Dream Ghost

Lin Ye spent an entire night sleepless because of that question, "Is anyone there?"

He lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. The crack was still there, two and a half meters long, with eleven branches. He could draw the shape of the crack without turning on the light—the main trunk extending diagonally from the lamp base to the corner of the wall, the branches leaning to the left like a tree bent by the wind. He didn't know what he was thinking, maybe nothing at all, maybe he was thinking about that voice. "Is anyone there?" Three words, without tone, without emotion, like a pebble thrown into a deep well, waiting a very long time for an echo. But no echo came. The voice just kept asking, kept asking, asking for three thousand years.

Around four in the morning, he finally drifted off to sleep. In his dream, there was no World Tree, no Dream Weavers, no fragments of consciousness. He dreamt he was standing in an empty room, surrounded by white walls, with no doors or windows. He called out, "Is anyone there?" No one answered. He called out again, still no one answered. He called out a third time, and the walls slowly began to turn transparent, revealing a person standing on the other side. He couldn't see the face clearly, only a silhouette—tall and thin, slightly hunched, as if he had been standing there for a long time. That person also called out, "Is anyone there?" The voice overlapped with his, like two parallel lines intersecting at an infinite distance.

He woke up. It was still dark outside, the streetlights filtering through the curtains, casting a thin orange line on the ceiling. He sat up, touched the anchor point under the pillow; the metal piece was warm, slightly warmer than his body. He held it for a moment, then got up and dressed.

At 5:30, the training room was empty. Lin Ye didn't turn on the lights, but walked to the center of the room in the dark, sat down cross-legged, and placed the anchor point on the floor in front of him. The deep purple mark emitted a faint light in the darkness, illuminating the World Tree pattern on the anchor point. He placed his hand on the anchor point and closed his eyes. The World Tree perception instantly activated, like a machine awakened, humming and starting to operate in his consciousness.

A crack. A gray-green consciousness. Whispers.

The whispers today were different from yesterday's. It wasn't "Is anyone there?" It was a sentence, a complete, clear sentence, as if it were the first time language had been organized.

"You are his descendant."

Lin Ye's fingers tightened suddenly. The voice didn't come from inside the World Tree's trunk, but from the anchor point. The anchor point Lin Yuanzhou had given him wasn't just a coordinate, but a line. One end connected to Lin Ye, and the other to the consciousness within the World Tree. For the first time in three thousand years, it had made contact with the outside world.

"Do you know me?" Lin Ye asked in his mind.

Silence. A very long silence. So long that Lin Ye thought the consciousness had left, or had never existed at all.

Then it answered.

"I know all your ancestors. Your great-grandfather, your great-great-grandfather, your great-great-great-grandfather. With each generation, I watched them enter the World Tree, infuse their consciousness into the trunk, and reinforce the seal. With each generation, I watched them disappear before my eyes. Their consciousness merged into the trunk, becoming part of the World Tree. I am still here. I have not disappeared."

Lin Ye's heart was pounding so hard that he felt the entire training room vibrating.

"Do you want to disappear?"

Silence again. An even longer silence than before.

"I want to. I don't want to. If I disappear, there will be no pain. But if I disappear, there will be no memories. For three thousand years, these are all I have. If I lose even my memories, then I will truly have nothing."

Lin Ye opened his eyes. The training room was still dark, the sky outside the window was beginning to lighten, and the streetlights were dimming. He looked down at the anchor point; the World Tree patterns on the metal plate shone faintly in the light of the deep purple markings, like a star map being illuminated. He reached out, picked up the anchor point from the ground, and held it in his palm.

"I'll go in and find you," he said. "and bring you out."

The anchor point felt a burning sensation. Not a searing heat, but the kind of heat that comes from being tightly gripped. It was as if someone inside the World Tree had overheard his words and clenched their fist tightly.

Lin Ye put the anchor point in his pocket, stood up, and began warming up. Squats, stretches, joint exercises. His body moved slowly in the darkness, like an animation disassembled into frames. Each frame was clear, each frame stable. His consciousness was quiet, without distractions, without fear, only a faint, morning-like clarity.

At exactly six o'clock, Chen Xuan pushed open the door and came in. He was wearing a dark blue training uniform, and his hair was neatly combed. He didn't look like he was coming to fight, but rather like he was going to a meeting. He saw that Lin Ye was already in the training room. He didn't say anything, just nodded, and then began to warm up.

