The old emperor sent a carriage to fetch Chance, and under careful escort, Chance boarded it. The people of the northwest watched as the carriage slowly disappeared into the distance, their eyes filled with reluctance.
After half a month, Chance returned to the capital. In the palace, the emperor officially named him Crown Prince, declaring that Chance would inherit the throne upon the emperor's death.
However, despite this good news, Chance couldn't feel happy. His new position and responsibilities did not bring him any solace. Recalling the events in the northwest was like reliving a nightmare from which he could not awaken. He spent his days hiding in his residence, engrossed in an obsession that had followed him from the modern world: black hole research.
He transformed his room into a makeshift laboratory, filled with books, charts, and complex models. He spent countless hours studying equations and theories, his mind racing to find a way to go back in time and save Keiko and their unborn child.
The servants were puzzled by Chance's strange behavior, thinking he had endured too much suffering and had become unhinged.
Meanwhile, in his room, Chance sat at his desk, his thoughts constantly returning to the day he accidentally traveled through time. He replayed the events in his mind over and over. "What caused the temporal anomaly?" he muttered to himself, pacing the room. "Was it the spilled coffee affecting the power supply? A power surge? Or something else?"
He knew the key lay in understanding the nature of black holes, singularities, and the intricate dance of spacetime. He scrawled equations on parchment, trying to recreate the conditions that had led to his first time slip. He delved into the concept of singularities, points in space where gravity causes matter to have infinite density and zero volume—places where the known laws of physics break down.
"Singularities, the points where everything converges," he murmured. "If I can harness the power of a singularity, perhaps I can manipulate time itself."
Days turned into weeks as Chance experimented with various models and theories. He hardly ate or slept, driven by his relentless pursuit of success. The courtiers and advisors began to worry, but they respected his solitude, understanding that his grief had intensified his focus.
One night, as he worked late, an idea suddenly struck him. "What if the spilled coffee created a perfect storm of variables? A power surge combined with the right physical conditions? Could that have triggered a micro-singularity?"
He decided to replicate the situation as closely as possible. He arranged for a controlled experiment in his private laboratory, instructing his most trusted assistants to gather the necessary materials. They were puzzled but complied, knowing the future emperor was determined to complete this mysterious task.
Chance meticulously designed the experiment, carefully replicating the environment of the first incident. He set up an array of complex electrical equipment, ensured the presence of liquid to simulate the coffee spill, and introduced variables related to tidal forces and energy fluctuations.
"Singularity, singularity," he whispered, his hands trembling with anticipation. "I need to create a controlled singularity."
He activated the equipment, sending electrical currents through the setup. The machines hummed, lights flickered as energy surged. Chance watched intently, his heart pounding. Suddenly, a machine sparked, and a strange vortex of light and energy began to form in the center of the room.
The air crackled with electricity, and Chance felt a familiar sense of disorientation. "It's happening," he thought, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through him.
The vortex expanded, emitting an otherworldly glow. Chance stepped closer, feeling the pull of the singularity. "This is it," he gasped, "the gateway to the past."
But something went wrong. The vortex became unstable, energy fluctuating wildly. Chance realized with horror that the singularity was collapsing.
"No!" he shouted, desperately trying to stabilize the system. "I was so close!"
Sparks and smoke erupted from the machines, and the vortex exploded with a deafening roar. Chance was thrown back, crashing to the ground. The room fell silent, the machines dark and lifeless.
Chance lay on the floor, gasping for breath, his mind reeling. The experiment had failed, but it had given him crucial insights. The singularity required not just the right conditions but precise control over variables he had yet to master.
As he slowly got to his feet, he resolved to solve this problem.
"I will get it right," he vowed. "For Keiko, for our child. I will find a way to control the singularity and return to the past."
In the following months, Chance pursued his experiments with renewed vigor. He sought out the brightest minds in the empire, enlisting their help to understand the complex interplay of quantum mechanics and gravitational forces. He studied ancient texts and modern theories, combining his knowledge with the wisdom of the ancients.
He also began exploring the concept of tidal forces and their impact on singularities. He speculated that the gravitational forces exerted by celestial bodies could create conditions favorable for stabilizing time travel. If he could harness these forces, he might be able to create a controllable singularity.
One night, while reviewing his notes, an idea struck him.
"What if I use the tides themselves?" he thought. "The gravitational pull of the moon and the sun, if correctly amplified, could generate a natural singularity."
He designed a new experiment, this time focusing on harnessing natural tidal forces. He built a device to capture and amplify these forces, integrating it with his previous setup. The preparations were meticulous, with every detail carefully considered.
The peak of tidal forces only occurred once a year, and fortunately, it was on the 15th of this month, during the full moon. Missing this chance would mean waiting another long year.
After thorough testing, Chance ensured everything was ready. On the night of the full moon, as the tidal forces peaked, Chance gazed at the especially round moon.
