Nangong Wentian lay in the worn-out cradle, staring at the mottled ceiling above. The three hundred and seventy-second crack—he had counted it many times.
This tiny body was only a few months old, capable of very little. He couldn't speak, couldn't walk, and even turning over was a struggle. But he had a pair of eyes and a pair of ears.
Eyes for observing, ears for listening.
This was the survival rule he had deduced since arriving in this world.
The morning sunlight filtered through the windowpanes, casting golden spots on the floor. Sister Mary walked down the corridor carrying a wooden basin, her steps light but hurried—Nangong Wentian could hear her exhaustion in the sound of her footsteps. There were too many children in the orphanage, too few resources, and Mary worked sixteen hours a day.
"Sister Mary, we're running out of formula again," came the voice of the cook Tanaka from the direction of the kitchen.
"Give it to the youngest ones first. The older children can have thin porridge," Mary's voice carried a note of helplessness.
"But…"
"I know, but what can we do?" Mary sighed. "Three more children arrived this month, all refugees. The government calls it 'temporary placement,' but everyone knows this 'temporary' could last who knows how long."
Nangong Wentian closed his eyes, breathing evenly like a sleeping baby. But his ears were perked up.
Refugees.
He had heard this word often lately. From the nuns' conversations, he pieced together what was happening in this world: tensions between Coordinators and Naturals in PLANT were growing increasingly intense, and many had fled to Orb. But Orb itself was not wealthy, accepting refugees only out of the moral obligation of a neutral nation.
"Those Coordinator children, are they any different from our Natural children?" Tanaka's voice held curiosity.
"Any different?" Mary's voice paused. "They're all children. They all get hungry, they all cry, they all get sick. What difference could there be?"
"But they say Coordinators are smarter, healthier…"
"So what if they're smarter? Does being smart mean they don't need to eat?" Mary seemed somewhat impatient. "Stop overthinking it and go make the porridge."
Footsteps faded away, and the clatter of pots and pans came from the kitchen.
Nangong Wentian opened his eyes, gazing at the sky outside the window.
Coordinators, Naturals.
In his memories from his previous life, these two terms were merely settings from an anime. But now, they were living realities, determining people's fates, sparking wars, and creating refugees.
He recalled the voice from when he crossed over—"Accept it," "Use it, change fate."
Change fate.
But right now, he was just a baby, struggling even to turn over.
In the afternoon, the children were taken to the yard to play.
Nangong Wentian was also carried out and placed on a tattered blanket in a corner of the yard. The sunlight was a bit harsh, and he squinted, watching the children run around the yard.
A five or six-year-old boy ran the fastest, holding a worn-out toy car in his hand. The toy car was missing a wheel, but the boy didn't mind at all. As he ran, he made engine noises with his mouth.
"Xiao Guang, slow down!" Mary called from behind.
Xiao Guang.
Nangong Wentian remembered this name.
The boy ran up to him, crouched down, and stared at him curiously.
"Is this the new one?" Xiao Guang asked Mary beside him.
"Yeah, his name is Wentian," Mary replied, hanging laundry. "Xiao Guang, you're going to be the big brother now. You have to protect him from now on."
Xiao Guang nodded seriously, then reached out a finger and poked Nangong Wentian's cheek.
Nangong Wentian didn't move. He was just a baby, and it was normal for a baby to have his cheek poked.
In the evening, the kitchen grew lively.
The children gathered around the large table, waiting for dinner. The meal was thin porridge and pickled vegetables, but for these children, it was already a rare treat.
Nangong Wentian was carried to a cradle in the corner of the kitchen and placed near the stove. Tanaka said it was warm there, so the baby wouldn't catch a cold.
He closed his eyes and continued listening.
"Another group of refugees arrived today?" Tanaka's voice.
"Yeah," Mary's voice replied. "They escaped from PLANT, saying they couldn't survive there anymore."
"Isn't PLANT pretty wealthy? How could they not survive?"
"It's the officials who are rich. Ordinary people suffer just the same," Mary sighed. "I heard it's chaotic over there now. Naturals and Coordinators argue every day, and sometimes they even fight."
"Will things stay peaceful here?"
"Who knows," Mary's voice was low. "The director says Orb is neutral, but neutrality doesn't mean we can avoid war. If a war really breaks out, no one can escape."
Nangong Wentian's heart sank slightly.
He knew Mary was right. In every war in history, there were no true bystanders. Orb's neutrality was only a temporary refuge.
