As the light of the twin swords resonated with the glass beads of the Apocrypha of Genesis, the outer walls of the Forgotten Library collapsed, and the outlines of countless parallel worlds emerged from the quantum cloud sea. Xia Zichen watched the Yin-Yang fish in his palm split into countless points of light, each landing somewhere in need of fire—perhaps in a fairy tale book by a child's bedside, an old photo hidden in an old man's matchbox, or perhaps the trajectory of a meteor streaking across the night sky.
Old Zhang tossed a new lollipop towards the broken dome. The black cat Moji had transformed into a raven, with letters from various time and space held in its wings: "The next stop is the 'Memory Recycling Station'. I heard that the administrator there collects discarded 'ifs'." When she turned around, the hem of her windbreaker swept across the glass beads on the ground. In the rainbow reflected, the first-generation guardian and the black-robed man were raising their glasses across time and space, and the cups were filled with flowing starlight and ink.
Ah Fu suddenly raised the oracle sword, and the sword reflected the shadows of the three people at the moment - Xia Zichen's star pattern was no longer dazzling but more gentle, Lin Yue's double spiral pattern turned into winding ivy, and Lao Zhang's file card No. 404 was turning into a blank page, waiting for a new story to be written.
"Time is never a wild horse that needs to be tamed." Lin Yue looked at the reorganized galaxy of memories and held Xia Zichen's hand tightly. "It is a sweater we knit together, and every thread holds the potential for warmth."
As the spire of the Forgotten Library transformed into a dandelion sowing memories, the shattered mirror beneath the three people's feet formed a doorway to a new time and space. Xia Zichen looked down and saw countless "him" superimposed within his own shadow, some smiling, some crying, but all living earnestly—it turns out that true protection is never about maintaining perfection, but about allowing all "imperfections" to exist, just like allowing dark matter in the galaxy, like allowing unsprouted seeds to remain buried in the soil.
Lao Zhang knocked on the doorframe with a lollipop. "Let's go, fire keepers. The next one to be lit is the 'Twilight Market of the Parallel Universe'—the vendors there are exchanging 'regret' for 'hope'."
The moment the door opened, the wind brought whispers from different times and spaces: the laughter of babies, the noise of old records, the roar of interstellar spacecraft engines, and the subtle but firm "puff" sound when two matches rubbed against each other.
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