Revolving lantern, back to zero

When Lin Shen brought Su Wan home, a large portion of the living room floor had already been covered with mirrors.

Yuan Dian sat cross-legged amidst the shards, her fingers clutching the last few pieces, as if completing the final steps of a jigsaw puzzle. Hearing the door open, she looked up and glanced at Yuan Dian. For the first time, two Yuan Dian stood face to face—one in a dark windbreaker, her wrists bandaged, her face pale, with deep dark circles under her eyes; the other in a white nurse's uniform, her hair piled up, clutching a shard of mirror, her eyes empty but calm.

They look exactly alike.

It wasn't just "similar," it was "exactly the same." Same height, same facial features, same bone structure. The only difference was the eyes—the original Su Wan's eyes were dark brown, tired but warm; the original Su Wan's eyes were light brown, empty but focused.

"Hello." Yuan Dian Su Wan spoke first, her voice flat, as if she were greeting a stranger.

"Hello." Su Wan's voice trembled slightly. She looked at her other self, as if she were looking in a frameless mirror.

Lin Shen stood between the two people, looked to his left, then to his right. "You two talk. I'll go cook something to eat."

He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn't much in it—half a carton of milk, two eggs, a wilted cucumber, and half a bag of frozen dumplings. He took out the dumplings, boiled water, and cooked them. The kitchen door was closed, but he could hear the two Su Wans talking in the living room, their voices very soft, as if afraid of being overheard by something.

"Where are you from?" Su Wan from the original world asked.

"The world of origin."

"What is the Origin World like?"

"Gray. The sky is gray, the ground is gray, the trees are black. It's very quiet. There's no one there."

"You've been alone in ward B7 for three years?"

"Yes."

Aren't you scared?

After a few seconds of silence, she said, "I was scared. But Shen Ruo said that someone would come someday. She said it, so I believed her."

"Are you waiting for Lin Shen?"

"Yes."

What did you feel when you saw him?

Silence again. "I feel... he's not the one I'm waiting for. He's a part of the person I'm waiting for. A larger part."

Lin Shen ladled the cooked dumplings into two bowls and carried them out. The two Su Wans sat side by side on the sofa, their shoulders almost touching. They didn't speak, but quietly looked at the mirrored surface pieced together on the floor.

The mirror was pieced together. It wasn't a complete rectangle; several pieces were missing from the edges, like a mouth missing teeth. But the pieced-together section reflected the ceiling light, white and cold, with a warm yellow halo around the edge. Something was moving within the halo—not the flickering of the light, but a shadow. A very small, blurry, human-shaped shadow moved back and forth within the halo.

"Who is that?" Su Wan pointed to the shadow in the halo.

"Chen Yuan," Su Wan said, "a fragment of him. One piece is embedded in this mirror. I saw him when I was piecing the mirror together. He was walking back and forth in the mirror, as if he was looking for something."

Lin Shen squatted down and looked at the small shadow in the mirror. The shadow was very small, less than the length of a finger, but the outline was clear—long hair, white clothes, and the way it walked was exactly the same as Chen Yuan's.

"Chen Yuan," Lin Shen called out to the mirror.

The shadow paused. It turned around, facing Lin Shen. It had no face, just a black outline, but Lin Shen could feel it looking at him.

"Can you speak?" Lin Shen asked.

The shadow shook its head.

"Can you come out?"

The shadow shook its head again. It crouched down and wrote words on the ground with its finger—not on the mirror surface, but on the ground reflected in the mirror. The words were reversed, but Lin Shen could read them:

"The door is closed. I can't get out."

Lin Shen pressed his hand against the mirror. The glass was cool, but the inside of the mirror was warm—he could feel Chen Yuan's reflection on the other side of the mirror, his hand pressed against his palm through the glass. It was different in size from his own hand—Chen Yuan's hand was smaller, thinner, and more like a scholar's hand.

"Where's the door?" Lin Shen asked.

The shadow pointed to the lower right corner of the mirror. There was a missing piece there, an irregular triangle, about the size of a thumb. The gap was black and opaque, like a tiny black hole.

"The door is here," the shadow wrote on the ground. "The door is broken. The pieces are outside."

Lin Shen turned to look at Su Wan at the origin. "Where is that fragment?"

Yuan Dian Su Wan took a small, triangular shard of mirror from her pocket, about the size of a thumb. She handed the shard to Lin Shen. Lin Shen took the shard, aligned it with the notch in the lower right corner of the mirror, and gently pressed it in.

The instant the fragments and the mirror aligned, a beam of blue light shot out from the crack, like a ignited star. The light grew brighter, changing from blue to white, and from white to gold. The entire mirror seemed to ignite, all the cracks began to glow, piecing together a complete, luminous net.

The shadow emerged from the light.

