Chapter 253: Entity Arrival·Spacetime Stabilizer

The blue light kept flashing, three short, three long, three short, the rhythm unchanged. Zhao Jianguo stared at the crack, his palm tightening. He had just pulled the Triplets half a step back when the ground gave a slight tremor, as if someone were knocking on the wall downstairs.

The crack filled with mist in the middle, a thin light gradually coalesced, and a human silhouette emerged.

It was a man, about sixty years old, wearing a silver‑gray outfit that didn't seem to be cloth, smooth as he walked. A flashing badge was on his left arm. Zhao Jianguo instinctively stepped in front of the children, and the sign‑in system automatically displayed a prompt: 【Detection complete, match 98.7%, source: High‑Dimensional Kinship Correlation Field】.

The system added: Non‑hostile intrusion, recommend observation response.

The man landed and steadied himself, glanced at them, his gaze lingering on the Triplets' faces. He said nothing, but his eyes changed, as if he had seen something he shouldn't have, yet also as if he breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhao Jianguo raised his hand to block: "Don't move."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a buzz sounded in the air, an invisible barrier instantly unfolded, circling the Triplets three times before retracting into Zhao Jianguo's wrist. The system returned three words: No weapon, No Virus, Has genetic marker.

The newcomer nodded lightly, as if aware these checks would occur.

"Are you called Chen Jianguo?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"I am," the other replied, voice neither high nor low, sounding like a broadcast announcer, "also your father."

Zhao Jianguo stayed still, gave no response. His mind raced—Zhao Chen's words "grandfather" before he fell unconscious, the Morse code message "I am your grandfather," and the bespectacled old professor from his dream, all tangled together.

But this man didn't look like a professor.

"You say you're my dad?" Zhao Jianguo stared at him, "then you should have lived around 1960; why are you appearing only now?"

Chen Jianguo didn't rush to explain; instead, he took a flat box from his chest, opened it, and produced a blue elixir. The bottle was clear, the liquid water‑like, but its surface glimmered faintly.

"This is a spacetime stabilizer synthesized in 2035," he said, "nanometer‑scale anchoring particles that can neutralize cross‑dimensional information overflow."

Zhao Jianguo frowned: "What are you going to do?"

"Save them," Chen Jianguo said, pointing at the Triplets.

In that instant, the three children's bodies rose ten centimeters off the ground, hovering. They closed their eyes, mouths opened simultaneously, and began to speak.

They spoke entirely in English.

The speech was extremely rapid, sentences flowing together. Zhao Jianguo couldn't understand, but he felt the air tremble; each utterance made the blue light flicker.

He tried to step forward to help, but as he reached out, darkness fell before his eyes; he saw a ruined city, half‑collapsed skyscrapers, a dark‑red sky. The image flashed and vanished.

Looking up again, pale blue patterns surfaced on the Triplets' foreheads, like glowing veins.

"Their brains are overclocked," Chen Jianguo's tone deepened, "if we don't stop, their consciousness will tear."

Zhao Jianguo immediately moved aside.

Chen Jianguo stepped forward, inserted the blue elixir into the interface of the future device. With a click, the liquid seeped through the gap. The blue light instantly dimmed, as if its power were being drawn away; after a few seconds only a faint ripple remained.

The Triplets slowly descended back to the ground, their breathing steadied. Yet they continued reciting, the English not stopping but becoming clearer.

"Space and time are not separate entities..."

"Time is a dimension of space..."

Zhao Jianguo recognized it; it was content from the Theory of Relativity.

"Side effect," Chen Jianguo put away the empty bottle, "the language module has been activated. They can now comprehend and output multiple languages, especially scientific physics literature."

Zhao Jianguo glanced at him: "How do you know all this?"

"Because I designed this system," Chen Jianguo said, lowering his head to glance at the badge on his arm, "I am not an ordinary time‑traveler. I am a special supervisor of the Future Time‑Space Management Bureau, tasked with ensuring the Civilization Fire Seed Project runs smoothly."

"What project?"

"We select specific individuals and transmit key technological knowledge via dreams," Chen Jianguo said, looking at the Triplets, "the three of them are chosen intergenerational memory carriers. I left a data persona before I died, remotely guiding their learning."

Zhao Jianguo's throat moved: "You died?"

"In 2001," Chen Jianguo nodded, "but my consciousness was preserved, connected to the High‑Dimensional Network, and has been operating ever since."

