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A wave of nostalgia washed over Lin Xian. In another timeline, another world, Yellow Finch must have encountered another version of him. What had their story been like? Filled with regret, unfulfilled promises, or perhaps tragedy? Lin Xian felt certain it wasn’t a tale with a happy conclusion. If it had been, Yellow Finch wouldn’t have borne such pain and loneliness to leave her original timeline to return to his present. She was driven by a desire to change everything, to rewrite a set history and a dire fate. Yet, the unforgiving laws of time and space proved too daunting; she was too overwhelmed, too helpless. Despite this, she had exerted her utmost to guide him, teach him, and nurture his growth.

In a poignant moment at the Amalienborg Palace, in front of the statue of Frederick V, Yellow Finch had once said:

“I will accompany him in his ordinariness, teach him excellence, wait for his maturity. Then… watch him slowly become great.”

This was the hope that Yellow Finch clung to. Lin Xian slid her ID card into his inner pocket, resolving not to dwell on what could have been. She was no longer here.

Resolutely, Lin Xian stepped into the seawater, not bothering to remove his shoes. The cold waves enveloped his feet, his pants, seeping into every pore. He made his way to the base of the Little Mermaid statue and laid his hand upon its cold bronze.

“The little mermaid didn’t die. She turned into sea foam and ascended towards the sun, gaining an immortal soul and eternal life,” he murmured, reciting the story Yellow Finch had once shared with him with the solemnity of a sacred text.

“The mermaid, lacking an immortal soul, could never have one unless she won the love of a mortal,” he continued, his voice blending with the sound of the crashing waves.

“You just watch from the heavens. Watch… a mortal slowly become great, rivaling the gods.”

One by one, he cast Yellow Finch’s clothes into the sea, watching them float momentarily before sinking into the ocean’s depths.

He had arrived with someone by his side, but now he would leave alone. Lin Xian purchased a ticket back to Donghai City, settling into the solitude of the first-class cabin.

As he browsed through Yellow Finch’s phone, he found it devoid of personal traces—no WeChat, no games, no photos. She had truly been a transient figure in his life.

Stowing the phone away, Lin Xian reclined in his seat, his eyes closing as he contemplated his future. The absence of Yellow Finch marked a profound shift. Growing up, he realized, was not a gradual process but a series of sudden, stark revelations. Realizing the aging of his parents, achieving something significant alone, these were the markers of true maturity.

While Yellow Finch was around, Lin Xian had relied on her guidance to navigate the complexities of his world. Now, bereft of her wisdom, he had to rely solely on his own judgment.

Eyes opening with resolve, Lin Xian began to plan his next steps. The stakes were high, and his situation was fraught with chaos. To break this deadlock, he had to confront Kevin Walker.

First, in the dream world. The fourth dream had been stuck for a long time, blocking his way to obtaining information, resources, and intelligence from the future world. This made him more passive than ever. To this day, Kevin Walker was still the prime suspect in the old man’s eyes. Regardless of whether he was or not, he had to start with him and try to save himself trapped in the fourth dream.

If Lin Xian was lucky, killing Kevin Walker might cause the old man to disappear, freeing him in the fourth dream. This would allow him to go to Time Bank, open the safe, and determine the reality of the dream through the note Chu An Qing left for him. If he was even luckier, killing Kevin Walker might lead directly to the fifth dream. The old man’s ability to send dozens of armed soldiers to guard him day and night indicated his high status and power in the future sci-fi city. If this man disappeared early in 2024, then the dream and city 600 years later would likely change significantly.

To resolve both old and new grudges and to verify and preserve the dream world, beginning with Kevin Walker was undoubtedly the right course of action.

Now, in the real world, Lin Xian faced two and a half distinct adversaries:

Kevin Walker, who had disrupted Lin Xian’s efforts to capture space-time particles and had commandeered an American aerospace shuttle, intending to crash it into him.

