There were still ten minutes left in the countdown—ten long, torturous minutes for someone waiting to face the unknown.
The guest room was dimly lit. Huang Wei leaned casually against the TV cabinet, unmoving. He didn't leave, nor did he initiate any conversation with Ren Ye. Instead, he smoked in silence, his face occasionally obscured by curling tendrils of smoke.
"...What are you going to do later?" Ren Ye finally broke the silence.
"Tell your story, go home, play a game for a while," Huang Wei replied flatly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Ren Ye, attempting to suppress his mounting anxiety, grasped at small talk. "Not married?"
"Divorced."
"Why?"
"My wife and I are both temperamental. After ten years of marriage, we discovered a terrible truth." Huang Wei's voice was calm, his expression hidden in the smoke. "At the end of it all, we realized there was nothing left but routine. No love. It was hard to accept, but... it made the separation mutual."
"Oh, makes sense," Ren Ye said thoughtfully. Then, as if trying to unravel the man further, he asked, "No kids?"
"Didn't want them at first. By the time I did, there was no love left."
"You two are young at heart. Haven't people always said that marriage becomes family in the end? Why so serious about it?"
"You could choose to live that way. Most people do," Huang Wei replied, his voice tinged with weariness.
The room remained steeped in shadows as the two men exchanged trivialities. Not a single word was spoken about the looming Starmark Gate.
Despite his career and relationships being less than ideal in recent years, Huang Wei, who had long grown reticent in his workplace, found himself chatting with Ren Ye for nearly ten minutes.
When the time felt right, Huang Wei stubbed out his cigarette and gave Ren Ye a casual wave. "Well, that's it. Best of luck to you."
Ren Ye stayed seated on the bed, his expression tight. "Take the letter on the table. If I don't make it back... give it to my dad."
Huang Wei picked up the "suicide note" from the table. He walked to the door but suddenly stopped. Turning back, he tossed the letter onto the bin with deliberate nonchalance. "This doesn't suit you. If you love your father that much, tell him yourself."
"...!" Ren Ye froze, momentarily caught off guard.
Huang Wei looked over his shoulder, his tone steady yet almost warm. "The rules and details about the Stargate are all in the notebook I gave you. The rest? That's on you. But listen, you've survived worse. Fraud at the border, buried alive, shoved into a dog cage... you adapted. You even endured prison. What's an unknown world to someone like you? Treat it like a mission. Stay calm."
Something in Huang Wei's words steadied Ren Ye's chaotic thoughts. Confidence began to take root where panic had been.
"Alright then. I'm off."
With that, Huang Wei opened the door and left, his footsteps fading into the hallway.
Inside, Ren Ye sat cross-legged on the bed. Slowly, deliberately, he forced his breathing to steady.
Huang Wei was right. He had endured horrors most wouldn't survive. Fraud in a foreign land, crawling through death's jaws, the humiliation of prison—he'd faced them all. He'd even spent sleepless nights in a detention center, two places away from a death row inmate awaiting execution.
What about the weirdness? The unknown? It was here—close, tangible. His nerves screamed in anticipation, yet his breathing steadied.
Ren Ye's heart, racing moments ago, gradually calmed. His closed eyes fluttered open just as the cold, detached voice echoed in his ears again.
The last ten seconds.
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
"Seven!"
A shiver ran down his spine.
Ren Ye stared, unblinking, as a faint starlight shimmered above the double bed, growing brighter and spreading like liquid silver through the air.
This time, he didn't flinch.
His gaze locked on the starlight as it coalesced into a warped, irregular form—a "Star Gate."
Its core was a void, endless and fathomless, like staring into the heart of an abyss. Around its jagged edges, a cascade of starlight flowed, radiant and ethereal, like a galaxy trapped within a spinning whirlpool.
"...It's beautiful."
"One!"
"Whoosh!"
The countdown ended. The world twisted violently. Gravity vanished, and Ren Ye felt his body wrenched forward.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone, consumed by the Star Gate.
The room fell silent, still as death.
Across the street, in the two-story building, a young girl named Nian Nian stirred awake. Her eyes snapped open, and she turned to the colleague beside her.
"The Star Source fluctuates... the God of War with seven spears... Let's go."
In the corridor outside the guest room, Huang Wei froze mid-step. His hand tightened on his phone, his face shadowed with unease. After a moment, he exhaled and kept walking.
"Buddha bless," he muttered to himself, "don't let me attend another memorial service..."
First-Order Star Gate World – The Great Qian Dynasty, Huai Wangfu
A piercing cold jolted Ren Ye awake. The sensation of being shaken loose from darkness clung to his body. He cracked his eyes open, wincing as a shaft of searing sunlight cut through the gloom.
Groaning, Ren Ye blinked to adjust. His body ached, his surroundings unfamiliar.
The dormitory around him was vast and regal, filled with the faint, calming aroma of sandalwood. Carved square tables and wooden chairs occupied the room, their surfaces polished to a gleam. Papier-mâché lattice windows glowed softly, sunlight filtering through to scatter golden dust motes in the air.
This... this wasn't the modern world.
He sat up on the bed, the luxurious silk sheets brushing against his skin. His hands instinctively felt the fabric of his clothes. Gone were his familiar sportswear—instead, he now wore a crimson robe embroidered with intricate golden patterns. The material was soft, heavy, and undeniably expensive.
"An ancient world?" Ren Ye muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible in the stillness. His mind churned, grasping for clarity.
The Ancient Star Gate of China?
He stepped out of the bed cautiously, his bare feet meeting the polished wooden floor. Each movement was measured, his eyes scanning every corner of the room, absorbing every detail. The craftsmanship, the atmosphere—it felt real. Too real.
Curiosity wrestled with caution as Ren Ye explored the room, his fingers grazing the carved furniture, his footsteps echoing softly in the chamber.
"Where am I...?"