Dream Ghost

The day after the confession, everything seemed different, yet nothing seemed to have changed. Su Wanning still appeared on the rooftop at seven o'clock sharp, carrying two cups of coffee and a breakfast. The coffee was still a latte with less sugar, and the breakfast was still a sandwich, rice ball, or steamed bun. When she handed the coffee to Lin Ye, her fingers touched his, and their fingertips simultaneously recoiled, then extended back at the same time, like two branches blown together by the wind, touching, separating, then touching again.

"Good morning," Su Wanning said.

"Good morning," Lin Ye said.

Then the two sat side by side, drinking coffee, eating breakfast, and watching the sun rise between the tall buildings in the east. Exactly the same as yesterday, exactly the same as the day before, exactly the same as every day before. But the air was different. Before, the air between them was transparent; now it was pale pink, like someone had dropped a tiny drop of paint into a glass of water, changing the color of the whole glass, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what had changed.

Autumn Leaf shone on Lin Ye's wrist, its golden light faint in the morning light, but it was happy. Its happiness wasn't expressed through color, but through "frequency"—it flashed on and off, like a heartbeat. Su Wanning noticed and asked, "What are you doing?" Autumn Leaf replied, "I'm learning to beat a heart." Su Wanning said, "You don't need to learn to beat a heart; you're born with it." Autumn Leaf said, "I don't have a heart, so I have to learn." Su Wanning looked at the golden light, remained silent for a few seconds, and then said, "So, how's your learning going?" Autumn Leaf said, "Not quite yet. Sometimes it beats too fast, sometimes too slow. But I'm practicing." Su Wanning reached out and gently touched Autumn Leaf with his fingertips. The golden light suddenly brightened, the frequency changing from steady to rapid, like someone suddenly being touched on the hand by someone they like.

"You jumped too fast," Su Wanning said.

"Because I was nervous," Akiha said.

"What's there to be nervous about?"

"I'm afraid you'll take your hand away."

Su Wanning didn't remove her hand. Her fingertips lingered on Lin Ye's wrist for a moment, then slowly slid down to the back of his hand. Her hand was cool, his was warm. Just like yesterday, just like the day before, but this time, she didn't hold on for long before letting go. She held it there, from sunrise until it completely rose above the horizon, from dawn to daylight, from the shadows of the rooftop being gradually swallowed by the sunlight.

Lin Ye didn't move. He didn't even look down. He looked at the distant sky, watching the clouds drift from east to west, watching a bird fly over the rooftop, its wings shimmering in the sunlight. His left hand rested on his knee, his right hand covered by Su Wanning's, and he remained motionless. He was afraid that if he moved even slightly, she would remove her hand.

The autumn leaf shone between their hands, its golden light growing ever brighter, like a lamp being lit. It was learning. Learning how humans touch—without force, without probing, without retreating. Just placing it there. Like a leaf falling onto water, neither sinking nor drifting away. Just floating there.

During the morning training, Chen Xuan clearly sensed a change. Lin Ye and Su Wanning's teamwork was more seamless than before—not just seamless, but "synchronized." The moment Lin Ye's consciousness entanglement was unleashed, Su Wanning's silver threads had already blocked the target's escape route; the moment Su Wanning's threads formed a net, Lin Ye's rule writing had already taken effect within it. There was almost no time difference between their actions, as if one person was doing two things simultaneously.

"The difference in your consciousness frequency has dropped to eight percent." Chen Xuan frowned as he looked at the monitor. "It's dropped another four percent since yesterday."

"Is it a good thing or a bad thing?" Su Wanning asked.

"That's a good thing. The smaller the frequency difference, the better the coordination. But the frequency difference is dropping too quickly, that's abnormal." Chen Xuan put down the monitoring device and looked at Lin Ye and Su Wanning. "What did you two do yesterday?"

Lin Ye and Su Wanning exchanged a glance. They both looked away at the same time, then looked back at the same time.

"It's nothing," Lin Ye said.

"Just sit down," Su Wanning said.

Chen Xuan looked at them for a few seconds, then didn't ask any more questions. He turned around and added another line to the training schedule—"Rest, twice a week." He didn't explain why it changed from once to twice, and Lin Ye didn't ask, nor did Su Wanning. All three knew why, but no one said anything.

