That night, Zhang Jingchan dreamed of her again. The entire night, they were together.

She covered her flat stomach and said shamelessly: This is your child. He asked calmly: How many months along?

She lifted him up—she actually lifted him up—and spun around several times, laughing foolishly yet brightly.

In the dim room, he said, Didn’t I tell you that if you dare lift me, I’d return the favor? Don’t you like being lifted high?

Zhang Jingchan laughed out loud in his dream.

Then came those most difficult days. He collapsed in the hospital, and someone said he was about to become a vegetable. He clearly couldn’t see or move anything, yet he heard her voice, day after day, month after month, year after year, chattering in his ear. Telling him to wake up soon, to maintain his male virtue, to treat her well and not change his heart; then talking about her academic troubles, work annoyances; she missed him so much and wanted him to wake up quickly, wanted to get to know him, wanted to date him, wanted to have a real boyfriend.

Zhang Jingchan felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare, desperately trying to open his eyes but unable to; desperately trying to see her appearance clearly but powerless to do so.

In a daze, a tender hand grasped his arm. She lowered her head, her hair brushing against his skin, and she said: I’m stamping you. I’ll write it once every day to hypnotize you, me, and him.

So he also lowered his head, wanting to see clearly what she was writing on his arm.

What… all.

He saw the character “Yi” and immediately understood it was her name.

What were the first two characters?

His eyes widened in the dream, tears about to flow, but her head kept blocking his view. He grabbed her arm and shouted: “Weiyi, let me see…”

Like a heavy hammer smashing straight through his chest.

Forty-eight-year-old Zhang Jingchan suddenly opened his eyes in the dark night.

He finally remembered her name.

Li Weiyi.

——

Zhang Jingchan’s subordinates’ efficiency in finding people was remarkably swift. The next afternoon, Zhang Jingchan stood in the general manager’s office of a subsidiary company under Huicui. Through the glass, he could already see Li Weiyi twenty-one years later.

He had also thoroughly investigated her experiences over these years.

In January 2022, Li Weiyi was laid off by Muchen Group; in September of the same year, she interviewed and joined another company as a financial supervisor. After that, she changed jobs twice, steadily promoted due to her excellent professional abilities.

Eight years ago, she joined a subsidiary under Huicui as financial director, a position she held to this day.

She had always been right under his nose. Perhaps he had even seen her name on the outstanding employees roster, or maybe the two of them had passed each other in the headquarters elevator, yet he never knew.

Three years after Li Weiyi broke up with Xie Zhilu, she accepted a colleague’s pursuit. They married and had a daughter. Five years later, they divorced due to incompatible personalities, with the daughter staying with Li Weiyi. Since then, she had remained single.

Zhang Jingchan sat behind the executive desk, watching her walk in step by step. The assistant beside him and the subsidiary’s general manager both suppressed their confusion.

Until she raised her head and looked at him, their gazes locked together like glue. Neither avoided, neither spoke.

Zhang Jingchan’s voice was hoarse as he said to the others: “You all go out first. Close the door.”

Eventually, only the two of them remained in the room.

Zhang Jingchan said: “Come here.”

Li Weiyi slowly walked up to him. When she raised her head again, tears were already in her eyes. Though no longer young, she was still beautiful and fair, just like that girl from years ago.

“Is it you?” he asked.

She nodded: “It’s me.”

“Did you also just recently remember?”

She was silent for a moment, then answered: “Do you remember, we once met on January 13, 2022? You helped me and sent me home. Actually, since then, I’ve had a feeling that something was wrong. Always felt… life shouldn’t be like this, always felt I was waiting for something, but it never came.”

Zhang Jingchan listened in a trance, distant and blurred memories flooding his mind—the crying girl in heavy rain, a black umbrella sheltering two people, and him sitting in the car at the end, watching the strange girl’s back as she went upstairs with her head down.

“Why didn’t it happen?” Zhang Jingchan looked up at her, tears invading his dark eyes. “Why didn’t the loop happen?”

“Perhaps it never should have happened.” Li Weiyi smiled bitterly. “Or perhaps, it didn’t happen in our spacetime.”

“Then you now…” Zhang Jingchan hesitated but had already grasped her hand, as if he had held it a thousand times before.

She slowly withdrew her hand and said: “We’re both not young anymore. Those things, for you and me, didn’t really happen. We should both think about it, think it through clearly, before making a decision.”

Zhang Jingchan knew everything she said was right. What meaning was there in chasing a phantom memory? They were both no longer young, no longer at an age to be impulsive for love.

But on the night of January 12, after seeing Li Weiyi, Zhang Jingchan dreamed more and more. The dimly lit cross-river tunnel, fine rain drifting outside the window, the dark mass of people exiting the subway, blinding white light.

And, again and again, violent impacts.

In his dreams, he fell unconscious over and over, and woke up over and over, only to open his eyes and find himself back in that car, with Li Weiyi sitting beside him.

The next morning, January 13.

Zhang Jingchan woke with sunken eyes but an incomparably deep and calm gaze, calling his subordinate: “Immediately investigate someone for me.”

By evening, the subordinate brought the most comprehensive, current, and secret information.

Cheng Chuan, just released from prison in 2022, was imprisoned again for manslaughter due to a dispute with another released prisoner. Three days ago, the now-elderly Cheng Chuan had just been released from prison.

He had managed to get hold of an old black SUV.

These past two days, he had appeared near Xu Yi’s home and company.

Zhang Jingchan stood before the window shrouded in twilight for a long time, finally smiling. For him, this kind of life held no other expectations. There was nothing left that could make him happy or sad. But he had kissed her so madly in his dreams, he had seen white-haired, elderly but healthy and happy parents in his dreams, he had grown old together with someone in his dreams with children and no regrets in this life.

Then why not gamble?

Sitting alone in the car, Zhang Jingchan picked up his phone, which had just saved Li Weiyi’s number yesterday. But after a while, he put it down again.

The other end of this journey might lead to another spacetime.

Or perhaps, to death.

Zhang Jingchan drove alone toward that cross-river tunnel.

——

Zhang Jingchan from 2043 looped a total of three times.

The first time, when he opened his eyes in a flash of white light, he found himself standing on a bridge, with a car passing right through his body.

Then came the second car, the third car.

He looked down at his transparent arms and body, yet didn’t feel sad. At the time, he thought he had been killed by a car in 2043 and his soul was drifting in the world.

He walked slowly forward alone through the traffic, countless lights and shadows passing by him.

Then Zhang Jingchan saw Cheng Chuan.

To be precise, middle-aged Cheng Chuan—neither the vigorous youth of 2014 nor the feeble old man of 2043. Cheng Chuan looked much darker and thinner than in his youth, appearing to be in his forties.

Zhang Jingchan suddenly understood.

This was no longer 2043, nor had they reached 2014.

This was 2022, when their loop should have first occurred.