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Everyone sat quietly, their eyes either closed in meditation or gazing towards the front, waiting for the pastor to begin. Dockworkers dressed in worn clothes sat side by side with the well-dressed elite of society, all sharing the same solemn expression in the presence of the sacred.

Lin Xian and CC walked down the central aisle, scanning the rows for a place to sit. Lin Xian glanced around, noticing the diversity of those gathered. It wasn’t just a mix of rich and poor; there were people of different nationalities, each representing a corner of the world. He spotted an Italian man with striking features, an Irish woman in simple clothes, and several people with Asian traits, though they weren’t from X Country. Naturally, there were also many Black dockworkers—understandable given the proximity to the docks.

Lin Xian wondered how many people were here just for the free breakfast. CC had once joked that he was probably the only one, as everyone else seemed genuinely pious. Lin Xian didn’t believe that; he thought CC was just a little too innocent.

He followed her silently as she found them a seat along the edge. They had barely settled in before the pastor arrived, leading the choir onto the platform. The choir began to sing, the opening notes of the hymns echoing through the church.

The service had begun, and for Lin Xian, so had his journey towards a free meal. He had no idea how to sing hymns, but he had heard this melody before. He simply mouthed the words, pretending to be caught up in the moment.

While he was fake-singing, he glanced sideways at CC. She sang with pure devotion, her face alight with sincerity, much like a student trying her hardest to impress a teacher. Lin Xian blinked, feeling that this version of CC reminded him of Chu An Qing—innocent, sincere, warm, and kind.

The CC from 600 years in the future had a different aura. She was still kind, but it took time for her warmth to show. Before they became close, Lin Xian had thought of her as cold and distant—someone who kept people at arm’s length. But it was understandable, considering her experiences and the harsh environment she grew up in.

This CC from 1952 was different. Though stubborn at times, she had a soft heart. Despite Lin Xian’s reputation as a “newspaper thief,” she had still chosen to bring him here, helping him get a meal even though he clearly lacked devotion.

It made Lin Xian think. Was every Millennial Stake girl really the same person, reincarnated over and over? Or were they different individuals, each chosen to carry the same fate?

If CC in 1952 was the same as Zhang Yu Qian, Chu An Qing, and all the other Millennial Stake girls, it would mean that they were all one and the same, their memories wiped clean each time they were reborn. It would be like how Gao Wen existed across different world lines, always the same person but with different names.

But if each Millennial Stake girl died, leaving only a lookalike to take her place due to some mysterious power, then CC wasn’t Chu An Qing, nor Zhang Yu Qian. They would be entirely different people, connected only by their appearance.

Lin Xian’s musings were interrupted as the hymn ended. The next part of the service involved prayer—first private, then communal. Lin Xian watched as CC clasped her hands, her eyes closed in deep prayer.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

For Lin Xian, a firm believer in materialism, this part of the service was hard to take seriously. Did praying actually work? If it did, then Gauss’ virus wouldn’t have spread, he wouldn’t have had to leave Ying Jun and Yu Xi, and Jesus could have just stopped the World-Ending White Light. But that wasn’t how the world worked.

Still, the promise of free corn chowder and bread was real. Lin Xian’s stomach growled, reminding him of his priorities. For now, “materialism” meant “food.”

So he closed his eyes, clasped his hands together like CC, and continued pondering his theory. At first, he believed that CC and Chu An Qing were different people—their personalities were just too different. He even used Chu An Qing’s gentle nature to mock CC once, which had annoyed her.

But as they spent more time together, Lin Xian noticed similarities between them. Now, seeing this version of CC, he saw traits from both Chu An Qing and the future CC in her. It made him lean towards the idea that they were all the same person.

Could Zhang Yu Qian, Chu An Qing, and even the CC of 2624 all be this same girl from 1952 Brooklyn?

He opened his eyes, glancing at CC beside him. He wasn’t sure how to think of her anymore. There was no way to prove or disprove his theories. Besides, was this CC even the Millennial Stake yet? Could she become it?

So many questions remained unanswered, and it was going to be a long journey to find the truth.

Lin Xian sighed. He had only just arrived in 1952—less than three hours ago—and already he had made significant progress. He had found CC, gathered some clues, and had a direction for his investigation.

Slowly but surely, things were coming together. With the “kite string” on the back of his head guiding him, Lin Xian felt secure. He wasn’t afraid to stay in Brooklyn longer if it meant getting to the bottom of everything.

After the prayer ended, the pastor began reading scripture and giving a sermon. CC listened attentively, nodding occasionally. Lin Xian, however, wasn’t interested. He began planning his next steps for the “Brooklyn Project.”

To complete his mission, he needed a clear plan. After some thought, Lin Xian settled on a three-step approach:

First, stay by CC’s side until she became the Millennial Stake. Witnessing how she became it might provide clues to break the fate of the Millennial Stake and save Chu An Qing.

