Chapter 137: Time‑Space Management Bureau·First‑Generation Time‑Traveler

Zhao Jianguo's hand still pressed on the Terminal, the heat still lingering, like it had just been pulled from a stove. The Screen dimmed then brightened, the countdown still read: 00:04:58, and a line of text hung steadily—【System self-destruct program activated, cannot terminate】.

He stared at the numbers, his fingers unconsciously picking at the seam of the Terminal. The crack was a bit wider than before, and a squeak sounded with each touch, like an old radio with poor contact.

"This thing… how many more minutes can it hold?" he whispered, though no one could answer.

As soon as his words fell, Footsteps came from above, neither hurried nor slow, each step on the stone stairs pausing. It wasn't the uniform cadence of the Special Forces, but seemed deliberately audible to him.

Zhao Jianguo didn't look up, but slowly moved his hand to his chest, pressing the Terminal against his torso.

The doorway darkened, a silhouette steadied. It was the Team Leader, in a dark‑gray uniform, sleeves flawless, a blue stripe behind his left ear glimmering faintly in the dim light, flashing in sync with the Terminal's standby breathing light.

"You came quickly." Zhao Jianguo's voice was a bit hoarse, but his tone remained even, "I was just about to burn some paper for myself."

The Special Forces Captain said nothing, didn't smile, "You shouldn't have touched it."

"Which one? This?" Zhao Jianguo waved the Terminal in his hand, "Or the copper lump below?"

He pointed at the stone platform. The bronze device lay quietly, its surface etched with concentric incomprehensible patterns, and a recessed interface in the middle that looked almost identical to the one he held.

"Neither should be touched." The Team Leader stepped half a pace forward, the energy gauge rotating in his palm, "That is the lost Terminal of the first‑generation 'Civilization Witness', serial number SS-1955-001. Twenty years ago, it vanished together with the first time‑traveler."

Zhao Jianguo's eyebrows twitched: "First? So… I'm not the first?"

"You are the seventeenth entrant." The Team Leader's voice was flat, "But you are the only certified 'Final Observer'."

"Ha." Zhao Jianguo cracked a grin, "I thought I was just a sign‑in, day‑drifter. And you two generations later are hunting a broken junk machine?"

"It's not about the machine." The Team Leader stared at him, "It's about finding the person who can activate it."

Zhao Jianguo gave no reply, lowered his head to glance at the Terminal, then at the stone platform. After a few seconds of hesitation, he braced against the wall, rose slowly, staggered two steps to the platform, and gently pressed the Terminal onto the interface.

Click.

A soft click, like a latch snapping shut.

Immediately, the bronze device buzzed, a pale glow spreading across its surface as several lines of text flickered out:

【Civilization Witness Program Initiated……

Target: Anchor key historical nodes……

Operator: Zhao ___……

Status: Lost contact……】

Zhao Jianguo's eyes widened sharply.

"Zhao ___?"

He poked at the line with his finger: "That's too coincidental, isn't it? Same surname?"

"It's not a coincidence." The Team Leader stood behind him, "The first‑generation time‑traveler was named Zhao Changhe. Your grandfather."

Zhao Jianguo's hand trembled, nearly flinging the Terminal away.

"What did you say? My grandfather? Didn't he die of illness in '53?"

"That's the record." The Team Leader's tone was calm, "The truth is, he was selected in 1955 to join a temporal observation experiment, carrying the first‑generation system across time. His mission was to verify the stability of twelve key nodes such as the reinstatement of the college entrance exam and reform‑and‑opening. But the last data he transmitted was in 1978."

"And then?"

"Then he disappeared." The Team Leader paused, "The system automatically marked the mission a failure. Subsequent entrants were dispatched, but none achieved final certification."

Zhao Jianguo's mind buzzed, as if a swarm of bees were circling inside.

He had always thought he'd stumbled here by accident, grabbed a system for fun. Fixing appliances, helping neighbors, signing in for small rewards, life was pretty pleasant.

But now he's told his ancestors did this? It's an official project after all?

"So you appeared because I just shouted that one cry?" he snapped back, "I said '1978 cannot be altered', does that count as completing some ritual?"

"You confirmed the historical anchor." The Team Leader nodded, "Only those with blood‑line ties and system‑certified Permission can trigger the 're‑confirmation' mechanism. You did, and the system began rebooting, which also exposed the location."

"So the chief engineer blew the fissure, and you knew as well?"

"We knew even earlier." The Team Leader lifted his hand, drew a metal badge from his collar, "We are the 'Time‑Space Management Bureau 1955 Special Operations Unit', codename 'Clock Keeper'. Our mission isn't to intervene in history, but to prevent anyone from altering it."

Zhao Jianguo felt a headache throb, "Then why didn't you come out sooner? Had to wait until my brother was about to die before showing up?"