At 6:10, Su Wanning arrived. She was wearing that dark gray bodysuit, her hair tied in a ponytail. Her complexion was much better than yesterday, but the dark circles under her eyes were still there. She walked to the corner of the training room, put down the silver threads, and checked each one for knots. Her movements were slow and meticulous, as if she were doing something that required immense patience.

At 6:20, Gu Yan's consciousness projection appeared on the bench in the training room. He was wearing a black trench coat, his long hair tied back, and the scar on his left cheek was faint in the morning light. His consciousness had recovered to 73% of its original state, and the afterimage at the edge of the projection was almost invisible. He opened his notebook, wrote a few words on it, then closed it and placed it on his lap.

"Today's training content," Chen Xuan said, standing in the center of the training room. His voice was soft but clear. "Lin Ye, you must maintain three rules simultaneously within Su Wanning's network of threads: one to raise the temperature, one to lower it, and one to maintain a constant temperature. These three rules cannot conflict with each other, cannot overlap, and must be in effect at the same time."

Lin Ye looked at him.

"This is not rule writing. This is rule weaving."

"Yes. Rule weaving. Multiple rules operate simultaneously, forming a rule network. Inside the World Tree, you need to process a lot of information at the same time. Cracks, consciousness entities, trunk structure, sealed states—if you can only process them one by one, you won't have enough time." Chen Xuan took a step back. "Begin."

Su Wanning's silver threads flew from her fingertips, weaving a net about five meters in diameter in the air. The threads were very fine, but they shimmered with a silvery-white light in the morning light, like spider silk. Lin Ye stood in the center of the net, his eyes closed.

Rule 1: The temperature inside the net increases by one degree.

Rule number two: The temperature inside the net decreases by one degree.

Rule 3: The temperature inside the net remains constant.

The three rules were simultaneously written into his consciousness, like three lines of different colors, intertwining, tangling, and knotting within him. The line for rising temperatures was red, the line for cooling was blue, and the line for constant temperature was white. The three lines jumped around in his mind, sometimes tangled together and inseparable, sometimes scattered and untraceable.

The temperature inside the net fluctuated, sometimes rising, sometimes falling, and sometimes remaining constant. Beads of sweat appeared on Lin Ye's forehead, not from the heat, but from the exhaustion caused by intense mental concentration.

"You're using too much force," Su Wanning's voice came from outside the net. "Weaving rules isn't about using force, it's about balance. It's like walking a tightrope. If you use too much force, you'll fall; if you don't use enough force, you'll fall too. Only the right amount of force will allow you to walk across."

Lin Ye took a deep breath, slowing the pace of his consciousness. He didn't try to "control" the three lines, but simply "watched" them. The red line heated up, the blue line cooled down, and the white line remained constant. The three lines went their separate ways, occasionally touching and then separating again. The temperature within the net began to stabilize—not a constant stabilization, but a dynamic one. The temperature fluctuated within a very small range, rising by 0.1 degree Celsius, falling by 0.1 degree Celsius, and then rising by 0.1 degree Celsius again.

He opened his eyes. Su Wanning stood outside the net, silver threads extending from her fingertips to every node of the net. A faint expression graced her face; it wasn't a smile, but rather an expression that said, "You finally understand."

"How long did it take you?" Lin Ye asked.

"Sixteen years," Su Wanning said. "You took sixteen minutes."

"That's because you taught me." Lin Ye stepped out of the net. "Without your web of threads, I couldn't have done it."

Su Wanning looked at him, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't. She retracted the silk thread, turned and walked to the corner of the training room, picked up her water glass and took a sip. Lin Ye watched her back; her dark gray bodysuit looked old in the morning light, with frayed threads on the cuffs.

Gu Yan changed the training content for the afternoon session.

"You've already got the basics of rule weaving," he said. "This afternoon, practice rule decomposition. I'll give you a complex rule, and you use rule cracks to break it down into the simplest elements. Keep breaking it down until you can't break it down any further."

He wrote a line in his notebook and handed it to Lin Ye.

"The rule is: make one person fall in love with another."

Lin Ye looked at the line of text.

"This is not a rule of dreams."

"These are human rules. The rules of dreams and human rules are essentially no different. They're both rules." Gu Yan closed his notebook. "Open it."

Lin Ye closed his eyes. He placed that rule in his consciousness and used the cracks in the rule to "cut". The first cut separated "love" and "person". The second cut separated "love" and "letting go". The third cut separated "person" and "another person".

What is "love"? Is it an emotion, a chemical reaction, a social construct, or a rule? If it's a rule, who wrote it? When was it written? Where was it written?

