243: Chapter 242 Return Voyage, The Weight of Time and the Light Fifty Years Later

On the Return Journey: The First Silence

Fullness's spaceship was returning through the space-time folding channel.

Day one. Everything was normal.

That giant silhouette did not appear. The Storm Civilization had already gone home; she was the only one left, along with that pinch of soil from the Mars Potato Field she kept close.

But she always felt that something had changed.

It wasn't the channel. The data on the light screen was normal. It wasn't the spaceship. The engines were steady, and the systems were normal. It was she herself who had changed.

Since that silhouette had "looked" at her, something had remained in her body.

It wasn't fear. Fear had already passed.

It was a more subtle feeling—as if an invisible pair of eyes was forever behind her, quietly "watching."

She glanced back.

The channel was empty; there was nothing.

But she knew those eyes were still there.

Cradle: The Weight of Time

Zhou Zhe and Su Kun had been sitting in the green soil experimental zone for three days.

They were "listening" to those time ripples. Not with their ears, but with their very existence.

Those ripples were becoming clearer. The shape of the annual rings spread outward, layer by layer. The innermost layer—the latest one—was brighter than before.

Su Kun suddenly opened her eyes.

"It is 'growing'."

Zhou Zhe frowned. "Growing?"

"Those annual rings aren't fixed. They are expanding outward. The innermost layer gets a bit brighter every day." Su Kun's face was pale. "It is 'approaching' the present."

Zhou Zhe was stunned.

If those ripples were spreading from the future to the past, and if the innermost layer represented fifty years later, then every bit it brightened meant—

That "point" fifty years in the future was approaching the present?

"time hunter..." he murmured, "They aren't 'waiting' for fifty years later. They are 'manufacturing' fifty years later."

Su Kun looked at him, fear and understanding in her eyes.

"If they succeed," she said softly, "fifty years later will become 'now.' Everything in that span of time—us, Mars, Earth, every proof of existence—will be 'cleansed' by them."

Zhou Zhe stood up and walked toward the door.

"Go find Lin Shen."

Command Center: The Second Choice

Lin Shen fell silent for a long time after hearing Zhou Zhe's explanation.

Fifty years later, becoming now.

The time hunter was "manufacturing" that point in time and then overlapping it with the present. The moment of overlap would be the moment of "cleansing."

"Is there any way to stop it?" he asked.

Zhou Zhe shook his head. "I don't know. We know almost nothing about them. Only that they exist, they come from the future, and they want to 'cleanse' time."

Lin Shen turned to look at Ashes.

In Ashes' pitch-black eyes, a true sense of powerlessness appeared for the first time.

"In the archives of the Executive Court, there are no records of any confrontation with 'time hunter'," she said. "Because all civilizations 'cleansed' by them never had the chance to leave any records."

Lin Shen's hand slowly tightened under the table.

Then, he released his grip and stood up.

"Then we will create a record."

He looked at Zhou Zhe. "Continue to analyze those ripples. Find their source. Find their weaknesses. Find anything we can use."

He looked at Su Kun. "'Listen' to Fullness's return path. She has already been 'seen.' If those ripples are approaching the present, she might be the first to be 'cleansed'."

He looked at Ashes. "Contact the web weaver protocol. Pull up every legend, record, and myth about 'time' that can be found. Do not overlook any clue, no matter how small."

Finally, he looked out the window.

"We will face it. We will remember. We will survive."

In those eyes, there was light.

Not the kind of light from a pure white Poem Markings, but a more modest light that belonged to ordinary people.

That light was brighter than anything else.

Mars: The First Awakening

The Mars Potato Field.

On the morning of the seventh day, one of those seven seeds moved slightly.

Potato Chief noticed it immediately.

It floated over and stared at the seed. That tiny, pale green seed glowed faintly in the morning light.

Then, an extremely fine crack appeared on the seed's shell.

The crack slowly widened. A tiny, tender white rootlet peeked out from the crack.

It was "looking" for soil.

Potato Chief fell silent.

Then, using the rhythm of the potatoes, it said softly:

"It has awakened."

The firefly ones stopped their chorus simultaneously. The entire potato field fell into silence.

Every existence was watching that tiny seed.

The rootlet probed the air, then slowly reached down and touched the Martian soil.

In an instant, everyone "felt" it—something inside the seed took a gentle "breath."

That was life.

It was the first new life on Mars bred by Martian life.

Potato Chief's projection glowed slightly. Using the lightest and softest rhythm, it said:

"Welcome to this world."

The seed did not respond.

But its tiny rootlet moved slightly in the soil.

As if saying: I heard you.

