Xiao Lu's Wavering

What hits a person faster than a bullet—is a moment of hesitation. When you raise your gun, only to find you're aiming at yourself in the mirror.

---

Gunfire exploded through the concrete corridors of the hydroelectric station, echoes stacking layer upon layer, like someone pounding on a door in the dark.

Jiang Fei leaned behind the pillar at the left side of the entrance. A temporary bandage was wrapped around her right arm—the wound from Old Zheng's secret passage hadn't fully healed yet, and she'd just been grazed by a stray bullet while changing magazines. Gritting her teeth, she squeezed the last tube of hemostatic gel into the wound, then pulled out a second handgun from behind her waist.

Line A Lin Shen crouched beside the distribution cabinet on the right, gripping the gun Jiang Fei had shoved into his hands. He hadn't fired many shots—every one of them hit the wall or the ceiling, purely meant to suppress the enemy's fire. His trigger hand was numbed by the recoil, but he didn't dare stop.

"How much longer?" he shouted toward Jiang Fei.

Jiang Fei glanced at the timer on her wrist—a synchronized display brought from the control room, the numbers ticking down one by one.

"Seven and a half minutes," she said.

Seven and a half minutes. In the Original Line, Lin Shen was already inside the transfer pod. Line A Su Wan was in the control room maintaining the energy output. As long as the entrance could hold until the channel was fully open, it would all be over. But the Corrector's advance team had already breached the diversion tunnel of the station, their footsteps drawing closer—at least a dozen people.

Bullets struck the edge of the pillar, and cement chips sprayed across Jiang Fei's face. She didn't move. When a gap appeared in the enemy's fire, she leaned out and fired three shots in quick succession. A man grunted and fell; the footsteps hesitated for an instant.

"They're holding back," Jiang Fei said, retreating back. "They don't want to destroy the channel."

"Or they still don't dare?" Line A Lin Shen asked.

Jiang Fei looked at him but didn't answer. His face was identical to the Original Line Lin Shen, but his eyes were different—this Lin Shen had lived here for two years, and his eyes held a kind of calm that the Original Line Lin Shen lacked. It was the certainty of possession.

Suddenly, it went quiet outside.

The footsteps stopped. Only the low hum of the generators deep inside the hydroelectric station remained. Jiang Fei pricked up her ears, gun aimed at the channel entrance.

A man walked out.

He didn't raise his gun. His hands were half-open, palms outward—a standard "negotiation posture." He wore the Corrector's standard black tactical uniform, with the Corrector's emblem on the left chest of his bulletproof vest—a circle pierced by a straight line. He took off his helmet, revealing a young face, about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, lips pressed tightly together.

Xiao Lu.

Jiang Fei didn't lower her gun. "Stop right there."

Xiao Lu halted three meters away, raising his hands. He looked at Jiang Fei, then at Line A Lin Shen.

"The Original Line one—he's already inside," he said.

It wasn't a question.

Jiang Fei said nothing, her finger resting on the trigger. She had no strong feelings about Xiao Lu, good or bad—this young man was the best shot in the entire Corrector unit. He'd chased them all the way, but from start to finish, every time he fired, he happened to miss.

Last time on the highway, he'd hit her arm. But at that distance, with his marksmanship, that shot should have hit her in the chest.

"What do you want to say?" Jiang Fei asked.

Xiao Lu was silent for a few seconds, then lowered his hands to his sides. His right hand still held the gun, but he wasn't pointing it at anyone.

"Let me go see Lu Yan," he said. "I'll help you persuade him."

Line A Lin Shen stood up from behind the distribution cabinet, gun pointed at the ground. He glanced at Jiang Fei, then nodded at Xiao Lu.

"Let him go."

Jiang Fei frowned. "Are you crazy? He's Lu Yan's man."

"He's not," Line A Lin Shen said.

Xiao Lu looked at Line A Lin Shen, a flicker of something complicated passing through his eyes. As if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing—just nodded, then walked past Jiang Fei toward the depths of the channel.

Jiang Fei watched him walk past, her finger never leaving the trigger. But Xiao Lu walked steadily, his back straight, no superfluous movements.

"How do you know?" Jiang Fei asked Line A Lin Shen in a low voice.

"Because what he said was 'the Original Line one,' not 'the target,'" Line A Lin Shen said. "And when he said the name Lin Shen, his tone was different."

