The abandoned factory's silence was like the calm after a storm, yet the lingering peculiarity in the air pulled taut at Lin Xiaoxia's nerves like an invisible string. Li Mingzhe's disappearance seemed to have drawn a conclusion to everything, but the aftershocks of tampered time quietly rippled through their world.
Lin Xiaoxia and Xu Yuan returned to their cozy home, yet subtle shifts lurked like specters in the shadows, emerging now and then to remind her—something was different.
Xu Yuan could no longer recall the name of the café where they first met. He remembered the place, the scene, but when Lin Xiaoxia mentioned its name, his expression clouded with confusion.
The potted plant they had raised together—originally a gift from Lin Xiaoxia on their first anniversary—was now something Xu Yuan insisted he had bought on a whim at the flower market. His tone was natural, without a trace of doubt, yet Lin Xiaoxia felt an inexplicable pang of loss.
What unsettled her more were the moments she caught Xu Yuan lost in thought, his face etched with a melancholy she had never seen before. When she asked, he would only shake his head, murmuring that he didn’t know what weighed on him—just a hollow sense of having forgotten something important.
Lin Xiaoxia knew. These were the remnants of a rewritten timeline. Li Mingzhe’s attempt to alter the past, the collision of the two pocket watches—it hadn’t just consumed him. It had tangled the threads of time around them, leaving memories displaced, frayed.
The image of her future self surfaced in her mind, blurred yet clear in voice: "The timeline mends itself, but small changes are inevitable. What matters is that the core thread of fate remains unbroken."
The core thread of fate. Lin Xiaoxia clutched the now-dull pocket watch, straining to recall every word her future self had spoken. Would Xu Yuan still meet that accident? And what of their love—where would it lead?
Despite the gaps in his memory, Xu Yuan’s love for her hadn’t wavered. He was still tender, still fumblingly prepared surprises, still held her close in the depths of night.
Lin Xiaoxia adjusted to these small fractures. She retold their past to Xu Yuan again and again, as if her words could pierce the fog obscuring his recollections. She believed—had to believe—that true love could bridge the rifts in time.
Yet, beneath it all, a whisper of unease coiled in her chest.
Had Li Mingzhe truly vanished? Or was he biding his time, a serpent in the dark?
And as the timeline stitched itself back together—
Where would it take them?
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