Revolving lantern, back to zero

As Lin Shen stepped out of the building, the sunlight shone directly on his face. He squinted, raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light, and seven thin beams of light shone through the gaps between his fingers, falling onto the concrete ground beneath his feet like seven glowing harp strings. He looked down at them for a moment, then lowered his hand and walked towards his car.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Chen Yuan: "The location of the first gardener is in the warehouse where you first died. Not in this world, but in a parallel world. You need to go through the mirror to get there."

Lin Shen got into the car and started the engine. He didn't drive to the warehouse, but instead drove to the riverbank. He parked the car on the embankment, got out, and walked to the railing. The river water was still gray, reflecting the gray sky. He took out the seven mirrors stacked together from his pocket and held them up to the river. The mirrors reflected the sunlight, casting fragmented patches of light on the water. The patches of light slowly gathered, forming a circle, and at the center of the circle was a door—blue, luminous, exactly like the Gate of Creation.

Lin Shen didn't hesitate. He held the mirror and walked through the door.

The feeling of passing through the door was different from before. It wasn't a fall, not a collapse, but a lateral movement. Like walking from one room to another, just a step away. When he landed, his feet were on concrete. Familiar concrete, with oil stains, rust, and cracks. He looked up and saw iron frames, high windows, and cobwebs in the corner. The warehouse. Exactly the same warehouse as when he first died, but with one difference—the sky outside the high window was purple. Not the deep blue of night, not the pale gray of dawn, but purple. Like the color of a bruise, like the juice of crushed black rose petals.

A person was standing in the center of the warehouse.

It wasn't the mirror watcher, nor the shadow, nor any of the forms he had ever seen. It was a real person. He wore a dark gray suit and tie, his hair neatly combed. He looked to be in his forties, with a thin face, prominent cheekbones, and deep-set eyes, but his eyes were bright—not the flashing blue light of a magic lantern, but a calm, rational brightness, like a doctor looking at an X-ray.

"The seventh seed," the person spoke, their voice low, flat, and devoid of emotion. "You've arrived faster than I expected."

Lin Shen walked up to him, stopping about five meters away. "Are you the first gardener?"

"I am the second," the man said. "The first is dead. You have seen his memories. I am one of the seven parts of his power that have split off. You can call me—'The Reaper'."

Lin Shen's hand rested on the gun handle. This time, the gun was loaded. He had loaded it before leaving. "You're not the real 'Reaper.' The real 'Reaper' is an organization."

"The 'Harvester' is a person." The person smiled, a faint smile, like a mark drawn on ice. "It's me. Thirty years ago, the first gardener created seven ability seeds. I was the first seed. The ability I awakened is 'Harvesting'—to strip abilities from other ability users and seal them in a mirror. Lu Ming, Shen Ruo, and Chen Yuan's abilities were all harvested by me. Your ability was also planted by me."

Lin Shen's fingers tightened on the gun handle. "Why?"

"Because the first gardener is dying," the man said. "He needs a new vessel to contain his power. He chose you. Not because you are the strongest, but because you are the weakest. You have nothing special, no talent, no background, no ambition. You are the safest vessel. The power within you will not run rampant, will not rebel, will not betray you."

Lin Shen stared into the man's eyes. Brown, normal, but deep within the pupil was a tiny, almost invisible pattern—a scythe. Black, curved, like a crescent moon.

"You didn't come here to kill me," Lin Shen said. "You came here to be killed by me."

The person tilted their head slightly. "You're very confident."

"It's not confidence. It's the truth. You said I'm the container. If the container breaks, the contents will spill out. You wouldn't dare kill me."

The man was silent for three seconds. Then he smiled. This time, the smile wasn't faint; it was deep, like a knife carving into wood.

"You're right. I wouldn't dare kill you. But I can kill the people around you." He raised his right hand and drew a circle in the air. Where his fingertip traced the line, the air cracked open, and blue light shone through. The light grew larger and larger, forming a door. Behind the door wasn't a warehouse, nor a corridor, but a living room.

Lin Shen's home.

In the living room, the original Su Wan sat on the sofa, holding the *Tao Te Ching*. Chen Yuan stood by the window, looking outside. Su Wan—the original Su Wan—was asleep, leaning against the sofa armrest. Everything was normal, everything was peaceful.

"I can go through this door and into your house," the man said. "I can kill all three of them. You can't stop me, because you're in this world, and they're in that world. By the time you go back through the door, they'll be dead."

Lin Shen lowered his hand from the gun handle. "You won't."

Why?

"Because you killed them, I have no reason to help you become a complete 'Gardener'. You need me to live, you need the power within me. You killed the people I loved, so even if I don't die, I won't cooperate with you. You will lose your vessel."

The person closed the door. The blue light went out, and the crack closed.

"You're smart," he said, "but smartness won't save you. You know what you need to do. Kill me. The first of the seven stars in your eyes has been shining for a long time. It's waiting for you to make your move."

Lin Shen closed his eyes. In the darkness, seven stars were aligned in a straight line. The first star was shining, silvery-white, dazzling, like a supernova about to explode. He reached out and grasped that star.

Not with his hands, but with his consciousness. He felt the star pulsating in his palm, like a heart, like a seed, like a life awakening. He gripped it tightly and squeezed hard.

