Chapter 3: Transcending Time and Space

It is known that the speed of light is the fastest velocity currently recognized by humanity, while time is a comprehensive physical quantity defined by humans to describe the static and dynamic states of all things.

On Blue Star, there has long been a legend: if one could exceed the speed of light and reach a certain momentum, it might be possible to reverse the flow of time or even traverse space-time.

But what if the reverse were true? If someone could traverse the torrent of time, could they witness the speed of light?

On the night the meteor shower arrived, no one knew that a stray soul from Blue Star was swept away by the currents of time, drifting into the vast, boundless expanse of the cosmic void.

It drifted sluggishly through the river of time, accompanying billions of light-years, followed by the sun, moon, and stars, unaware and unfeeling, not knowing where it was headed.

Eventually, this consciousness awakened from its long, murky slumber. It felt as though it had traversed an ancient wilderness, slowly descending, until it was finally drawn to a familiar anchor point.

In a single breath, in a fleeting instant, the stray soul returned to rest, and a flower of life began to bloom anew.

In the year 9,983 of the eighth Star Calendar, within an administrative district on the central continent of Planet 732—a Mystic-grade planet in the resident galaxy—a meteor shower was currently taking place.

However, the people here were long accustomed to such sights, and no one lingered to watch.

In a certain apartment building, the lights in one residence suddenly flickered on. Inside, there was total silence, with not a sound to be heard for a long time.

Detecting no living movement, the motion-sensor lights promptly clicked off. Only after a while did a low, whimpering sound emerge from the room, like that of a small animal—confused, bewildered, and struggling to grasp the situation.

In the darkness, a pair of eyes slowly opened. For a fleeting moment, a strange, flowing light flashed across the irises before quickly dissipating toward the corners of the eyes.

"Ugh... it hurts... what on earth..." The person lying on the floor reacted quickly, groaning instinctively from the pain. However, she seemed unable to control certain functions that had been dormant for too long; everything felt sluggish, and her speech was slurred and thick-tongued.

Fortunately, she wasn't speaking to anyone else, just muttering to herself, so there was no need for anyone to struggle to decipher her words.

After a long while, the small, frail body finally managed to prop itself up. But she seemed to have lost the ability to coordinate her limbs; she struggled to control her hands and feet, needing three attempts before she could successfully steady her torso.

Detecting her movement, the sensor lights clicked back on. This time, all three rows of lights in the bedroom illuminated, bathing the room in brightness.

As the harsh light hit her eyes, the girl instinctively squinted, her eyeballs stinging with waves of pain.

She remained half-propped up, her gaze unfocused. Her mind was still chaotic, unable to distinguish reality from illusion, and her head felt empty, filled with a persistent, buzzing hum.

Where... was this?

After a long time, her thoughts finally reconnected with her brain. Scenes from before she lost consciousness flashed back, followed by vast, indistinct alternations of light and shadow, chaos, and finally, this moment of opening her eyes.

She couldn't possibly have been electrocuted by a cup of instant noodles, could she?

No, wait—do you feel pain when you die? Goodness, this is incredibly painful.

The floor was cold, too. She felt her back damp and chilly, and a strange, metallic scent of rust lingered in the air. Her mouth was dry and aching. How severe was this incident to have caused such an immediate cold?

She should try to sit up first. Why did everything feel like it was spinning? The back of her head felt numb, too; she probably fell backward and slammed it against the floor.

What kind of terrible luck was this!

Should she be grateful that she hadn't been killed outright or suffered damage to her occipital lobe, given that she could still maintain relatively clear thought? ...Wait, she wasn't so sure anymore. Could she have actually damaged her occipital lobe?

Why did the layout of the room seem so excessively different? She prayed her vision hadn't been damaged to the point where her spatial perception was severely distorted... otherwise, why would Jiang Hui feel like she didn't recognize her own home?

Jiang Hui widened her eyes, scanning the surrounding environment. She stared blankly for a long time before blinking forcefully.

No, this wasn't her room! She remembered being at her computer desk in the living room, but here—this was clearly a strange bedroom.

Where was she? Had someone saved her and brought her here? And why was she inexplicably lying on the floor... There were too many questions. Jiang Hui thought, she had only gone to sleep; how could the whole world change when she woke up?

Before she could make sense of the situation, the lights went out again, and everything returned to darkness.

"..." Jiang Hui decided that when one's luck was down, even drinking cold water would get stuck in one's teeth. What was this now? A power outage?

She didn't understand. She stood up shakily, her legs trembling. Her body felt heavy and cumbersome, relying entirely on the object next to her—whether it was a desk or something else—to pull herself up.

In this extremely difficult situation, Jiang Hui finally managed to stand up from that wretched floor, and she no longer felt quite as cold. The room's lights flickered on again, illuminating the space.

Half a minute later, Jiang Hui looked around this utterly unfamiliar place in helplessness. Now she could be certain that her occipital lobe was functioning fine and she wasn't seeing things—this simply was not her home.

It was a very spacious room, at least forty or fifty square meters, not counting two entrances on either side concealed by stylish, semi-hidden partitions. She couldn't see the layout inside, but she assumed they were a bathroom and a walk-in closet. The overall space felt incredibly grand.

The walls were covered with long, white, grid-like panels. She didn't know what material they were, but they didn't reflect the light harshly; instead, they emitted a soft, glowing sheen, giving off a sense of high-end design.

In the center of the room sat a large bed with a minimalist color scheme. The bed frame was standard, and the bedding was dark with low saturation. The bed base extended outward into a large wooden platform, which led down to the wooden flooring that covered the entire room, marked with faint, hidden patterns. Opposite the platform, a large area was left open, covered by heavy curtains that looked like they were woven with silver embroidery—they were so thick that not a sliver of light could penetrate them, and she couldn't see what was outside.

There were also bedside tables, a desk, a large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, and other large, unidentified decorative pieces... From the inside out, the owner of this room radiated the aura of someone who was "not short on money."

This was exactly the style Jiang Hui loved; she had once dreamed of decorating her own room in this fashion. If not for the current circumstances, she would have been very happy to walk around and admire it.

But rather than admiring a stranger's room, Jiang Hui wanted to know what had happened. How could she wake up in such a completely unfamiliar place?

Seriously, where on earth was this?