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Sure, the food always came on time, and there was always plenty of it. The manager even took VV out for walks—and honestly, those walks were longer than usual! But still…

VV missed its owner. All the new comforts couldn’t make up for the absence, and it felt the emptiness deep inside. The house had been too quiet, too empty, and VV longed for the lively, noisy days.

Every night, VV wandered into the empty bedroom, curling up in its small bed beside the large, vacant double bed. Another silent night.

But tonight—finally!

The owner had come home!

VV was ecstatic. No more lonely nights! And as a bonus, Lin Xian was here too!

VV’s little fluffy tail wagged furiously. This was going to be an amazing night—it could feel it. VV imagined snuggling between the two of them, or at least beside them, cozy and warm.

However…

What VV hadn’t expected at all was what happened next.

Once inside, the two humans went straight to the bedroom. Lin Xian picked up VV’s little bed, carrying it out to the living room.

“You’ll sleep here tonight,” Lin Xian said, giving VV a gentle pat on the head before heading back into the bedroom.

VV blinked, utterly baffled. What was happening? Why was it being isolated like this?

Even when that little girl had come over to sleep, VV hadn’t been kicked out of the bedroom! A bedroom with two people and a dog—was it really so cramped?

It wasn’t like Lin Xian was going to sleep on the floor. And there wasn’t any reason to fight over space. So why had VV’s bed been removed?

VV waited for a long time, expecting that once the lights were back on in the bedroom, the sneaky humans would be done with whatever they were doing and bring it back inside.

But the lights never came back on. Eventually, VV grew tired. Enough was enough.

VV yawned again. It liked Lin Xian—they even had a special bond, “VV’s Promise,” together. Considering Lin Xian rarely visited, VV decided it could tolerate this arrangement for one night. After all, Lin Xian would leave tomorrow, and everything would go back to normal.

There was no way Lin Xian was going to visit every day—that was impossible.

VV’s eyelids drooped, and soon enough, it curled up in its soft little bed, drifting off to sleep.

In the bedroom, Zhao Ying Jun pulled the blanket tighter around herself, her gaze fixed on the moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains. She let out a soft huff.

“Everything’s out of order now,” she muttered.

“Yeah, it really is,” Lin Xian agreed, scratching his head. “Seems like everything’s completely flipped upside down.”

“Speaking of things being flipped, have you ever seen that movie? ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’?”

Zhao Ying Jun couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, her annoyance melting away. “Are you seriously trying to talk about movies right now?”

She sat up, hugging a pillow, leaning back against the headboard. She looked at Lin Xian.

“Honestly, I underestimated you. I always thought you’d never dare to do something like this.”

“Really?” Lin Xian chuckled softly. “So that’s how you’ve seen me all along? I didn’t think I came across as that much of a coward.”

Zhao Ying Jun shook her head. “It’s not about being scared. It’s just… I could always tell you were avoiding me, hiding things from me, deliberately keeping your distance.”

She paused, biting her lower lip before continuing, “I’m not saying this to blame you. We’re already here, and I’m just stating the truth. I’ve always known you’ve kept things from me. Like…”

Another pause. She took a breath and finally said it: “Copenhagen.”

Zhao Ying Jun closed her eyes, finally voicing the thorn in her heart.

“I’m not questioning you,” she added softly, “I just… I know you lied to me. You told me you hadn’t been to Copenhagen, but you had. And when you came back, we talked about Andersen’s fairy tales, about the Little Mermaid—right after you’d just returned.”

Lin Xian shifted, sitting up as well. Their shoulders brushed, and he could feel the coolness of her skin. It seemed Zhao Ying Jun’s information network—her infiltration of Brother Wang and Xiao Li—was more thorough than he had imagined.

Or maybe she had found out through other means. Either way, it didn’t matter to him anymore.

He turned his head, looking at the pale curve of her neck, so close.

“If you know about Copenhagen,” Lin Xian said quietly, “then you must also know that I went there with a woman.”

“Hmph.” Zhao Ying Jun gave a small smile, turning away. “You said that, not me.”

Lin Xian smiled too. “Do you want to know who she was?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Zhao Ying Jun said softly. “I’m not the type to hold grudges. Back then, whoever you traveled with had nothing to do with me.”

“You’d never guess who it was,” Lin Xian said, still smiling.

“Oh?” Zhao Ying Jun raised an eyebrow. “Someone I know?”

“Exactly.”

In the dim room, lit only by slivers of moonlight, Lin Xian looked at her, his gaze meeting hers.

“That woman,” he said quietly, “was you.”

Zhao Ying Jun blinked, and Lin Xian continued, “I know it sounds ridiculous, but tonight, I need to tell you everything. And it’s a very, very long story…”

“That’s okay,” Zhao Ying Jun said, leaning a little closer. “As long as you’re willing to tell, I’m willing to listen. If it’s a long story, then it must have a long beginning. When did it all start?”

Lin Xian pulled his knees up, staring at the ceiling. “Do you remember the invitation you got once? To join the ‘Genius Club’? It was a red velvet card, with a wax seal on the front, and five gold-embossed letters on the back. You took it from me, right when the first Rhine Cat prototype was finished. You took the invitation along with the prototype.”

Zhao Ying Jun thought back. “I remember that. When I got back to the office, I opened the invitation. There was a QR code inside, and when I scanned it, it was something related to the Apple keynote. Apple has those Genius Bars for tech support, right? I thought it was just some promotional thing and tossed it into a drawer.”

