Chapter 149

Zhao Jianguo's finger moved away from the Terminal Screen, the line "the bun wants meat filling" still lay quietly at the end of the Data Stream. He stared at it for two seconds, then let out a soft laugh, the sound small but startling the Shuang Baotai in his arms into movement. One of them turned over, its little hand loosened then clenched the silver‑gray fragment again, muttering, "Dad… bun…"

He lowered his head, gave the child's back a gentle pat, "Alright, got it. Next time steam it with meat filling, no scallions."

The light inside the room dimmed slowly, and the hum of the mainframe grew softer, like a sigh after a great deed. He stood up, slipped his Coat on, and lifted one child in his arms. They slept soundly, their heads resting softly on his shoulder, warm breaths brushing his neck.

When the door opened, the hallway lights automatically turned on. He didn't look back, his steps steady as he moved forward. Su Qing stood at the entrance of the lounge area, holding a thermos cup, and raised an eyebrow when she saw him emerge: "That fast?"

"The matter's settled," he said, "the rest, they'll have to come get themselves."

She didn't ask further, just handed the cup over, "A sip?"

He shook his head, "Not today, the sun's about to rise outside."

She smiled, stepped aside to clear the way, "Then don't block the light."

The lobby was empty, the glass walls reflecting the faintly bright sky like patches of uncleaned mirrors. He walked through the Courtyard, his Footsteps absorbed cleanly by the floor. When he pushed open the plaza doors, a wind brushed his face, carrying a hint of morning dew—neither cold nor warm, just right.

Outside, the world was still on the road to waking. The awning of the early‑morning stall at the corner had just been erected, and someone crouched by the stove lighting a fire, sparks hopping. In the distance, a bus stop stood alone, with no one waiting. Only the signal light atop the Tech Tower kept flashing, red then white, as if a night‑watchman could finally yawn.

He walked to the center of the plaza and stopped. The Shuang Baotai woke at that moment, one rubbing its eyes, the other yawning, then suddenly raised a hand toward the sky: "Dad! Light!"

The other immediately shouted, "Rainbow!"

He tilted his head back.

A fissure split the cloud layer at the horizon, sunlight poured in, tinting the vapor in rainbow hues. The arc was neither tall nor long, spanning the city sky, one end perched on a roof in the old district, the other landing on the glass curtain wall of the Tech Tower. When the light hit, the whole building seemed to come alive, its surface shimmering with tiny specks of color, like candy paper stuck to a window in childhood, fluttering with a breeze.

He said nothing, just held the two children a little tighter.

One of them reached out to grasp the air, "I want that!"

"That's light," he said with a smile, "you can't catch it, but you can see it."

"Can you eat it?" the other asked.

"You can't eat it," he teased, "but it can serve as a street lamp."

The child giggled, twisting his body to get down. He set them down, and the two immediately held hands and spun in place, humming the tune taught at Night School, running a few steps then stopping to point at the sky and shout. He stood where he was, watching their commotion, a smile never leaving his mouth.

The Terminal on his wrist gave a gentle buzz.

He raised his hand to look, and the interface automatically popped up a line of text:

"【Detection: 1978 temporal anchor stable, recommend stockpiling 'University Textbooks' and 'Foreign Language Dictionaries'】"

He stared at that line for a few seconds.

He had seen that prompt countless times. The earliest was by the coal stove in the Siheyuan, when he thought it was just system ventilation; later it popped up during a lecture at the technical mutual‑aid meeting; then again on the day Jia Dongxu received his certificate, when He Yushui burst into the Courtyard clutching an admission notice, it flashed once more.

Back then he always clicked "To‑Do".

This time, he didn't hesitate; with a swipe of his fingertip, he clicked "Executed".

A confirmation box popped up on the Screen: 【Task Status Update: Civilization Knowledge Stockpile Plan — Initiated】

He closed the interface and let his hand drop.