The space time assassin, responsible for Yellow Finch’s death. This deep-seated grudge demanded retribution in blood.

Elon Musk, identified as the murderer of VV. While there was no direct confrontation with him and his motives remained enigmatic, he was considered half an enemy and was of lesser priority.

Resolving the deadlock in the real world also necessitated dealing with Kevin Walker first. Only by eliminating him could the dream world experience shifts in time-space, which would then display values on the space-time clock, indicating curvature and subsequently deducing the space-time coordinates.

With these coordinates, Liu Feng could further his research on the Universal Constant 42. Additionally, possessing these coordinates would enable Lin Xian to pass the first examination of the Genius Club.

In summary, the solution to breaking the deadlock in both the real and dream worlds pointed unequivocally to Kevin Walker, a formidable enemy whom Lin Xian had yet to meet and whose whereabouts were unknown.

“I must eliminate Kevin Walker,” Lin Xian murmured as he gazed at the white clouds beyond the plane window, setting this as his primary goal for the near future. There was no room for compassion or concern about legal repercussions. Over 100 countries had issued global wanted notices for Kevin Walker, including Country X and the United States, the latter offering a bounty of 1 billion dollars, dead or alive.

Given such international consensus, no country would dare harbor Kevin Walker. Having become a global pariah, not even divine intervention could save him now. His actions had crossed a line, prompting every armed organization, mercenary group, and official force worldwide to join the hunt, all eager to claim the multimillion-dollar bounty.

For Lin Xian, this was an opportunity not to be missed. Whether he personally eliminated Kevin Walker or orchestrated it through others, it would be advantageous for him.

“A new game of cat and mouse begins again,” Lin Xian declared, closing his eyes and leaning back, his tone laced with exhaustion and a hint of self-mockery, “Why did I say ‘again’…”

Upon his return to Donghai City, after disembarking at Pudong International Airport, Lin Xian drove his Alphard to Rhine Lab at Donghai University to meet Liu Feng.

After briefing him on Yellow Finch’s disappearance, Liu Feng responded with a sigh, “This was expected,” indicating he had braced himself for this possibility, albeit with regret.

“Think about it; on the aerospace shuttle, her eyes dimmed, and her body became transparent. Given that space-time particles turn invisible when their internal energy is depleted, leaving only a shell, Yellow Finch, as a space-time traveler, was destined to fade away eventually due to space-time rejection,” Liu Feng explained.

Lin Xian nodded in agreement, “I had a premonition but didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Our understanding of space-time travelers is minimal. We know they come from the future, from different timelines, but beyond that, our knowledge is nearly nonexistent.”

“Every time Yellow Finch coughed weakly, collapsed, turned transparent, or her eyes dimmed, I saw it as a sign of her impending disappearance, but I couldn’t pinpoint which time would be her last. Even at her weakest, when the blue light in her eyes vanished, she would fully recover after resting,” Lin Xian recalled the rainy night when he first encountered Yellow Finch in Zhao Ying Jun’s office. Her eyes had been brighter then, but not as intensely as the young assassin’s, whose eyes glowed like LEDs, reminiscent of exaggerated anime contact lenses.

“If her eyes were that bright, it would interfere with normal life, right?” Lin Xian pondered aloud.

“Liu Feng,” Lin Xian called over to the preoccupied scientist, querying, “What do you think the blue light in the eyes of Yellow Finch and other space-time travelers signifies? Could it be akin to the brightness of space-time particles, indicating their remaining time and energy?”

“It feels as though I’m discussing robots. But the changing brightness of her eyes resembles a battery indicator,” Lin Xian mused, then hypothesized, “If there were another space-time traveler, say Red Finch or Green Finch, and their eyes were several times brighter than Yellow Finch’s, glowing like a blue light bulb, what do you think this brightness indicates?”

