That gateway entrance was deep and unfathomable, impossible to see what lay within, but it didn’t matter—things couldn’t get worse. When there’s nowhere left to turn, you take the only path you can see.
Mu Dai bit her teeth, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and lifted her foot to walk there.
Behind her, those several figures panicked, pushing and shoving each other.
“It’s over, it’s over, she’s going out.”
“She can’t get out, don’t panic.”
“Stop her, stop her!”
That “her” stretched into a long high note. While the echo still lingered, a thin elongated figure was pushed out stumbling, looking back to see the remaining figures waving them away like shooing flies.
“Think of something, think of something, stop her!”
That figure chased after Mu Dai for two steps, suddenly remembered something, turned back, groped around to find Mu Dai’s two shoes, and put its thin long arms through them like gloves.
In front of the gateway, Mu Dai paused for a moment, then plunged straight in.
Inside was a black cave. In mid-air directly ahead, ghostly light flickered—it was a suspended dial with a thin pillar standing upright on the stone surface. The shadow cast by the pillar on the dial pointed to what looked like twelve o’clock on an ordinary timepiece. Directly above the dial was a transparent funnel filled with white fine sand.
Behind her came a small breathless voice saying: “Wait for me, I’m coming!”
Mu Dai turned around to see a thin elongated figure obsequiously offering her a pair of shoes.
Mu Dai wanted to snatch them away, but a flash of insight struck her mind. She suppressed her anger and displeasure, speaking gently: “It’s you. I recognize your voice. You wanted to help me just now.”
Seeing she wouldn’t take them, the figure simply tied the shoelaces in a knot and hung them around its own neck, very pleased: “Yes, yes, I’m a good person, I came to help you.”
What a load of nonsense to believe.
Mu Dai remained calm: “You’re really kind. Which star bamboo slip are you? Which number did we collect?”
That figure was just the most basic human shape, without real hands. Its two thin long arms stretched out and crossed to form a twisted “seven.”
“Call me Little Seven!”
The seventh one.
The one Luo Ren had considered the most cunning, lying dormant for so long, commanding the overall situation. Now it appeared harmless, even its voice becoming childlike.
A chill crept up Mu Dai’s spine. Evil bamboo slips appearing in such a form were more unsettling than those with green faces and fangs.
She reminded herself to stay calm. The most skilled liars don’t tell constant lies, but speak many, many truths to make you lower your guard, then slip in the crucial lie.
This was an eerie and unfamiliar situation. This seemingly benevolent “Little Seven” might throw her lots of information and guidance—she had to believe some of it, but couldn’t believe it all.
Her palms began sweating. Mu Dai sighed and pointed at the timepiece: “Is that a clock?”
Little Seven said: “This is an ancient timing device, called a gnomon or sundial. The needle is the sun’s shadow.”
With that explanation, Mu Dai understood. Earlier, when searching for the flying ridge beast of Wuzhu Village, she had seen related introductions to the Forbidden City. The Forbidden City also had sundials, also called “sun clocks,” because on cloudy and rainy days, sundials couldn’t show time.
Mu Dai pointed at the funnel: “That’s a water clock, right? Also for timing?”
Little Seven said: “Yes, yes.”
It lowered its voice: “I’m a good person. I’ll tell you—Phoenix Luan Clasps are divided into ‘death sacrifice’ and ‘living sacrifice.’ Death sacrifice is most common and easiest. Over all these years, you’re not the first to attempt living sacrifice, but no one has ever succeeded.”
Indeed, not everyone wanted to die. Before them, others had tried to seal the evil bamboo slips while living. Mu Dai felt somewhat excited: “Why didn’t they succeed?”
“Because living is harder than dying.”
That made sense. Death was giving up once and for all; living was persisting against all odds.
Little Seven raised both thin arms and spun in a circle, saying: “This is the Viewing Four Mirage Tower, the final step of living sacrifice, and the path to life given by the Phoenix Luan Clasps.”
“Remember what I told you? In the real world, your time has stopped, but here, you’ve been sent back to the starting point?”
Mu Dai nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Little Seven pointed toward the sundial: “Your first twenty-four years are all here. You need to repair them all over again.”
“When you run toward the sundial, your life begins, starting from birth.”
“The sun’s shadow will start moving, the water clock will start leaking sand. When it finishes leaking, that’s the moment you stopped in the real world.”