Footsteps came from behind, neither hurried nor slow. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

The Special Forces Captain, in regular uniform, hands in his pockets, walked up to stand beside him, looked up at the sky and said, "Pretty good."

"Hmm," he said, "prettier than the drills."

"We just got the notice," the man said, "Education Bureau South Building Exam Hall 2, the surveillance footage has been cleared. June 15, 1978, 8:30 am, examinee number 17 entered, half his face covered, but his sitting posture was the same as yours—left leg over right leg, pen clip on his ear."

Zhao Jianguo gave no reply.

"He finished the exam but didn't hand in his paper," the Special Forces Captain continued, "the invigilator said the person vanished, and only a scrap of draft paper remained on the desk, with a strange diagram that looked like a circuit and also like a star map. That paper is now archived in the top‑secret vault, file number 001."

"What did it say?" he asked.

"No writing," the man smiled, "just a smiley face, with three little figures beside it—one big, two small—hand in hand."

Zhao Jianguo lowered his head to watch the Shuang Baotai stepping on shadows, and suddenly felt a weight loosen in his chest.

"How do you plan to handle it?" he asked.

"We won't handle it," the Special Forces Captain shook his head, "the more we meddle, the worse it gets. We only record—who came, what they did, what they said. The rest, we leave to time."

He nodded, "Smart."

"You're clever too," the man patted his shoulder, "left a note saying 'Cafeteria buns steam at six,' and the entire system understood it. It's not a command, not a code, just a household saying. Yet, oddly, it's the most significant."

Zhao Jianguo smiled faintly, offering no reply.

The two stood quietly, the children ahead chasing the light spots, their laughter echoing in bursts.

After a while, the Special Forces Captain pulled out a cigarette pack, took out a stick, held it to his lips, then paused, looked around, and put it back. "No‑smoking area."

"Hold out," Zhao Jianguo said, "we'll talk when the sun reaches your toes."

"What about you?" he asked, "what's next?"

"Go Home." he said, "steam buns."

"So you really won't deal with the aftermath?"

"Can't deal with it." he gazed into the distance, "What's meant to come will, what's meant to leave can't be stopped. All I can do is keep the door open, the lights on, the Meal Ticket hot."

The Special Forces Captain was silent for a moment, then said, "Actually, we checked the record of your earliest sign‑in."

Zhao Jianguo raised an eyebrow.

"The first mission was 'Repair the leaking roof of the Siheyuan'," he said with a laugh, shaking his head, "who could have thought that fixing a roof would end up fixing an era?"

Zhao Jianguo also laughed, "If the roof isn't fixed, rain pours straight in. People have to shelter from the rain before they can think about the future."

As soon as his words ended, the Shuang Baotai ran back, one tugging his leg, "Dad! We're hungry!"

"Hungry?" he bent down, scooping one up, "Then we must hurry Go Home, or the Meal Ticket will be snatched away."

"With meat filling!" the child shouted loudly.

"Right! Meat filling!" the other called.

He smiled and nodded, "Alright, meat filling, add extra ginger."

The Special Forces Captain stood where he was, watching the family of three walk toward the main gate. Halfway there, Zhao Jianguo suddenly stopped, turned and glanced at the top of the building.

The signal light was still flashing.

He lifted his wrist, the terminal screen lit up, and green characters appeared clearly:

"Civilization Witness System——Online"

He glanced at it, said nothing, turned and continued walking forward.

Sunlight poured down, stretching the shadows of the three of them long and laying them slantwise across the square's tiles. One child suddenly broke free of his hand, ran back to the original spot and picked up something—a silver-gray fragment that had fallen onto the ground at some unknown time.

He ran back, holding it up high, "Dad! I picked up the key to the future!"

Zhao Jianguo squatted down, took the metal sheet with its rounded edges, and weighed it in his palm.

Then he gently placed it into the child's pocket.

"Not a key." he said, "It's a marker."

The child blinked, "Then... can it be exchanged for buns?"

He smiled, took the two small hands, "Come on, today Dad's treating."