He paused: "I know what you're thinking. Why didn't you come earlier? Why choose this moment? Because the timeline doesn't permit early contact. Once you interfere with past trajectories, the entire project collapses."

Zhao Jianguo was silent for a few seconds: "So you just said… you're my dad?"

Chen Jianguo fished an old‑style pocket watch from his pocket, opened its cover. Inside was a yellowed photograph of a young man cradling a baby, smiling beneath a tree. The back bore a line of text: "To my son, whom I could not witness grow."

Zhao Jianguo recognized it. It was the only family portrait from his childhood, which should have been in a drawer at his old home.

"I wasn't part of your childhood," Chen Jianguo's voice lowered, "I left when you were only two. It's not that I didn't want to return; I couldn't. The rules are stronger than me."

Zhao Jianguo stared at him, saying nothing.

He knew it wasn't a lie. The system wouldn't deceive him, and the details matched. Yet something lodged in his heart, indefinable whether anger or something else.

"Then why are you here now?" he asked.

"The portal opened," Chen Jianguo said, pointing at the crack, "originally it could only transmit information one‑way, but now the spatial structure is loosened, allowing me a brief descent. The opportunity comes only once; I must personally verify their condition."

He crouched, gently brushed Zhao Chen's forehead. The blue pattern was receding, the skin returning to normal temperature. Zhao Xing suddenly hummed, spouting a long English formula without pause.

"They're back‑coding," Chen Jianguo said, "not passively receiving, but actively invoking. It shows the system has begun to trust them."

"What do we do next?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"The stabilizer only temporarily suppresses," Chen Jianguo stood, "the crack hasn't sealed, the residual channel still transmits signals. If left untreated, the next occurrence might not just be a language burst, but bodily reconstruction."

"Bodily reconstruction?"

"It means parts of them could become structures not belonging to this era," Chen Jianguo said, looking at him, "such as organ dysplasia or cellular‑level temporal displacement."

Zhao Jianguo's brows knit tightly.

"I can fix it," Chen Jianguo said, "but I need your consent. The repair process must access your biological Permission— you are my son, the system recognizes you."

Zhao Jianguo stared at him for a long time.

The man stood before him, claiming to be his father, yet his actions resembled directing a battle. He didn't cry, didn't get agitated, his expression barely shifted. Yet when he touched the Triplets' heads, his fingers trembled.

Zhao Jianguo suddenly recalled his childhood; every Qingming, his mother would take him to sit at a grave for a while. She said his father was a good man, just short‑lived.

So he hadn't died.

He just couldn't go.

"What do you want me to do?" Zhao Jianguo finally spoke.

Chen Jianguo raised his arm, the badge emitting a beam of light that projected an interface. In the center was a button labeled "Authorize Access".

"You just have to press it, and the repair protocol will start," he said. "Ten minutes, the crack will close, everything will return to normal."

Zhao Jianguo stared at that button.

He knew that once he pressed it, it meant he accepted all of this—accepted that he had a father from the future, accepted that the three children were not ordinary kids, accepted that he himself had long been drawn into some grand plan.

He took a deep breath, reached out and pressed it.

The Light Screen flickered, and the plaque on Chen Jianguo's arm began to flash at high speed. The edge of the crack rippled, like a water surface brushed by wind. The blue light contracted bit by bit, shrinking from a person‑high size to the size of a palm, and finally only a faint glimmer remained, gently trembling in the air.

"Success?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"Temporarily." Chen Jianguo put away the Light Screen. "The passage is sealed, but not permanently. If they keep receiving the signal, it will open again."

"Then just stop them from receiving it."

"Can't do that." Chen Jianguo shook his head. "They are both the key and the door. The information must come in; we just need to control the pace."

He turned and walked to the equipment, squatted down and began to dismantle the outer casing.

"What are you doing?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"Extracting data fragments." Chen Jianguo didn't even look up. "This language burst wasn't an accident. Someone is testing their limits. I need to find out who's behind it."

Zhao Jianguo stepped closer: "Can we still trace it?"

"As long as there's a bit of signal residue, we can track it." Chen Jianguo took out a small Crystal, plugged it into the device interface, "Give me a few minutes."

Zhao Jianguo stood beside it, said nothing further.

The Triplets lay on the makeshift folding bed, hands still clasped together. Zhao Yang suddenly moved his hand, and a few English words sprang from his mouth.

Chen Jianguo's hand paused.

He turned back and gave Zhao Jianguo a glance.

"Even if they wake up, they'll remember these," he said, "word for word."