“What’s the situation?” Huang Jinchen switched out his empty clip. “Dr. Kou, report.”  

Kou Tong was looking at the whole field in a daze; he hadn’t heard him at all. He was entirely sunk into a frenzied academic state. Huang Jinchen watched him for a while. He thought that if you pressed Control-Alt-Delete on Dr. Kou right now, you would certainly find that Dr. Kou’s CPU usage was 100%—about to freeze. 

So Master Huang switched targets. He turned to the blank He Xiaozhi. “Kid, how did you pull that off just now?” 

He Xiaozhi shook his head in confusion. 

“Think about it. You’re our ultimate cheat code right now.” 

“I was alone…in the living room. There’s a dressing mirror in Dr. Kou’s living room. I was sitting there.” 

He Xiaozhi spoke very slowly. Ordinarily, he had two states. One was gloomy and fairly slow to respond, like now, but with his psyche relatively calm. Sadly, these calm but downcast moods didn’t last long. He often collapsed. During his collapses, his temper would be rather bad. It was evident he was controlling himself with all his might, but when all of a patient’s unusual hormonal secretions were causing an unstable mood, it couldn’t be resolved only with control. Sometimes he would stand in a corner, crying wordlessly. Sometimes he would scream, even self-harm. Ordinarily, at times like these, Dr. Kou, the professional, had to be relied on to provide appropriate medication. 

“At first the mirror was reflecting me, but I zoned out for a few minutes. When I came back to myself, I saw the two of you in the mirror, and also that…” He frowned, not quite knowing how to describe that winged, chain-wielding goat. “That monster the size of a dinosaur was screaming. I thought you might be in danger, so I reached out my hand without thinking. I didn’t expect it to pass through the mirror.” 

Kou Tong turned his head and asked, “What were you thinking about when you zoned out?” 

He Xiaozhi froze. 

Kou Tong walked up to him and bent down a little, bringing his gaze level with He Xiaozhi’s. In a very soft voice, he said, “It’s all right. I told you, you can tell me anything. Remember?” 

He Xiaozhi stared into his eyes for a while. As if he had found some source of strength, he nodded, then said, “I was looking at myself in the mirror, thinking…that I’m a waste of space who can only be a burden on others—that’s what my mom said. I can’t do anything. I couldn’t even manage to die. If I died, I would cause trouble for many people. I’ve been watching you all running around every day, and there’s nothing I can do to help…” 

“Who says so?” Kou Tong interrupted him. He had roughly worked it out. The mirror must have been He Xiaozhi’s projection in this space. For particular reasons, his reactions were rather slow, and the system’s analysis time had been fairly long. It could only be discovered through stimulus. To make his words more persuasive, Kou Tong pointed to Huang Jinchen and said, “You saved our lives. If you hadn’t reached your hand out of the mirror, that guy would have been flattened by that big winged goat.” 

These weren’t the facts—because while the crows were annoying, they weren’t fatal. Actually, if he had had a bit more space and time, this magical sniper might very well have taken that monster down via its eyes, never mind that there had also been Kou Tong to assist.

But while Huang Jinchen was rather cold, he wasn’t a moron; he didn’t want to spoil Kou Tong’s act over an irrelevant trifle, so he said, “And whose sake was I stuck there for, your highness the femme fatale princess?” 

Kou Tong said, “You can bring yourself to say that? Who was so careless that he got found out right away?—If you hadn’t come, I still would have been able to escape.” 

Huang Jinchen asked, “Escape? I think it would have been more practical for you to escape your clothes and go seduce that little witch.” 

The pure youth He Xiaozhi felt deeply stressed. Hearing the two of them trading filth back and forth, he lowered his head and followed the two men like a little lady, walking up a lane through the field towards the little log cabin. 

But Huang Jinchen turned his head and said earnestly to He Xiaozhi, “This moral tells hot-blooded teenagers that before you hold yourself out as a knight, you need to find the right target. There are differences among princesses.” 

Perhaps because of the spacious view in the field, or perhaps because the fragrance of the plants carried the characteristic calming smell of the great outdoors, He Xiaozhi’s normally low and unstable mood for once turned somewhat for the better. He looked at Huang Jinchen a little doubtfully and asked, “Why?” 

