Dream Ghost

After that night, Lin Ye and Su Wanning were never separated again. They weren't always together—they each had their own things to do. Lin Ye trained, Su Wanning maintained the silk network, and Chen Xuan's training schedule was packed; two days off a week was a luxury. But each time they came out of the training room, they would walk back to their rooms together, stop at the fork in the corridor, say "See you tomorrow," and then go back to their own rooms. Sometimes Lin Ye would stand outside Su Wanning's room for a while, without knocking or speaking, just standing there. Su Wanning knew he was outside. She would leave the desk lamp on, the orange light seeping through the crack in the door like a thin, luminous river. Lin Ye would look at that light, stand for a few minutes, and then leave. After he left, Su Wanning would turn off the desk lamp, pull the blanket up to her chin, and close her eyes. She knew she would see him the next morning—in the corridor, in the cafeteria, on the rooftop. Every day was like this. She wasn't afraid of repetition; what she feared was the day when it wouldn't happen.

After learning its favorite color, Qiuye became interested in time. It asked Lin Ye how long a day was. Lin Ye said it was from sunrise to sunset. Qiuye then asked how long a year was. Lin Ye said it was from spring to winter. Qiuye was silent for a moment, then asked how long three thousand years was. Lin Ye didn't answer. Qiuye answered itself: "Three thousand years is a very, very long day. The sun never rises, and never sets. It's always night." Lin Ye listened without speaking. He reached out and gently touched Qiuye on his wrist. The golden light trembled slightly, like someone being touched on the shoulder in the dark, turning around to see a familiar face.

Su Wanning noticed Lin Ye's change. He no longer frowned so often, and sometimes he would smile for no apparent reason—not the kind of smile that "reveals something," but the kind that "reveals nothing but a good mood." Chen Xuan noticed it too, but he didn't say anything. He simply added another line to the training schedule—"Rest, three times a week." This time he didn't write any reason, and neither did Lin Ye or Su Wanning. The cafeteria chef also noticed. He started saving an extra breakfast each day, packing it in an insulated bag and placing it at the back of the food counter. Not two portions, but three. He knew that someone waited for the other two on the rooftop every morning; that person didn't eat, but needed to be remembered.

Gu Yan's consciousness had recovered to 81% of its original state, and his consciousness projection could now last for twelve hours. He began participating in training, not as an opponent, but as a tactical advisor. He stood in the corner of the training room, holding that old notebook, watching Lin Ye and Su Wanning coordinate, occasionally saying things like, "The thread should be 0.5 seconds earlier" or "The rule writing should be 0.3 seconds later." His eyes were incredibly sharp, able to detect time differences of a fraction of a second. Lin Ye asked him how he did it, and he replied, "Because I can't move." Those who can't move see most clearly.

One day after training, Su Wanning suddenly asked Gu Yan, "Where is the person you liked back then?" Gu Yan, who was closing his notebook, paused for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe she's still in that city, maybe she moved away, maybe she married someone else, maybe she has children. I haven't gone to look for her." Su Wanning asked why. Gu Yan said, "Because she waited for me for three years, and I didn't come back. She's waited enough. If I went to see her, it wouldn't give her hope, it would be a burden." He tucked his notebook under his arm and walked out of the training room. His consciousness was projected without a shadow under the corridor lights, like someone forgotten by the world. Su Wanning watched the direction he disappeared in, remaining silent for a long time.

Lin Yuanzhou had almost fully recovered; he could walk to the cafeteria by himself, get his own food, and find a seat. He always sat by the window, where sunlight streamed in, illuminating his white hair and bathing each strand in a golden glow. He ate slowly, chewing each bite for a long time, as if savoring the flavor—he hadn't eaten in three thousand years, and every grain of rice was precious. Sometimes Lin Ye would sit opposite him, eating with him. The two didn't speak, just ate. The sounds of chopsticks touching the rim of bowls, chewing, and swallowing were all new to Lin Yuanzhou. He listened intently, as if listening to a symphony.

"Your father also likes to sit here," Lin Yuanzhou suddenly said. Lin Ye looked up at him. The old man's gaze was fixed on the window, seemingly lost in thought. "Every time he finishes eating, he sits here for a while, looking out the window. I asked him what he was looking at, and he said, 'Looking at tomorrow.'" Lin Ye also looked out the window. Outside was a parking lot, several cars parked there, their roofs reflecting the sunlight. Nothing special, but Lin Yuanzhou looked at it every day. Perhaps he wasn't looking at the parking lot; he was looking at a place that didn't exist—a place he could never reach, but which he hoped his son could.

The fragments of Su Wanning's father, Su Yuanzhou's, consciousness are still in the vault, 68% intact, just as before. Lin Ye goes to the vault once a week to check on the bottles, always lingering a little longer in front of Su Yuanzhou's bottle. The pale blue light inside is quiet, like someone asleep, occasionally trembling slightly, like someone dreaming. This week, when he went to check, he found Su Wanning already inside. She was squatting in front of the cabinet, holding the bottle in her hand, raising it to her eyes, looking at the light inside. She didn't cry, nor did she speak, she just looked. Lin Ye squatted down beside her, not asking "Why are you here?" nor saying "I'll stay with you." He just squatted there, looking at the light in the bottle with her.

After a long silence, Su Wanning spoke. "I was nineteen when he disappeared. The association sent someone to inform me that he had disappeared in the Dream Continent and that his chances of survival were very low. I didn't cry. I felt he wouldn't die. He was the kind of person who was very cautious and always thought of an escape route before doing anything. He wouldn't let himself die in a place with no way out." She put the bottle back on the shelf and stood up. "Later, I joined the association and trained desperately, wanting to find him. Captain Chen said my consciousness was too incomplete to enter the Dream Continent. I waited for three years. During those three years, I thought every day whether he was still alive, whether he was waiting for me, or whether he had forgotten me."

