Chapter 30: Temporal Pincer Movement!

Xu Jin is a fugitive?!

Lin Xu clearly remembered the leader of the rapid response unit telling him that "Xu Jin has already received the punishment he deserves." Yet, in the police database, his status remained "at large."

Police system records are rarely wrong. Did the captain lie?

Indeed. It seemed plausible that back then, the captain had simply given a "comforting" answer, assuming Lin Xu was just another member of a grassroots extremist organization out for revenge against Xu Jin.

But what exactly had Xu Jin done?

Lin Xu tried to click on the case file details, but the interface that refreshed was blank. In the center of the void were two words: *Top Secret.*

Insufficient clearance. A frontline officer did not have the authorization to view Xu Jin’s case files.

That changed things. If it were a simple terrorist attack, it would be accessible via the police system, as such social-order crimes fall under the jurisdiction of local police. Xu Jin’s case, however, had clearly transcended the category of a "social-order case."

What, did he attack a spaceport, too, intending to hijack a spacecraft to Mars?

Lin Xu felt a throbbing headache. He navigated back to the main page to continue digging. He couldn’t access past service records, but family and social background information were available. Parents, spouse, children, past employers, religious beliefs, political affiliation, criminal records, lawsuit history...

Lin Xu rapidly committed all the information to memory. Just then, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He glanced at the time on the police mobile terminal: 11:58.

No time left.

"Let it be," he thought. He exited the search screen and locked the terminal. He stood up, turned toward the officer who was bringing back the fleeing suspect, and waved like a helpful bystander. "Officer, are you looking for this?"

The officer looked at Lin Xu’s hands and asked, "Where did you find it?"

"Right here. He bumped into me, and it dropped."

The officer took the terminal from Lin Xu and grumbled, "Damn it, these drunks are getting more lawless by the day... Anyway, don't leave yet. Come with us to assist with the investigation; I’ll get you a commendation for your bravery."

"No need," Lin Xu waved him off. "I’m out of time."

"You *must* have time," the officer’s expression turned cold.

Lin Xu paused. *I see. He’s figured out I’m an accomplice.* He had hoped to strike up a rapport to see if he could extract any useful information, but that dream was clearly dead.

He gave up. He walked ahead of the officer toward the police station. The "Skull" suspect, who was still arguing with the police at the entrance, looked at him with a flash of surprise. Lin Xu read the unspoken subtext in his eyes: *a look of disappointment at his wasted potential.*

Lin Xu smiled. "It’s fine. The time is up anyway. Officer, the apocalypse is coming in twenty seconds. If you aren't dead by then, can you answer one question? Remember, my question is: Do you know what Xu Jin did?"

As he spoke, the officer’s expression shifted, as if he were looking at a madman. Then, a flash of white light. Lin Xu collapsed in agony, and in the final moments before his consciousness dissipated, he heard a voice shout: "I don't know!!"

...

Lin Xu opened his eyes, waking up in his own bed once again. It was 1:30 PM, and his stomach was growling. While ordering takeout on his phone, he updated the information he had gathered about Xu Jin into his notes.

1. Xu Jin is still at large and was never captured.
2. Xu Jin’s actions were not typical social crimes—likely more than just "terrorism"—to the extent that even the standard police system restricts access to his files.

These points were crucial, especially the first. Even in 2025, it was incredibly difficult for a wanted man to live domestically. Twenty years later, with the further integration of AI and information systems, staying hidden was practically impossible.

Either he had fled abroad, or... perhaps, like Jiang Xingye, he was already on Mars.

*Incredible.* You lunatics from the Planetary Reincarnation Organization really made it to Mars? You really went to the "other shore," didn't you?

Lin Xu shook his head and added a few less significant details to the document. Father: Xu Qianlin. Mother: Zhang Wan. He had worked at only one place, the Jinling Institute of Materials, but only until the end of 2028. Did he leave the institute and join the organization then? Uncertain.

*Keep it as a question mark.* Lin Xu marked it as "secondary importance."

With the new clues organized, his food arrived. As he ate, he pondered his next move. It was clear that using the bracelet to find information was a dead end. Whether it was Jiang Xingye or Xu Jin, their data was highly sensitive. Touching it triggered alarms.

As for his own information? That was a black box. His resume was public, and after confirming he had once been the president of Sky-High Tech, he had tried searching for his own name in the bracelet world. But no matter how he looked at it, the results were just a generic "history of a professional manager’s growth." Furthermore, his future self from twenty years ahead had left no information for his past self. Not even a diary.

*Fair enough. Who keeps a diary in this day and age?*

Understanding himself required a tedious, complex process. His own information was in the same state as Jiang Xingye’s and Xu Jin’s: it wasn't that it couldn't be found, but the marginal utility was too low. He might need a dozen attempts just to find a single trace.

Better to tear it all down and start over. Changes in the real world could influence the future world, provided key nodes were triggered.

*What is this called? A temporal pincer movement!*

Lin Xu swallowed the last bite of his pork trotter rice with satisfaction. The number on the bracelet was 2; the clock on his computer also read 2. Before meeting Jiang Xingye for dinner that night, he had time for one more trip into the bracelet world.

He lay back, waiting for his stomach to settle, and reached out to touch the bracelet. Just as he was about to do so, he was struck by a sudden impulse. He picked up his phone, opened a browser, and typed in the name "Xu Qianlin."

He had always felt the name was familiar, but couldn't place where he had seen it.

Half a second later, the results popped up. Lin Xu’s eyes widened.

"Xu Qianlin: Researcher at the General Department of the China Academy of Space Technology."
"Chief Designer of the 'Zhurong' Mars Rover."

*Zhurong!*