“Princesses are divided into many types.” Expert Huang pulled a blade of grass from the ground and bit it. Unhurriedly, he said, “There are princesses whose beauty is pleasant, princesses whose beauty is moving, princesses whose beauty is enchanting, and also…” 

He pointed at Kou Tong’s back. With a sorrowful expression, he said, “Those whose beauty is entrapping.” 

Kou Tong turned his head and gloomily said, “Er-Pang, there aren’t any grudges between us, are there?” 

Huang Jinchen asked, “To show that you aren’t entrapping, can you think of a way to get us out of here?” 

Kou Tong thought about it, then said, “This program really does seem like a black box. When each person enters, they match up to an extremely complicated equation. Reasonably speaking, that’s how this is implemented. Consequently, when I saw that mirror, I was incredulous, because when the Projector was designed, it used only one time axis, and a unidirectional one. If the space is stable, then its dimension is fixed. Therefore, the phenomena of space folding or time travel are practically impossible.” 

He Xiaozhi: “…” 

Huang Jinchen: “…” 

Huang Jinchen rubbed his forehead. “Can we use human language?” 

“The application of many mathematical physics equations introduces an axis of time, in the great majority of circumstances unidirectional and irreversible. It’s the same way you, a single person, can’t simultaneously be at two spatial coordinate points within the same space and time,” Kou Tong said. “Space being unable to fold means that the distance from the island to my house is whatever the distance is. In the same space-time dimension, there can’t be a shortcut or door that can let us defy that length and go home directly from the island.” 

“But if the mirror hadn’t been broken just now, we really would have been pulled back home through it by the kid.” Huang Jinchen considered. “And he really was at home, and did reach his hand out to us on the island.” 

“So I have just determined that there are two time axes in this space,” Kou Tong said. “And the other one…” 

Before he could finish this sentence, the door of the little log cabin suddenly opened, and a bouncing and lively puppy hopped out, followed by a white-haired old man.

Kou Tong, who had never expected there to be a person here, froze and forgot what the rest of his sentence was going to be. The old man also froze; he also seemed very surprised. 

The puppy made a few circles around them, its curious eyes wide. It sniffed, then instinctively stayed away from Huang Jinchen, squatting at Kou Tong’s feet, shaking its head and sticking out its tongue, looking at him in a friendly way. 

Kou Tong stroked the puppy’s head, and the little dog licked his palm. 

The old man laughed and beckoned to the puppy. “Huanhuan, we have guests!” 

The puppy called Huanhuan barked and ran back to its owner. Kou Tong and the others went over. The old man quickly welcomed them inside.

This was a very ordinary little house that made a person feel extremely warm. 

The skin on the old man’s hands was very loose, the backs of his hands full of age spots. He seemed unusually skinny. His health must have been poor. But for some reason, each of his movements gave you a sense that this person lived elegantly. 

They sat at an unusual wooden table. There was a vase of fresh flowers on the table. Water was just boiling in the little tea kettle next to the table. 

“My surname is Tian,” the old man said. “I don’t know what’s happened to me. I opened my eyes, and here I was with a puppy I had when I was young.” 

Then Kou Tong knew that this Lao Tian was the final conscious subject. He ruefully thought that this twitchy Projector really was random. There was a full complement of male and female, young and old. Kou Tong had to explain the business of the Projector losing control once more. He hadn’t thought that the old man wouldn’t be in the least surprised. He only used the boiled water to brew tea, brought each of them a cup, and, sighing with emotion, said, “So that’s what happened. This world really is magical. Something changes every day.” 

Then Lao Tian held up the little teacup and smelled the aroma through the dense steam. Then he said, “At first, I thought I was dead—I have bone cancer, late stage. My family had already been notified that I was in critical condition before I came here. I was in severe pain every day, then unconscious when the pain was gone. The cancer cells had spread. Many of my organs were failing. 