"I must hurry and return to the past," he said, quickly moving to his apparatus.
He activated the device. The machines whirred to life, the room filled with the hum of energy. The tidal amplifier began to work, channeling gravitational forces to the center of the setup.
The vortex of light and energy formed again, but this time it was stable and controlled. Chance felt the familiar pull, but this time it was strong and enticing.
At the critical moment, a white light suddenly pulled Chance into the vortex.
As the vortex of light and energy began to form, Chance carefully introduced the radiation components. He watched as the swirling energy seemed to stabilize, the light becoming more focused and intense. He could feel the power emanating from the singularity, distorting the fabric of reality.
Stepping into the vortex, Chance felt a series of sensations as he was pulled through time, seeing dazzling visions and hearing overwhelming sounds. The experience was overpowering, the cacophony of light and motion threatening to tear him apart. But something went wrong. The radiation levels spiked, and the singularity became unstable. The energy grew chaotic, burning Chance as he was swept into the vortex.
When he awoke, the world around him was entirely different. The sun shone brightly, and the air was filled with the bustle of a thriving city. He found himself lying by the roadside, disoriented and confused. People walked by, some glancing curiously at him, others ignoring him completely.
Chance struggled to remember what had happened, but his mind was a jumble. Memories of his life flashed before him—Keiko's smile, the feel of her hand in his—but nothing made sense. His thoughts were fragmented, like shattered glass that he couldn't piece together.
The black hole model had transported Chance to the 1940s, and the randomness of the experiment had caused him to lose his memory.
As he struggled to stand, a woman approached him. She was strikingly beautiful but had a rough and almost menacing demeanor. Her eyes were sharp, and her movements precise, exuding an air of authority and control.
"There you are, you lazy fool!" she shouted, grabbing his arm with firm, unyielding hands. "I've been looking all over for you. Get up, we have to go."
Chance, still in a daze, let himself be pulled along. The woman introduced herself as Lisa, her tone laced with irritation and impatience. It was clear she was not pleased with him.
"Stop daydreaming and get in the car," she snapped, pointing to a battered old taxi parked nearby. "You're late for work. If you don't start earning, we'll be out on the streets."
Chance felt a strange mix of familiarity and fear. He couldn't remember anything clearly, but Lisa's domineering presence unsettled him. He climbed into the taxi, gripping the worn, cracked leather steering wheel as if it were a lifeline. The dashboard was cluttered with papers and trinkets, signs of a life lived in disarray.
Lisa leaned against the window, her expression a mixture of frustration and disdain.
"Don't expect to come home early," she warned.
"I've got things to do, and I don't want you getting in my way."
With that, she stormed off, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement. Chance sat in the taxi, trying to make sense of his fragmented memories. He turned the key, and the engine roared to life, the familiar sound grounding him in this strange new reality. He drove aimlessly through the city, the streets teeming with people, the buildings blurring into one another.
Every now and then, flashes of his past life would break through—an image of Keiko, the sound of her laughter—but they were quickly drowned out by the harshness of his current reality. The city's noise seemed to press down on him, the blaring horns and chattering crowds a stark contrast to the peace he remembered with Keiko.
After a few days, Chance realized that Lisa had no genuine affection for him. She treated him more like a servant than a husband, her words sharp and cutting. The journey through the singularity had left his mind in disarray, unable to piece together who he was or where he came from. The only constant was a sense of loss and a nagging feeling that he didn't belong in this world.
Meanwhile, Lisa had her own plans. She was arranging to meet her lover, Tony, a powerful figure with money and influence. He promised her a life of luxury and excitement. As Chance struggled to adapt to his new life, Lisa was busy planning a future without him. She spent her days in secret meetings, plotting her escape and dreaming of a life beyond their grim reality.
One night, Chance returned home exhausted and disheartened, only to find Lisa in an unusually good mood. She barely acknowledged him, focused instead on preparing to go out. She wore an elegant dress and had applied makeup meticulously, a stark contrast to the drab surroundings of their small apartment.
"Where are you going?" Chance asked, jealousy and confusion welling up inside him. His voice was hesitant, as if unsure whether he had the right to question her.
"Out," Lisa replied curtly, not even bothering to look at him. "Don't wait up."
As she left, the door clicked shut behind her, and Chance collapsed onto the worn-out couch, his mind racing. The cushions were lumpy and misshapen, evidence of years of use. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. His past life, the Ming Dynasty, and the strange journey through the vortex were all a blur.
He stared at the ceiling, where cracks formed intricate patterns, mocking his confusion.
"Who am I?" he whispered to the empty room, his voice barely louder than a breath. "What happened to me?"
The apartment was silent, save for the distant sounds of the bustling city outside. The weight of his predicament bore down on him, the uncertainty of his identity and purpose overwhelming him. He closed his eyes, trying to summon fragments of his memory, but they slipped away like sand through his fingers.