Chapter 259: Tracing the Origin, Illuminating the Shadow – Adult Form Revealed

Zhao Jianguo took the cake plate to the kitchen and casually turned off the light. The candles had gone out, leaving only a ring of grease on the table. He sat back in the chair, his fingers lightly tapping twice on the tabletop. The room was quiet; the triplets had been lulled to sleep by Su Qing, and from the next room came her lowered voice: "Close your eyes, no sneaking a peek at tomorrow's gift."

He didn't respond, just pulled out that bubble‑gum box from his pocket, opened it and closed it again. The earlier confrontation wasn't too bad—at least the people had left and the kids weren't scared into tears. But he still felt a weight in his chest, as if he'd missed a step and his footing felt unsteady.

He stared at the check‑in system interface in the corner of the wall and clicked into it.

【Check‑in Successful】

【Reward: Time‑Space Origin Mirror (one‑time use)】

A beam of light sprang from the screen and landed in his palm. It was a small copper mirror, its frame bearing some wear, cool to the touch. He flipped it over and saw a few fine lines etched on the back, as if someone had scratched them with a fingernail.

He placed the mirror on the table and blew a breath on it. The surface trembled slightly and its color shifted.

"Show the triplets' adult forms," he said.

Inside the mirror a mist rose, then the picture gradually cleared. The first to appear was Zhao Xing, wearing a white lab coat, standing in a room. A sign on the wall read "Quantum Biology Research Institute." He held a pen, writing in a notebook, his brow furrowed, exactly as he is now.

Zhao Jianguo narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Doing research? This kid can actually sit still."

The second was Zhao Chen. Dressed in a uniform with stars on his shoulders and several plaques on his chest, he stood before a table, a glowing map with red dots spread before him. A few uniformed personnel nearby were talking; he raised a hand and gave a signal, and everyone fell silent.

"Becoming a general?" Zhao Jianguo smirked. "He's certainly handy in a fight."

The third was Zhao Yang. He stood in a classroom, holding a small stick and pointing at the blackboard, which read "Inter‑Civilization Ethics." A group of young people sat below, taking notes. When he spoke his gestures were modest, but his tone sounded steady.

Zhao Jianguo watched and watched, but couldn't bring himself to laugh.

Three children, three paths—none of them an ordinary life. He was about to reach out and touch the mirror when a shadow suddenly appeared behind him.

Chen Jianguo stood behind him, hands in his pockets, eyes also fixed on the mirror.

"When did you get in?" Zhao Jianguo asked without turning.

"Just arrived." His voice was flat, like reading a notice.

"Why do you always show up at times like this?"

"The timing's just right." Chen Jianguo took a half step forward. "Look at where they're standing."

Zhao Jianguo looked at the mirror again. Though the three were not in the same place, their backgrounds shared something similar—a metal ball in the corner of Zhao Xing's laboratory, a crack in the floor of Zhao Chen's command room, and a layer of hazy gray light drifting outside Zhao Yang's classroom window.

"What are these…?"

"Rift residue," Chen Jianguo said. "Each of them is handling a different part—Xing takes care of technical repair, Chen of defense line reconstruction, and Yang of consciousness unification. This isn't coincidence; it's been arranged."

"Who arranged it?"

"Nobody arranged it." Chen Jianguo shook his head. "It's the path they've forged themselves. The earlier their abilities awaken, the harder the future is to change. What you see now isn't a possibility—it's inevitable."

Zhao Jianguo fell silent for a moment. "So they're tools?"

"No." Chen Jianguo turned to look at him. "They're fulcrums. Without them, we can't get past the 2035 barrier."

"2035?" Zhao Jianguo lifted his head. "Where does that number come from?"

As he finished speaking, a bolt of lightning flashed outside the window and struck the mirror. The surface flickered, the three images vanished, and in their place appeared a red number: 2035.

It paused for three seconds, then reverted to its original appearance.

Zhao Jianguo reached out to touch the mirror; his fingertip turned cold, as if he'd touched ice.

