Yu Bai had never hated his body’s instincts quite like this.
In the past, during the time loops, that muscle memory of blindly typing a message on his phone under the table had gotten him out of plenty of scrapes, so he’d only grown more adept at it.
Even if Xie Wufang hadn’t shown up—or hadn’t been able to help—he could always wait for time to reset.
After all, no matter what happened, there were never any irreversible consequences.
But the Yu Bai of now existed in a world with no resets.
And he’d just sent a chummy plea for help via text to that non-human being he’d clearly wanted to keep his distance from.
Their last encounter had ended with him using sleepiness as an excuse to shove the man out the door in a hasty goodbye—complete with a loaded hint: there were so many kinds of clothes in the world, so no more wearing that detestable white.
—There were so many people in the world, so stay away from the human living next door.
…
Better to burn the Doom Orb—and himself while he was at it!
Yan Jing, still wrestling with the scalding little box in his hands, watched wide-eyed as his friend clutched his phone, his expression twisting through a dozen shades. A subtle flush crept across skin that was already too pale, standing out all the more starkly.
Puzzled, Yan Jing asked, “You feeling hot? The cremation furnace hasn’t even lit up yet, and I’ve got the Doom Orb right here…”
Right then, a new incoming call lit up the screen of the phone Yu Bai was on the verge of crushing. It was from an unsaved number.
Yu Bai hesitated for a split second, then hit accept like a hero severing his own wrist. He blurted out before the other side could speak: “Take it slow getting here—don’t just pop in out of nowhere!”
What was happening before his eyes defied all scientific logic, and it was tied to the little ball Xie Wufang had given him. Maybe only that non-human could sort it out.
Having witnessed instant appearances firsthand, Yu Bai had zero desire to give the already-panicked ordinary folk another scrap of “evidence” for a higher-dimensional alien invasion—not when the sky had already turned into a lake.
He spoke at breakneck speed. There was a brief pause on the line before that familiar magnetic voice responded in realization: “It’s you.”
Xie Wufang had once listened to Yu Bai on a long phone call from the kitchen window, and his memory was impeccable. Of course he remembered the voice.
That was why, loop after loop, no matter how absurd the pretext Yu Bai dreamed up, he could always lure the man out.
It was only after learning the truth of their real first meeting that Yu Bai had realized as much.
Before he could say another word, the man on the other end added, “Got it.”
Yu Bai promptly hung up the call, which burned hotter than the Doom Orb ever could.
He didn’t need to give directions—the non-human who could turn the sky into a lake would probably sense his location with minimal effort.
Yan Jing shot him a suspicious look. “Were you just texting the cops? But why tell them to take it slow… Wait, why’s your face suddenly red?”
Yu Bai wore an expression like he wanted to drop dead on the spot. “Because my heart’s gone ice cold.”
Yan Jing seized the chance to shove the hot little box back into his hands. “Then warm it up with this!”
He went on, “My heart’s the one that’s freezing. With all this commotion, I bet my parents are about to get dragged in. I’m definitely in for a scolding. How am I supposed to explain skipping work… to burn the Doom Orb with you?”
Yu Bai tried shoving the box back, utterly despondent. “How about I just let you adopt it? Didn’t you say it felt friendly?”
Xie Wufang would be here any minute, and he had no clue how to explain any of this.
Why had he brought this precious gift to the funeral parlor?
If he claimed he’d just taken the Doom Orb sightseeing, would this guy—who knew next to nothing about the human world—buy it?
…He’d even named the damn thing. How could anyone think he meant to burn it!
Right now, Yu Bai felt utterly torn in two.
Part of him wished Xie Wufang would take his sweet time, giving him a chance to cobble together some excuse. The other part prayed he’d hurry up and fix this bizarre scene with the cremation furnace that refused to light.
Yan Jing politely pushed the box back. “Nah, no way. Friendly’s one thing, but I can’t steal your parental rights. I don’t wanna get hauled into the station by Uncle Li.”
He still figured Yu Bai had swiped the little ball from his non-human neighbor.