Next, once the first Millennial Stake was established, investigate Einstein. Find out if Albert Einstein was connected to the Genius Club—whether he was its president and how he had the ability to foresee the future. Ȑ�

Lastly, use the information from the first two steps to unravel the mysteries of 1952. Figure out if the events were connected to the World-Ending White Light of 2624 and understand the truth behind Zhang Yu Qian, Chu An Qing, and CC’s shattered dreams.

With this plan in mind, everything seemed clearer. Lin Xian nodded to himself, hoping that things would go smoothly and he could return to 2234 with all the answers.

…

By then, the priest had finished his sermon.

He closed the Bible on the altar, leading the congregation in a final prayer. Then he placed his left hand on his chest while his right hand made the sign of the cross — touching his forehead, chest, left shoulder, and right shoulder — and said, “Amen.”

All the believers followed suit, including Lin Xian, who repeated, “Amen,” along with everyone else.

And with that, the service was over. Anyone who had questions, confessions, or anything else to discuss could now speak with the priest. Otherwise, they could leave in an orderly fashion or go outside to receive a free breakfast.

“This is it,” Lin Xian whispered, his eyes narrowing with determination.

He had already scoped out the layout, ready to put his “river otter act” into action.

The two frontmost rows, closest to the altar and the priest, were filled with high-society members. Their clothes and dignified manner spoke of wealth and status, and they seemed far more devout than the workers sitting behind them.

“It’s time to put on a show,” Lin Xian muttered to himself. “Thanks to VV for all those Hollywood acting lessons; I actually learned something useful.”

He squeezed past CC, heading straight to the front, where sunlight poured in and bathed the priest in a warm glow.

CC watched him go, confused. “Where are you going?”

Lin Xian turned, quickly gesturing for her to stay quiet and just watch.

Finally, he stopped, only a step away from the priest.

He took a deep breath, and his expression suddenly changed to one of deep regret and sorrow. Lowering his head, he spoke in sincere English, “Father, I have sinned.”

Instantly, the room fell silent. Every eye turned to look at him, especially the wealthy members of the congregation in the front rows. They eyed Lin Xian’s clothes, whispering among themselves.

The priest looked at him kindly, adjusting his glasses. “My child, what has happened?”

“I… I…” Lin Xian hesitated, clutching his forehead, his face filled with pain. “I have sinned. To keep warm, to fill my stomach, I cruelly killed some otters… They were living creatures, and I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have eaten them or used their skins to stay warm…”

“But, Father, I had no choice. No one would help me. I prayed, but there was no answer. So, in desperation, I took the lives of that otter family. Blood… blood splattered all over me. At that moment, it felt like the devil himself had taken over me…”

“Father, I seek forgiveness. I want God to forgive me for my sins. I want to apologize to those poor otters. I should never have done what I did… I shouldn’t…”

He covered his face, seemingly unable to continue.

Around him, the congregation was stunned. Some gasped, others dabbed at their eyes, grieving for the otters, whispering to each other.

“Poor child… those poor otters…”

“Look, he’s telling the truth. His clothes are made of otter skin… Poor boy, he doesn’t even have proper clothes.”

“Oh my, he doesn’t even have shoes. Look at his feet, all dirty… Imagine walking around barefoot in this cold.”

“In weather like this, with clothes like that, he’d be dead by winter. Poor boy, he’s as pitiful as those otters, about to be devoured by the harsh winter.”

The priest closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh, and rested his right hand on Lin Xian’s shoulder.

“Child, you are not at fault. We are. We are to blame for not answering your prayers in time. We… came too late.”

“Believe me, God will forgive your sins. Those otters who died at your hands will be blessed in Heaven. They will forgive you.”

“Those who find their way back to the light will always be saved. Do not be haunted by the shadows of the past, my child. We will provide you with a winter coat shortly.”

“Now, let us pray together for the otters. Bless them in Heaven.”

Lin Xian, following the priest’s guidance, prayed for the otters.

Otters, I hope you have a good life next time, in America.

Then he made the sign of the cross once again, touching his forehead, chest, and shoulders.

“Amen.”

At that moment, a well-dressed gentleman approached Lin Xian, bowing slightly.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, please take my shoes. I have another pair in my car. I just want to help, even if it’s a small gesture.”

Then, a wealthy woman in a black veil stepped forward, draping a scarf around Lin Xian’s neck.

“Child, take this scarf. Don’t let yourself freeze.”

And so, Lin Xian also received a long winter coat from the priest. Though it was old and made of rough fabric, it was thick and warm. As soon as he put it on, he felt warmth spread through him.

“This is great,” Lin Xian said, standing outside the chapel, wrapped in the coat, standing next to CC. “Look at this — shoes, a coat, and even a scarf. And soon there’ll be free corn chowder and bread. Jesus is the real deal.”

“The real deal?” CC tilted her head, curious. “What does that mean? Is it some kind of phrase?”

