Lin Xiaoxia’s fingers froze on the screen. That abrupt anonymous message was like an icy needle, puncturing her lazy afternoon warmth.
"Break up with him now—unless you want to watch him die in front of you. From the you of 2033."
2033? Her future self? Lin Xiaoxia’s first thought was that it had to be a prank—some jerk trying to sabotage her relationship with Xu Yuan. She unlocked her phone, swiping through her gallery, the screen flooding with warm-toned memories.
There was Xu Yuan in the café, clumsily crafting a lopsided cat latte art for her, her laughter crinkling her eyes into crescent moons. Then, the rain-soaked track field, where he draped his jacket over her shoulders, his gaze so tender it could melt. And late nights hunched over their laptops, bickering over a stubborn line of code before dissolving into shared laughter. Xu Yuan was like that—gentle, dependable, almost superhuman, yet stubborn as a mule over trivial things, like insisting on walking on the right side of the sidewalk.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar video call request popped up—the caller ID a jumble of garbled characters. Hesitating, she answered.
The face on the screen was slightly worn, sharp-eyed, yet undeniably her own—older, wearier, stripped of youth’s softness.
Future Lin Xiaoxia lifted a weathered gray tombstone into view, the camera shaking as it revealed the inscription: "Beloved Wife Lin Xiaoxia. Erected by Xu Yuan." A sharp inhale—her phone nearly slipped from her grip. The image switched again: a simple platinum ring, still gleaming, sat on her left ring finger, stark against skin roughened by time.
"Don’t doubt me. I’m you, eight years from now." Future Xiaoxia’s voice was tired but firm. "If you don’t leave him now, he’ll die in that car accident two years later."
Her mind reeled. She searched the older face for any hint of a joke but found only grim certainty—and a flicker of pain.
"And," Future Xiaoxia added, eyeing her younger self’s bangs with a mix of disdain and nostalgia, "these wispy bangs were a terrible choice. The wind just smacks them into your face. I still don’t know how Xu Yuan put up with them."
Present Xiaoxia instinctively touched her fringe. The absurdity of it—future her, critiquing her hair at a time like this?
Future Xiaoxia seemed to read her thoughts. "Don’t think this is a joke. Time’s running out. Believe me—leaving him is the only way."
The call ended abruptly, the screen plunging back into darkness.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. This has to be fake. A cruel hoax. Xu Yuan—meticulous, careful Xu Yuan—in a fatal accident?
Just then, her door creaked open. Xu Yuan stepped in, smiling softly, a bouquet of crimson roses in his hands. He knelt before her, pulling out a velvet box. Inside, a diamond ring glimmered.
"Xiaoxia," he murmured, gaze unwavering. "Marry me?"
She stared at the glittering stone, then flashed back to the cold message, the tombstone, the ring on a future, weathered hand—
A chill seized her.
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