He didn't emerge from the mirror; he rose from its depths—like someone rising from underwater. First the top of his head, then his forehead, then his eyes, nose, mouth, chin, neck, and shoulders. Chen Yuan emerged from the mirror and stood on the living room floor.

He was no longer translucent. He was real, flesh and blood, wearing that dirty white lab coat, with shoulder-length hair, a stubble beard, and deep dark circles under his eyes. He looked exactly the same as he did in the original world, but with one difference—his eyes were bright. Not the kind of bright that flashes on a screen, but a normal, warm, living brightness.

"You've pieced it back together." Chen Yuan looked down at the mirror on the floor, his voice hoarse. "You've put me back together."

Yuan Dian Su Wan looked at him, her lips twitching slightly—not a smile, but a very small, tentative expression. "I promised you. You waited for Lin Shen for me, and I'd help you piece together the fragments."

Chen Yuan squatted down, his fingers touching the edge of the mirror. The cracks on the mirror were still there, but the blue light had gone out, leaving only a faint, moonlight-like silvery-white.

"We're still missing some," Chen Yuan said. "You only put together two-thirds of what I did. The remaining third is scattered elsewhere."

"I know," Yuan Dian Su Wan said, "but I'm tired. Let me rest for a bit before continuing."

Chen Yuan nodded and stood up. He turned to Su Wan—the Su Wan from the original world—and looked at her, remaining silent for a few seconds.

"You came to find me," Chen Yuan said. "You want me to help Lu Ming regain his memories."

Su Wan stood up, her hands gripping the hem of her windbreaker, her knuckles white. "Can you help him?"

Chen Yuan didn't answer directly. He walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and looked at the city outside. Sunlight shone on his face, and his skin was translucent—not translucent, but the kind of paleness that comes from long periods without sunlight, like a bleached sheet of paper.

"Lu Ming's memories aren't in his brain," Chen Yuan said. "They're in his consciousness. Three years ago, his consciousness was shattered by 'The Gardener,' scattered across the revolving network. His body woke up, but his consciousness remained fragmented. Like a broken vase, you glue it back together, but the cracks are still there. Some fragments are missing from those cracks."

"Where are the fragments?"

"They're in the hands of the 'Reapers.'" Chen Yuan turned to look at Su Wan. "They used fragments of Lu Ming's memories to create seven mirrors. Each mirror contains a segment of Lu Ming's memory. Find the seven mirrors, break them, release the memory fragments, and Lu Ming will be restored."

Where are the seven mirrors?

Chen Yuan shook his head. "I don't know. The leader of the 'Reapers' hid them in seven different parallel worlds. Each world has different rules, different dangers, and different guards. Only one person can find them."

"Who?"

Chen Yuan looked at Lin Shen.

Lin Shen leaned against the kitchen doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He felt the scar on his chest twitch slightly—the "self" inside him had stirred when it heard "seven mirrors."

"Why me?" Lin Shen asked.

"Because your consciousness frequency is closest to Lu Ming's," Chen Yuan said. "You are the seventh seed, and he is the first. You are melons from the same vine. You can sense where his memory fragments are—not with your eyes, but with your consciousness. When you get close to a mirror, your body will react. Your chest will feel warm, your heart will beat faster, and your pupils will change color."

Lin Shen looked down at his hands. The wounds on his palms had scabbed over, and the four crescent-shaped bloodstains had turned into deep red scars.

"What if I don't go?"

Chen Yuan was silent for a few seconds. "Then Lu Ming will forever be an empty shell. He can laugh, talk, walk, and eat. But he won't remember Su Wan, won't remember Shen Ruo, and won't remember who he is. He will be like a newborn baby living in an adult's body."

Su Wan swayed, like a piece of paper fluttering in the wind. She reached out and grabbed the back of the sofa.

"I'll go," Su Wan said. "I'll go find those mirrors."

"You can't get in," Chen Yuan said. "You're not an ability user. You can't enter parallel worlds."

"Then take me there."

"I only have two-thirds of my power. My abilities are incomplete. I can't open the door."

Su Wan's hands were trembling. She turned around and looked at Lin Shen. There were no tears in his eyes, but there was something more painful than tears—pleading. A person who never asked for favors was pleading.

Lin Shen looked into those eyes and recalled the first night he met Su Wan in the warehouse. She pushed open the iron gate, saw him, and said, "You're still alive?" Her expression wasn't one of surprise or fear, but of relief. In that moment, she thought Lin Shen was Lu Ming—that the person she had waited three years for had finally returned.

"I'll go," Lin Shen said.

Su Wan's eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed again. "Why are you going? You don't owe me anything."

Lin Shen walked up to her and took something out of his pocket—a transparent key. It wasn't the one made of ice; it was bronze, the one labeled "317." He placed the key in Su Wan's palm.