“Right here,” Lao Tian said, pointing to a spot on his neck, “they made a cut and stuck in a tube, and every day I relied on that tube to survive. Later, one day, I was suddenly wide awake. I felt that I hadn’t been so wide awake in a long time. And I could sit up and move. So I realized that this was a last burst of strength before death. My children weren’t with me. They’re busy. I thought it was a bit of a pity not to be able to say a last word to them. I was going to call a nurse in to pass along some final words, but in that instant, I came to this little yard.” 

Kou Tong at once felt awkward, not knowing what to say. To all the others who had been drawn in by the instrument’s malfunction, he could say that he would certainly find a way to resolve the situation as quickly as possible and send everyone home. But this… What should he say? 

Never mind how cruel a thing it was to trap a person on the border between life and death; in the future, when everyone left, what would happen to him? The strange equilibrium that seven people had formed in the same consciousness projection was like a big house of cards. It could lose control at the slightest jar. Everyone had to leave at the same time. They couldn’t leave one person behind in the Projector. 

Even if they really could do it, without reciprocal responses, Lao Tian’s projection equation would have to change as well. If this strange additional timeline disappeared, were they supposed to let him die in a space like this, separated from all the world by an impassable dimension? 

He Xiaozhi blankly held his teacup. Even Huang Jinchen was speechless. 

“I’m sorry…” After stalling for a long time, Kou Tong at last spat this out. “I don’t know how to… I’m sorry.” 

But Lao Tian smiled. “What is there to be sorry about? If not for your accident, I would have been buried in the ground by now. To be able to live in health for a few more days, who wouldn’t want that?

“Come.” Lao Tian stood up and called. The puppy Huanhuan jumped up after him. Lao Tian opened the door. On the little fence grew unknown flowers, seeming to still hold the first morning dew, so tender, so beautiful. “I’ve noticed that these flowers are the same every day. Sometimes a couple of petals fall off, and after a while, I look again, and they’ve the same as before. Young man, can you explain that?” 

Kou Tong hesitated for a moment. In a slightly hoarse voice, he said, “This additional time axis has been altered by the space. It isn’t a line; it’s turned into a loop. Only a loop is eternal. It’s like when a plane is closed, the people living on it can never ‘walk off’ it. This time axis is a looped time axis. It’s constantly repeating a short period of time. That’s why you can…” 

Live in a last moment of dying glory.

“I see.” Suddenly seeing the light, Lao Tian said, smiling, “The person who designed this thing really was a genius.” 

Kou Tong’s heart sank. He didn’t think he was a genius at all. 

But Lao Tian patted him on the shoulder. “A time axis for others is a whole life time for me. Isn’t that magical? I’m planning to name this yard, call it All One’s Life. But this machine of yours still ought to be repaired. When it’s been repaired, tell me, and I can pass along some last words. If you can tell me ahead of time so I won’t be in a hurry, take my time to say them, that would be for the best.” 

Huang Jinchen suddenly cut in. He looked at the old man as though he had seen something amazing. He asked, “You aren’t afraid of death?” 

“I don’t want to die,” Lao Tian said after thinking about it, “but people have to die. No one can do anything about that. Live well and die when it’s your time. Since time immemorial up to now, hasn’t it always been like that?” 

Huang Jinchen stared blankly, as if he was dumbfounded. 

In spring, a mountain full of flowers will grow tiny buds; a fragrance transformed of water and earth will spread far away, attracting bees and butterflies. In summer, the plants will become matchlessly large, growing branches and leaves that can blot out the sun, so green they could drip oil. The heavens will also be unusually clear, the Milky Way like a length of satin. In autumn, the green leaves will turn yellow, the branches will grow fruit. The rivers will be clearer and clearer, planning to reach the boundless sea before the frost. 

And in winter, heavy snow will fall, and all life will return to silence. The vastness of heaven and earth will all be washed clean, burying the dead, awaiting the coming year’s new life. 

These are the rules of the world, like a person’s life and death. 

The dying old man was caught in an unlimited time loop in a crack between life and death. Holding a little teacup, he turned his head and stood with his back against the light drawing his shadow out long. The puppy next to him chewed on the plants that would be restored after a time. 

Kou Tong suddenly had the feeling that he wanted, like He Xiaozhi, to shed silent tears.