When Shall We Trim the Candle by the Western Window Together?

It was the morning of the ninth day of the month.

A makeshift platform had been built in front of the Cube's west gate, embedded in the upper half of Beauty Mountain. A pale red barrier covered the archway.

A young man in uniform addressed Professor Chen and Chen Shu, though mostly Chen Shu. "Professor Chen, Mr. Chen, there'll be a scan when you go in. You can't bring anything with spatial storage properties. If you have anything like that, you can leave it with me for safekeeping."

"I don't," Professor Chen said. He couldn't afford one.

"Are phones, watches, and necklaces all right?" Chen Shu asked.

"Yes. You can leave your phone with me, though. You won't have much use for it inside. A watch to check the time is enough."

"All right."

So Chen Shu turned off his phone and handed it over.

"I'll return it when you come out." The young man took out two futuristic-looking metal masks. "Both of you will also need to wear these when you go in. Each mask lasts more than twelve hours. If you haven't come out by then, we'll go in and remind you."

"You don't need to call me a teacher."

"Let me help you put it on."

"Thank you."

The mask fitted almost flush against his face, with a faint glow at the eyes. It looked like Iron Man's mask, all sleek science fiction, and provided both breathable air and night vision.

Through the pale red barrier, Chen Shu saw that the Cube's west gate was open, but the barrier kept any sound from coming through.

They passed through the scanners one by one, which checked for Spatial Items. The Crystal was immune to them.

Then they entered the Cube.

A chill brushed his skin as he passed through the barrier.

The light inside the Cube was dim. Beyond the entrance lay a passage several meters long, growing darker the farther in they went.

Chen Shu gave his eyes a moment to adjust, then looked around.

Unlike its exterior, the Cube's interior had smoother curves. It was no longer a perfect cube. Dense Runes covered the inner walls, all of them level one or two.

At the center stood a rectangular stone platform with a flat top. Above it floated an irregular black stone about the size of a palm.

Behind the platform was a stone stele glowing faintly white, facing the east gate.

Many crates were stacked haphazardly on the ground. They looked new, nothing like objects that had sat there for five thousand years.

In fact, even without precautions, letting outside air rush in would not quickly damage what was inside.

"Just like the other Cubes," Chen Shu murmured, continuing to look around.

If this was like the others, the crates held handicrafts from that era, precious materials needed by cultivators, and specially made books of various kinds. Some things that had been valuable then were worth little now. Others that had once been unremarkable were now worth a fortune, history having given them new meaning.

But the more valuable thing sat above the central stone platform.

That stone.

In ancient times, it had been called Mustard Seed Stone, Storage Stone, World Stone, and other names. These days, everyone called it Space Stone.

It contained a space of its own that could hold objects. If the environment inside was stable, it could even hold living beings. Strike it with enough force to shatter it, and the space within would divide in the same proportions.

People once believed it might be the remains of another shattered universe. Later, after old Lord Ouyuangong proposed On Planes, they began to speculate that it came from a shattered plane instead.

People processed tiny fragments of Space Stone, setting up a way to open them and anti-theft restrictions, and turned them into Spatial Items.

So Spatial Items had nothing to do with how skilled people were at manipulating space. Space Stone was a kind of ore, and not one this planet produced. Cultivators through the ages had used up most of it, making Spatial Items outrageously expensive today.

Some countries regulated it outright.

A Space Stone this large, capable of holding living beings, was usually called a secret realm.

A strategic resource.

Now a group from the military and the Daoist Order surrounded the Space Stone, trying to take it down. Then they would open it, remove its contents, and put everything where it belonged. The stone itself would be handed over to the military as a strategic asset of Yi Nation.

For now, Chen Shu and the others were tasked with sorting the items in the crates, treating them to prevent damage, packing them, and taking them out for proper storage.

They would also have to organize some of the books later.

Perhaps one day, some of these objects would appear in a museum, and some understandings of history would be revised because of them.

Chen Shu made a circuit of the interior first. On the front of the stele, in neat Song-style characters, were the words "Western Province" and "Night God Ping Cang." The date was recorded below.

More than five thousand years later, both written characters and people's writing habits had changed slightly. Even accents had shifted. Song-style characters were rarely seen anymore. The sight of that lettering immediately felt familiar to Chen Shu and stirred an emotion he could not put into words.

But the inscription's contents, and the stele itself, caught his attention even more.

Western Province was Western Province. It was still called that today, and Yi Nation lay on Central Continent. So why write Western Province and Night God Ping Cang here?

A bold guess—

The Night God was a person! He traded futures!

Just kidding.

Chen Shu had never seen this stele before.

Either the other Cubes had no similar steles, or the authorities had kept them hidden. Now that Chen Shu had been allowed in this way, he was naturally considered qualified to see it.

Judging by everyone's reactions, it was probably the latter.