A blurry image surfaced in his mind—two people standing in an open space, connected by a glowing line. The two ends of the line were connected to their chests. The line's color changed: red, pink, gold, white. Sometimes it was bright, sometimes dim. When it was bright, the two people moved closer. When it was dim, they moved away.

"Are these the rules of love?" Lin Ye asked.

"These are your rules of love," Gu Yan said. "Everyone understands love differently. Your understanding is 'a luminous line.' Someone else's understanding might be 'a burning fire' or 'a calm lake.' There's no right or wrong. When you break down the rules, what's left is 'what you believe in.'"

Lin Ye opened his eyes and looked at his palm. The deep purple mark emitted a soft glow under the fluorescent light.

"I believe the rules can be understood," he said.

"So you've finished dismantling it." Gu Yan stood up, tucked the laptop under his arm, and said, "Take a rest; you'll still be conscious enough to process it tonight."

He's gone. Lin Ye sat alone in the training room, staring at the words—"Make one person fall in love with another." He didn't erase it; he just left it there. Maybe it would disappear tomorrow, maybe it wouldn't.

That night, Lin Yuanzhou's room was dark. The old man sat by the window, the city lights streaming in and casting dappled shadows on his face. When Lin Ye pushed open the door, he didn't turn around.

"You heard me," the old man said.

"I heard you."

"That voice. It spoke to you."

Lin Ye sat down next to him.

"It says it knows all my ancestors. In each generation, it watched them walk into the World Tree and disappear. It is still here. It has not disappeared."

Lin Yuanzhou fell silent. The lights outside the window flickered in his eyes, like two stars about to go out.

"It didn't disappear because it couldn't," he said. "It's the negative emotions of the first generation of Night's Watch. Fear, anger, despair. These things don't just disappear on their own. They can only be transformed or accepted. The first generation chose to shed them, but not to transform them. So they've remained there for three thousand years."

"How to transform it?"

"Accept them." Lin Yuanzhou turned to look at Lin Ye. "Not to eliminate, not to strip away, not to suppress. It's to accept. Acknowledge that fear is a part of you, acknowledge that anger is a part of you, acknowledge that despair is a part of you. You don't have to like them, but you have to accept them. After accepting them, they are no longer 'negative.' They become a part of you, just like your other emotions."

Lin Ye looked at the old man's aged face. There was no fear, no anger, no despair on that face. There was only a deep, heavy calm, as if it had been washed away by three thousand years of time.

"Did you accept it?" Lin Ye asked.

Lin Yuanzhou's lips twitched slightly.

"I'm accepting it," he said. "Three thousand years. Still accepting it."

Lin Ye stood up and walked to the door.

"I'm going to enter the World Tree tomorrow."

Lin Yuanzhou tapped his knee lightly with his fingers.

"So fast?"

"We can't wait any longer. The crack is widening, it's accelerating. If we wait any longer, it might not just 'need to be brought out,' but 'be unable to get out.'" Lin Ye turned around. "It will become part of the World Tree, completely fused. At that point, no one will be able to take it away."

Lin Yuanzhou fell silent. He looked out the window, the city lights flickering in his pupils.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"No," Lin Ye said, "but those who are truly prepared will never set off."

He's gone. Lin Yuanzhou sat alone in the darkness, the city lights casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on his aged face. He looked down at his hands. Those old, wrinkled hands had once caressed the heads of wolves, the scales of snakes, and the wings of birds. They had once carved seven seals on the trunk of the World Tree. They had once watched his son walk into the teleportation array and never return.

His hands were trembling. Not because of illness, but because he had finally waited for it. And also because he was afraid.

He feared that once Lin Ye went in, he would never come out again, just like his father, just like his grandfather, just like the Lin family for generations.

But he didn't say anything. He just sat in the darkness, head down, looking at his trembling hands.

Lin Ye returned to his room without turning on the light. He lay on the bed and reached under his pillow for the anchor. The metal piece was warm, slightly warmer than his body temperature. He pressed the anchor to his chest and closed his eyes.

The World Tree senses and operates automatically.

A crack. A gray-green consciousness. Whispers.

"See you tomorrow," Lin Ye thought to himself.

Silence. A long silence.

Then the voice answered him. Not "Is anyone there?", not "Are you his descendant?". It was three different words.

"I'm waiting for you."

Lin Ye gripped the anchor point, his eyes wide open in the darkness. There was no light from the streetlights outside the window—the streetlights were already off. Dawn was approaching. A pale white tinge appeared in the eastern sky, like a thin white line slowly unfolding on the horizon.

He waited for dawn.