Liu Feng paused his experiment, looking up thoughtfully. “Well…” he pondered aloud, “It’s difficult to say because Yellow Finch didn’t exhibit any supernatural abilities, right? She was knowledgeable and spoke in riddles but possessed no superpowers or significant energetic abilities. So, I think the eye color might simply be a time indicator.”

“Their eyes turn blue due to space-time rejection, right? I recall you mentioned that the blue eyes result from space-time instinctively rejecting such foreign entities, alerting local beings to potential danger,” Lin Xian reflected.

“When you analyzed this on the aerospace shuttle, it sounded quite fantastical, but later it seemed plausible. This phenomenon exists in the animal kingdom and human genetics, known as the ‘alert amplification response.\'”

“For instance, humans find the scent of cooked pork, beef, and lamb appealing, but the smell of cooked human flesh is repulsive and pungent, despite these odors being similar from a scientific perspective. This repulsion is an instinctive human reaction, highly sensitive to the scent of their own kind being harmed, serving as a mechanism to sense and avoid danger. If we consider space-time’s instinctive alertness, the blue glowing eyes make perfect sense!” Liu Feng elaborated, smacking his lips in amazement.

“Do you realize what’s ingenious about this? Eyes are sensory organs that are externally visible, so there’s no hiding them. You could suggest wearing sunglasses or colored contacts, but that would impair vision.”

“Returning to your question, if another space-time traveler’s eyes were much brighter than Yellow Finch’s, even bright like a light bulb, it would mean that even with sunglasses, they couldn’t conceal the light. During the day, it’s manageable, but at night, such bright eyes would be conspicuously noticeable and easily detectable.”

“So… I think if there were a space-time traveler whose eyes were very blue and bright, it might only imply one thing from space-time’s instinctive reaction—” Liu Feng turned to Lin Xian, his expression grave, “It means this space-time traveler is extremely dangerous! So space-time rejection causes their eyes to be very bright, like the smell of cooked human flesh, to alert others to the danger and encourage avoidance.”

Lin Xian twirled a pen on the lab table, watching it spin between his fingers. Liu Feng’s interpretation was intriguing. He connected brightness to danger levels, suggesting that space-time rejection instinctively identified the space-time assassin as a threat, which explained her bright eyes.

This was a novel understanding.

Lin Xian had always thought it was related to energy.

When the opportunity arose, he would thoroughly study this phenomenon to understand what the brightness of the blue eyes of space-time travelers was connected to.

“Knowing yourself and your enemy ensures victory,” Lin Xian thought.

He glanced at the space-time clock on the central lab table. As always, it remained quiet with eight zeros, 0.0000000.

“Hope it changes soon,” Lin Xian muttered.

“I hope so too,” Liu Feng said, spreading his hands. “Only if it changes can we continue our research on the Universal Constant and space-time coordinates, leading to further breakthroughs.”

“But… what kind of monumental event will trigger this change?”

Lin Xian nodded. “Don’t worry, it’s coming.”

The pen stopped spinning in his fingers. He skillfully flicked his wrist—

Clang.

The pen hit the inner wall of the pen holder and stood upright inside.

“It’s really coming,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing as he thought of a way to eliminate Kevin Walker, maybe even directly obtaining the space-time coordinates from him.

After leaving Donghai University, Lin Xian took his Alphard car to Rhine Company. Last time, he was in a hurry, only visiting Time Bank without having time for the company. Months of being a hands-off boss had left many things to handle.

Although Brother Wang was authorized to make major company decisions, Lin Xian, as the founder and owner of Rhine Company, had to sign off on many matters personally.

He had arranged to meet Brother Wang in the office this afternoon.

The driver signaled to turn right, preparing to exit the elevated highway. Rhine Company was next to MX Company. After two intersections, Lin Xian could see the twin buildings.

Below the elevated highway was a public elementary school. It was far from dismissal time, so there were no waiting parents or street vendors, just some store owners chatting at the entrance.

