When You Foresee All Tragedies Yet Cannot Alter a Single Comma: History's Cruelest Punishment
In 2023, Dr. Lin Yan, a Chinese-American surgeon, brushed his fingers against the wreckage of a Tiger tank at Munich's Military Museum and was hurled into a quantum vortex, emerging in the inferno of Stalingrad in September 1942. Armed with modern medical expertise, half-damaged tactical gear, and a Longines pocket watch forever frozen at 21:07, he was swept into the 62nd Army's field hospital by the relentless currents of history. But this timeline harbored a venomous hostility toward "change":
Soldiers he saved would perish the next day in stranger accidents.
Intelligence he penned warped into gibberish before the ink dried.
When he reinforced Pavlov's House with concrete, Luftwaffe bombers pinpointed it three days early.
Worse, his own memories were being "revised"—diary entries rewriting themselves, his mother's face fading from photographs, an NKVD insignia burning on his chest, a chronal brand "transplanted" from a dead officer's corpse.
On the frozen Volga, Lin fought alongside Vasily the sniper, only to witness German ace Konings—destined to die—prolonged by his interference. Antibiotics he used to save nurse Anna's tetanus instead birthed a hypervirulent strain. As the battle concluded per history's script, General Chuikov's headquarters revealed a chilling truth: Lin was not the first "timewalker." Those who defied history now yellowed as missing persons in forgotten archives.
"We are not history's challengers, but sacrifices proving its immutability."
On the night of Germany's surrender, Lin stood atop the Reichstag ruins. His Longines shuddered to life—its hands now ticking toward the countdown to the 1945 Hiroshima nuclear blast...