Gu Yan didn't come to the afternoon training. His consciousness projection needed to return to the medical room periodically to "recharge"—although his consciousness integrity had recovered to 78%, maintaining the projection still required a lot of consciousness energy. Dr. Jiang said that his recovery speed had exceeded expectations, but there was still a long way to go before he was fully recovered. When Lin Ye went to see him, he was lying on the bed in the medical room, with a sensor patch on his head and his eyes closed.

"You've come." He didn't open his eyes.

"They're here."

"How's the training?"

"Team Leader Chen said the frequency difference between us has dropped to eight percent."

Gu Yan opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.

"Eight percent. Do you know what that means?"

"The teamwork is more seamless."

"It's not just about coordination." Gu Yan turned to look at him. "It means your consciousnesses are drawing closer. Not a trained connection, but a natural one. Like two rivers, flowing together until they merge. This isn't a skill; it's destiny."

Lin Ye didn't speak. He sat on the chair by the bed, looking out the window. The sky outside was very blue, without a single cloud.

"You don't believe in fate?" Gu Yan asked.

"letter."

"Then what are you hesitating about?"

"No hesitation."

"So what are you thinking about right now?"

Lin Ye remained silent for a few seconds.

"I'm thinking, I wish I had met her sooner."

Gu Yan looked at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"How long is 'early'?"

"A few years. Ten years. From childhood. Anything is fine."

"So what if you know her? If you'd known each other since childhood, you probably would have just seen her as a younger sister. It wouldn't be like this now." Gu Yan shifted his gaze back to the ceiling. "Fate isn't a matter of time, it's a matter of timing. You met at the right time. Not too early, not too late. Just right."

Lin Ye looked at Gu Yan's profile. The scar on his left cheek appeared very faint under the fluorescent light, almost invisible. His consciousness projection became clearer and clearer, and the illusory shadows at the edges completely disappeared. If one didn't know that he wasn't a physical being, it would be difficult to distinguish him from a real person.

"I will help you get your body back," Lin Ye said.

Gu Yan remained silent for a few seconds.

"No rush."

"You're not in a hurry, but I am."

Why?

"Because you said it was the right time. Your current time is wrong. Your body isn't with you, and even if your consciousness is projected clearly, it's still just a projection. You can't eat, you can't drink, you can't touch anyone." Lin Ye stood up. "This isn't the right time. I'm going to help you find the right time."

He's gone. Gu Yan lay on the bed in the medical room, staring at the ceiling. The fluorescent light cast white spots in his eyes, like shapeless clouds. His lips twitched slightly, not in a smile, but in a faint expression, like someone pulled from deep water and finally able to breathe.

That evening, Lin Ye went to Lin Yuanzhou's room. The old man was sorting through a pile of old photos—not real photos, but simulations projected from his consciousness—scenes from three thousand years ago, which he "drew" from memory using his consciousness. The images were blurry, like old photos soaked in water, but the general outlines were still discernible. A group of people stood under the World Tree, its silvery-white trunk in the center of the image, like a pillar reaching to the heavens.

"This is the first generation of Night Watchmen." Lin Yuanzhou pointed to a blurry figure. "This is your great-grandfather. This is your great-great-grandfather. This is your great-great-great-grandfather." His finger moved across the image, pointing to many people, but Lin Ye couldn't make out any of them. The image was too blurry, and too much time had passed; the memories had begun to fade.

"Do you remember what they looked like?" Lin Ye asked.

"I remember. But I can't draw it." Lin Yuanzhou looked at his hands. "My hands are old, I can't draw what I remember anymore. The memory is still clear, but my hands won't obey me."

Lin Ye reached out and placed his hand on the old man's aged hand. The hand was cold, the skin as thin as paper, and the bluish veins underneath were visible.

"You don't need to draw," Lin Ye said. "Just remembering it is enough."

Lin Yuanzhou looked at him, something flickering in his cloudy eyes.

"You're becoming more and more like your father," he said.

"How is it similar?"