“Hmm? A bookstore?” Lin Xian lowered the car window, looking at the bookstores near the school gate. “Pull over. I want to buy a book.”

After the car temporarily stopped, the driver opened the electric door, and Lin Xian got out, heading straight into the bookstore. He wanted to buy a copy of “Andersen’s Fairy Tales” to make up for a childhood regret and give Andersen some credit.

And also…

He really wanted to read the original “The Little Mermaid,” Yellow Finch’s favorite story.

In the first bookstore, he asked the owner for a copy of Andersen’s fairy tales.

“Do you want a bilingual version?” the owner asked while searching the shelves.

“Sure, that’s even better.”

Lin Xian’s English was quite good, so a bilingual version would help him grasp the essence of the original text.

The owner pulled out a thin fairy tale book and handed it to Lin Xian, causing him to look down.

“…”

He looked at the owner. “This is your bilingual version?”

“Of course,” the owner said sincerely, “This is bilingual, isn’t it?”

Lin Xian flipped through the book, finding “The Little Mermaid” story. It was short, just two pages. The ending didn’t mention anything about an immortal soul or eternal life, only that the mermaid turned into bubbles and flew into the sky, waving goodbye to the prince and everyone on the ground.

It was a children’s book, so this adaptation was reasonable.

Lin Xian returned the book to the owner. “Do you have anything more advanced? This is too childish, something for adults.”

“Who reads fairy tales as an adult?” the owner snorted. “This is all I have. Try the other stores.”

After visiting the third bookstore, Lin Xian finally found an unabridged, unaltered version of Andersen’s fairy tales, promising an authentic experience.

He paid for it and got back into the Alphard, heading to Rhine Company.

An hour later, Brother Wang left Lin Xian’s office, carrying a stack of documents. During the past period, Lin Xian signed papers while Brother Wang handed and flipped them. They had collaborated many times, working efficiently.

After Brother Wang left, Lin Xian checked the clock. It was not even 4 PM. There was still time.

The office was peaceful, so he decided to read for a while. Leaning back in his chair, he picked up the new Andersen’s fairy tale book and started reading. He wasn’t interested in other stories and went straight to “The Little Mermaid.”

This thickness seemed right.

It turned out “The Little Mermaid” was quite lengthy, like a short story, unlike the brief version in the pinyin reader. It spanned about twenty pages. He read attentively. Maybe it was the translation, but it felt cumbersome and not smooth, with long paragraphs that tired his eyes.

But as Yellow Finch said, the real ending of “The Little Mermaid” was better than expected, even better than the children’s version. The pinyin reader omitted the concept of an immortal soul, likely because it was hard to understand, but it left out a lot, making it just a bedtime story.

“You, poor little mermaid, like us, have strived for that goal; you endured pain; you persevered; you have ascended to the world of spirits. Through your good deeds, in three hundred years, you will create an immortal soul for yourself,” Lin Xian read softly from the book.

“The little mermaid raised her shining arms towards the sun of God, feeling like crying for the first time. She lowered her head, smiled at the prince, then followed the other children of the air, riding on rosy clouds, ascending to heaven: ‘In three hundred years, we can ascend to heaven!\'”

Finished reading, Lin Xian put the fairy tale book on his lap and looked up at the ceiling.

“Yellow Finch was wrong.”

No.

Lin Xian shook his head. “Maybe she deliberately misled me.”

“The book doesn’t say the little mermaid immediately gained an immortal soul… she has to work hard for three hundred years to achieve it.”

Lin Xian smiled wryly, pondering the thin line between a fairy tale being a comedy or a tragedy. Different perspectives lead to different interpretations.

“Three hundred years, six hundred years,” he whispered, contemplating the passage of time. “I hope we meet again.”

He stood up and placed “Andersen’s Fairy Tales” on the corner of his desk. “Even if… you might not be called Yellow Finch then.”

Knock, knock!

A sudden knock on the office door interrupted his thoughts. Could it be Brother Wang returning?

