Morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, soft and forgiving—the kind of light that pretended the world wasn't full of fools on the brink of repeating their mistakes.
An Ning sat by the vanity, tying her hair into a low knot. In the mirror, the little melon floated just above her shoulder, blinking anxiously.
"Ningning," it said, voice small but firm. "The moment you talk to your brother, the timeline will start to diverge."
"That's the point," An Ning replied, reaching for her earrings and making no move to correct how the little melon addressed her."Otherwise, what's the use of knowing the future?"
The little melon whirred in distress. "But divergence increases instability! The system was calibrated for melon observation, not melon interference."
An Ning arched an eyebrow at her reflection. "You sound like an accountant terrified of creative accounting."
