The Epoch of Anomalies V2C3

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Chapter 3: Su Xiao


Building observatories at high altitudes was a tradition dating back to ancient Egypt in 2600 BCE. To observe the sky, one must first approach it—a natural and logical conclusion.

In older times, those who studied the heavens were often regarded as sorcerers, whether in Eastern or Western cultures. Compared to the tangible realities of forests, grasslands, and fields, the ethereal expanse of the sky—the stars, clouds, and all things beyond—was seen as the domain of gods. Observing the sky was akin to deciphering fate, and sometimes these observations yielded results.

Luo Jin Mountain wasn’t particularly famous. At most, it served as a destination for nearby students on autumn outings. These days, few people ventured here. Straying far from urban areas had become perilous; cities remained humanity’s bastions, while everything outside was largely untamed wilderness—an unspoken rule that had solidified over time.

Li Xingyuan wasn’t sure if the observatory was still operational, but he drove there anyway. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only visitor.

A woman stood there. Was she military? She wore a dark green hard-shell jacket over a simple wool sweater, paired with well-tailored cargo pants and mid-calf waterproof hiking boots. Her short hair was neatly trimmed, and a sports watch adorned her wrist. Her features were plain but clean-cut, her frame lean and athletic. She smoked, holding a slim cigarette between two fingers. Her eyes peered through slightly thicker glasses than Li Xingyuan’s, their irises paler than usual.

She watched him from the observatory entrance, like a nail driven straight into his vision—or perhaps more accurately, like a precise, unwavering needle standing upright.

She ignored Li Xingyuan as he stepped out of his car, continuing to smoke until he approached her. Then, flicking away the cigarette butt with a quick motion of her fingers, she spoke: “The observatory is closed. If you don’t have a key, don’t waste your time.”

Li Xingyuan hesitated before realizing she was addressing him. Would someone dressed like this give up just because they lacked a key?

The woman stared at him, then extended her hand proactively. “Su Xiao.”

Li Xingyuan looked at her, waiting for her to continue. After a few seconds, he realized the introduction was over and shook her hand. “Li Xingyuan.”

Su Xiao fixed her gaze on his eyes. “What’s wrong with yours?”

“Colored contacts,” he replied tersely.

She frowned, dissatisfied with his answer but said nothing further.

“What are you doing here?”

Li Xingyuan glanced at her. This woman seemed more like a journalist than he did.

“Sightseeing.”

She gave him a long, steady look, then clicked her tongue dismissively.

Li Xingyuan didn’t necessarily need to enter the observatory—he was merely looking for someone. Breaking in would be easy enough; a simple twist of the lock would suffice. But he didn’t want to perform such an act in front of a stranger, especially not one who carried herself like some covert operative.

So he stood on the steps leading to the observatory entrance, intending to wait for Su Xiao to leave.

Su Xiao did descend the stairs, her boots clicking lightly against the stone. Yet she didn’t depart. Instead, she scanned her surroundings, searching for something.

Li Xingyuan couldn’t fathom her intentions until she bent down, picked up a brick, and strode toward one of the observatory windows.

He understood immediately what she planned to do.

Without hesitation, Su Xiao smashed the window. The ground floor lacked burglar bars, likely deemed unnecessary for an observatory—not exactly a lucrative target in the orderly era past. Such negligence now proved catastrophic. The glass shattered, and Su Xiao, wearing cut-resistant gloves, cleared away the shards before hoisting herself onto the sill and climbing inside.

Direct and efficient.

Li Xingyuan felt a headache coming on. He glanced at the main door, where the lock gleamed temptingly, awaiting his touch. Still, he ran to the broken window instead, pulling himself through the jagged opening.

A strange sensation washed over him as he entered the observatory. For a moment, his vision plunged into darkness—not the gentle blackness of closed eyes, but a deeper, more absolute blindness, as though light itself had abandoned him.

After several seconds, his sight slowly returned.

“Don’t come any closer.”

He heard Su Xiao’s voice.

She stood there, yet her lips hadn’t moved. Instinctively, Li Xingyuan took a step forward. His muscles registered the action, but his eyes insisted he remained rooted to the spot.

“Damn it.”

He heard Su Xiao’s voice again, but his body reacted first, propelled by the disorienting disconnect. Gradually, the scene before him began to shift, taking on a peculiar bluish hue, as if filtered through a surreal lens. He collided with something—a body. Su Xiao’s?

“Stop moving!” Her voice rang out harshly.

Only after a few seconds did the image catch up. The wobbling blue filter resolved, revealing Li Xingyuan staggering unevenly toward Su Xiao, colliding directly with her. As he came to a halt, the bluish tint vanished, replaced by a sickly reddish hue. Everything resembled a grotesque oil painting.

He froze, standing still. After a few moments, the scene normalized.

Li Xingyuan quickly pieced it together.

What he was seeing now were echoes of the past.

It was akin to experiencing severe network lag in a video game—his eyes perceived events seconds behind reality. And then there were those eerie shifts in color.

The Doppler effect, visible even at extremely low velocities—blue shifts and red shifts caused by movement.

But what unfolded here wasn’t due to latency or a flaw in Li Xingyuan’s vision. It stemmed from another cause entirely.

Within the observatory, light had slowed.

Slowed to the point of being slower than sound. Thus, his sight, reliant on light, lagged behind his hearing.

The laws of physics had been altered by some force within this space—a swamp where even light struggled to move.


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