“Come in,” Lin Xian said, pressing the button to open the office door.

Click, click, click.

The first thing he saw was a pair of familiar slender legs in high heels. He looked up to see Zhao Ying Jun, wearing an off-white coat and pearl earrings, walking in with a smile.

“Lin Xian, long time no see.”

Lin Xian opened his mouth, then closed it, nodding gently. “Indeed… several months.”

Click, click, click.

The high heels continued their rhythmic tapping as Zhao Ying Jun approached, her eyes fixed on Lin Xian.

“After the charity dinner, you were borrowed by the state for a secret mission. Now you’re back… is it done?”

Lin Xian nodded. “It’s finished.”

Judging by Zhao Ying Jun’s demeanor, she probably didn’t know about Chu An Qing. People usually shared good news, not bad. Chu Shan He likely wouldn’t publicize his daughter’s mysterious disappearance.

“You came at the right time,” Lin Xian said. “I just finished and came here to check.”

Zhao Ying Jun looked down, smiling. “I ran into Brother Wang, who told me you were here, so I came to say hello.”

Brother Wang again? Lin Xian recalled the last time he visited this office. Zhao Ying Jun had shown up shortly after, also citing Brother Wang. Was Brother Wang a spy, reporting to Zhao Ying Jun whenever Lin Xian was around? It wouldn’t be surprising. Brother Wang was Zhao Ying Jun’s person, and most of Rhine Company’s key personnel were former MX employees. In essence, it was a sister company, but in reality, it was like a branch of MX.

But it didn’t matter. Lin Xian didn’t care about status or control as long as someone managed the company, made money, and didn’t let Time Bank collapse. He only had three requirements: no losses, funds for Liu Feng’s equipment, and Time Bank’s stability.

“Mm?” Zhao Ying Jun, with hands in her coat pockets, looked at the “Andersen’s Fairy Tales” on Lin Xian’s desk. “Reading fairy tales?”

“Occasionally,” Lin Xian replied.

“I like ‘Andersen’s Fairy Tales’ too.” Zhao Ying Jun’s eyes showed nostalgia as she looked at the book’s new cover. “I remember the first gift I ever received… I was about three or four years old. Maybe I had birthday gifts before, but I can’t recall those. My first memorable gift was a bilingual ‘Andersen’s Fairy Tales.’ My parents had high expectations, giving a little child a bilingual book… barely knowing our own country, how could I understand English?”

“When I actually started reading Andersen’s fairy tales, I was in elementary school. The stories were good, not overly fantastical, but they opened a new world for me.”

She looked up, blinking at Lin Xian. “Do you have a favorite story in Andersen’s fairy tales?”

“‘The Little Mermaid,’ I think,” Lin Xian said reflexively, nodding.

“It’s a good story. I think it’s a real fairy tale, not overly sentimental, with a beginning, middle, and end, and a meaningful love story.”

“But, how to say… as a fairy tale, it might not be the best, but if you read it again when you’re older and have experienced things, it’s very touching.”

He wasn’t sure why, but he almost reflexively repeated what Yellow Finch had said. It made sense and resonated with him. But what touched him most wasn’t the story of “The Little Mermaid,” but Yellow Finch’s story and her words.

Zhao Ying Jun was stunned, eyes wide, looking at Lin Xian in disbelief. “You… you think exactly like me. You said what I wanted to say… now I don’t know what to say.”

She laughed at their shared thoughts, habitually tucking loose hair behind her ear. “Funny, really. My favorite fairy tale has always been ‘The Little Mermaid.’ Reading it several times reveals many insights, with educational and emotional depth.”

“Speaking of which… did you know there’s a statue of the little mermaid in Copenhagen, Denmark?”

Lin Xian looked at Zhao Ying Jun, hesitating. Did he know or not? Seeing Lin Xian’s silence, Zhao Ying Jun continued.

