"We've arrived." Ayu pointed out the window, where the coastline formed by volcanic rock was faintly visible in the morning mist.

Following the coordinates on their tickets, they found a rocky area on the southwest corner of Weizhou Island. The shapes of the volcanic pores here were exactly the same as the dust marks on the clock face. Ayu felt around in the crevices of the rocks and suddenly touched something hard—a rusty iron box, the same kind as the iron box in her grandfather's clock.

There was no note in the tin box, only a silver swan pendant. The pendant's wings were spread at an angle of 120 degrees, and two lines of small characters were engraved on the inside of the wings: "July 15, 1983. The pendulum is the letter, the wind and waves are the proof."

“It’s my grandfather’s handwriting.” Zhong Hua stroked the pendant and suddenly remembered an old photo tucked in the ship’s logbook—in 1983, his grandfather was standing at the bow of the ship, with a young woman standing beside him, holding this very swan pendant.

The woman's appearance bore a striking resemblance to Ayu's mother, bearing about seven or eight points in resemblance.

“My mother waited for him on Weizhou Island back then.” Tears streamed down Ayu’s face. “She threw the message in a bottle, the boat ticket was a keepsake left by my grandfather, and the clock… was their secret communication.”

Back at the guesthouse, Ayu placed the swan pendant on the clock face. When the pendulum swung again, a miracle occurred—the light reflected from the pendant overlapped with the projection of the prism, projecting a complete image onto the wall: swans of Qinghai Lake, icefalls in Yubeng Village, camel bells in Dunhuang, the starry sky over Namtso Lake… all the places they had traveled to were reflected in the light and shadow.

At the center of the image is always the swan with its wings spread 120 degrees, as if it is guarding something.

Zhong Hua finally understood that her grandfather's clock was not an ordinary clock, but a time capsule that used the laws of physics to record memories of love and travel. The boat ticket and message in a bottle from 1983 were a promise made by her parents' generation; while the arc and frequency of the pendulum were clues left for future generations, guiding them to retrace those journeys that carried love and memories.

“Look,” Ayu pointed to the light and shadow on the wall, where all the images merged into a dazzling starry lake, “this is the sunrise over Qinghai Lake.”

The hum of the pendulum gradually subsided, stopping at 3:15. But this time, the shadows cast by the hands on the clock face were no longer dust, but a clear image of a swan spreading its wings, the angle of the wings exactly 120 degrees.

Outside the guesthouse, the waves of Weizhou Island crashed against the rocks, making a rhythmic sound. Suddenly, Ayu remembered something, took out her phone, played a recording of swans from Qinghai Lake, and simultaneously swung a pendulum. A wondrous thing happened—the sound of the waves, the calls of the swans, and the sound of the pendulum resonated perfectly, like a symphony transcending time and space.

“Grandfather told us with the clock,” Zhong Hua said, holding A Yu’s hand, “that some memories never stop, and some routes never end, just like the arc of this pendulum, which always maintains its most relaxed posture, waiting to be awakened again.”

As the sun set, they hung the swan pendant on the clock. The pendulum swung again, this time tracing an arc that not only represented the angle of the swan's wings but also the starting point of their future journey. The 1983 boat ticket and the message in a bottle from Weizhou Island were carefully preserved inside the clock case, becoming an eternal echo between the gears.

The chimes of the clock resound in the evening breeze of Weizhou Island, no longer a monotonous "click," but a symphony blending the sounds of waves, camel bells, icefalls, and swan calls. The arc of the pendulum shimmers with golden light in the sunset, the shape of time, the image of love, forever maintaining its gentlest expanse, awaiting the next resonance.