Lu Huan was supposed to go to the government office today to hand over the affairs of the Ministry of War’s Second Division to several clerks until the next assistant director took office.

However, he reported himself ill.

He had always been diligent and had never once taken leave. These past few days, he had even been working himself to the bone handling official matters. So this sudden leave of absence was truly strange.

But it was said that last night, for some unknown reason, Lu Huan had gone out of the city. It was assumed that he caught a chill on the way back, and so now the Second Division’s supervising secretary—whose rank was one level lower than his—readily approved his leave.

At this moment, the Minister of War was frowning deeply, troubled over whether he should inform the Zhenyuan General of the truth about the Ninth Prince’s parentage that he had learned the previous night.

Forget it. The Zhenyuan General was somewhat reckless, like a typical military man. It would be better not to tell him for now. He should first send someone to investigate and confirm the truth. Once everything was clear, he could then discuss it with the general.

If Han Yue hadn’t once again pulled that “running away from home” stunt last night—actually going to sleep soundly at the Changchun Temple—he probably wouldn’t have stumbled upon the matter by accident at all.

Thinking so, when the servant came to say that Han Yue had woken up, the Minister of War decided to give her a proper scolding.

Who would have thought Han Yue looked completely baffled and said, “Father, I went to bed early last night and didn’t know anything after that. How could I have gone to Changchun Temple by myself?”

Han Yue was willful; she had pretended to be kidnapped before. Last night, when he saw the window wide open but no signs of a struggle inside, the Minister of War assumed she had gone to the temple on her own again, leaving behind traces to make it look like she’d been abducted. Feeling helpless, he played along and went to the temple to bring her back.

But now she claimed she hadn’t gone—?

The Minister of War’s expression instantly changed.

That day, the entire residence of the Minister of War was filled with an air of tension and vigilance.

Of course, that is another matter.

───♡───

At this very moment, Lu Huan was still inside his government quarters, staring fixedly at the strange, half-transparent screen that had appeared out of thin air—

For now, he didn’t know what it was, so he simply called it a “curtain.”

He had summoned a few servants from the courtyard to come in, but after a short while, he dismissed them again.

From their blank reactions, Lu Huan quickly confirmed three things:

First, this was not a dream.

Second, no one else could see this inexplicable “curtain”—only he could.

Third, the curtain could be drawn out from the right side and closed at will.

It was truly beyond comprehension. If anyone else knew of it, they would probably think he had lost his mind.

Lu Huan stared at the bizarre, semi-transparent thing, his face dark and his heart full of doubt. Yet the words that had flashed when the curtain appeared—“Do you wish to see the one you long for?”—still echoed in his mind.

After taking leave, he shut the door and began to examine it carefully.

Floating in midair, once the lines of text faded, the curtain revealed the room he had seen earlier.

Lu Huan frowned, his gaze sharp as he examined every corner of the place.

He hadn’t been mistaken. In the middle of the room was indeed a bed—but one utterly different from the carved beds of his era. It was of an odd, indescribable style. The two pillows at the head were strange as well—round and puffed, as if stuffed with cotton. Neither among commoners nor in the palace had such pillows ever existed.

Beside the bed stood an enormous mirror-like object, about three chi wide. Yet it reflected far more clearly than any bronze mirror, showing even the opposite side of the room—Lu Huan tentatively guessed that it might be a kind of mirror.

The window was also very strange.

Lu Huan knew it was a window—because faint sunlight could be seen filtering through from outside and spilling across the floor—yet he had never seen window frames made of such material. It looked somewhat like silver, but not entirely so.

And the floor, the desk, the chairs—each struck Lu Huan with a powerful visual shock.

He could more or less guess what those things were, but in his eyes, it was as if the moon in the heavens had suddenly fallen to earth—so new, so astonishing.

After carefully examining everything, he found that beyond this room, there was a main hall connected to it.

The main hall wasn’t very large either, but the next instant, he froze in surprise again.

What was that?

Hanging on the wall of the main hall was a rectangular black object in landscape orientation.

Everything here was an entirely new existence to him. He tried hard to discern what each thing could possibly be. Then, after looking around the whole room, he instinctively wanted to see more.