"Old Zhou said before he died, '317 isn't a cabinet, it's a door,'" Lin Shen said. "I've been looking for that door. Maybe behind that door isn't the 'Holy Spirit,' not the 'Reaper,' not anything that requires me to fight. Maybe behind that door is the person you've been waiting for for three years."

Su Wan gripped the key tightly, the serrations of the key imprinted on her palm, leaving a shallow indentation.

"Lin Shen," she said softly, "thank you."

Lin Shen shook his head. "No need to thank me. I'm not helping you. I'm helping myself. I also want to see what's behind that door."

Chen Yuan walked over from the window and stood in front of Lin Shen. He raised his right hand, his index and middle fingers together, and touched Lin Shen's brow. His fingertips were cool, like ice.

"I'll open a door for you," Chen Yuan said. "Not to a parallel world, but to the depths of your own consciousness. The 'self' within you has accepted you, but it hasn't given you all its abilities yet. You need to go to the depths of your consciousness, find that door, push it open, and take out your abilities."

"What ability?"

Chen Yuan withdrew his hand. "The ability to sense Lu Ming's memory fragments. You were born with it, but you haven't found it yet. Because that door is closed. You need to find the door, push it open, and go inside."

Lin Shen closed his eyes. His heart pounded. Thump, thump, thump. He followed his heartbeat, sinking inward, just like in room 1208. He folded once, twice, three times, seven times. Darkness. Then light. The white door was still there, the words on the door were still there: "Lin Shen, you've finally come."

He pushed open the door.

The white room was still there, the white chair was still there. But no one was in the chair. Something new had appeared on the wall—a door. Not a white door, but a small, wooden door, like a wardrobe door. Engraved on the door was a symbol—∞.

Lin Shen walked to the small door, reached out, and grasped the doorknob. The handle was cold, but the door was warm. He could feel something beating behind the door—a heartbeat, at the same frequency as his own.

He pushed open the door.

Behind the door wasn't a room, a corridor, or any place he'd ever seen before. It was a mirror. Not large, square, with a stainless steel frame. The mirror reflected his face—not his current face, but his face as a child. Seven or eight years old, thin, with messy hair, wearing an oversized old T-shirt. That's how he looked in the orphanage.

The little boy in the mirror looked at him; his eyes were big and bright, but he wasn't smiling.

"You've come," the little boy said. "I've been waiting for you for a long time."

Lin Shen crouched down, looking the little boy in the eye. "Are you my power?"

"I am your past," the little boy said. "Everything you've experienced, forgotten, or don't want to remember is here with me. Your abilities weren't innate; they were honed through these experiences. Every time you're afraid, your abilities grow a little stronger. Every time you despair, your abilities become a little more complete. Every time you stand up, your abilities become a little more complete."

Lin Shen reached out his hand, his fingers touching the mirror. The glass was cold, but the little boy's hand in the mirror was warm. The two hands were pressed together through the glass, different sizes, but with the same palm lines.

"What should I do?" Lin Shen asked.

The little boy smiled. "You've done it. You've come to me. You're willing to see me now."

The mirror began to melt. Not shatter, but melt—like ice turning to water in the sunlight. The mirror became a pool of silvery-white liquid, flowing onto the floor and spreading along its surface. Where the liquid flowed, the floor became a mirror. The entire floor of the white room became a mirror. What was reflected in the mirror was not the ceiling, but a starry sky.

Countless points of light, each point of light is a world.

Lin Shen stood in the starry sky, looking down at the points of light. Some were bright, some were dim, some flickered, and some were still. But he could sense that seven of these points of light resonated with the scar on his chest. At the same frequency, in the same rhythm, like seven hearts connected by the same thread.

Seven mirrors. Seven worlds. Seven fragments of Lu Ming's memories.

Lin Shen opened his eyes.

He stood in his living room, Chen Yuan's finger still touching his brow. Su Wan and Yuan Dian stood to the side, watching him.

"How long were you inside?" Chen Yuan asked.

"I don't know," Lin Shen said.

"Three seconds." Chen Yuan withdrew his hand. "What did you see?"

Lin Shen touched the scar on his chest. The scar was pulsating—not the antagonistic, opposite pulsation he had felt before, but a synchronized, harmonious pulsation, like two hearts beating side by side.

"I saw seven stars," Lin Shen said. "Where are the seven mirrors hidden? The coordinates of seven worlds."

Chen Yuan's lips curled up slightly—not in a smile, but in a relieved and reassured expression.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Chen Yuan said.

Lin Shen turned around, walked to the door, and picked up his car keys.

"Wait for me to come back so we can eat dumplings," he said.

Then he opened the door and went out.

In the living room behind them, the shadows of three people were cast on the floor by the light, overlapping into an irregular shape. The mirror on the floor reflected them—three people, three shadows, but only two reflections in the mirror. Chen Yuan had no reflection.

He is pieced together from fragments. He has no complete shadow.

But he was smiling.