History ought to be objective and grounded in fact.

Archaeologists could not change history, and perhaps they could not make it either. But they should at least avoid concealing it and leave future generations a truer account of the past.

Yet sometimes they truly could not make everything unearthed public. Some discoveries were too shocking, some contradicted one another, and some could overturn the history they knew and the achievements they took pride in, shaking their civilization. Suppose everyone regarded someone as a great figure and a common ancestor. They delighted in the legends he had left behind and drew national pride from him. If something were unearthed one day that utterly upended his image, it might not be suitable to show the public.

Such things still had to be preserved. They must be passed down, just not to everyone.

What was the reason here?

He would ask Professor Chen when they got back.

Chen Shu followed Professor Chen and got to work.

That evening.

The group emerged from the Cube. Tents had already been pitched outside. They would rest here tonight, wake up tomorrow, and get straight back to work without a break. What a miserable grind.

After dinner, Chen Shu shared a tent with Professor Chen.

Professor Chen sat by his bed soaking his feet. He turned to answer Chen Shu's question. "Ping Cang is a Deity from the legends of ancient Western Province, roughly contemporary with the Sacred Ancestor. As for why these steles bear the names of the Deities of that time, we don't know."

Professor Chen paused. "There is one theory, though."

Chen Shu understood what he meant.

Every Cube had a stele, and every stele bore the name of a different Deity.

"What theory?"

"That the Cubes were built for those gods."

"Could it be that although they're called Sage Ancestor Cubes, the Sacred Ancestor didn't build them? The stuff in those crates seems a little too low-end."

"When something's unknown, anything is possible."

"Doesn't the Daoist Order have people who can look back into history?"

"Look back at the Sacred Ancestor?"

"Oh..."

"Go to sleep. We have to get up early."

Professor Chen went out to pour away his footbath, dried his feet, and lay down to rest. He looked just like an ordinary man.

Chen Shu still had to cultivate and chat with Qingqing.

It had been a busy, thoroughly ordinary day.

Until he fell asleep—

Chen Shu seemed to find himself in a strange place.

The sky was like a vast, semicircular blue dome, sealing the ground beneath it. Dust and mist blurred the land in the distance, where the outline of a city was barely visible.

Behind the city stretched a range of towering snowcapped mountains. The moon had risen before nightfall, and the setting sun stained the mountaintops red.

The scene looked familiar to Chen Shu, but he could not remember why.

Suddenly, a voice reached his ears:

"When shall we trim the candle by the western window together?"

Chen Shu froze. For a long while, he stood with his lips pressed tight and said nothing.

"When shall we trim the candle by the western window together?"

"..."

"When shall we trim the candle by the western window together?"

"..."

Chen Shu remained silent.

The voice did not come again.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly.

When Chen Shu woke, he felt very strange. He remembered having a strange dream, yet could not remember what he had dreamed.

He turned to look beside him. Professor Chen's bed was empty.

After getting up and dressing, Chen Shu went outside and soon learned he was not the only one who had had the dream.

Professors Shi and Liu both looked grave. Professor Shi said to Professor Liu, "I think I had a dream too, but I can't remember any of it. Nothing like this happened when we excavated the Jade Capital Cube a few years ago, did it?"

"No."

"Have you asked those three?"

"I did. It was the same for them," Professor Liu said. "They're taking it very seriously. They'll probably bring in a ninth-tier expert and a dedicated research team from Jade Capital."

"Oh... Hey, Xiao Chen, you're up?"

Professor Shi was much warmer toward Chen Shu now. During yesterday's sorting, even before they had made a detailed inventory, the knowledge Chen Shu had revealed in passing had made the professor take a liking to him. He hurriedly asked:

"Xiao Chen, did you dream anything last night?"

"I think so... It feels very strange," Chen Shu said honestly. "Like I had a dream, but can't remember a thing about it."

"That's it!"

"What's going on?"

"Every one of us had a dream last night, and it's the same for all of us. Nothing like this has happened before."

"Seriously?"

"It's strange, all right!"

"Are we still going in today?"

"I'm not afraid, but you ought to take a couple of days off, Xiao Chen."

"I'm not afraid either."

"Good. It would be best if we had another dream tonight, so we could find out what the Sacred Ancestor is trying to tell us."

"You're right."

"Have you washed up? Go get breakfast."

"Not yet."

Chen Shu picked up his things and went to wash up. Questions filled his mind. The feeling that the memory was almost there, yet still beyond his grasp, was maddening.

Could I have caused it?

Chen Shu touched the crystal he had made into a necklace.

Just then, Professor Chen came over carrying a bowl of tomato and egg noodles. He stopped when he saw Chen Shu. "You've heard? Why don't you go back and rest for a couple of days? You can return once the people from Jade Capital get to the bottom of this."

"In this day and age? You're still worried about things like that?"

"Mm. Go get some noodles."