After hearing all that, Lu Yuan had a rough idea of what had happened recently. It was a lot to take in, and some of it was a little strange.

“That contradicts what you told me before.” Lu Yuan poured himself a cup of tea too. “Didn’t you say the bodies had all turned to ash?”

“I think it’s a contradiction too.” Zhang Tianqi plopped down in Lu Yuan’s chair without a hint of politeness. “Kid, don’t overthink it. Just remember what the higher-ups said. Being a tool is fine. Think too much and you’ll lose your hair.”

Lu Yuan instinctively touched his hairline. “Fair enough… By the way, any more news about that author called ‘Xu Fang’?”

“No. We haven’t seen them since that one appearance.”

Lu Yuan lowered his head and glanced at the files in his hand. There were color photos of the scene, showing the pavilion in the commercial district. A little girl in a black trench coat stood in the center of the picture. She had black hair and skin so pale it was almost translucent. A strip of cloth covered her eyes, tied in a knot behind her head. Her head tilted slightly, as if she sensed the world around her in some other way.

It was only a still image, yet it gave off a cold, piercing sense of calm.

“Still as easy on the eyes as ever,” Lu Yuan murmured.

Lu Yuan had seen this author’s image many times. At first, it had been hand-drawn; later, there were photographs. The beauty was so delicate it didn’t look real, like a character who’d stepped straight out of an anime. It had left a deep impression on him.

Too bad the files had to be destroyed on the spot every time he finished reading them. Otherwise, he’d really have liked to keep a copy.

“Kid, don’t let it get into your head.” Zhang Tianqi gave him a sidelong glance, his tone tinged with teasing. “This thing is weird as hell. One day it might suddenly turn into a young man, or an old guy, or even someone you know. If that happens, make sure you warn us right away.”

Lu Yuan nodded, his gaze still fixed on the photo.

Zhang Tianqi took a sip of tea and smiled. “But seriously, compared to how downright eerie this author is, its supermodel-tier destructive power doesn’t stand out as much.”

The records on Xu Fang went back a little over a month. An “author” named Ye Huai had clashed with Xu Fang. Ye Huai had clearly come out worse. Not only had he committed an atrocious series of murders, Xu Fang had even predicted what he would do.

Maybe Ye Huai thought he hadn’t left a single trace when he killed. But he didn’t know that Singularity Individuals had been recording every ripple in history. Lu Yuan hadn’t joined the agency yet, though, so he hadn’t witnessed history being changed.

In any case, from both a moral and a legal standpoint, Huaguo hadn’t stayed neutral. It had sided with Xu Fang. They said that before contacting Ye Huai, Xiao Zhe had even written his will. Fortunately, they managed to deal with the “author” without anyone getting hurt. It was the first time Huaguo had actively killed an “author.”

The origins of the “authors” led back to another mysterious existence. As for information about that being, the Protectors hadn’t told Lu Yuan. According to them, if Lu Yuan learned its name, he’d have to remain under official protection at all times.

After eliminating the author Ye Huai, Xu Fang disappeared for a while. The next time it appeared was in America. That restless troublemaker seemed to have clashed with some other “authors” again, causing a huge commotion in America—and even drawing them to Huaguo.

Huaguo stayed out of that clash between the authors and took a series of steps to avoid getting involved. In the end, Xu Fang still used some unbelievable means to deal with the hostile “authors.”

Later, Xu Fang established relatively stable contact with Huaguo.

The Protectors also had a few theories about Xu Fang’s identity.

The “Module Research Institute” had once been a world-class gray-market research institution specializing in biotechnology. It bought death-row inmates and people without legal status to use as test subjects. Later, Organization K swallowed it up, and the remaining staff fled to Huaguo with some of their research materials, seeking protection.

Huaguo took them in. The condition was simple: the institute had to hand over all its projects.

The “Module Research Institute” had once dug up a living thing from beneath the Antarctic ice, one that seemed to be extraterrestrial. Since many people at the institute were religious, the researchers called it a “demon” after learning a little about the creature’s traits.

Huaguo planned to buy the “demon.” The institute initially agreed, but delivery kept getting delayed. It wasn’t until the military forced its way through the institute’s doors that they discovered the “demon” had disappeared.

By the time the “demon” appeared again, it had become “Xu Fang.”

No one knew whether that clump of energy had gained intelligence and evolved into an “author,” or whether some “author” had possessed it. Based on later contact records, the Protectors leaned toward seeing Xu Fang as a relatively friendly entity—but only relatively. This author’s methods for dealing with its own kind were chilling.

