Author: Wei Feng Ji Xu
Volume: 3
Age Rating: Mature
Translator: Xuannie Chan
Editor: Ami K.

Synopsis

Safeguarding the flow of history is not child’s play. As the capable and accomplished leader of a team of elite temporal Guardians, the last thing Song Qinglan needs is to be saddled with a useless pretty face—especially a gay one, no matter how beautiful.
Ji Yushi knows from day one that Unit 7’s captain doesn’t want him there. But he doesn’t give a damn. A genius in his own right, he has his own reasons for being on the team, and his own secrets to keep.
But neither of them proves to be what the other expected. And when their first mission becomes an unending nightmare where time itself is twisted and unnatural threats lurk around every corner, Song Qinglan finds himself irresistibly drawn to his enigmatic consultant. What memories lie behind his eyes? Can Song Qinglan part the mists of Ji Yushi’s past in order to create a shared future?

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Preview

[Hello, Ji Yushi. You are embarking on your first Rank A mission.]

Under the glow of the wall-mounted panel, safety straps slid across Ji Yushi’s calves, waist, and shoulders as he took his seat. Green text appeared on his wrist communicator, displaying the coordinates and vitals of his six teammates. Though the technician had made it clear, it finally struck Ji Yushi then: this time, when he traveled through time and space, he wasn’t going to be alone. He had a team.

[You have joined the public channel.]

The brief notification winked out and was replaced by the words of TIME’s oath.

“As a TIME traveler, I swear that I will not alter the past, speak of the present, or linger in the future.” The voices of Ji Yushi’s teammates rang through the public channel in unison, loud and strong. These were words that Ji Yushi had uttered countless times. But somehow, the multiple voices added a weight and edge to the pledge.

It was now ten seconds to the jump. A sudden deep voice sounded in Ji Yushi’s head, its melodious quality sending a tingle shivering down his nerves.

“Unit 7, cleared for our 13th Rank A mission,” Song Qinglan said breezily. “Initiating temporal jump.”

As he had done in past jumps, Ji Yushi took a deep breath. But unlike those jumps, a few seconds later, the pod began to violently jerk around.

[Warning! Deviation in trajectory detected.]

Red lights began to flash inside the pod. A dizzying, distorted stream of images winked across the flickering display panel, impossible to clearly make out in the uncanny white light suddenly rushing past the viewport. Alarms shrieked. It was an all-out assault on the senses; Ji Yushi’s head swam with the overload, guts churning as the pod tumbled nauseatingly around him.

[Unauthorized jump detected. Unauthorized jump detected.]

Something had gone horribly wrong. Ji Yushi clenched his jaw. He struggled to hit the emergency abort, but his flailing hand couldn’t reach the button in the jolting turbulence. As the alarms continued to blare, he gave up in favor of tightly gripping his armrests. The safety straps were the only thing keeping him from being flung out of his seat and cracking his head open against the wall.

It felt like an eternity, but eventually, the pod’s rollicking motion started to die down. The second everything went still, Ji Yushi snatched the nutri-solution offered by the pod’s robotic arm and took a few quick gulps. It was another long moment before he managed to collect himself. Automatically, he checked the status on the display panel.

[??p0754%$#37]

[:<“LRR”/’l’89’’]

There were only strings of strange, indecipherable code. The system had crashed. Without any temporal coordinates shown on the screen, Ji Yushi had no idea what year he was in or what temporal event awaited him outside. All he could tell through the viewport was that he had landed in a forest. Past the thick canopy were hints of a dark sky.

Unbuckling the safety straps, Ji Yushi popped the hatch and disembarked. He was greeted by the sound of violent retching. That would be Li Chun, the youngest member of Unit 7 with less than a year’s experience as a Guardian. His physical fitness was marred by a single flaw: he was prone to motion sickness. He had thrown up the second he stumbled out of his capsule. At the nauseating sounds and smell, his teammates had flung themselves away from him with the motions of people long accustomed to this turn of events, including Song Qinglan.

“Didn’t I tell you? Ten rides on the Frisbee before the next mission. How many did you take? Don’t lie.”

Li Chun threw up again before managing to gasp out, “Two…”

His teammates exchanged appalled looks.

“Two rides? Is he serious?”

“Did you spend your entire vacation trying to hook up with girls?”

“You know the simulator won’t help you overcome your motion sickness. Why the hell did you skip the Frisbee rides?”

After he was finally done emptying his stomach, Li Chun said faintly, “Because I hate the smell of throwing up.”

Pinching his nose shut, Duan Wen handed Li Chun an uncapped bottle of water. “Stop making excuses, Chun. Here, rinse out your mouth.”

“Thanks, Wen. Hey, where’s Ji?”

Ji Yushi’s pod was beside Li Chun’s. The hatch was open but its occupant was nowhere to be seen. Just as they were wondering if their consultant had been sent to another set of temporal coordinates entirely, his clear, crisp voice put an end to their worries.

“I’m right here.”