However, new words instantly popped up on the curtain—

【Sorry, Zai Zai, your current points are insufficient to unlock new sections. Please complete main or side quests to unlock the areas you wish to visit.】

At the same time, that line was read aloud in a mechanical voice.

When Lu Huan heard the term “Zai Zai,” the corner of his brow twitched violently; he did his best to ignore the ridiculous nickname that made his expression shift through several colors.

He understood what the words meant and asked, “What tasks?”

Text appeared on the curtain again—

【Ten main quests have been completed. The eleventh has yet to unlock. Please complete Side Quest Eight: Before leaving, finish handling all affairs of the Ministry of War’s Second Division and earn the admiration of your subordinates.】

Although all of this was utterly beyond reason, fantastical even, perhaps because his obsession with ghosts and spirits had taken root too deeply in his heart, he didn’t bother to question what was going on. Instead, he immediately dismissed the curtain, hastily mounted his horse, and rushed to the government office!

Sweeping his robe aside, he sat down behind his desk. Within half an hour, he had written out solutions to every accumulated problem in the Second Division’s files!

Then, under the astonished gazes of the clerks, he disappeared as quickly as he came—mounting his horse once more and galloping back to his quarters. Breathless, he pulled the curtain out again from his right sleeve.

The curtain seemed taken aback by his speed; it froze for a moment before new text and that same mechanical voice appeared again—

【Congratulations on completing Side Quest Eight. Reward: +2 points. Zai Zai, you may now unlock one new section.】

Lu Huan stared at the curtain.

The next moment, a map appeared on it—it looked like a map of a city.

As he looked at the strange names across the map—“school,” “hospital,” “CBD tower,” and others—Lu Huan felt his entire worldview shake. His mouth opened slightly in disbelief, his expression going blank for several seconds.

He tried to match these words with things he knew. “School”… did that mean a private academy?

As for that crooked line of foreign letters—“CBD”—he couldn’t guess their meaning at all.

But wait—suddenly, Lu Huan remembered the tiny characters engraved on the lantern gifted to him by that spirit. Among those minute symbols, a few looked somewhat similar to the letters before him.

He hurried to the eaves, took down the lantern, and compared its worm-like script to the markings on the map—and to his shock, found that several indeed corresponded!

Lu Huan’s heart pounded violently, his blood surging. The desolate despair he’d felt the night before flared back to life in an instant.

Suppressing his excitement, he placed the lantern gently on the table beside him, clenched his fists, and looked up again at the curtain.

He didn’t yet know which section he should unlock, but surely, that room—the one that had appeared on the curtain—must hold something special.

So, he chose to unlock the area surrounding that room.

Very quickly, a new section appeared on the curtain.

And then—

Lu Huan’s worldview was once again shattered!

Looking up, he saw that on the long street outside, there were flat carriages with four wheels darting past at incredible speed!

And the people coming and going along the street were dressed in the strangest fashion. The women’s clothing barely covered their bodies, while the men’s hair was extremely short. Most of them were holding small rectangular black slabs in their hands, murmuring into them as if speaking to someone.

Lu Huan was full of confusion, but then he recalled the words the wandering Daoist had said the night before: “The one you long to see does not live in the same world as you.”

In that instant, realization dawned.

Could it be—

Was this the world she lived in?

Those towering buildings rose so high they seemed to pierce the heavens, as though one could reach out and pluck a star.

In his own dynasty, such tall structures were utterly impossible. Even the observatory towers in the imperial palaces could not compare!

Those four-wheeled vehicles, racing down the streets at such speed—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call them capable of traveling a thousand li in a day. Not even the finest horses could match that pace.

The items held in those people’s hands seemed like the legendary devices that could transmit voices across a thousand li. He saw one person speak into that black slab, and soon, someone across the street raised a hand to wave back.

Lu Huan also remembered the blueprints for the insulated shelter and greenhouse that the spirit had gifted him. The designs contained things so novel that they were unheard of not only in the State of Yan, but across all four continents.

Could it be that the world she lived in belonged to some dynasty far in the future—an age countless generations after his own?

Lu Huan recalled, from beginning to end, every strange encounter he’d had since meeting that spirit. His blood surged to his head; an electric current ran up the back of his neck. In the span of a lightning flash, he was almost certain of his guess.