He paused, then added: "I've lived two years in Mirror A. I know the difference between when someone says 'a person' and when they say 'a target.'"

Jiang Fei said nothing more. Outside the channel, the footsteps resumed—Xiao Lu hadn't come alone. The Corrector forces behind him were still advancing.

---

Xiao Lu walked down the underground corridor of the hydroelectric station.

He'd been here once before, two years ago. Back then, he'd just completed his third month with the Corrector unit and was sent to do a routine inspection of the old station—really just to confirm that the channel had been completely sealed. He'd stood in the control room for five minutes, looking at the dust-covered equipment, thinking he would never have anything to do with this place again for the rest of his life.

Fate has no logic to it.

At the end of the corridor, Lu Yan stood in front of a steel-plated door, flanked by only two guards. He wasn't wearing combat gear—just a dark suit, his tie impeccably fastened. His silver-gray hair was combed back from his forehead, revealing his stern brow. The scar on his right hand looked like an old crack under the cold fluorescent light.

"Chief," Xiao Lu said, stopping.

Lu Yan didn't turn around. His fingers slowly traced the weld seam of the steel door. "They're inside."

"Yes."

"Lin Shen has entered transfer."

"Yes."

Lu Yan finally turned, his gaze falling on Xiao Lu. His eyes were a deep gray, like a winter lake, betraying no emotion.

"At the entrance, Jiang Fei and the other Lin Shen are holding the line. You led the team there," he said. "How many men do you have?"

Xiao Lu's Adam's apple bobbed. "Twelve."

"Twelve people can't beat an injured Jiang Fei and an architect who's never fired a gun before." Lu Yan's tone was so calm he might as well have been stating the weather. "Xiao Lu, how many years have you been with the Corrector unit?"

"Two years."

"In two years, you've never seen a single bird erased by us. But tell me—the people you've erased, did they really deserve it? Were they really meant to die?"

Xiao Lu froze on the spot.

"Answer me."

"You think they deserve to die," Xiao Lu said, his voice dry. "You said that Mirror Projection would tear two worlds apart, that their existence was a threat—"

"That's not what I asked," Lu Yan interrupted. "I asked what you yourself think."

The corridor fell silent. From deep within the station came the resonant hum of metal vibrating—the sound of the transfer channel warming up.

Xiao Lu took a deep breath. He knew that what he was about to say might cost him dearly. But he said it anyway.

"I don't know," he said, speaking slowly, each word as if squeezed from his throat. "But I saw Lin Shen. The Original Line one. He chased all the way here from that world, alone, with nothing. In his world, no one remembers her. Her name is almost gone. But he still came."

He looked at Lu Yan.

"He was willing to give up his own life. Everything we've done... is it really right?"

He looked at the expression in Lu Yan's eyes. This was the chief he knew—silent, always calm, always right. But suddenly he felt that the kind of rightness in Lu Yan's eyes and the kind of obsession in Lin Shen's eyes weren't all that different. One was desperate to erase a person, the other was desperate to remember one.

It was just that one had chosen to let go, and the other had chosen to hold on.

"You're my subordinate," Lu Yan said, his voice still flat. "I trained you. I gave you a reason to live. And now you ask me whether it's right?"

He took a step forward.

"For someone like me, right or wrong doesn't matter. I need to make sure the two worlds don't collapse. My wife, in that accident—" He paused. This was the first time Xiao Lu had heard him mention his wife. "—in that accident, she was completely erased. Do you understand what 'completely' means? It means no world can have her. She doesn't exist. She doesn't exist anywhere."

He raised his hand and placed it on Xiao Lu's shoulder.

"So I can't let the same thing happen again. No matter the cost."

Xiao Lu felt the weight of the hand on his shoulder. He lowered his head and saw the burn scar on the back of Lu Yan's hand. He'd heard Old Zheng mention that scar—from when the lab exploded, and Lu Yan had reached out to grab his wife, but caught only air.

But when he looked up again, his expression hadn't changed.

"You've done so much for her," Xiao Lu said. "But have you ever thought about what she would want you to do?"

Lu Yan slowly withdrew his hand.

"If she had a problem with it, she could tell me herself," he said. "But she can't. So I make the decisions for her."

Then he drew his gun.

The movement was too fast—Xiao Lu didn't even see where he'd pulled the gun from. He only heard a dull thud, and a searing pain exploded above his right knee. His body buckled involuntarily, dropping him to the ground. Blood immediately soaked through his pant leg, spreading across the concrete floor.