“Uh…” Lin Xian paused, unsure how to explain. “It just means I’m really impressed, really thankful.”

“Oh, I see.” CC nodded, not entirely understanding but remembering the expression.

Lin Xian turned to the church window to check his reflection, admiring his new outfit — the “Church Set.”

It was quite an improvement. He had only been in Brooklyn for five hours, and already he’d upgraded from the “Otter Set” to the much warmer “Church Set.”

He wondered if there were more chances to upgrade his gear later.

What sort of high-level equipment could this era have in store for him?

After the service, the well-dressed congregation left, while the ragged workers and dockworkers lined up for the free breakfast. Everyone got a bowl of corn chowder and a thick piece of bread.

The moment Lin Xian held the bread, he could tell something was up.

“It’s heavy,” he noted.

Much heavier than he expected. It wasn’t so much bread as it was a lump of hardened dough.

Lin Xian and CC sat on a wooden crate at the dock, eating. As she had said earlier, CC broke off half of her bread and handed it to Lin Xian.

He quickly waved her off. “No, no, you keep it. It’s not much, anyway. I’ll just eat mine.”

“Stop being stubborn,” CC insisted, dunking half of her bread into his chowder. “You’re a big guy. This little bit won’t be enough. Just eat it and stop arguing.”

Lin Xian looked at CC, who was skinny and obviously malnourished. Then he glanced down at the half of her bread, now soaking in his chowder, tiny bubbles rising to the surface.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He kept his head down and started eating. For some reason, CC’s bread felt softer than his own.

Once they finished eating and returned the bowls to the church, they went back to the broken dock, sitting on a wooden crate and gazing out across the river at the Manhattan skyline.

It was a cyberpunk-like experience.

Around them were old, run-down shacks, everything dirty, wet, and smelly. But a simple upward glance revealed Manhattan’s clear skyline in the distance.

Manhattan — the wealthiest area of the wealthiest city in America, with the most luxurious lifestyles and the tallest skyscrapers.

The tallest building among them was the Empire State Building, the most iconic landmark in New York. Standing 381 meters tall with 102 floors, it was the tallest building in the world at that time, holding the record from 1931 until 1972. It would be twenty more years before any building surpassed it.

It was hard to believe that all that wealth and splendor lay just across the river from the run-down Brooklyn slums. The stark contrast reminded Lin Xian of the Second Dream…

Back then, he had stood on the uneven rooftops of Old Donghai Village, gazing at the neon lights of New Donghai City in the distance, feeling that same sense of otherworldliness.

“The center of the world, Manhattan,” CC said softly from behind him.

Lin Xian turned around. He saw CC staring at the distant skyscrapers, her eyes full of longing.

“It’s the most prosperous, most beautiful place in the entire world,” she continued. “At night, when the lights are on, it’s even more beautiful. It truly is the center of the world.”

Lin Xian blinked.

The center of the world…

He remembered that description well.

In 2023, when he participated in the “World Hacker Competition,” he and Chu An Qing stayed at the Aman Hotel in Manhattan. After the celebration banquet, they had stood on the observation deck of the hotel, overlooking all of Manhattan. He had pointed out the Empire State Building to her and showed her the Rockefeller Center and the Hudson River.

Chu An Qing had been genuinely impressed then.

“So this is the center of the world?” she had said.

It just so happened that, across the river from them that night, was the very place where Lin Xian now stood with CC: Brooklyn.

He hadn’t imagined it then, but now…

He felt a connection spanning across time.

In 2023, he stood in Manhattan with Chu An Qing, looking at Brooklyn from afar. Now, in 1952, he was with CC in Brooklyn, looking across the river at Manhattan.

It was disorienting. He couldn’t help but look around…

In 1952, was the Aman Hotel already standing in Manhattan?

Probably. The building had a history spanning over a century, though it only had 23 floors. From their position on the dock in Brooklyn, it wouldn’t be visible, hidden behind the taller buildings.

“Do you really like Manhattan that much?” Lin Xian asked, seeing the longing in CC’s eyes. “Do you want to go there?”

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “Everyone in Brooklyn dreams of going to Manhattan.”

“But… we can’t get there.”

CC turned to look at the massive bridge stretching across the Hudson River.

“See that bridge connecting Brooklyn to Manhattan?”

Lin Xian nodded.

“The Brooklyn Bridge. Probably the most famous bridge in the world.”

It had been a constant feature in countless Hollywood movies. Sometimes it was blown up, sometimes it got crashed into, other times it served as a backdrop for car chases…

The bridge had a long history. When it opened in 1883, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world, the first bridge built using steel. At the time, it was hailed as the eighth wonder of the world. Even centuries later, it still stood tall.

But…

CC smiled sadly, shaking her head.

“It looks like a bridge, but really, it’s a wall — a wall that stands between Brooklyn and Manhattan, one we can never cross.”

She looked at Lin Xian and said quietly, “It’s a wall that we… will never be able to get over.”