# 591
Chapter 592: Granny Crane
Yuzuri Nana was momentarily dazed.
She hadn’t heard Lin Qiye climb the steep slope at all—hadn’t even noticed when he’d flown up from below.
“Pretty nimble,” she murmured in Japanese.
Lin Qiye smiled without answering.
Side by side they walked the cliff-hugging road beneath an azure sky, one after the other.
Yuzuri Nana led the way, barefoot. Her soles pressed pale prints onto the gray asphalt; the old black sakura kimono hung loose, obviously not her size. The sleeves had split and been re-woven with gray thread. Each step made the pale-pink hairpin tucked into her bun quiver, catching tiny glints of light.
Lin Qiye, black coat billowing, followed in silence while his mind raced, sorting every clue.
It all started with the white-haired old man in the mist who’d stood on a leaf-shaped boat—someone who wore Wang Mian’s mask, the Mask Squad’s cloak, and the Mandarin Arrow at his hip, whose power bent time. Lin Qiye was almost certain it had been Wang Mian… yet the captain wasn’t that old, and far from the divine stage.
Could he have come from the future?
The instant the thought surfaced Lin Qiye tagged it “highly probable.” Wang Mian’s time-slips were no secret; Instructor Yuan Gang had listed his exploit five years ago when the Yamata-no-Orochi attacked the East Sea—how Wang Mian had burned lifespan to rewind one hour and save the city. Back then he’d only been “Boundless.”
If the future Wang Mian shattered the ceiling and became a god, traveling further back was possible.
So when had he jumped from, and why? Just to dump Lin Qiye here?
Where were the others?
And… was this really Japan?
Questions swarmed; the more he pondered, the murkier it got.
Another idea struck: if Wang Mian commanded time, maybe he’d hurled them a century back—to a Japan before the fog.
Lin Qiye jerked his head up and looked around.
They had left the highway and reached city streets. Not downtown—few pedestrians. Clean white lane markings striped the gray road. On the right a newly opened sea-urchin-don shop, on the left a shuttered electronics store. Bicycles locked to racks, a black sedan ahead—unfamiliar logo, but its styling was modern, not decades old.
Yuzuri Nana halted at a traffic light, waited for green, then moved on.
Definitely not a hundred years ago. A modern city.
He shelved the time-travel theory and turned to the riddle of an untouched Japan—impossible, yet here he stood. Beneath the calm beauty he sensed a hidden blade of danger.
For now he tabled the metaphysical and faced the practical: language. Words he couldn’t speak, signs he couldn’t read—blind in a foreign land. And you don’t pick up Japanese overnight.
While he brooded they reached the city’s edge. Buildings shrank and thinned until they stopped at a derelict lot behind a park. No houses, no lights—only a few long-abandoned shipping containers strewn about.
Yuzuri Nana turned. “Follow me, not a sound.” She drew an X at her lips.
Lin Qiye nodded.
They crept to one container. After a wary glance she undid the padlock and slipped inside.
Within was a tiny home: a salvaged mattress, two thin blankets, a pipe-and-wire coat-rack holding two garments, basic toiletries.
By the mattress sat an old woman, hair snowy, eyes narrowed in concentration. Her trembling hands folded paper with practiced speed; seconds later a delicate crane joined the mountain at her feet, burying her shoes.
Hearing the door, she lifted her head. A radiant smile cracked her wrinkled face.
“Little Yuzuri, you’re back?”
“I’m back, Granny Crane—and I brought a guest.”
“A guest?”
Her gaze shifted to the black-coated man. Setting the paper down, she gripped the chair arms and tried to rise, legs shaking.
“A guest… come, sit. I’ll brew tea—”
“Stay seated, Granny. I’ll take care of it.” Yuzuri Nana eased her down, then frowned at Lin Qiye still in the doorway.
“What are you waiting for? Get in and shut the door—nobody must see us.”