He finds countless of them where he’s too late, he finds a few that led to his alternate self actually being happy, and a few where things are actually worse, where he’s never known any sort of happiness—until at last he stumbles upon one where he’s just in time.

He sees the washerwoman at the bank of the Luo River.

She’s scrubbing away in between the reeds, brow stitched in concentration, similar to how he’s been told his own creases like, and he takes a step forward, his throat drying up and his chest tight, and then stops.

Something brushes his leg, and he looks down to see a small brown woven basket, with a bundle of blankets and soft downy hair peeking out.

And maybe…maybe…

Maybe if he stops the basket from floating down the river, would she perhaps live a better life? Not having to share her meals or time with a newborn? Instead of buying a fake jade pendant, buying her freedom instead?

..

He does so.

It doesn’t work.