone else.
The doors and windows were all locked from the inside.
He remained crouched there, studying his dead friend for a long time.
Then Shen Xun noticed something hanging from Song Sijun’s neck.
He tore off the small box.
He recognized it.
Shen Xun had grown up alongside Shen Sixing, so he was all too familiar with this style of design. Along the seam on the side were extremely fine patterns.
Every detail bore the unmistakable mark of his father’s work.
Shen Xun closed his hand around the little box and stood up.
He kindly kicked the door open,
letting the people outside know that someone had died in here.
Then the boy turned and walked away, slipping the little box into his pocket.
He planned to take it home and show it to Shen Sixing.