The stranger who’d been commiserating with Yu Bai earlier watched them pass the plain little box back and forth, his expression slowly shifting to bewilderment.
In his bewilderment, he offered a well-meaning reminder: “Hey, careful not to spill it! They only give you a tiny bit back after cremation—such a shame if it spills.”
“…” Yu Bai sighed woodenly, his face numb. “This isn’t ashes.”
He never should have come to the fu—funeral parlor today!
The good-hearted family member was about to say more when a wail exploded from the cluster of relatives nearby: “Dad must have unfinished business! He doesn’t want to go!”
Yu Bai and the others turned to look.
The funeral parlor had more than one cremation furnace. Worried things might escalate, the staff hurriedly fired up a second one. They tested it first, confirming the flames roared to life properly, before wheeling over the body.
But no sooner had the corpse—posed with arms crossed over its chest—entered the furnace than the fire sputtered out again.
The sweating cremator edged back a step, muttering like a mosquito: “Our furnace should be fine…”
The family, having witnessed the eerie sight firsthand, fell silent for a few seconds. Then came the collective gasps, the shrieks, all at once.
“Of course Uncle doesn’t want to go—he left so suddenly, without a word! And now his spirit in heaven sees you all eyeing his money—”
“What’re you implying? You saying you don’t want it, or we didn’t eye it enough? We agreed before the funeral—no fighting today. Let him go in peace!”
“Uncle Zhang can’t stand by and watch. He refuses to go!”
Amid the bickering, with the furnace door still open and the cold corpse lying forlorn on the grate, nearly forgotten, Yu Bai heard the good-hearted family member sigh beside him. “Sigh. Here we go again.”
From the snippets of argument he caught, Yu Bai felt an unexpected pang of sorrow for this total stranger who’d passed.
At the same time, something about that arms-crossed pose struck him as oddly familiar, like he’d seen it somewhere before.
He was racking his brain to remember when a raspy elderly voice rang out, equally familiar.
“Keep quarreling and see what happens!” the voice bellowed with surprising vigor. “You pack of turtle bastards! You lot are the ones who drove Old Zhang to his grave!”
The somewhat stooped figure had just rushed over from the farewell hall at the sound of the commotion, chess jar in hand. Tears still clung to the wrinkles at his eyes, but he was already fuming.
Yu Bai recognized the old man instantly, surprise flashing across his face.
They were the two chess-playing geezers from the park during that loop when he’d brought Xie Wufang to play—the bad-tempered Stinky Go Basket, Old Man Yuan, who’d been so shocked by Xie Wufang’s move that he’d fainted on the spot and gotten carted off in an ambulance.
And Old Man Zhang, who’d always watched arms crossed with cool detachment, had been shooed down from the ambulance only to show up at the police station later, insisting both he and Yuan wanted to learn from Xie Wufang.
In this real world, without that impromptu chess lesson, Old Man Yuan never ended up in the hospital—and neither of them had ever crossed paths with Yu Bai.
Who’d have thought that just a week later, the apparently healthier Old Man Zhang would be the one lying there dead.
A complicated mix of emotions washed over Yu Bai. On impulse, he turned to the person beside him, wanting to say something.
Would Xie Wufang feel that pang of life’s impermanence if he heard?
He turned—and found Yan Jing with eyes sparkling, utterly rapt as he eavesdropped on the family’s melodramatic squabble over inheritance. Yan Jing even nudged him with an elbow, whispering excitedly: “Whoa, this family’s loaded, huh?”
Yu Bai’s face went blank as he swallowed his words.
…Never mind.
Yan Jing had never paid this much attention in class, even as a kid.
Under Old Man Yuan’s booming tirade, the family fell briefly quiet—then erupted into even fiercer conflict.
“This is our family business, Uncle Yuan—what’s it to you!”
“What do you mean we drove him to his grave? Spell it out! Don’t think being Dad’s friend lets you spout nonsense!”
In a huff, the irascible elder planted himself by the cremation furnace. He yanked open his chess jar and hurled handfuls of go stones at the money-grubbing offspring.