Some of its methods for dealing with its own kind had been recorded, and they were enough to leave anyone who read them speechless. They didn’t seem like revenge driven by hatred. They were more like… an emotionless cleanup.

The Protectors approached Xu Fang with caution, but they’d forgotten one thing: even if Xu Fang didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble would still find it along some unseen path. Whether that trouble came from an author or something inexplicable, ordinary innocent people would end up suffering in the end—as they had in this plane crash.

…

Once they were done discussing business, the two chatted casually about everyday things for a while. Zhang Tianqi fed the single-use files into the shredder, watched the scraps fall into a bag, dusted off his hands, and took his leave.

Lu Yuan didn’t think much of the handover. Work was work, life was life. Even if the world outside came crashing down, someone taller would hold it up. He just had to do his job, then enjoy his free time. Sounded good to him.

After work, Lu Yuan went home and curled up on the couch, scrolling through short videos. As he swiped, he came across an official announcement: There had been major progress in the plane crash investigation, and the passengers might all be safe.

The comments were full of well-wishes, though a few people were skeptical. Just two days ago, the media had reported that every passenger on the plane had died. Why had the official story suddenly changed?

Lu Yuan found it a little strange too. A few days ago, Zhang Tianqi had told him about the incident with a grave expression. And now there was a reversal? Oh well. It was good news, at least. The more good news, the better.

The next day.

After making his rounds of the storeroom, Lu Yuan spent the morning relaxing in his office, drinking tea and reading. Around noon, the door swung open and Zhang Tianqi hurried in.

Lu Yuan smiled and invited the specialist to have some tea, though he was a little puzzled. Didn’t they usually check in every other day at the earliest? Why so often today?

“What’s the latest, Brother Zhang?”

“The higher-ups just approved something. It’s urgent.”

“Is it still about the plane?”

Zhang Tianqi froze for a moment. “How do you know? Did someone tell you?”

Zhang Tianqi’s reaction surprised Lu Yuan. Was there something strange about that?

“You just told me about it yesterday. How could I not know?”

Zhang Tianqi’s expression stiffened.

It was the first time Lu Yuan had seen the usually mature and composed Brother Zhang look like that. “I wasn’t here yesterday! Kid, you must’ve got your days mixed up.”

“I’m not senile. It was definitely yesterday,” Lu Yuan said with absolute certainty.

Zhang Tianqi looked flustered, but he quickly realized what the problem was. His expression turned grave. “If the Singularity Individuals’ memories aren’t wrong, then the thing that’s really gone wrong… is this world.”

“Huh??”

“Check the time now. What was it when we parted yesterday?”

Lu Yuan pulled out his phone and checked.

November 27, 12:17.

His mouth fell open again, but no sound came out… Wait a second. The 27th?

Wasn’t yesterday the 27th? Why was it still the 27th today?

He opened the date history. It clearly said November 27. He looked closely. No mistake—today really was the 27th.

Lu Yuan stared at the screen, his mind buzzing. His memory of Zhang Tianqi visiting yesterday, talking about the plane, destroying the files, and saying goodbye was crystal clear. There was no way he’d made it up.

The contradiction between his memories and reality kept telling Lu Yuan one thing—

“History has been changed.” Zhang Tianqi’s voice sounded as if it came from far away. “You’re a Singularity Individual. You can see it.”

This was the first time Lu Yuan had witnessed changed history as a Singularity Individual. Absurdity and shock were the only words he could find for what he felt.

Lu Yuan looked up, wanting to say something, but Zhang Tianqi had already pulled out a notebook and was scribbling furiously. “What exactly happened yesterday? What time? What did I say? Go through it one thing at a time. The more detail, the better.”

Lu Yuan recounted everything that had happened the day before. Once Zhang Tianqi had written it all down, he sprang to his feet. “We need to report this right away. We have to ask the other Singularity Individuals.”

That day, one specialist after another came to Lu Yuan’s office, some familiar, some not. They kept coming until evening, asking the same question over and over: had the passengers on the plane died or not?

Some of the specialists even brought out a lie detector.

Lu Yuan felt baffled, anxious, and exhausted. When the last specialist arrived, he turned to the middle-aged man, who looked like he held a high position, and asked, “Could you please tell me what’s going on? I really don’t understand.”

The middle-aged man looked at him for a long moment, then smiled with regret. “History really has been changed. It’s a shame that ordinary people like us can’t verify it for ourselves.”

He stood up, walked to the door, then glanced back at Lu Yuan.

“Lu Yuan, I hope you remember this day.”