"Traitor." Lu Yan holstered the gun, his tone never wavering.

He looked down at Xiao Lu, kneeling on the ground, and paused for a second.

"But you're right. She wouldn't want me to do this."

The words were very soft. As if they weren't meant for Xiao Lu at all.

Then he stepped around Xiao Lu and walked toward the channel entrance, flanked by his two guards. His leather shoes hit the concrete floor, each step steady. His silver-gray hair looked like a thin layer of frost in the dim light.

Xiao Lu knelt on the ground, the blood still seeping from his right leg. He braced himself against the floor, his knuckles white.

"She wouldn't..." he repeated in a low voice.

---

At the channel entrance.

When Jiang Fei heard the gunshot from inside, her movements paused for an instant. But the Corrector advance team had already closed to within twenty meters, their firepower twice as intense as before. She had only one satchel charge left, and she needed to save it for the critical moment.

"He failed," Jiang Fei said.

Line A Lin Shen nodded. He leaned against the wall, ejected the magazine to check—four rounds left.

A撞击 sound came from the iron door at the channel entrance. Someone was breaching it.

Jiang Fei pulled out the last satchel charge and yanked the fuse.

"Get back," she said. "Fall back to the transfer pod. I'll handle this here."

"The two of us together—"

"I owe them." Jiang Fei cut him off, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. "Go. Don't let both worlds end up for nothing."

Line A Lin Shen looked at her, then turned and ran deeper into the corridor. His footsteps faded into the distance.

Jiang Fei wedged the satchel charge into a crack in the pillar, pulled out the detonation cord, and estimated the distance. Small pieces of rubble had already started falling from the ceiling panel, each one striking the concrete with a dull thud.

The iron door burst open.

Lu Yan charged in with his men. He didn't look at Jiang Fei. His gaze went straight past her, fixed on the depths of the corridor behind her—the direction of the transfer pod.

"You think you can stop me?" he asked.

"Let's find out," Jiang Fei said.

Then she bit down on the fuse.

Orange sparks raced along the detonation cord, like a blazing snake in the dim channel. Jiang Fei retreated behind the pillar, counted down from three, and pressed the detonator.

A deafening roar—the prefabricated ceiling panels shattered, and debris and rebar cascaded down like a waterfall, sealing the entrance completely. Dust surged forward like a tidal wave, swallowing all light and sound.

Jiang Fei slumped against the base of the wall, wiping the dust from her face. The bandage on her right arm was completely soaked red, but she paid it no mind.

Deep in the corridor, the transfer pod glowed with a blue aura.

The countdown reached zero.

---

Lu Yan stood outside the pile of rubble, staring at the sealed entrance, silent for a long time.

Behind him, two guards stepped forward, ready to begin clearing the debris. Suddenly, he put his hand on one of their shoulders.

"Call an ambulance," he said.

"Chief?"

"Xiao Lu's leg," he said. "Don't let him die in the channel."

The guard froze for a moment, then turned and ran out.

Lu Yan stood alone in front the rubble pile, his suit covered in gray dust. He reached out and touched the twisted rebar—a cold sensation traveled up from his fingertips.

Then he turned and walked back along the corridor.

As he made his way out, he passed the spot where Xiao Lu had knelt. The pool of blood on the ground was already covered by dust, but its outline was still visible.

He didn't stop.

When he walked out of the hydroelectric station, it had started raining again. Fine raindrops pattered against the concrete walls, the sound very soft, like someone turning pages in the distance.Lu Yan stood in the rain, his silver-gray hair plastered to his forehead. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"Continue the pursuit," he said. "The passage isn't fully stable yet. You go around from Line B—I'll send you the coordinates."

The person on the other end acknowledged and hung up.

He put away his phone and looked up at the gray sky. Rain slid down from the corners of his eyes, impossible to tell whether it was really rain or something else.

Everything he believed in—his order, his justice, his "for your own good"—suddenly felt weightless at this moment, like paper soaked through by the rain.

He thought of his wife.

He remembered the dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. Remembered how she always said "It's okay," even when it wasn't.

Remembered the moment her hand slipped out of his.

If she were still here, what would she say?

She'd probably pat him on the shoulder and scold him, "Are you stupid or what?"

He swallowed back the words—she could no longer tell him. So he made all the decisions for her.

But he began to wonder if those decisions were what she truly wanted.

The rain fell harder and harder.