“Won’t let Old Zhang rest in peace, eh? I’ll beat you turtle grandsons senseless—get lost!”
Screams mingled with the clatter of stones hitting the floor, plunging the scene into chaos.
Amid the din, Yu Bai stood apart from the crowd, itching to do something but feeling powerless.
This world’s Old Man Yuan didn’t know him from Adam.
He hesitated, then spotted the good-hearted family member quietly crouching to pick up the scattered stones. Yu Bai bent down too, helping gather the ones that had rolled free.
The go pieces felt smooth and warm in his palm, well-worn from years of use. They had to be the same set those two old men played with in the park.
Yu Bai could clearly picture one black go stone resting on Xie Wufang’s fingertip before it fell in that masterful move.
…How was that guy not here yet?
Five minutes had already passed since he hung up the phone!
Yan Jing, who had been watching the spectacle with gleeful interest, watched in astonishment as Yu Bai suddenly bent down to pick up the Go pieces scattered across the floor. He crouched down to help, complaining to his friend all the while. “That fierce old geezer called this whole family turtle bastards. Doesn’t that mean he’s cursing his buddy too?”
The glossy Go pieces rolled across the floor. Yan Jing chased after them, but from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure entering through the brightly lit entrance. Surprise lit up his face.
He whispered to Yu Bai, “Take a look—this family’s got some foreign blood. A blue-eyed relative just showed up. But isn’t he cutting it a bit close? If the crematorium furnace hadn’t broken down, there’d be nothing left but ashes by now.”
Hearing this, Yu Bai suddenly let out a breath of relief.
He glanced over as well. “He’s not a relative.”
“Huh? How do you know?”
“Because he’s the guy who lives next door to me.”
In this world, Yan Jing had only laid eyes on Xie Wufang once—the night Yu Bai had walked him downstairs. He’d been groggy and half-asleep at the time, instinctively ducking behind the Criminal Investigation Captain. Aside from registering that the man wasn’t some muscle-bound brute, he barely remembered what Xie Wufang looked like.
So when he heard Yu Bai’s words, shock made his hand jerk. The Go piece he’d just picked up clattered right back to the floor.
“No way! He chased the Doom Orb all the way here?!”
The Go pieces went rolling across the ground again. Just as Yan Jing reached to grab them, inspiration struck like a bolt from the blue, and he thought of the perfect pun.
He whipped his head toward Yu Bai, eyes shining with anticipation. “Little Bai, you know what I just thought of…”
Yu Bai drew in a deep breath and cut him off swiftly. “I know. Don’t say it.”
“You thought of it too! Which means it’s spot-on.” Yan Jing’s voice quivered with suppressed laughter. “Sorry, I can’t hold it in. The joke’s cheesy as hell, and the timing’s straight out of a nightmare, but damn, it’s funny.”
“Shut your mouth! Don’t you dare!”
Yan Jing felt like he’d burst if he didn’t let it out, so he plunged ahead regardless. “Isn’t this the ultimate ‘chasing Go pieces to the crematorium’—”
The instant those words were about to spill from his lips, Yu Bai—scalp prickling with exasperation—made a split-second decision and yelled in that direction. “Xie Wufang, make them stop!”
The very moment his voice died away, the chaotic clamor around them fell eerily silent.
Everyone except Yu Bai froze in place like statues.
The relatives remained locked in their red-faced shouting match. Yan Jing’s rotten pun hung unfinished on his lips. Even the rolling Go pieces halted mid-motion, suspended in the air like polished coins balanced perfectly on edge.
Yu Bai, the only one unaffected, still wore traces of his vivid irritation at Yan Jing as he stared straight into those gray-blue eyes.
Time itself had stopped. Sound had vanished with it. The man in the white shirt stood bathed in the unnaturally bright daylight, gazing across the frozen scene at the person who had sent him that text five minutes earlier.
“Sorry.”
The man’s voice echoed through the abruptly silent space.
He said it earnestly. “I already tried to take it as slow as I could.”