"Permission insufficient." The Team Leader's eyes didn't waver, "We can only formally intervene after the system reboot and the observer's identity is confirmed. Any prior action would be deemed tampering."

"Damn." Zhao Jianguo cursed, "You both watch us die fast, and still have to wait for the procedure?"

"Rules Sign such." The Team Leader gave no rebuttal.

While the two were frozen, the Terminal suddenly shivered.

It wasn't an alarm, nor the countdown.

It was a faint light leaking from the interface, crawling around the edge of the stone platform, finally coalescing in the air into a phantom silhouette.

Chen Jianguo's face reappeared.

But this time it was different. His outline was blurry, like a TV screen with poor signal, half of his body translucent, the other half slowly dissipating.

"Lao Chen!" Zhao Jianguo lunged forward, reaching out to grab, but only met a chill.

The image could not speak, its lips moved a few times, then froze on a mouth shape.

Beware 1978.

Zhao Jianguo's eyes welled, "I know! You've said it over and over! What does it actually mean? What's wrong with 1978?"

Chen Jianguo didn't answer, his finger slowly rose, pointing at the star map on the secret‑room wall. His fingertip hovered over a Coordinates point, trembling slightly.

Zhao Jianguo followed his gaze, noting the location.

The next second, the entire image quivered violently, like smoke blown apart by wind.

"Don't go!" he rushed forward, slamming the Terminal onto the stone platform, "How much data is left? I can save it!"

But the light dot only flickered lightly, turning into a thin line that slipped up through a ceiling crack and vanished.

The room fell silent.

Even the Terminal's hum lowered.

Zhao Jianguo crouched on the floor, his hand still braced against the stone platform, knuckles white. He didn't look up, didn't speak, just stood there, stunned.

The Team Leader didn't urge either, just silently put away the energy meter and stood back at the doorway.

After a while, Zhao Jianguo slowly straightened his back and patted the dust off his pants.

"You said I'm the final observer," he said, his voice low but clear, "so does that mean I'm officially on duty now?"

"As long as you're willing to accept the agreement," the Team Leader said.

"The agreement?"

"Here." The Team Leader took a document from his briefcase; its cover bore the national emblem, the title read "Historical Observer Responsibility Letter," and the date at the bottom was three days later.

Zhao Jianguo glanced at it, smiled, "Another future stamp? Your department is really something."

"Time to us is just Coordinates," the Team Leader handed it forward, "Sign it, and you'll obtain basic Permission, and you can also retrieve the file Chen Jianguo last uploaded."

Zhao Jianguo didn't take it, stared at the paper for a few seconds, then asked, "What if I don't sign?"

"You will die," the Team Leader said evenly, "The system's self‑destruct countdown won't stop, and there is no next observer to replace you. Once you die, all the historical nodes you've confirmed will enter a floating state, including 1978."

"So that's starting over?"

"It's more than a restart," the Team Leader shook his head, "It's a collapse. All life trajectories altered by the reinstatement of the college entrance exam will be erased. The students you saved, their later fates, are all gone."

Zhao Jianguo fell silent.

He recalled the girl who was teaching children political questions in the Courtyard yesterday, the old lady who delivered a bowl of dumplings the day before, and the yellowed newspaper from Chen Jianguo's last connection.

He lowered his head to look at the Terminal in his hand; its body was cracked, the vent was crooked, and the buttons were unresponsive.

But it was still vibrating.

Thump, thump, like a heartbeat.

"Alright then," he finally said, "I'll sign."

The Team Leader nodded and handed over the pen.

Zhao Jianguo took it, just as he was about to write, he suddenly halted.

He looked up, staring at the blue pattern behind the Team Leader's left ear, "Do you people also have the system implanted?"

"Some personnel have bio‑identification modules implanted," the Team Leader replied bluntly.

"So you… are also traversers?"

"No," the Team Leader shook his head, "We are the chosen custodians. True traversers, in the past hundred years, have been only seventeen of you."

Zhao Jianguo let out a soft "oh" and asked no further.

The pen tip touched down, tracing a crooked "Zhao Jianguo" in the signature line.

At the moment the final stroke finished, the Terminal suddenly heated up, and the entire Screen burst with a dazzling blue light.

The bronze device on the stone platform vibrated in sync, and a ring of light waves erupted from its interface, spreading out like ripples on water.

Zhao Jianguo staggered backward, and the Terminal in his hand automatically popped up a new interface:

【Welcome back, final observer】

【Permission level: Tier 3】

【Accessible file: "Source of Correction Power: College Entrance Exam Restoration Day"】

【Warning: External signal tracking detected, source: Unknown】

He hadn't had time to open the file when a sudden disturbance came from the crack above his head.

It wasn't a Mechanical Lesson arm, nor an Energy Fluctuation.

It was a string of numbers, materializing out of thin air, hovering in mid‑air:

Immediately, those three numbers began to reverse.