The amber glow of the setting sun dappled through the kitchen windows of an old Victorian house, casting elongated shadows onto the worn hardwood floor. A faint scent of cinnamon hung in the air, reminiscent of yesteryears and forgotten memories. Sophia, a curious and introspective young woman of twenty-five, bent over a peculiar object in the corner—a radiant oven labeled plainly as “直的oven” with intricate floral motifs swirling around its edges.

“Sophia, what have you found there?” asked her grandmother, Elise, a sprightly octogenarian whose laughter lines reflected a lifetime of kindly mischief.

“It’s this oven, Grandma. Look at the inscription. It seems… different,” Sophia replied, her fingertips brushing the smooth metal surface.

Elise chuckled, a sound like wind chimes gently disturbed. “Ah, the old straight oven. It’s been here longer than I can remember. They say it does more than just bake bread.”

Sophia’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. “What do you mean, more than bake bread?”

“Well,” Elise’s voice turned conspiratorial, “Some say it lets you穿越—cross through time.”

Sophia laughed, shaking her head. “Are you pulling my leg, Grandma?”

Elise raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

With trepidation, Sophia opened the oven door. Inside was a faint hum, as if the very air was charged with possibility. She tentatively reached out, and before she knew it, the kitchen whirled around her like a Van Gogh painting come to life.

Colors merged and shifted until they settled into a new tableau. Sophia found herself in the same kitchen, but the shadows were softer, the furniture a little newer. A young Elise stood by the window, humming a tune as she kneaded dough.

Sophia’s arrival went unnoticed, affording her a clandestine glimpse into her grandmother’s past. She watched as this younger Elise delicately crafted each loaf with precision and care, the movements an art form—a ballet to which time was the rhythm.

“The world spins while we bake,” young Elise murmured to herself, resonating with a truth that seemed to cut across the ages. Sophia, standing in silent awe, marveled at the timelessness of those few words.

Lost in the scene, Sophia felt a tug, pulling her back. The kitchen again refracted around her, shifting between states of past and present until she was home. Elise, her present-day grandmother, stood beside her.

“Did you see it?” Elise inquired gently, her eyes sparkling with the awareness only an elder could possess.

“Yes, Grandma,” Sophia replied, a soft tremor in her voice. “I did. I saw you. You were… timeless.”

Elise nodded and placed a reassuring hand on Sophia’s shoulder. “And did you understand, my dear?”

Sophia pondered this. The significance lingered like a delicate perfume, powerful yet elusive. “Maybe… a part of it is just doing what makes the world seem complete, like baking a piece of history into every loaf.”

They shared a tender silence, basking in the layers of time enmeshed between them. Sophia felt an indescribable link—a continuity threading her to the past through the hearth of an ordinary oven with extraordinary capabilities.

As they turned away, the last light of day swept across the kitchen, pooling around the “直的oven,” casting no shadow but leaving behind a rich, resonant understanding; life, in its vastness and beauty, was contained in simple, exquisite moments.

And perhaps, that’s what crossing time truly meant—finding the eternal in the transient, the profound in the mundane.