Nine

9 The Future? Is this the future?

The question of where they now found themselves lingered for two days, until the fog finally cleared, yet no one guessed the answer. What they did know, however, was that they were surrounded—encircled by a group clad in specialized gear.

Zhu Anfu and Wang Fei studied the equipment of their captors, while Zhao Long glared at the two, frustrated that neither seemed concerned about his being restrained or inclined to help. Yuchi Ankang stood among a cluster of scientists, his refined demeanor and scholarly air making him seem perfectly at home in their midst.

“Are those—could those be the legendary mechas?” Wang Fei whispered to Zhu Anfu after his inspection.

Zhu Anfu nodded vigorously, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He was thrilled; he was actually seeing a real, functioning mecha. Damn, it was unbelievably cool.

“You two! Shouldn’t you be worried about the people, not the mechas?” Zhao Long said weakly. Missions with Wang Fei were always frustrating; he could tolerate it before, but now, he truly couldn’t.

“Ah, well, we’d love to help you, but the problem is, do they even understand what we’re saying?” Wang Fei replied helplessly, while Zhu Anfu showed his characteristic silly grin. Zhao Long hung his head in defeat; he would have liked to lift it, but was being restrained too tightly.

“We understand. I am Captain of Team A1. Two days ago, we detected an anomaly in the star sector. The authorities confirmed something appeared here. This area had just hosted a drill; the smoke hadn’t even dissipated. We’ve been patrolling ever since and apprehended many. Most of those people had weak mental fortitude—they fainted in fright,” said the speaker, holding an ultra-cool—likely a weapon.

“Hello! May I ask where this is, and, if possible, what year it is?” Yuchi Ankang pulled Zhu Anfu behind him, not eager to take the lead but compelled by concern for Zhu Anfu’s safety.

“This is Earth. The current year is AD 3030,” the captain replied, eyeing them skeptically. To him, these individuals seemed feeble, but the fact they could converse calmly before him set them apart from those previously caught.

The year 3030—this revelation stunned everyone except those armored in mechas. Then came a shout: “How did humanity survive the apocalypse of 20XX?” No one could tell who yelled it, but those from the past, now in 3030, looked at Captain A1, who in turn fixed his gaze on Zhu Anfu. No doubt, Zhu Anfu was the one who’d just spoken.

“Where are you from?” Captain A1 did not answer Zhu Anfu’s question, but posed his own.

“From Earth, China, in 20XX,” Zhu Anfu replied, inching closer to Yuchi Ankang and gripping his hand tightly, ready to slip into his spatial pocket should danger arise.

“You mean, you’re our ancestors? So it was you who ruined Earth’s ecological balance and forced animals to mutate,” Captain A1 said without much warmth for his ancestors. “Please come with us to the laboratory. We will arrange things appropriately.” No matter his feelings, he had to bring these people and their archaic devices in for study. He wasn’t inclined to believe their story, yet the evidence was undeniable. Despite modern capabilities to replicate ancient artifacts and actors to feign surprise, for reasons unknown, Captain A1 found himself believing them.

After arriving at the laboratory, advanced instruments confirmed their origin from a millennium ago. The specifics of the testing process are omitted here (the author admits ignorance on the details). Once verified, the nation provided housing for these time-travelers—not luxurious, but not in the slums either. The country wasn’t called China; over a thousand years, continents had shifted dramatically, and after the apocalypse, people no longer cared for communism, socialism, or capitalism. Environmental protection was the chief concern. If spitting in public used to incur a five-yuan fine, now it meant a month of community service; trampling grass was punished even more severely.

Their country was called Hualong. Ethnic divisions were not Han or Manchu, but Dragon, Sun, Thai, Chao, and so on, supposedly reflecting the survivors of various nations after the apocalypse. Dragon was said to be descended from the Chinese; the term “Central People” sounded awkward, so they adopted “Dragon People.” Other groups wanted to change their names, but the overwhelming numbers of Dragon People made that impossible, leaving others disgruntled.

Hualong’s territory expanded from what once was Asia. It was a democratic, self-governing nation. The president was from the Dragon People, as had been the norm since its founding. Internal strife among Dragon People was common, but when outsiders tried to stir conflict—Sun People and Korean People plotted to usurp control—the Dragon People, though divided within, united against external threats, thwarting the schemes and weakening the agitators.