"Hands. Your father's hands were just as big and warm. When he was little, his hands were small, like cat's paws. They grew bigger as he grew up, like your hands." The old man looked at Lin Ye's hands for a long time. "The last time he held my hand was in front of the teleportation array. He said, 'Dad, wait for me to come back.' I said, 'Okay.' Then he let go of my hand, walked into the teleportation array, and didn't look back."

Lin Ye held the old man's hand tightly, without letting go.

"I will come back," he said.

"I know."

How did you know?

"Because you said 'I will come back,' not 'Wait for me to come back.'" The old man's lips curled up slightly. "A promise and a request are not the same."

Lin Ye came out of Lin Yuanzhou's room and ran into Su Wanning in the corridor. She was carrying a cup of hot milk, wearing a light blue nightgown, her hair loose, and fluffy slippers. The corridor light cast a soft shadow on her face, making her look very gentle, like a cloud washed by moonlight.

"Here you go." She handed him the milk. "You must be tired from training today. Drink this so you can sleep better."

Lin Ye took the cup. The milk was warm, not hot, just right to drink. He took a sip, and the milky aroma spread in his mouth, sweet and delightful.

"Did you add sugar?"

"Just one spoonful. I didn't dare add more because I was afraid you wouldn't be able to sleep."

Lin Ye looked at her. She had faint dark circles under her eyes, not from lack of sleep, but because her skin was naturally fair and thin, making her veins stand out and giving the impression of tiredness. But actually, she'd been sleeping well lately, because Lin Ye would stand at her door for a while every night, neither knocking nor speaking, just standing there. His footsteps were very light, but she could hear them. Each time she heard his footsteps, she would turn off the lamp and pretend to be asleep. Then she would listen to his footsteps leave the doorway and walk back to his room. Those footsteps reassured her, more effective than any sleeping pill.

"You come to my door every night, do you think I don't know?" Su Wanning suddenly said.

Lin Ye paused for a moment while holding the milk glass.

"You know?"

"I know. I have good hearing."

"Then why aren't you saying anything?"

"Because of what you're waiting for. I don't know what you're waiting for, but I know you won't leave until you see it." Su Wanning leaned against the wall, hands in his pajama pockets. "What are you waiting for?"

Lin Ye remained silent for a few seconds.

"Waiting for a reason."

"What reason?"

"The reason for knocking and going in."

Su Wanning looked at him, and the corridor light reflected two small points of light in her eyes.

"If you want to come in, just knock. No reason needed." She turned and walked away, then stopped after a few steps. "I'm not locking the door tonight."

She left. Lin Ye stood in the corridor, holding the glass of milk in his hand. The milk was still warm, but his heart was pounding. Autumn leaves gleamed on his wrist, the golden light shining brightly in the corridor lights, its rhythm as rapid as a person's panicked heart.

"She's waiting for you," Qiuye said.

"I know."

Aren't you going?

"The milk wasn't finished."

"You can drink the milk tomorrow."

Lin Ye looked down at the milk in his glass, white and steaming. He tilted his head back, drank it all in one gulp, placed the glass on the bench in the corridor, and then walked towards Su Wanning's room. The door was closed, but the latch on the doorknob wasn't engaged—it wasn't locked.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in." The voice came from inside, soft but clear.

Lin Ye pushed open the door.

Su Wanning sat on the bed, leaning against the pillows, a book in her hand. The desk lamp was on, its warm orange light spreading across the small, cozy corner of the room. She was wearing her light blue pajamas, her hair loose over her shoulders. She looked at Lin Ye, her eyes showing no tension or panic, only a calm, moonlit certainty.

"Have you finished your milk?" she asked.

"I've finished drinking."

"Is it sweet?"

"sweet."

"That's good." She lowered her head and continued reading.

Lin Ye stood at the door, unsure whether to go in or out. His hand was still gripping the doorknob, his knuckles slightly white. Autumn leaves shone on his wrist, their frequency as fast as an engine about to overload.

"Come in and close the door." Su Wanning didn't look up. "It's windy and cold in the corridor."