“You keep running and will experience your twenty-four years. They’ll flash past you like meteors, but you’ll see all the important segments.”
“You can stop, you can also exert force to change things, but you can’t stop too long, and this force can only be applied to your past self. But I suggest you don’t—if you change even a little, your life will undergo huge changes.”
“Finally, when you reach the end, there’s a door. Push it open and you can get out.”
Mu Dai didn’t believe it: “That simple?”
“Yes. Also, you’d better run fast. If you arrive first, maybe you can help your companions.”
“If it’s just running, why haven’t any of the previous death warriors succeeded?”
Little Seven didn’t want to elaborate: “You’ll know once you go in.”
Then she could only run. She understood Little Seven’s words—her companions were experiencing the same situation. Their lives couldn’t be changed, and only then could they reach the same endpoint and push open that door together.
Mu Dai steeled herself and ran full speed toward the sundial: she didn’t want those ten thousand possibilities, didn’t want to exert any force to change anything. Just put her head down and run.
She had barely started when a clear baby’s cry made her stop abruptly.
Water-curtain-like ripples appeared beside her. It was a delivery room with medical staff in old-style white coats and white-green painted walls.
She was born.
Who were her birth parents?
The sundial seemed to move with her, always staying directly ahead. White falling sand rustled across the dial, grain by grain falling at her feet.
She wouldn’t change anything, just wanted to know.
Mu Dai’s trembling hand touched the rippling surface. Involuntarily, as if drawn by enormous gravity, she was pulled through.
It was a noisy hospital ward. She saw dirty bedding. Was that little baby stretching its arms and legs her? Crying terribly. Suddenly, a disheveled woman beside her stuffed an empty pacifier into the baby’s mouth.
That was… Xiang Silan?
Sisters came to visit, wearing stockings, permed hair, lipstick, red-painted fingernails pointing up and down, talking about Xiang Silan: “So careless, hitting this kind of jackpot, can’t even do business properly.”
Xiang Silan was also irritated: “How would I know whose seed it was? I took pills too—damn thing was probably fake, swallowed them but didn’t miscarry.”
“Didn’t we teach you to jump rope before?”
“I jumped. The little thing’s tough as nails.”
Speaking, she disgustedly pushed the baby aside.
Little Seven was right beside her, bubbling in its mouth like blowing bubbles, asking: “Shall we go?”
Mu Dai looked at Xiang Silan and said: “Go.”
She stepped back, retreating into the dim corridor.
So Xiang Silan really was her birth mother?
Tears fell involuntarily. Mu Dai wiped them away, telling herself: it’s okay, there have always been parents in this world who don’t love their children. She just got stuck with that.
She continued forward. After just another stretch, a timid “Mama” suddenly came from beside her.
Mu Dai’s body trembled. Suddenly this scene felt extraordinarily familiar. Without thinking, she stepped into those ripples.
It was a low room in the dilapidated tube building of Nantian County. The living room had no lights on. The bedroom door was ajar with light seeping through, mixed with a man’s heavy panting and a woman’s moaning.
She saw three or four-year-old little Mu Dai with pigtails, standing by the door, clutching her little pants and twisting them hard, saying: “Mama, I’m really hungry, want to eat something.”
Bang! A man’s big leather shoe hit the door, slamming it shut. A rough roar came through: “Go to sleep! I’ll beat you if you say another word!”
Little Mu Dai pouted, climbed back onto the sofa, curled up in a corner, still twisting her pants hard. Mu Dai heard her crying-like voice, kept very low: “I’m not pretending to be hungry.”
Mu Dai was so angry her eyes blurred. She walked to the door and kicked it, but there was no kicking sound and the door showed no change. Little Seven said beside her: “You forgot—your power can only be applied to your past self.”
Mu Dai returned to the sofa with tears in her eyes, knelt down to look at little Mu Dai, so heartbroken she didn’t know what to say. In a daze, she thought that if she ever had the chance, having a daughter would be good—she would definitely love her desperately and not let her suffer even a little.
She called to little Mu Dai: “Good baby.”
Little Seven said: “She can’t hear you. You can possess her body for a little while.”
Mu Dai reached out to cup little Mu Dai’s small face. Before she could say anything, everything went dark. When it brightened again, looking down at her own hands, they were tiny and still chubby.
The next second, overwhelming hunger hit—no wonder little Mu Dai kept twisting her pants.
