Chopsticks clattered against the rim of the porcelain bowl, and Chen Yan's fingertips went cold.
The sweet rice cake in the bowl was still steaming, its fragrance mingling with the savory aroma of scallion pancakes in the air.
The TV host was reporting a victory at the front, announcing that humanity had once again held back the monster tide.
His daughter bounced over with her drawing book, clutching half a sweet rice cake in her soft little hand as she tried to feed it to him. "Eat, Daddy! It's sweet!"
Her movements and tone—even the temperature of the rice cake—were exactly the same as yesterday.
The same as the day before, the day before that, and every day in the past three months, according to his "memories." Not a single detail was different.
Chen Yan opened his mouth and took a bite. It was cloyingly sweet, sweet enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
His keen senses told him something was wrong. The past three months had gone far too smoothly.
Rock City, which had been destroyed, was rebuilt in just three days. Even the new grass between the bricks had grown in neat rows.
Even the hum of the wind passing over the utility poles was exactly the same as the day before.
Every morning at exactly seven-thirty, his neighbor, Old Zhang, called up from downstairs to invite him to work. The rise at the end of his voice never changed.
Whenever his coworker Xiao Wang saw him, he always patted his arm first and said, "You're looking well today, Brother Chen." Even the force of the pat was exactly the same.
Even the orange cat that always rubbed against his pant leg did it exactly three times a day. Not one