My name is Su Zhe. I'm twenty-eight years old, a PhD in quantum physics.
I believe in Schrödinger's cat, in wave-particle duality, and that the universe will end in either a Big Freeze or a Big Rip. The only thing I don't believe in is my eccentric, superstitious family.
At this very moment, I am standing in the Gusu Su Clan's ancestral hall, an eight-hundred-year-old building filled with the suffocating scent of aged sandalwood and time itself. The vintage long robe I was made to wear for the ceremony feels awkward, making me look like a cosplayer who has wandered into the wrong convention.
In the center of the hall, my granduncles and grandfathers, with an average age of over seventy, are gathered around a so-called "ancestral artifact." Their expressions are as solemn as if they were about to launch a nuclear missile.
The object is called the "Heaven-Gazing Mirror," a black disc one meter in diameter. It's made of a material that is neither metal nor stone, its surface covered in ancient, star-chart-like patterns. According to my Great Elder grandfather, who still insists on writing letters with a calligraphy brush, it can "observe the mechanisms of Heaven and reflect a person's destiny."
To me, it's nothing more than an exquisitely crafted piece of ancient art, possibly polished from a meteorite. As for the fact that it occasionally glows, I'm inclined to explain that as a unique piezoelectric effect, a reaction to bioelectricity or specific sound waves.
Today is my twenty-eighth birthday, and also the date of the Su Clan's immutable "Destiny Awakening" ceremony. According to family precepts, every direct descendant must offer a drop of blood to the Heaven-Gazing Mirror on this day to "awaken" their destiny.
"The auspicious hour has arrived!" the Great Elder announced in a high, ceremonial tone.
Expressionless, I walked forward, pricked my fingertip, and let a drop of blood fall onto the mirror's cold surface.
The expected happened. The drop of blood, as if alive, instantly spread into countless fine threads, racing along the inscribed patterns. The entire black disc began to emit a faint, pulsating blue glow, like a slow breath.
A wave of hushed gasps filled the hall.
I felt nothing, not even a ripple. I almost wanted to laugh. This was nothing more than a material with an extremely high capillary effect, combined with the iron ions in my blood acting as a catalyst for a luminescence reaction with some unknown metal in the mirror. Middle school chemistry.
However, in the next second, everything changed.
The faint blue glow didn't dissipate after forming the totem of some beast or star, as it usually did. Instead, it grew brighter and brighter, more and more intense! Finally, a brilliant pillar of light shot towards the ceiling, illuminating the dim ancestral hall as if it were broad daylight! On the mirror's surface, the star charts seemed to come alive, transforming into streams of golden data that spun and reassembled with frantic energy!
"This... What is this...?" "Heavens! It's the sign of the 'Celestial Convergence'!" "Ancestors above! The Su Clan... The Su Clan has finally awaited this day!"
My granduncles and grandfathers trembled with excitement, tears streaming down their aged faces. Some even dropped to their knees, kowtowing towards the Heaven-Gazing Mirror.
The Great Elder staggered towards me, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly. His voice was distorted with overwhelming emotion. "Zhe'er! It's you! It has to be you! The one foretold in the precepts!"
He took a deep breath, and with all his strength, he announced the final "observation result" to the entire clan, and to me.
"Su Zhe, bearer of a destiny unseen in our Su Clan for a thousand years—the Heavenly Mandate!"
The hall instantly fell into a feverish silence. Everyone stared at me with a look of awe and fervent reverence, as if they were gazing upon a god.
Pfft...
An ill-timed chuckle cut cleanly through the solemn, sacred atmosphere.
It was me. I really couldn't hold it in.
I looked at these elders, their minds clouded by superstition, then at the still-flickering "meteorite chunk" that was clearly overcharged with energy, and I finally spoke.
"Honorable elders," I said, adjusting a pair of non-existent glasses—a habit of mine whenever I enter 'academic debate' mode. "I believe we may need to analyze the recent phenomenon with a more scientific and rigorous attitude."
I cleared my throat and began my little "science lecture."
"Firstly, regarding the definition of the 'Heavenly Mandate,' it lacks falsifiability, making it a logically invalid concept. Secondly, the intense light phenomenon is more likely explained by a bio-electrical overload, causing a metastable phase-transition luminescence within the material. As for the 'excitement' and 'fervor' you are all feeling, in psychology, this can be attributed to 'mass hysteria,' a collective unconscious behavior common in closed groups with a shared belief system..."
My voice echoed in the ancient hall, each rational analysis a cold scalpel, ruthlessly dissecting their sacred faith.
The elders' expressions shifted from elation to bewilderment, then from bewilderment to embarrassment and anger.
"Enough!" the Great Elder finally snapped, his face etched with pain as he looked at me. "Zhe'er! Why won't you believe? Just because science cannot explain something doesn't mean it doesn't exist! You..."
"No," I interrupted him, my tone calm but firm. "Just because science cannot yet explain something does not mean it belongs to the realm of metaphysics. It simply means our observational methods and theoretical models have yet to be upgraded. Give me ten years—no, five—and I guarantee I can perfectly replicate all of the Heaven-Gazing Mirror's reactions with a mathematical formula."
Dead silence filled the hall.
Seeing my "impervious" attitude, the grief on the Great Elder's face slowly faded, replaced by a long, weary sigh.
He didn't argue further. He simply walked to the altar, took a smooth, lustrous jade pendant carved with the pattern of the Big Dipper from an ancient wooden box, and walked back to me.
He pressed the pendant into my hand.
"Foolish child... Fine. If you won't believe, there's no more to be said," his voice was old and hoarse, as if it had traveled across a thousand years. "You need only remember one thing."
He lifted his head, his cloudy yet terrifyingly deep eyes locking onto mine. He spoke each word with deliberate weight.
"Within seven days, the 'Sky-Ring' High-Energy Particle Collider in the east of the city will face a catastrophe. This is the 'Calamity of Sharp Metal,' a fixed event in the grand design. When it happens, all instruments will fail, and all human effort will be useless. Only you, the bearer of the Heavenly Mandate, will be the sole 'variable'."
"This jade pendant will guide you to the 'Gate of Life'."
The "Sky-Ring" Collider... That was the core of my current postdoctoral research project.
I held the pendant, slightly warm from his touch, and looked at his face, which was a mask of "heaven's secrets must not be revealed." My last shred of patience evaporated.
I casually slipped the pendant into the pocket of my long robe, forcing a polite, detached smile.
"Thank you for the birthday gift, Grandpa. I like it very much."
"As for the prophecy," I added, turning towards the great doors of the hall without a backward glance, "if the 'Sky-Ring' truly runs into trouble, the first thing I'll do is submit a detailed accident analysis report, not ask a piece of jade for help."
With that, I pulled open the heavy wooden doors and stepped out into the sunlight, leaving without a trace of hesitation.
I shut the ancient, dim world, filled with its ridiculous family precepts, completely behind me.