“I saw photos online, but I haven’t been to Copenhagen. The statue is somewhat famous but not a major artwork. It’s just placed on a rock by the shallow sea.”

She smiled warmly at Lin Xian. “But since you like ‘The Little Mermaid’ so much, maybe we could visit Copenhagen on a company trip or team-building event. Let’s go together and see the little mermaid.”

Lin Xian was momentarily lost in thought, recalling Yellow Finch’s smile under the little mermaid statue in his camera. He touched his nose and nodded. “Alright.”

Zhao Ying Jun took her hands out of her coat pockets and casually flipped through Andersen’s Fairy Tales. “It depends on your time. You always seem busy and out of sight. Oh, by the way, I actually came to ask you a favor.”

Lin Xian looked up. “What is it? How can I help?”

“It’s about VV.” Zhao Ying Jun put down the fairy tale book with a sigh, turning to face Lin Xian. “Do you remember VV? My Pomeranian, the fluffy one you petted last time.”

“Oh, yes. I remember.” Lin Xian nodded. “What happened? Is VV okay?”

“Well…” Zhao Ying Jun sighed again, her expression troubled. “Two nights ago, around 5 AM, VV had a nightmare. He woke up crying and couldn’t be comforted.”

Lin Xian’s concern grew. “What did you do to calm him down?”

“In the past, when VV woke up scared, I’d play a video of you petting him. It always calmed him down, like you were really there with him,” Zhao Ying Jun explained. “But this time, it didn’t work. Even after watching the video, he kept crying for an hour. I almost took him to the vet, worried something was seriously wrong.”

“Did he eventually calm down?” Lin Xian asked.

“Eventually, he cried himself to sleep, but he’s been listless ever since. The vet said he’s physically fine, but I’m worried about his mental state. He’s been lying around, not eating well or being active. I’m afraid he might develop a mental illness,” Zhao Ying Jun admitted, her worry evident.

Lin Xian thought about the fluffy Pomeranian and asked, “When exactly did he have the nightmare? Around what time?”

“About 5 AM,” Zhao Ying Jun replied.

Lin Xian paused, thinking. “5 AM our time would be 11 PM in Copenhagen, just when Yellow Finch disappeared…” Could the dog have sensed something? Such a connection seemed unlikely. Only space-time travelers had such sensitivity, not a dog. Yet, VV was special. Given the history and significance of the name VV, it might be worth checking.

“Alright, I’ll give it a try. I like VV too. When are you free at home?” Lin Xian asked.

Zhao Ying Jun glanced at the office clock. “How about tonight? Are you free?”

Lin Xian checked the time. “I should be. No plans. How about I come over after work? I’ll change at home first, then head to your place.”

“That sounds great,” Zhao Ying Jun said, smiling. “VV will be thrilled. I told him you’d come, and he’s been waiting. Even though dogs seem silly, they’re smart. VV must miss you.”

“Alright, I’ll head home to prepare and wait for you with VV. Don’t eat at home; let’s dine out after. I found a nice restaurant to thank you for comforting VV.”

“I hope VV will be comforted by me,” Lin Xian shrugged. “Who knows if he’ll give me face.”

“I think he will,” Zhao Ying Jun laughed softly. “VV has a lot of respect for you.”

After Zhao Ying Jun left, Lin Xian busied himself with work until Brother Wang came to handle some procedures. After signing off, he headed home in his Alphard.

“Home first. Wait for me downstairs; I’ll change,” Lin Xian instructed the driver.

The driver nodded, closing the electric door. The Alphard drove out of the parking lot, waiting for the automatic gate to lift, then sped away.

Hidden within the shadows, a petite figure emerged from the parking lot corner, watching the Alphard leave. She pulled down her hoodie, revealing short black hair swaying in the breeze, her black bangs puffing up.

The girl exhaled deeply, blinking her bright eyes that glowed like glass, shining with an eerie blue light in the sunset.