He had to speed up his preparations.
But he was just a baby now.
Late at night, all the children were asleep.
Nangong Wentian lay in the cradle, gazing at the moonlight outside the window. His mind wasn't idle—he was organizing the information he had gathered today.
Coordinator refugees were pouring into Orb—this meant the internal conflicts in PLANT were on the verge of intensification.
The conflict between Naturals and Coordinators had already seeped into the civilian population—this meant the seeds of war had been sown.
Xiao Guang had lost his younger brother—this meant that in this world, ordinary lives were cheap.
He needed power.
He needed technology, funds, connections—the kind of power that could change the course of events at a critical moment.
But all of this required time.
Outside the window, something roared across the night sky. Nangong Wentian's gaze followed it—it was a silver-white aircraft, trailing a faint contrail as it swept over the orphanage, heading toward Morgenroete in the north.
An Orb training aircraft.
He knew.
It was a test aircraft for the Mobile Suit Morgenroete was secretly developing. At this point in time, Erica Simmons should already be involved in the project.
He watched the aircraft disappear into the horizon and silently said to himself: Wait for me. One day, I'll pilot a machine like that and fly higher than any of you.
But not for war.
For protection.
Early the next morning, when Mary came to change his diaper, she found the child awake, staring out the window.
"What are you looking at?" Mary followed his gaze but saw nothing—only blue sky and white clouds.
Nangong Wentian naturally didn't answer. He simply blinked and yawned.
Mary smiled, picked him up, and gently patted his back.
"You're such a strange child," she whispered. "You don't cry or fuss, just daydream."
Nangong Wentian leaned against her shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of soap on her clothes. Mary was still young, only thirty-five, but fine lines had already begun to show on her face. She had been at this orphanage for fifteen years.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Mary murmured to herself. "A scientist? An engineer? Or..."
She didn't finish, only sighed softly.
Nangong Wentian answered in his heart: Right now, I just want to change this world. To end wars, to stop children from dying because they can't afford medical treatment, to let Naturals and Coordinators sit together, eat, and talk.
But he didn't say it aloud.
He simply rested quietly against Mary's shoulder, savoring the warmth of the moment.
The days that followed repeated in cycles.
Nangong Wentian continued observing the world in his own way. He memorized every child's name, recognized every adult's footsteps, and remembered every meaningful or meaningless conversation.
Xiao Guang often came to see him, telling him stories or just squatting nearby, lost in thought. This five-year-old boy already understood how to care for others.
Sayuri would come too, her hair tied in pigtails, chattering nonstop. She said she loved singing and wanted to be a pop star someday. Watching her, Nangong Wentian thought of the idol singers from his past life, feeling a pang of nostalgia.
There was also a boy named Xiao Wu, only four years old, who loved watching the stars. He often tugged at Xiao Guang's sleeve, asking, "Are there people on the stars?" "Is there really a rabbit on the moon?" When Xiao Guang couldn't answer, Xiao Wu would pout in frustration.
Looking at these children, Nangong Wentian silently vowed: One day, you'll have a better life. You won't have to worry about affording medical care or fear wars. You'll be free to chase your dreams.
And to make that happen, he needed to change things.
Winter arrived.
The orphanage's heating system broke down again, forcing the children to huddle together for warmth. Mary and Tanaka stuffed quilts into the gaps around the doors and windows, but the cold wind still seeped through.
Nangong Wentian was bundled up tightly and placed near the kitchen stove. He watched the flickering flames, his mind drifting to more distant thoughts.
Minovsky Particles, GN Drives, E-Carbon Armor, Psycho-Frames… These technical concepts were arranged in his mind like a library, waiting to be awakened.
He needed to grow up.
He needed to speak, to walk, to use his hands.
He needed to turn this knowledge into reality.
Outside the window, another Training Aircraft streaked past. Nangong Wentian watched the contrail, a faint smile touching his lips.
One day.
Late at night, the orphanage fell completely silent.
Nangong Wentian lay in his cradle, gazing at the moonlight outside. His small hands clenched into fists, resting on his chest.
This was his first winter in this world.
He had learned to observe, to listen, to wait.
He knew this was only the beginning.
Outside the window, stars twinkled in the night sky. One of them seemed particularly bright.
Nangong Wentian gazed at that star and silently thought: No matter who you are, no matter where you come from, thank you for giving me a second life. I will use this life to do something meaningful.
The star seemed to flicker, as if in response.
The infant closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
Tomorrow would be another new day.