Ji Yushi was standing a dozen feet away from Li Chun. The light from the pods cast a glow over his form, illuminating the faint discomfort on his pale face. The same thought occurred to the rest of the team simultaneously:

Did he have to back up that much? I guess his fragile constitution just can’t stand a bit of puke. 

Song Qinglan looked askance at Ji Yushi, but this was no time to comment on the man’s lack of camaraderie. The display in every transporter pod showed nothing but scrambled code. Checking his wrist communicator was more successful, revealing their current temporal coordinates as “1470.8.05 04:41:31.” They were ten years past their mission coordinates and nowhere near their native time. Judging from the earlier turbulence and the system warning of an unauthorized jump, they had to have experienced some kind of glitch. It was the first in Song Qinglan’s two years of running missions.

“Duan Wen,” he barked at their tech specialist. “Check the main control panel. Find out if there’s been any data leaks or hijacking. Try to establish contact with Mission Control.”

“Yes, sir.” Duan Wen’s fingers flew across the panel in a flurry, pulling up a diagnostics display. His mouth set in a grimace. “Captain, our systems appear to be disabled.”

Song Qinglan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Duan Wen had the voice of a heavy smoker. It was even rougher now as he reported the damage. “Our main systems have gone offline and I can’t establish contact with Mission Control. The pods aren’t operational, either. I believe the local magnetic field is interfering with the signals. It’s either that or some sort of damage from the jump, but I can’t be sure. Right now, the comms is our only working tech. We’re stuck here.”

Disconsolate cursing and muttering filled the air.

“What about the mission?”

“Shit, I was planning to ask a girl I met out on a date tomorrow.”

“God, you’re such a player—”

Sudden footsteps from among the trees interrupted the chatter. The team exchanged looks. Who the hell would be wandering about in a deserted forest at four in the morning? Had someone taken a wrong turn?

TIME agents were to avoid discovery by locals if possible. With a quick tap on his wrist communicator, Duan Wen killed his display and activated the cloaking function on the pods. The forest descended into a pitch-black silence as the last traces of light winked out. Everyone stood still, ghostlike in the dark, waiting for whatever passing creature this was to leave.

Their unexpected company shuffled into view: a man, homeless from the looks of his shabby, stained clothes. The team should have been near-invisible in their black uniforms, but somehow the man seemed to know they were there. Instead of being startled by their presence as would have been normal, however, he let loose an agitated howl before charging straight at them.

Li Chun, on the periphery of the group thanks to his earlier bout of sickness, had still been feeling faint when the man’s terrible stench sent his stomach roiling once more. Cursing fervently, he grabbed the man and slammed him onto the ground. Inhuman growls spilled from his lips. He lunged at Li Chun again.

“What the hell?” Li Chun jolted back in alarm. At close range, the man’s smell was overwhelming. Then a sudden pain seared his shoulder. “Fuck!”

The guy had bitten him. Before he could do more damage, Song Qinglan lashed out in a powerful kick, sending the man rolling several feet away.

Any normal person who had just gotten kicked in the side by Song Qinglan should have stayed down for the count, but the homeless man merely groaned and got up again. This time, he threw himself at Song Qinglan. Like a panther, Song Qinglan twisted away with unhurried ease, sliding through the dark and soundlessly reappearing behind his assailant. With a swift elbow to his back, he sent the man crashing to the ground before immobilizing him in a brutal hold. He showed no sign of being winded by the effortless takedown.

Duan Wen hauled Li Chun up from the ground. “You alright, Chun?”

Li Chun winced, brushing at his shoulder. Luckily, his uniform’s protective padding had prevented any actual injury. The only trace of the bite was a faint impression of teeth on unbroken skin. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Song Qinglan jerked his chin in his direction, still atop the struggling man. “Did you ghost this guy, Chun? Maybe you should return his texts.”

Someone snorted. Ji Yushi observed the interchange in startled silence. The team was not quite what he had imagined. Its captain and members took themselves less seriously than he’d expected.

Instead of snapping back at Song Qinglan, Li Chun meekly tied up the transient with a look on his face that said he was barely tolerating the foul odor—though honestly, it was karma for making his teammates endure the stench of him being sick so many times before. The man wouldn’t stop thrashing and groaning like he’d gone mad, even after he was in restraints. His harsh, hoarse howls echoed in the forest, sounding like a man-eating monster out of some B-grade horror flick. Like something inhuman. It was enough for Song Qinglan to realize that something wasn’t quite right.

“Flashlight.”

To his surprise, it was Ji Yushi who stepped forward with one in hand. He flicked it on, though he could only take one glance at the struggling man before immediately looking away with a queasy expression. It was obvious that he didn’t have the constitution to handle the sight, and just as obvious that he was going to gag.

Song Qinglan was suddenly reminded of their consultant’s role. He was supposed to be their Watcher, but it seemed like he didn’t have the stomach to perform the duties required. As they had all expected. Damn. “Can you handle it?” he asked. “If you can’t, switch places with one of the others.”

Ji Yushi’s pale neck was a stiff, stubborn line in the dark. He was clearly putting on a brave front. “I’ll try my best.”

“See that you do,” Song Qinglan warned.

…

_{Proofreader: Paula Dip, Annie}

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