Heavenly Secrets Observer

At three in the morning, Chen Lin, an auxiliary observer at the meteorological bureau, saw a pair of eyes slowly opening deep within a satellite cloud image where every reading was "normal."

No instrument could see them. No satellite could capture them. Only he could.

Seven years ago, the night before a typhoon made landfall, his father drew the same pattern, then died in a typhoon that no instrument had detected. His only words in the manuscript he left behind were:

"If you see it too, whatever you do, don't tell anyone."

Now the same pattern was spreading across the skies above Jiangzhou again. Strange fog entered the city. Air pressure pulsed. The date was exactly the same as seven years ago.

Holding his father's manuscript, Chen Lin faced only two paths. Pretend he had seen nothing and live a quiet, ordinary life. Or speak up and follow in his father's footsteps.

He chose a third path.

He would write an observation report about this heavenly secret, in words humanity could understand.