"Is this a warning?"

"It's a marker." Chen Jianguo said. "On that day a large‑scale rift explosion will occur in the Beijing Central District. If they aren't in their respective positions, the city's time structure will collapse."

"Can't you explain it plainly? What does 'time structure collapse' mean?"

"Put simply, it means everyone would be living simultaneously in the past, present, and future. Memories would scramble, bodies would overlap, and some would find themselves standing in their homes from ten years ago while still holding today's phone."

Zhao Jianguo frowned. "Then why not intervene earlier?"

"Because too much interference would throw them off course." Chen Jianguo looked at him. "Now you know why we can't let them hide—their very existence is the solution."

"So I just have to watch them walk down this road?"

"You can accompany them," Chen Jianguo said, "but you can't block the way."

Zhao Jianguo lowered his head, watching the looping scene in the mirror. Zhao Xing bowed his head writing, Zhao Chen raised his hand to command, Zhao Yang turned to write on the board. Their faces were more mature than now, but their eyes hadn't changed a bit.

He suddenly asked, "Do you know how they end up?"

Chen Jianguo gave no answer.

"I mean, can they make it safely to that time?"

"I don't know." Chen Jianguo's voice dropped. "All I know is that without them, we wouldn't exist at all."

The room fell silent all at once.

Zhao Jianguo picked up the mirror and pressed it to his chest. A coolness seeped through his clothing inward.

"You said they're fulcrums…" he said slowly. "Then what about me? What am I?"

"You're the starting point." Chen Jianguo looked at him. "Because you arrived, they're able to become who they are."

Zhao Jianguo chuckled, not looking up. "That sounds like flattery."

"No." Chen Jianguo said. "It's a fact."

Outside the wind picked up again, making the window frame rattle. Zhao Jianguo flipped the mirror over; the etchings on the back stood out more clearly in the lamp light. He suddenly realized those lines weren't random scratches—they pieced together to form a name.

His name.

He lifted his head to ask, but Chen Jianguo had already stepped back, his silhouette fading.

"You're leaving?"

"Mission accomplished." Chen Jianguo said. "From now on you handle it yourself."

"Wait." Zhao Jianguo stood up. "Before 2035, what else can I do?"

Chen Jianguo paused.

"Teach them to tell truth from falsehood." He said. "The greatest danger ahead isn't enemies, but false memories implanted in their minds. They'll think it's their own past, when in fact it's all been fed to them by others."

"How do we guard against it?"

"By trust." Chen Jianguo looked at him. "If they trust you, they won't readily believe what others say."

After speaking, he turned and walked toward the doorway. His steps made no sound, and halfway there he disappeared.

Zhao Jianguo stood where he was, still holding the mirror in his hand.

He returned to the table, sat down, and put the mirror back in place. The triplets' image remained, repeating over and over. He stared at it for a long time, then suddenly reached out and wrote three characters on the mirror surface: Don't believe lies.

The characters floated there, not dissipating.

He got up and went to the next room, gently pushing open a crack. Three small beds were lined up together, and the children were all asleep. Zhao Xing lay on his side, one arm resting on the bed's edge; Zhao Chen lay flat on his back, mouth slightly open; Zhao Yang was curled up, the blanket about to slip off.

He walked over and pulled the blanket back up.

Returning to the Main Hall, he sat at the table without moving. Outside the window, the sky had grown completely dark, and the wind had stopped. He picked up the mirror and whispered, "Let me look once more."

The image reappeared.

Zhao Xing finished writing a line of characters, then looked up at the clock on the wall.

After Zhao Chen gave an order, he turned and took a sip of water.

After Zhao Yang finished a segment, students raised their hands to ask questions; he nodded and stepped down from the podium.

Everything was normal.

But just as the image was about to end, Zhao Yang suddenly stopped and looked toward outside the frame.

He seemed to have discovered something.

Then he said something.

Zhao Jianguo immediately played it back.

He listened to it again.

This time he was certain.

Zhao Yang said, "Dad, don't cry."