Lin Ye entered the room and closed the door. The room wasn't large; it contained a bed, a table, a chair, and a wardrobe. On the table sat a small cactus, and on the windowsill was a potted green ivy—exactly the same as the one in Lin Ye's room, which she had grown later. She had said, "You have a green ivy in your room, so I need one too. Same variety, same size, both placed on the left side of the windowsill. That way, their rooms would be somewhat similar."

Lin Ye sat down in the chair. The chair was about a meter from the bed, not too far, not too close, just enough to see her face clearly, but not so close that she would feel pressured. She continued reading, and he continued watching her. The light from the lamp fell on her face, making her eyelashes appear very long and casting a small fan-shaped shadow under her eyelids.

"What book are you reading?" Lin Ye asked.

"The Interpretation of Dreams." Su Wanning turned the book over, cover up. "The one on your desk, the one you bought in your freshman year. I'm borrowing it."

"Can you understand it?"

"I understand some things, but not others. Please teach me the parts I don't understand."

Lin Ye looked at her. She had her head down, her gaze fixed on the pages of the book, but her ears were red. The redness ran from her earlobes to the tips of her ears, like two leaves dyed red by autumn.

"Su Wanning."

"Um."

"I like you."

She paused for a moment while turning the pages, then continued turning them.

"The first time today."

"It's not the first time. It's the countless times since the first time," Lin Ye said. "I liked it before, but I never said it. Now I have, and I say it every day. You said you'd say it once in the morning, once at noon, and once in the evening. Now it's evening, and this is the evening's version."

Su Wanning closed the book, placed it on the bedside table, and turned off the lamp. The room darkened, with only the silvery moonlight streaming in from the window, casting a small patch of light on the floor.

"Come here," she said.

Lin Ye stood up from the chair, walked to the bedside, and sat down. The mattress dipped slightly, and Su Wanning leaned towards him before straightening up again. She reached out, groped in the darkness, found his hand, and took it. Her hand was cold; his was warm. Just like on the rooftop, just like in the corridor, but this time, there was no distance between them. That half-step vanished, swallowed by the moonlight.

"Lin Ye".

"Um."

"You will enter the World Tree."

"meeting."

"When?"

"Wait until everything is ready."

"When will it be ready?"

"I don't know. But it won't be long."

Su Wanning's fingers twitched slightly in his palm.

"I'll wait for you," she said.

"Wait for me to come back?"

"Waiting for you to come back."

Lin Ye turned around and looked at her face in the darkness. Moonlight shone in through the window, falling on her face and gently outlining her features. Her eyes were bright, not from tears, but from the reflection of the moonlight in her pupils.

"I will come back," he said.

"I know."

How did you know?

"Because you are here. Your heart is here. No matter how far a person goes, if their heart is here, they will come back."

Lin Ye reached out and gently touched her cheek. Her skin was cool, like moonlight. But his fingertips were warm, and the moment they touched her skin, her face warmed, like a small patch of sunlight falling on the snow in winter.

"Su Wanning."

"Um."

"I like you."

"This is the second time. I went over the limit today."

"I'll pay for tomorrow's portion today in advance."

Su Wanning smiled in the darkness. Lin Ye couldn't see her smile, but he could feel it. Her hand trembled slightly in his, like a leaf fluttering in the wind.

"You owe me the three repetitions tomorrow," she said.

"it is good."

The moon outside the window was round, its silvery light spilling onto the rooftop and onto the morning glories. The morning glories had closed, their petals curled into tiny trumpets, as if they were asleep. Tomorrow morning they would open again, their purple petals unfurling in the morning light to greet the new day. The autumn leaves would awaken then, learning new colors, hearing new sounds, and feeling new emotions. It would see Lin Ye and Su Wanning sitting side-by-side on the rooftop, hands clasped, coffee cold, breakfast finished, the sun rising. It would know that this was "ordinary." Not dramatic, not breathtaking, just watching the sunrise together every morning. Today it was like this, tomorrow it was like this, the day after tomorrow it would be like this. Until one day it wouldn't be like this anymore—not because they didn't want to anymore, but because they had to separate. But even when they were separated, the sun would still rise. They would still watch it. Just not from the same place. But they would be watching the same sun.

The autumn leaves shone quietly on Lin Ye's wrist, their golden light faint in the moonlight, yet it never faded. No matter how long it took, they would remain lit.