The star is shattered.

The fragments slipped through his fingers, falling into the darkness and disappearing. But he felt his power had changed—not stronger, but sharper. Like a dull knife being honed, like a blurry mirror being wiped clean.

He opened his eyes.

The warehouse had changed. The purple sky had turned deep blue, the rust on the iron racks had disappeared, and the oil stains on the cement floor had dried. The man was still standing in front of him, but his expression had changed—no longer calm and rational, but terrified and incredulous.

"What did you do?" He looked down at his hands. His fingers were becoming transparent, starting from the fingertips and spreading to his palms.

"I'll kill you," Lin Shen said.

"You didn't lay a hand on him."

"I moved. While you were speaking. I killed you with my consciousness. Because the power you planted in me was stronger than your own. I am a vessel, but I am also a weapon. You sharpened the knife too fast, so fast that you couldn't hold it anymore."

The person's body became completely transparent, leaving only a face, suspended in mid-air like a mask. The mask's lips moved, the voice as soft as wind rustling through withered leaves: "You think killing me will end it all? There are five more. They are stronger than me, more ruthless than me, and want your body even more than I do. You killed me, and they knew you were coming. They will be ready."

The mask shattered. Like glass broken by a hammer, fragments scattered, each reflecting a purple light. The fragments landed on the ground with a crisp sound, then melted, turning into a pool of silvery-white liquid. The liquid seeped into the cracks in the concrete floor and disappeared.

Lin Shen stood still, looking down at the cracks. Light shone through them—not blue, but golden. A warm golden light, like sunlight. He crouched down and reached his hand into the crack. His fingers touched something soft and warm, like skin. He grasped it and pulled it out of the crack.

It was a mirror. The size of a palm, with a stainless steel frame, exactly like the first mirror he found in the warehouse. But what was reflected in the mirror wasn't his face, but a seed. A tiny, black seed, like a sesame seed, lying quietly deep within the mirror.

The first seed. The ability of the first gardener.

Lin Shen put the mirror in his pocket. He stood up, turned, and walked towards the blue door. As he passed through, he glanced back at the warehouse of this parallel world. A deep blue sky, clean iron racks, dry cement floor. No oil stains, no rust, no bloodstains. Like a clean, empty shell forgotten in a corner of time.

He passed through the door and returned to his own world. By the river, gray water, gray sky, gray embankment. He stood before the railing, holding the new mirror in his hand. He stacked the seven mirrors together and looked at the river. The seven stars became six. The first one vanished—not vanished, but transformed into a seed within the new mirror. The seed lay quietly deep within the mirror, like a sleeping infant.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Chen Yuan: "The first one is dead. The second one is in the Origin World. He planted himself under that black tree. You need to dig him out of the tree."

Lin Shen put his phone in his pocket and turned to walk towards his car. He paused as he opened the car door. On the passenger seat lay a black rose. The petals were a pure, unreflective black, exactly like the one he'd seen at the warehouse entrance, in his own car. But this time there was only one, and a single drop of dew clung to its petal—no, not dew, but blood. Dark red, dried blood.

Lin Shen picked up the black rose. The petals crumbled in his palm, turning into black powder. Encased within the powder was a key—bronze-colored, labeled "317." The fifth 317 key. He put the key in his pocket, got into his car, and started the engine.

In the rearview mirror, the gray river receded, the gray sky receded, the gray embankment receded. Everything was receding, as if he were walking forward, heading towards a place that grew deeper, darker, and quieter.

My phone vibrated again. It wasn't Chen Yuan, it was Su Wan.

"Lin Shen." Her voice was calm, but with a strange, muffled quality, as if there was a layer between them. "Lu Ming wants to see you. He says he knows who the second gardener is."

Lin Shen slammed on the brakes. The car stopped in the middle of the road, and the drivers behind honked. He ignored them.

"Lu Ming remembers?"

"He remembers. All of them. All seven memories have returned. He knows who you are, who I am, who Shen Ruo is, and who Chen Yuan is. He also knows who the 'Gardener' is—not the old man, not the new 'Gardener,' but the real, living one who has been waiting for you all along."

"Who is it?"

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"It's your father," Su Wan said. "Lu Ming said the second gardener is your father. Not your adoptive father, not your biological father, but someone you've never met. He left your mother before you were born. He didn't know you existed. But he waited for you for thirty years under that tree in the Origin World."

Lin Shen's hands, gripping the steering wheel, began to tremble. Not from fear, but from a feeling he had never experienced before, a feeling that was unfamiliar, like a hand reaching into his chest and grasping his heart.

"What is he waiting for me to do?"

"Wait until you kill him," Su Wan said softly. "He said that only by dying at the hands of his own son would all the seeds he planted stop growing. He said it's what he owes you."

Lin Shen hung up the phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat. He looked at the road ahead; the streetlights were coming on one by one, dusk had fallen. Sunlight reflected in the rearview mirror, stinging his eyes. He rubbed his eyes, his fingers touching tears—tears that had started falling without him noticing. He wiped them away, and more tears flowed. He wiped them away, and more tears flowed.

He didn't wipe it anymore.

He stepped on the gas, and the car shot forward.