Earth: Old Zhang's Package

Earth, a small southern county town.

Old Zhang stood at the post office entrance, holding a package.

Inside the package were the three roundest and largest Martian potatoes and a letter.

There was only one line in the letter:

"Comrades on Mars: This is the third harvest grown on Earth. I've picked the three largest ones to send to you. Plant them on Mars and see if they can survive. Old Zhang."

The post office staff took the package, weighed it, labeled it, and put it in a basket.

Old Zhang stood nearby, watching that basket for a long time.

The staff member asked, "Old man, is there anything else?"

Old Zhang shook his head and turned to leave.

After a few steps, he turned back and whispered to the basket:

"Be well."

Then, he walked out of the post office and into the sunlight.

On the Return Journey: The Second Touch

Fullness's spaceship sailed through the channel.

Day two. Everything was normal.

But Fullness knew it wasn't.

Because the feeling of "being watched" was getting stronger.

She glanced back.

The channel was empty.

But she knew it had come.

That giant, blurry, indescribable silhouette was pressed against the channel wall, quietly "watching" her.

Just like last time. But this time, it did not leave.

It just "watched."

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Then, it moved.

Not by moving its body, but by "extending" a part of itself—an extremely fine, almost invisible filament slowly passed through the channel wall and reached toward Fullness's spaceship.

Fullness's heart almost stopped.

She wanted to run. But there was nowhere to run in the channel.

She wanted to shout. But there was a three-minute delay in communication.

She could only watch that filament get closer and closer—

Then, the filament stopped.

Right in front of the spaceship's outer hull, less than a meter away.

It did not advance further.

It just stayed there, gently and slightly trembling.

As if "sensing" something.

Fullness looked down at her pocket. That pinch of soil from the Mars Potato Field was emitting an extremely faint, almost invisible light.

The filament was "sensing" that soil.

It "sensed" it for a long, long time.

Then, it retracted.

The giant silhouette slowly left the channel wall and disappeared into the endless darkness.

Fullness slumped into her seat, gasping for breath.

She looked down at the soil. The light had already vanished.

But she knew what it had done.

It had "protected" her.

Those "proofs of existence" from Mars, from the potato field, and from countless ordinary days had made the time hunter stop.

It didn't understand what it was. But it "felt" it.

That tiny, trivial, yet incredibly real thing had confused it.

Fullness pressed the soil to her heart and closed her eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Night: Three Places, Three Lights

Night.

On Mars, the sprouting seed trembled slightly under the starlight. Its rootlet had already taken hold in the soil and was slowly absorbing nutrients. One day, it would break through the soil and grow into a new little cabbage.

On Earth, in Old Zhang's yard, the fourth crop of potatoes swayed gently in the moonlight. In a few months, they would yield a new harvest. Those potatoes would be dug up, eaten, or kept as seeds to be planted again.

In the Cradle, Fullness's return signal had just been received—she would be home in one more day. In the cafeteria, Lin Wan was cooking noodles. That bowl of noodles was prepared for Fullness.

Three places, three lights.

They were all small. All ordinary. All inconspicuous.

But they were all there.

And they would not be "cleansed."

Because they were "existence" itself.

Lin Shen stood by the window, gazing into the depths of the starry sky.

Those time ripples were still gently fluctuating. The light from fifty years later was still approaching.

But he was no longer afraid.

Because he knew that no matter what those time hunter were, no matter how powerful they were, there was one thing they would never understand—

Those tiny, trivial, yet incredibly real things—a bowl of noodles, a seed, a note, a word—constituted the proof of "existence."

They could delete time. They could cleanse civilizations. They could turn everything into nothingness.

But they could not delete things that were "remembered."

Because those things were not in time.

They were in "remembrance."

He turned and walked out of the room.

In the cafeteria, Lin Wan was serving noodles. Chen Mo sat nearby, waiting for Fullness to return. Su Kun closed her eyes, "listening" to the approaching ripples. Zhou Zhe's pure white Poem Markings glowed slightly.

He walked over and sat down opposite Lin Wan.

Lin Wan looked up at him.

The two looked at each other. Silence.

Then, Lin Wan pushed a bowl of noodles in front of him.

"Eat."

Lin Shen looked down at the bowl of noodles. In the noodles, there was a poached egg, a few pieces of chopped green onion, and a clear broth.

He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat.

The noodles were very hot. But he did not stop.

Because, by being alive, one could feel the heat.

Feeling the heat proved that he was still there.

Outside the window, in the depths of the starry sky, the light from fifty years later was still approaching.

But in the cafeteria, the lights were still on. That bowl of noodles was still steaming.

That was enough.