Lin Xian nodded. “That was about two years ago. And everything that’s happened since then—Chu An Qing, Yu Xi, that blue-eyed girl you met, the hibernation pods, Xu Yun… everything started with that invitation.

“It was a fake invitation, delivered to the MX company reception by a woman named… Yellow Finch.”

Lin Xian took a deep breath, uttering the name that held so much weight.

“Yellow Finch.”

And then, Lin Xian told Zhao Ying Jun everything—his dreams, Yellow Finch’s origins, the Genius Club, the operation to capture time-space particles, the real and fake Yu Xi… everything from the past two years. Every detail.

It was long overdue, this conversation. After all, Yellow Finch knew everything about him. That meant Lin Xian from that timeline must have told her himself. So it was inevitable that Zhao Ying Jun would one day know all of this.

That was why she had taken on the name Yellow Finch, why she had crossed time and space.

Why she built the Rhine Sky City and left an opening, waiting for Lin Xian to fall through—waiting for their reunion, six hundred years later.

And that was only the Zhao Ying Jun he knew about.

How many other timelines were there, where Zhao Ying Jun had done so much for him?

She was that kind of woman—loyal, steadfast, brave, and unyielding. Lin Xian believed that, in any timeline, Zhao Ying Jun would become Yellow Finch for him, would become the statue of white jade, would be his unshakable support—even at the cost of her own life.

Without Yellow Finch’s guidance, Lin Xian thought he would probably have died already. Though Yellow Finch’s direct help was limited, her hints and guidance had been crucial, almost enough to change the entire outcome.

He remembered their first meeting, that heart-stopping night in Zhao Ying Jun’s office.

“Next time we meet, call me Yellow Finch,” she had said with a smile before leaving.

At the time, Lin Xian had thought it was just her teasing him—the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Yellow Finch, the oriole, mocking his failure.

But now, he saw her name differently.

Yellow Finch in the rear.

It meant she was always behind him—watching his back in every timeline, always there when he turned around, whenever he needed her.

Even the Zhao Ying Jun beside him now, who hadn’t yet become Yellow Finch, was the same.

If he didn’t tell her the truth, she waited quietly, pretending not to know, not asking questions.

If he told her, she listened intently, always firmly on his side.

And now, Zhao Ying Jun was leaning against him, listening closely, thinking over every word. She hadn’t interrupted, not even once, as if every fantastic tale was true—as if she believed without a shadow of a doubt.

“So…”

When Lin Xian had finished, Zhao Ying Jun spoke, her voice soft.

“So, Yellow Finch is a version of me from some other timeline. She came here after you lost, after you died, to guide you onto the right path. And now, you’re telling me all of this because…”

She looked up at him, worry in her eyes.

“Are you prepared to sacrifice yourself, to die, so that I can become the next Yellow Finch?”

“No, no.” Lin Xian shook his head. “Not at all. I have no intention of giving up. I don’t know how many versions of us there have been—how many Yellow Finchs, how many Lin Xians, how many Zhao Ying Juns—but I believe every failure becomes experience, makes the next attempt more likely to succeed.

“I’ve stumbled so many times, taken wrong turns, made mistakes. But I’ve never thought about giving up. I will keep going.”

“I believe in you.” Zhao Ying Jun’s gaze was steady. “I’ve always said you were destined for greatness. And I was right.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, staring at her hands folded on her stomach.

“According to what you’ve said, Yellow Finch is Yu Xi’s mother in some timeline… but she had to leave, which is why Yu Xi was orphaned, used by enemies, trained as an agent.”

“So… when did they come from? It feels recent, but also distant.”

Lin Xian shook his head. “I still don’t fully understand the timeline. With the hibernation pods, it’s hard to judge time normally. But one thing is certain: both Yellow Finch and Yu Xi must have used the pods. From what I know, the earliest time machine was invented in 2234.

“Gao Wen and Chen Heping, two of humanity’s greatest minds, said there could be no time machines before 2234. So, to use one, they must have hibernated until at least that year. My guess is that Yellow Finch arrived a bit earlier, and Yu Xi later, maybe hundreds of years afterward.”

Zhao Ying Jun blinked, curious. “Why 2234, exactly? Why such a round number?”

Lin Xian explained the comet, Astatine-339, the astronomical breakthrough of 2077—how the time machine wasn’t held back by technology, but by the need for Astatine-339, an extraterrestrial isotope.

By the end of it, Zhao Ying Jun understood everything, completely in sync with what Lin Xian knew.

“I get it now,” she said thoughtfully. “And I understand something else too. Remember when we were having dinner, and you asked if I’d ever use a hibernation pod? It seemed so random at the time. But now I see… you’d seen future versions of me, all using the pods, so you were curious about what I’d say.”

Lin Xian smiled, admitting it. “That’s right. But back then, you were so sure. You said you’d never do it, that you couldn’t leave this time behind, couldn’t leave your friends.”

Zhao Ying Jun kicked him lightly, rolling her eyes. “You idiot. Completely hopeless.”

“If I’m Yellow Finch, and she’s me, then of course I’d do it. Because I’d do those things, there’s a Yellow Finch in the future.”

“Besides, you didn’t give me enough information back then. If you’d said you’d be there too, that it was for you…”

Under the blanket, Zhao Ying Jun placed her left hand over Lin Xian’s, fingers threading through his, holding tight.

“Then my answer would be…”

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the soft moonlight.

“I’m willing.”