Chapter 1

"Ms. Grant, we've already contacted Mr. Carter on your behalf. He'll be here to pick you up soon." The staff member, wearing a professional smile, placed a glass of water in front of Alice Grant, looking at her as if she were some rare specimen.

Alice Grant took the glass, thanked her, and her eyes unconsciously drifted to the clock on the opposite wall displaying the time—5:31 PM, July 15, 2058.

2058.

She took a sip of water.

On July 15, 2018, she and Brian Carter celebrated their first wedding anniversary. She had decided to cook for once, but on her way home from buying groceries, she tripped and fell. When she got back up, she found the surroundings had suddenly become unfamiliar. She still hadn’t processed that a single fall had sent her forty years into the future, from 2018 straight to 2058.

After standing there in a daze for a while, a kind passerby who had witnessed her suddenly appear in the middle of the street brought her to the local Citizen Service Center and explained the situation. The staff efficiently contacted her husband, Brian Carter, and now she was just waiting for him to come pick her up.

Like a case of lost and found.

"Actually, Ms. Grant, you’re already the fifth recorded case of time travel in recent years." One of the young staff members gossiping with her told her about the previous four cases: an old man, a child, a lung cancer patient, and someone in a wheelchair. These four predecessors could be summed up as the typical "old, weak, sick, and disabled," and she was the fifth. No wonder the staff hadn’t sent her straight to a psychiatric hospital when she mentioned time travel—there was already precedent.

Since being brought here, Alice Grant had been sitting in the service center for nearly two hours. Every so often, a staff member would come over with the excuse of bringing her water, observing her up close as if she were an alien.

After drinking her fill, Alice Grant put down the cup, bored, and looked down at the plastic bag by her feet. Inside were the groceries she’d bought at the supermarket: eggs, tomatoes, chili peppers, eggplants, greens, green beans, tofu, duck blood, mushrooms, yam, a big box of cooked food, and two mandarin fish. Since she hadn’t decided what to cook for dinner, she’d bought a random assortment, planning to discuss it with Brian Carter when he got home.

She was counting how many chili peppers were in the bag when she suddenly sensed something and looked up.

Someone pushed open the door and walked in. Despite the summer heat, he was wearing a shirt and long pants, with a pair of thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and holding a large black umbrella—it must have started raining outside at some point.

Raindrops dripped steadily from the umbrella. The man stood at the entrance for a moment, then placed the umbrella on the rack by the door and walked toward Alice Grant.

Alice Grant stared at the white hair at his temples and the lines on his face that spoke of the passage of time, taking a quiet breath.

Young Mr. Jiang had indeed become Old Mr. Jiang. Her husband of one year had turned into an old man.

Damn.

"Alice Grant?" He stopped a meter in front of her, calling her name. He seemed quite calm. His voice was no longer as clear and pleasant as it had been forty years ago, but it was warm and mellow, with a kindly tone.

Alice Grant had been sitting here calmly for so long, but at this moment, she couldn’t help but curse inwardly. She didn’t even know where the sudden surge of anger came from.

"It’s me." Alice Grant stood up, casually picking up the plastic bag on the floor. "Shall we go?"

She saw Brian Carter adjust his glasses and nod at her, patiently explaining, "Wait for me a bit longer. I need to fill out a form. Your situation is a bit different, so you need to sign a temporary confidentiality agreement. You’ll have to come back later to complete the paperwork. Please sit for a while longer."

Alice Grant plopped back down, thinking, with this attitude, is he a grandpa picking up his granddaughter from kindergarten?

Brian Carter walked over to the service desk, spoke with the staff for a while, filled out some forms, and came back about ten minutes later. He said to her, "Let’s go."

As soon as the door opened, the sound of rain outside suddenly grew louder. Brian Carter opened his umbrella. It was big enough to cover both of them. Alice Grant followed him to the roadside, watching the splashes his steps made. He didn’t walk fast, but his steps were steady. At sixty-five, Brian Carter wasn’t hunched or hard of hearing, but his hair was white, and the hand holding the umbrella was wrinkled—the hand of an old man.