Inside the café, time seemed to freeze. The Yin-Yang symbol hovered in the center, with the coffee cup of the Yang eye and the Executor Drone of the Yang eye spinning slowly, repelling and attracting each other as if performing a silent cosmic dance. Jian stood before the symbol, her gaze deep, as if trying to pierce this thin layer of reality to glimpse the truth behind it.
She stared at the symbol, suddenly realizing that each "fish eye" reflected a different future. In the Yang eye, the World Tree bloomed with coffee flowers, and the children of the Purple-robed figures played in the garden, their laughter as crisp as silver bells; in the Yin eye, a swarm of Executor Drones formed a giant Siphon, ruthlessly extracting all emotion, leaving the world cold and hollow. Even more unsettlingly, her own reflection was split in half—her left side in the Yang eye, her right side in the Yin eye, as if her very existence was being torn apart by the symbol.
"A perfect balance is just another kind of prison." The Author's voice sounded behind her, low and magnetic. Jian looked back to see that he had somehow appeared behind her, his fingers gently touching the dividing line of the Yin-Yang symbol, a complex light flickering in his eyes.
Chapter 75