HDRDTH -Chapter 85 Strings of the Dimension and a Pot of Chicken Soup

On the deck of the research vessel, the wind had stopped.

The waves had calmed.

Even the one-meter-long giant carp floating belly-up in the water had stopped struggling.

Hundreds of eyes were fixed on one man—sitting on the wet deck, left hand bleeding, wearing non-slip slippers.

Then they shifted again to the prehistoric bronze sphere suspended in midair, glowing with an eerie blue light.

On its underside, the simplified Chinese characters and crude pressure-cooker drawing looked almost divine under the floodlights.

“Same name.”

Yu Xian sat on the ground, picked his ear, and spoke flatly.

“There are plenty of people named Yu Xian in this world. Who knows which bastard carved it.”

He stood up and brushed water off his pants.

“Old Li, your research vessel is useless. Full of junk at the bottom, not even a proper fish. You just wasted my two tons of bait.”

Old Li ignored him.

The veteran scientist was lying beneath the bronze sphere, practically pressing his face against the inscription.

He pulled a high-powered magnifying glass from his lab coat and stared at the character for “cut.”

Three seconds later—

Old Li suddenly looked up, eyes bloodshot, breathing like a broken bellows.

“This isn’t engraving…”

His voice trembled across the lake.

“This is not a physical cut at all!”

“This line of text… is atomic-level reconstruction! Someone used unimaginable energy to forcibly rewrite the molecular structure of this prehistoric alloy and arrange these characters!”

A collective gasp echoed across the deck.

Several dynamics experts nearly collapsed against the railing.

“Atomic reconstruction…”

Lieutenant Chu Feng’s hand moved to his gun holster, knuckles white.

He turned sharply and shouted into the cockpit:

“Cut all communications! Confiscate all devices! The vessel is now under national top-tier combat protocol!”

“Anyone who leaks a single word about this sphere or Mr. Yu—execute on site as treason!”

Armed soldiers immediately spread out and secured all key positions.

Old Li staggered toward Yu Xian.

He bowed deeply—almost religiously—bending at a full ninety degrees.

“Mr. Yu…”

His voice carried fanatic awe.

“Last time in the lab… I was wrong. I interpreted ‘cut line’ as a magnetic anomaly zone.”

He pointed at the bronze sphere.

“This is not a normal ‘line’! This is the ‘cosmic string’ from string theory!”

“Back then, at this coordinate, you encountered a higher-dimensional lifeform attempting dimensional suppression. You used this pressure-cooker symbol—representing absolute compression—to suppress it!”

“This ‘revenge for cutting my line’… is you severing dimensional restraints and declaring ultimate war against the laws of the universe!”

Yu Xian’s mouth twitched violently.

Cosmic strings, my ass.

Dimensional restraints, my ass.

Back then he was just here when the lake’s predecessor had a giant black carp that snapped eight of his main fishing lines.

He got so angry he simmered fish soup in a pressure cooker for three days.

He opened his mouth to explain.

Then stopped.

Looking at the soldiers and scientists staring at him like he was a god…

Forget it.

Explaining would be pointless.

Even if he said he was an alien, they’d probably build him a temple on the spot.

“Believe whatever you want.”

Yu Xian sighed, picked up his aerospace-grade fishing rod.

“Dafu, pack up.”

He slung the rod over his shoulder and walked toward the helipad in slippers.

“I’m done with this place. One second more and I’ll lose my mind. Back to Jiangcheng.”

Chu Feng immediately followed.

“Mr. Yu, the military has prepared a private aircraft for you.”

His tone had become a thousand times more respectful.

“As for the bronze sphere, we will transport it overnight to the highest-level underground facility in Beijing. If there are any further… questions regarding dimensional laws, we hope you can provide guidance.”

“Provide guidance my ass.”

Yu Xian didn’t even turn around.

“If it’s not fish, don’t bother me.”

The helicopter roared into the sky.

Searchlights swept across the lake, etching Yu Xian’s barefoot figure—carrying a fishing rod—into everyone’s vision.

2:00 AM. Jiangcheng, Jinshui Bay Villa.

The heavy bronze door opened.

A rich aroma of old chicken soup filled with codonopsis and goji berries rushed out.

Yu Xian’s tense shoulders instantly relaxed.

He casually tossed his million-yuan custom fishing rod into the umbrella stand and slipped into cheap plastic slippers.

This was life.

What cosmic strings? What prehistoric relics?

Nothing beat chicken soup made by his wife.

The living room was still lit.

Wu Fei sat cross-legged on the leather sofa, earphones on, a yellowed notebook in hand, writing musical notation.

Her eyes were red from exhaustion.

Her throat was hoarse to the point of barely making sound.

She looked up sharply.

“Mr. Yu!”

She pulled off her earphones and ran barefoot across the carpet.

Her gaze landed on Yu Xian’s bloodied left hand.

Her breath caught.

“What happened to your hand? Didn’t you go fishing? Did you run into water bandits?”

“What water bandits? I just wrestled a stubborn piece of scrap metal.”

Yu Xian walked past her into the dining room.

A thermal lid covered a pot on the table.

He lifted it.

Chicken soup still steaming.

Su Wanyi walked downstairs in silk sleepwear, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

Seeing his hand, she gasped and rushed for the medical kit.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch.”

Yu Xian sat down and took a spoonful of soup with his right hand.

He smacked his lips, frowned slightly.

“Old Su, you’ve improved, but you added salt too early. You should only add it five minutes before turning off the heat. Otherwise the meat tightens and the soup loses clarity.”

Su Wanyi rushed over with the medical kit, eyes red.

“You’re injured and still complaining about flavor?! Give me your hand!”

She carefully cleaned the wound with iodine, tears falling as she worked.

Wu Fei stood nearby, watching the scene in silence.

Her emotions were extremely complicated.

Three hours ago, her manager had called in a trembling voice.

The Thousand-Island Lake area had been completely sealed off by the military. Not even a fly could get in. Rumors said something strategic enough to change the world had been recovered.

And the man who caused all that upheaval…

Was now sitting at his own dining table, getting lectured by his wife over salt levels in chicken soup, not even daring to argue.

“What are you staring at? Finished practicing the song?”

Yu Xian glanced at Wu Fei and casually pulled a dark red booklet from his pocket, slapping it on the table.

“If not, go practice. I want a demo in three days.”