The abandoned locomotive factory on the outskirts of the city smelled of damp rust, wet concrete, and forgotten time.

It was the year 2026, an era of high-speed rails and glass skyscrapers, yet Hei Yanshan found his only solace in the decaying ruins of the past.

He was twenty-one, a university student majoring in architecture, though he spent more time skipping lectures to crawl through broken fences than he did in the lecture halls. He adjusted his beanie against the autumn chill, raising his DSLR camera to his eye. Through the lens, the afternoon sun pierced through a shattered skylight, illuminating dancing motes of dust and a single, faded poster peeling off the brick wall.

Click.

Hei Yanshan lowered the camera, a familiar, inexplicable hollow ache settling in his chest.

He always felt it most intensely in these empty spaces.

It was as if he was always waiting for footsteps behind him, a voice calling his name, a presence that belonged at his side.

He shook his head, brushing the strange melancholy away, and packed his gear. He had to catch the 4:15 PM subway back to campus.

He stepped out of the rusted side door at 4:10 PM.

At exactly 4:11 PM, a sleek, black town car pulled up to the gravel path on the opposite side of the factory.

***

Li Zhanxan stepped out, his pristine wool overcoat entirely out of place amidst the weeds and debris.

At twenty-six, he was the youngest executive director in his family’s massive logistics conglomerate.

His life was a series of boardroom meetings, stock analyses, and, most recently, the suffocating preparations for an arranged marriage to the daughter of a rival shipping magnate.

It was a flawless, sterile, and entirely joyless existence.

He told his driver to wait and walked into the factory. He didn't know why he came to places like this.

He only knew that when the pressure of his immaculate life became too much to bear, he sought out ruins.

Li Zhanxan walked into the main hall, stopping exactly where Hei Yanshan had stood a minute prior.

The dust motes disturbed by Hei's boots were still swirling in the shaft of sunlight. Li Zhanxan closed his eyes, inhaling the damp air. For a fleeting second, he felt a phantom warmth, a ghost of a scent - something like rain and dark cedar. He reached out an empty hand, grasping nothing but the cold autumn air.

"Mr. Li," his assistant called from the doorway, breaking the silence. "Your fiancée is expecting you for the gown fitting at five."

Li Zhanxan let his hand drop. The warmth was gone. "I'm coming."

Yet, as with every other milestone of the impending nuptials, he arrived late. It was not a matter of negligence, but a quiet, subconscious rebellion.

To him, the entire engagement felt like an infinite, soul-crushing cycle – a beautifully staged performance where the walls were slowly closing in.

Each appointment, each floral arrangement, and each fitting was but another heavy link forged into a golden chain, dragging him further into a life that felt less like a union and more like a weary, never-ending ritual of duty.

 

***

Later that evening, in his minimalist penthouse overlooking the neon-drenched city skyline, Li Zhanxan poured himself a glass of whiskey.

He wasn't much of a drinker, but it was the one "sin" he allowed himself – a small indulgence to help him unwind after the incredibly stressful days he’d been facing lately.

His engagement ring - a heavy, platinum band that felt like a shackle  – sat coldly on the marble counter.

Seeking an escape, he unlocked his phone and opened Xiaohongshu (XHS).

His feed was carefully curated, devoid of business news or socialite gossip. Instead, it was filled with urban exploration photography. He scrolled in silence until a newly posted image made his thumb freeze.

It was the locomotive factory. The exact shaft of light. The exact peeling poster.

Li Zhanxan sat up straight, his heart giving an erratic, violent thump. He tapped the profile.

The username was @BlackMountain_Urbex. The bio simply read: "Documenting the places we leave behind."

Li scrolled through the grid. His breath caught in his throat. The abandoned theatre in the eastern district. The drained public pool. The overgrown botanical garden.

This photographer wasn't just visiting the same places; they were capturing the exact angles Li Zhanxan had stood at.

It was as if they were walking in his footprints, or he in theirs.

A profound, intense curiosity gripped him. It wasn't just aesthetic appreciation; it was a magnetic pull.

Without overthinking it, from his private, faceless account - named simply L.Z. - he pressed the red 'Follow' button.

Almost on autopilot, he proceeded to like every image in @BlackMountain_Urbex's gallery, a sudden impulse that left him stunned, as he had never once felt the urge to 'heart' another person's content until this moment."

***

Meanwhile, in the Heavenly Realm...

"He pressed it! He pressed the button!" Junior Official Chen shrieked, slamming his hands onto his jade desk.

Official Wang spat out his Celestial Oolong tea, scrambling over the towering stacks of paperwork.

"Show me the viewing pool! Did they match? Is the paradox breaking?!"

They peered into the shimmering water of the scrying basin.

They watched as Hei Yanshan, sitting cross-legged on his unmade dorm bed, saw the notification pop up on his phone.

NOTIFICATION: You have 100+ new likes!

L.Z. started following you.

Hei Yanshan clicked the profile.

There were no posts, just a profile picture of a shadowy, rainy street, and a bio that read: "Looking for something." Yet, seeing the simple initials, Hei Yanshan felt a strange jolt run up his arm, making his fingertips tingle.

He looked at L.Z.'s 'Likes'. It was entirely composed of his own photography.

"Follow him back, you idiot!" Wang yelled at the water, waving his arms. "Just press it! He's literally your soulmate!"

In the mortal realm, Hei Yanshan hesitated. He bit his lip, his thumb hovering over the screen.

Slowly, deliberately, he pressed 'Follow Back'.

Up in heaven, a tiny, golden firework exploded from the master console.

"Yes!" Chen cheered, high-fiving a passing clerk. "Okay, now message him! Say hello! Say 'Hey, we like the same creepy abandoned buildings, let's get coffee!'"

In his dorm room, Hei Yanshan opened the direct message window.

He typed:

Hi. I noticed you like my urbex spots. Do you explore too?

He stared at the words. Suddenly, a wave of modern-day anxiety washed over him. What if it was just some creepy old guy?

What if L.Z. thought he was weird for reaching out? With a frustrated sigh, Hei Yanshan held down the backspace key.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

He tossed his phone onto the mattress and fell back, staring at the ceiling.

***

In the Department of Reincarnation, Wang let out a soul-crushing wail and banged his forehead repeatedly against his desk.

"I hate Gen Z! I hate modern dating! Just send the message! The Red Thread is practically strangling you both!"

"The paradox rule is too strong," Chen sighed, rubbing his temples. "The system is amplifying their natural insecurities to keep them apart. Even the internet can't fix a karmic glitch this easily, Wang."

Wang sniffled, reaching for his ninth box of celestial tissues. "Get the alcohol ready, Chen. It's going to be a long century."