Mu Dai gritted her teeth: “Let’s go eat.”
She moved a stool, stepped on it to open the door, and trotted downstairs. It was already evening, all the shops were locked. She really couldn’t find anything to eat. After walking a stretch, the aroma of meat drifted over. Following it, she heard a woman’s voice: “Xiao Tongzi, eat another piece, take this.”
A little boy’s impatient voice: “Still eating… can’t eat anymore.”
Then she saw a little boy come out, kicking stones in frustration, chewing on a pancake with another in his hand. Looking around and seeing no one, he threw the one in his hand to the ground.
What was thrown away was thrown away. Dusted off, it wouldn’t be dirty. Mu Dai rushed over to pick it up. Just as her hand reached out, the little boy noticed and stepped on it, calling her: “Thief! My family’s pancake!”
The stepped-on pancake couldn’t be eaten. Mu Dai was so angry her teeth itched: “You threw it away!”
“Even if I threw it away, I won’t let you eat it.” The little boy looked at her sideways. “My mom said your mother sells herself, the things at home are dirty, people aren’t clean, and you’re all diseased.”
Mu Dai was both hungry and furious. She kicked his knee, snatched the pancake from his hand, and pressed his head toward the ground: “Eat! You eat the one on the ground!”
The little boy refused to eat. Mu Dai got angrier, pressed his head and knocked it on the ground once, then got up and left.
On the way back, she finished the pancake in a few bites—at least it filled her up a little.
Going upstairs, her vision suddenly went black. Before she understood what happened, she was already standing aside.
Little Seven muttered beside her: “I told you, only for a little while.”
She saw little Mu Dai standing on the stairs in bewilderment, eyes wide, making a sound of surprise, talking to herself.
“How did I get here?”
“Better hurry back to sleep, or mama will spank me.”
She ran upstairs going “thump thump thump.” At the last step, probably tired from climbing, her little bottom stuck up high.
Ripples appeared beside her. Little Seven tugged her: “Let’s go, can’t stop for too long.”
Mu Dai let him pull her out. The moment she entered the ripples, she suddenly said: “I should have helped her wash her hands.”
In a little while, Xiao Tongzi’s mother and son would come looking for trouble, and little Mu Dai would get beaten.
She sighed softly and returned to the dim corridor. Little Seven, with shoes hanging around his neck, led the way ahead, bouncing and jumping.
Mu Dai felt somewhat dejected, not running as urgently as before. Sand grains flowed on the dial. When she walked slower, the sun’s shadow seemed to move slower too.
Huo Zihong’s gentle voice suddenly came: “I’ve looked at these children. I feel none of them are quite suitable…”
Mu Dai’s whole body shook, instantly turning her head.
In the flowing ripples, she saw young Huo Zihong in a reception room with Uncle Zhang sitting beside her. The orphanage director seemed very apologetic: “There’s another little girl, sent here recently, not in good health, always sick and sleeping. I think… she’s probably not suitable either.”
Huo Zihong smiled: “Then let’s forget it. These things also depend on fate. Maybe the timing isn’t right.”
…
That’s not right.
Mu Dai’s heart pounded fiercely.
Hong Yi had told her about adopting her originally, saying: “Among all those children, I chose you at first sight. You were very quiet, sitting alone sucking your finger, looking at me and smiling.”
How could this little girl be sick and sleeping? And how could Hong Yi say “then let’s forget it, maybe the timing isn’t right”?
Hong Yi wasn’t going to adopt her? Then where would her future life go?
…
The sun was setting. The director saw Huo Zihong out, saying: “Actually, you could try for a few more years. By then, medicine will be more advanced, maybe there’ll be hope. No rush to adopt.”
Huo Zihong still smiled gracefully. Uncle Zhang awkwardly rubbed his hands. Just then, the director suddenly said: “Oh! How did the little girl get out! Her clothes aren’t even properly dressed.”
Following the sound, at the corner ahead stood a little girl at some unknown time, head tilted, as if just awakened, clothes wrinkled and rumpled. The director hurried over, helped button her up properly, and pulled her pants up.
That little girl kept looking at Huo Zihong, staring into her eyes.
Huo Zihong looked at her too.
After a while, she said quietly to Uncle Zhang: “This little girl, the way she looks at me, it’s just like… I’ve known her for a long time…”