Only failure
The sound of rain tapping against the window was like countless tiny drumbeats.
Yunxi sat on the floor, leaning against the cold coffee table. She clutched Shixu's phone tightly in her hand, the screen's light illuminating her pale face. Those photos, spanning four years, were like a cold key, unlocking a truth far more terrifying than reincarnation.
He wasn't a guardian who only appeared a year ago.
It was a silent observation that lasted for four years.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the chilling fear, and picked up the notebook that recorded fifty-two cycles of reincarnation again. This time, she no longer saw herself as the object being recorded, but as an investigator, a decoder trying to see through the "observer" itself.
Her gaze sharpened as she scrutinized the seemingly objective and calm records word by word.
"Seventh time: The target fell on the subway platform, and the intervention failed."
"Nineteenth time: The target was robbed at knifepoint at a convenience store, and the intervention failed."
"Thirty-first: The target fell from the rooftop, and the intervention failed."
Failure, failure, failure. It's appalling.
However, Yunxi noticed that almost every record of failure was followed by an extremely concise "analysis" of her behavior patterns that day. For example, "The target chose to walk to school today, with an 87% higher probability of passing through Qinghe Road," or "The target was in a low mood and avoided regular social routes."
At first, she thought it was just the timing of preparations for the next intervention. But now it seems more like... a precise prediction formed after long-term observation. A kind of "complete understanding" that can only be achieved through years of immersive observation.
Her fingertips traced the pages, suddenly stopping at the edge of the entry about the twenty-second reincarnation. There was a small, inconspicuous mark there, as if it had been repeatedly scraped with a pen tip. She turned the notebook to the side and examined it closely under the light.
Beneath those blurred marks, the outlines of several forcibly concealed words could be vaguely discerned. They weren't about her, but rather a very brief note:
"...He appeared. The interference was intense."
he?
Yunxi's heart skipped a beat. In all the records of the timeline, there were only two main characters—the "target" (she) and the "intervener" (he). Who was this "he" who suddenly appeared, who needed to be specially noted or even erased?
She immediately seemed to have grasped something crucial and began frantically tracing back through the previous records. In the fourth, eleventh, thirty-seventh... she successively discovered more similar pages, cleverly concealed or completely torn out. These erased records all seemed to point to the same pattern: when this "him" appeared, the course of reincarnation would become extremely unstable, intervention in the timeline would almost always fail, and even... his own manner of death would become exceptionally gruesome.
Just like in the thirty-seventh time, the record only briefly stated "Encountered interference from an unknown force field, system error, premature reset." But the sketch drawn by Yun Xi next to it, corresponding to this cycle, was a terrifying scene of time being torn apart by some invisible force, almost unrecognizable.
A "third party" deliberately concealed by the timeline.
Yunxi felt a chill. She picked up her phone again and opened the encrypted photo album named "Δ". This time, she didn't look at the photos of herself, but began searching frantically. She couldn't believe that someone who had kept records for four years would have completely missed any trace of "him".
Finally, in the deepest corner of the folder, she found a subfolder that was unnamed and contained only a string of characters that looked like gibberish.
She clicked on it.
There were only a few photos inside, all of which were extremely blurry, as if they were taken from a great distance amidst violent shaking, or subjected to some kind of strong interference.
The first picture is of a corner of the school auditorium, where a tall, slender figure wearing a hoodie blends into the crowd, with only a blurry profile visible.
The second picture is of a street corner at dusk, with the streetlights just coming on. The figure stands in the shadows, seemingly looking at something.
The third picture... is of the building below her apartment. The figure is looking up, her gaze fixed on the window of her kitchen. The photo was taken more than six months ago.
Despite the blurry image, Yunxi's breath caught in her throat for a moment.
She recognized the figure from behind.
Although she couldn't see the face clearly, she was certain she wouldn't mistake the figure or the posture.
It was Officer Zhou. The young policeman in charge of her neighborhood, always with a gentle smile, who would occasionally come to ask if she was adjusting to her new environment.
In her first few vague "premonitions of death" dreams, that person would sometimes appear at the scene, and sometimes help up the people of Shixu who had fallen into pools of blood.
He has always been there.
Not as a savior.
Instead, it exists as a "disruptor"... hidden outside the timeline and beneath the appearance of reincarnation.
Yunxi slowly raised her head and looked at Shixu, who was still unconscious on the sofa. Her eyes were filled with complex emotions: fear, doubt, and a hint of cold resolve.
She gently picked up her phone and dialed Officer Zhou's number. Her thumb trembled slightly as she hovered over the dial button.
Then, she lowered her head and began typing rapidly. She deleted the question she had originally intended to ask, retyped it, and spoke calmly as if nothing had happened:
"Officer Zhou, this is Yunxi. I'm sorry to bother you so late, but one of my classmates suddenly fainted. The situation is a bit strange, and I'm afraid to call an ambulance. Could you come and take a look?"
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