But history can wait. Now, let’s return to Yuchi Ankang and Zhu Anfu, whose status differed from others. During a high-level internal meeting, upon hearing their names, Zhu Anfu and Yuchi Ankang were immediately summoned by the Zhou Hu family.

The Zhou Hu family was a post-apocalyptic lineage, carrying a tradition since antiquity: if they ever met Zhu Anfu and Yuchi Ankang from the past, they must repay them well. Early patriarchs thought it a joke, but the tradition persisted until, surprisingly, this generation saw it fulfilled. When Zhou Hu Yanmin met the two, he was unsure how to feel, knowing his ancestor’s wife had once been rescued by them in a twist of fate.

Zhu Anfu and Yuchi Ankang blinked, surprised that a visit to Jin She would yield such benefit in the future. Zhou Hu Yanmin preferred not to be too involved; in his view, repaying them meant providing a residence and a generous sum of money. Yuchi Ankang’s request was more direct: they wished to be registered as residents.

By 3030, household registration was obsolete, though identification remained. IDs were no longer cards but metallic bracelets, with distinctions for married and single, and further color coding for male-male, male-female, female-female unions. Yuchi Ankang’s proposal met no objection from Zhu Anfu, who was even delighted. Wearing their black bracelets, they moved into a luxurious apartment in a high-end complex arranged by the Zhou Hu family, all expenses covered. The Zhou Hu family’s steward reminded them upon departure that their contact information was stored in their intelligent brain, but hoped they wouldn’t reach out lightly. Their bank account held enough for a lifetime.

Zhu Anfu collapsed onto the sofa. “This really is comfortable—beats anything at our place.” He rolled about, utterly lacking any sense of newlywed decorum. “Ankang, are we really in the future, not just dreaming?”

Yuchi Ankang pinched Zhu Anfu, eliciting a howl. “Seems real enough. I want to apply to a nearby school. What about you—any plans?”

“Let’s see. Novels always say the future has no record of the past. I’ll rewrite all my old works.” Zhu Anfu’s dreams were grand, but reality was harsh: those sites were still around, and even his unfinished novels remained (*the novels were still there).

Websites were far more advanced (naturally, a millennium of progress) than before. Upon logging in, Zhu Anfu triggered an alert; within five minutes, his computer was hacked. Soon, the police arrived. Recognizing the two celebrities from television, they confirmed Zhu Anfu’s identity, unlocked his computer, and proactively helped him apply for author protection. Five minutes later, a virtual contract appeared before Zhu Anfu and Yuchi Ankang.

“As you are married, both parties must sign to prevent marital breakdown from economic disputes,” the officer said sternly.

Yuchi Ankang glanced at the contract, and—prompted by the officer—remembered to activate his intelligent brain, an advanced AI device whose color denoted its grade; theirs was black, the highest. After reviewing the contract, the AI advised that the police officer should also sign. Following its guidance, both men signed with an electronic pen, had the officer countersign, and the contract took effect. The officer departed, and Yuchi Ankang began exploring the intelligent brain, while Zhu Anfu returned to the computer.

The computer was an all-in-one device, its keyboard virtual, with no mouse (why no mouse? Are you dumb? Ever heard of touchscreens?). Its most advanced feature wasn’t its form, but its ability to morph shape and size as its owner wished. None of this was surprising—novels often described such things. Zhu Anfu easily entered the site’s backend, and shrieked, “Ah! Oh my God!”

Yuchi Ankang rushed over at once, only to see Zhu Anfu’s trembling finger pointing at the screen. When Yuchi Ankang saw the long string of numbers, he swallowed hard as well. Damn, now he understood why the police insisted both sign.

“If all this is withdrawn, would the internet change ownership?”

Zhu Anfu gulped several times before finding his voice. “I want to try!”

“You could apply to become a shareholder,” their intelligent brain suggested unexpectedly from behind. “XX Net is the best site in the country, the authoritative platform, with Zhou Hu family as major investor. If you become a shareholder, your daily dividends will be astronomical.”