Dream Ghost

When Dr. Jiang arrived at the teleportation array, the old man was standing in the center of the rune array, like a tree that had been blown by the wind for too long, finally finding soil where it could take root.

His body was still trembling slightly. Not from the cold, but from not standing for so long. Three thousand years is a number, but when it truly falls on a person, the number becomes the aches in their bones, the stiffness in their muscles, and the confusion in their mind. Dr. Jiang quickly walked to him, reached out to support his arm, placed her fingers on his pulse, frowned slightly, and then relaxed.

"Severe dehydration, muscle atrophy, and unstable consciousness." Her tone was like reading a report, but her voice was much softer than usual. "But he's still standing. That in itself is a miracle."

The old man looked at her, a faint confusion in his deep brown eyes. He didn't recognize her, this place, or this era. The world three thousand years ago was completely different from now—there were no electric lights, no elevators, no three-story underground headquarters like the one in the association. He saw everything as if he were watching a play he couldn't understand.

"Take him to the medical room first." Chen Xuan walked over, his voice a little hoarse. "Dr. Jiang, give him a full examination. Check his level of consciousness, organ function, skeletal condition—check everything that can be checked."

"How long will it take for his body to recover?" Lin Ye asked.

Dr. Jiang glanced at the old woman, and the old woman glanced at her in return; their eyes met briefly in the air.

"Physical recovery will probably take three to six months," Dr. Jiang said. "As for the recovery of consciousness... it's hard to say. Ninety percent of his consciousness was taken away, and the remaining ten percent sustained him for three thousand years. That ten percent is no longer just 'consciousness'; it has become a habit—a habit of living, a habit of holding on, a habit of not falling. This kind of habit is very difficult to change."

"No need to change it," the old man suddenly spoke. His voice was hoarse, but every word was clear: "To live is to live. No need to change it."

Dr. Jiang looked at him, and the corner of her mouth twitched slightly—not a smile, but a kind of respect that doctors show when facing stubborn patients.

"Let's go." She helped the old man walk towards the elevator.

The old man took two steps, then suddenly stopped and looked back at Lin Ye.

"You just said you're my family."

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

"Lin Ye".

The old man pondered the name for a moment, as if savoring a fruit he'd never tasted before. Then he nodded, turned, and followed Dr. Jiang into the elevator. As the elevator doors closed, he glanced at Lin Ye one last time. That glance held little emotion, but Lin Ye sensed it—not gratitude, not warmth, but an ancient, deep-seated confirmation. "You're family. I recognize you."

Lin Ye stood still, still holding the glass bottles. The light inside the bottles flickered faintly in the dim teleportation array, like a starry sky trapped on the ground. Su Wanning walked over and gently took half of the bottle from his hands.

"Your hand is bleeding," she said.

Lin Ye looked down at his hand. Next to the mark on his right palm, there was a thin cut, he didn't know when he had made it, the blood had dried and formed a dark red line.

"fine."

"You always say it's nothing." Su Wanning took a tissue from her pocket, pulled his hand over, and wiped away the dried blood. Her movements were very gentle, as if she were wiping a fragile item. When the tissue touched the wound, Lin Ye's fingers flinched slightly, but he did not pull his hand away.

Chen Xuan stood to the side, watching the two of them without saying a word. His lips twitched slightly—not in a smile, but in the silence characteristic of an elder witnessing something budding between younger generations. He turned and walked towards the elevator.

"Captain Chen," Lin Ye called out to him.

Chen Xuan turned around.

What should we do with those bottles?

"Store it in the vault. Put it with your father's," Chen Xuan said. "Forty-two bottles, forty-two people's consciousnesses. The Dream Weaver Society spent hundreds of years collecting them, and we took more than half of them in a day. They won't let this go."

"I know."

"But let's rest today." Chen Xuan's tone left no room for negotiation. "You're all tired. We can talk about it tomorrow."

Lin Ye didn't argue. He was indeed exhausted. Not physically—dream fatigue doesn't directly affect the real body, but consciousness does. His consciousness felt like it had been spun in a washing machine for three hours, wrung out, and spun again for three hours. He didn't want to do anything now; he just wanted to lie down.

Su Wanning helped him take the bottles to the vault. The two walked down the corridor in silence. The corridor was long, the warm yellow light casting long shadows that looked like two black rivers flowing side by side on the floor. When they reached the vault door, Chen Xuan was already waiting. He unlocked the door, and Lin Ye and Su Wanning placed the bottles inside one by one, arranging them neatly on the shelves.

Forty-two bottles, forty-two orbs of light. Lin Yuan's bottle was on the top shelf, its pale golden light floating quietly in the darkness, as if asleep. Lin Ye stood in front of the shelf for a while, then turned and walked out of the vault.

Chen Xuan locked the door.

