A powerful pull seized them. It wasn't a physical tug, but an “inclination” on the level of existence itself. Lin Shuhua felt her “present” being torn from the timeline. Du Yuwei's hand gripping hers was the last anchor connecting her to reality. Her scholarly instincts kicked in, and she shouted with all her strength, “Hold on tight! It might be a targeted disturbance in space-time! Don't let go, ”
The rift widened.
The pocket watch slowly rose from its display case, and its cover sprang open with a snap. On its face, the hour, minute, and second hands spun wildly backward, blurring into shadows. 1886… 1883… 1878… 1876…
At last, all three hands stopped dead at November 12, 1866, the first quarter of the Xu hour.
Beneath the watch face, a line of tiny characters never before seen in any record appeared, then faded away:
“Witness, follow the light; guardian, stop at the shadow.”
The rift swallowed them.
There was no sensation of falling, no dizziness, only absolute weightless silence and fragmented scenes flashing past their eyes: the waves at the Pearl River estuary, the Qing court's official hats and peacock feathers, the black smoke of steamships, the palm trees of Honolulu, Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong… The images converged in reverse, ending at Cuiheng Village in 1866.
1866, Cuiheng Village, Xiangshan County, Guangdong. The same moment.