"Go and rest," he said.

Lin Ye nodded and walked towards the room next to the medical room. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at Su Wanning. She was also looking at him, the corridor light reflecting two small points of light in her eyes.

"You should get some rest too," he said.

"Um."

He turned and left. Su Wanning stood there, watching his figure disappear around the corner of the corridor. Then she turned and left too, heading in another direction.

Lin Ye returned to his room without turning on the light. He sat on the edge of the bed, took off his coat, and found another bottle in the pocket. It wasn't his father's; it was another one—the bottle contained a pale blue light, brighter than the others. He picked up the bottle and, by the light of the streetlamp streaming in from the window, made out the words on the label.

"Su Yuanzhou."

His surname is Su.

Lin Ye tapped his finger lightly on the bottle. The glass rang crisply, and the light inside flickered, as if in response. Su Yuanzhou. Su Wanning's father. The man who had disappeared for three years, the man Su Wanning thought was still waiting for him in some corner of the Dream Continent—he was here. In a cabinet in the Fourth Processing Plant, in an unlabeled bottle, stored as inventory by the Dream Weaver Society on a dark shelf, waiting for a purpose that might not come for some unknown time.

Lin Ye placed the bottle on the bedside table. The pale blue light shone quietly in the darkness, like a small nightlight. He lay in bed, staring at the light for a long time.

"I will hand you over to her," he said.

The light flickered again. As if to say thank you.

Lin Ye closed his eyes. The remaining fragments in his consciousness—7.1%—drifted slowly at the edge of his mind, like a school of fish afraid to approach. He didn't try to clear them away, nor did he try to digest them. He was too tired. He let them float there, and then drifted into sleep.

He didn't dream that night. Or rather, he did dream, but the content of the dream vanished the moment he woke up, leaving only a blurry, warm-toned background, like a watercolor painting that had been soaked in water.

The next morning, Lin Ye woke up very early. The sky outside was just beginning to lighten; the streetlights were still on, and the orange-yellow light filtered through the curtains, casting a long, drawn-out shadow on the ceiling. He sat up, and the first thing he saw was the bottle on the bedside table. Su Yuanzhou's consciousness drifted slowly in the pale blue light, remaining undisturbed all night.

Lin Ye picked up the bottle, walked out of the room, crossed the corridor, and arrived at Su Wanning's room. He knocked. There was no response. He knocked three more times. The door opened, and Su Wanning stood in the doorway, wearing pajamas, her hair disheveled, and her eyes still a little swollen—not because she hadn't slept well, but because she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Lin Ye handed the bottle to her.

Su Wanning looked down at the label. Her hands began to tremble, her fingers gripping the bottle until her knuckles turned white. She didn't speak, nor did she cry. She just stood there, staring at the pale blue light within the bottle, for a very long time.

"Where did you find it?" Her voice was very soft, so soft that it sounded like she was talking to herself.

"Fourth processing plant. In a cabinet. Placed with other bottles."

Is he still alive?

"His level of consciousness is higher than others. It may be because the extraction time was shorter. Dr. Jiang said that as long as the level of consciousness is above 50%, there is a chance of implanting a new body."

Su Wanning hugged the bottle to her chest, close to her heart. The pale blue light shone through the glass and her pajamas, casting a small, warm patch on her chest.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

The two stood in the doorway, neither speaking. The corridor was quiet, save for the low, continuous hum of equipment coming from a distant room, like a lullaby without melody.

"Lin Ye," Su Wanning suddenly said.

"Um."

What are your plans for the future?

Lin Ye thought for a moment. He had pondered this question many times recently, but never had a definite answer. His plans used to be simple—graduate, find a job, become an ordinary psychological counselor, and live an ordinary life. But now it was different. He had seen those bottles, seen those emptied consciousnesses, seen Chen Xuan's five-year obsession with his daughter, and seen Gu Yan's regret for the rest of his life after giving up his fragments. He couldn't pretend nothing had happened and return to that ordinary life.

"I want to find all the consciousness that the Dream Weavers have taken away," he said, "and bring them back one by one."

Su Wanning looked at him, and the morning light at the end of the corridor shone in through the window, spreading a golden light behind him.

"Then I'll help you," she said.

Lin Ye looked at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—not a smile, but an expression that said, "I knew you would say that."

"it is good."

He turned and left. Su Wanning stood at the door, holding her father's bottle, watching his retreating figure. The morning light stretched his shadow long, all the way to her feet.

She looked down at the shadow and gently stepped on it.

Then she closed the door, went back to her room, placed the bottle next to her pillow, lay down, turned to her side, and looked at the pale blue light.

"Dad," she said, "I've found someone. He's like you, he won't give up."

The light trembled.

Su Wanning closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks and soaking the pillow. But the corners of her mouth were turned up in a smile.