Lin Ye also stood up and looked at her. "He won't forget you."

How did you know?

"Because my father didn't forget me either. He stayed in the World Tree for twenty years, and seventy-three percent of his consciousness was extracted, but he still remembered my mother's face, her favorite flowers, and her voice." Lin Ye looked at the bottles on the shelf. "Memory is not consciousness; memory is the soul. Consciousness can be extracted, but memory cannot. Memory is engraved on the soul and cannot be taken away."

Su Wanning looked at him, her eyes shining, not with tears, but with the kind of bright, star-like light that only appears after someone has understood her.

"When did you become so eloquent?"

"After meeting you".

Su Wanning's lips finally curved into a smile. It wasn't a restrained, suppressed smile, but a genuine, overflowing smile that she couldn't suppress. She reached out and took Lin Ye's hand. Her hand was cool, his was warm. In the cold light of the vault, the two temperatures clashed, like two rivers of different temperatures merging.

Emerging from the vault, the two walked down the corridor. It was already evening, and the corridor was quiet, bathed in the dim yellow light of the emergency lights. Autumn leaves shone on Lin Ye's wrist, their golden light appearing especially warm in the dim light.

"What did Qiuye learn today?" Su Wanning asked.

"I learned about 'waiting'."

What color is waiting?

"There is no color. Waiting is not a color, waiting is 'still here'. The sky is not yet bright, but you know it will be. That is waiting." Lin Ye looked down at the autumn leaf on his wrist, which flashed as if confirming something.

Su Wanning also looked down at the light. "What it's learning is becoming increasingly abstract."

"Because it's becoming more and more like a human."

"Humans aren't abstract. Humans are concrete. Eating, sleeping, walking, talking—every concrete action reflects a person." Su Wanning looked up at Lin Ye. "Have you eaten today?"

"I ate. I ate with you."

"Are you sleeping?"

"It's not time yet."

"Walking?"

He's on his way.

"Are you talking?"

He's talking right now.

Su Wanning looked at him, the smile still on her lips.

"So you've been a human all day."

Lin Ye looked at her and smiled. "Yeah. I've been a human for a day. I'll continue tomorrow."

The two stopped at the fork in the corridor. Lin Ye's room was on the left, and Su Wanning's room was on the right. Every night they would part here, saying "See you tomorrow" before returning to their respective rooms. Tonight, Su Wanning didn't say "See you tomorrow." She stood at the fork, looking at Lin Ye.

"Lin Ye".

"Um."

"Is there anything you wanted to say tonight, but didn't?"

Lin Ye remained silent for a few seconds.

"have."

"What?"

"I want to say, I don't want to go back to my room."

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

"Where do you want to go?"

"Rooftop".

What's on the rooftop?

"The moon. Morning glories. You."

Su Wanning gently clenched her fingers on the hem of her skirt.

"Let's go then."

The two turned and walked towards the rooftop. The staircase was long, and the motion-activated lights on each floor lit up with the sound of their footsteps, only to turn off behind them. Floor by floor, it was as if someone was paving a path for them in the darkness. The rooftop door was made of iron, very heavy, and creaked as Lin Ye pushed it open. The night wind rushed in, carrying the smells of the city night—car exhaust, the smoke from barbecue stalls, and the fishy smell of the distant river. It didn't smell good, but it was very real.

The moon was full, its silvery light spilling onto the rooftop, bathing everything in a soft glow. The morning glories were still there, their petals closed, shrunk into tiny trumpets, as if they were sleeping. Lin Ye sat down on the concrete platform, and Su Wanning sat down beside him. Just like last time, just like the time before, but this time, there wasn't even a step between them. That step had vanished, swallowed by the moonlight.

Su Wanning leaned on his shoulder. Her hair brushed against his neck, tickling him a little, but he didn't pull away. He gently rested his head on hers, and the two of them were like two trees very close together, their branches intertwined, their roots firmly planted in the soil, but on the ground, they could no longer distinguish which leaf belonged to whom.

"Lin Ye".

"Um."

Are you scared?

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid to enter the World Tree. I'm afraid I won't be able to come back. I'm afraid I'll be left all alone."

Lin Ye remained silent for a long time. The moonlight flowed over the two of them, casting their shadows onto the concrete ground of the rooftop, one shadow overlapping another, like a painting created with light and shadow.

"I'm afraid," he said, "but I have to go. Not because I'm brave, but because there are some things only I can do."

Su Wanning didn't speak. She 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, just like in the vault. Every time, the cold met the warm, every time she reached out first.

"You always reach out first," Lin Ye said.

"Because you react slowly."

"It's not that I'm slow to react. It's that I'm afraid to."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I dare not touch you. I'm afraid you'll avoid me."

Su Wanning gently nuzzled his shoulder, like a cat nudging its owner's hand with its head.

"I won't hide," she said.

Lin Ye turned his head and looked at her. Moonlight fell on her face, gently outlining her features. Her eyes were bright, not from tears, but from the reflection of the moonlight in her pupils. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. Her skin was cool, like moonlight. His fingertips were warm, and the moment they touched her skin, her face warmed, like a small patch of sunlight falling on winter snow.

This time, he didn't remove his hand. His hand remained there, palm against her cheek, thumb gently tracing a circle on her cheekbone. Her eyelashes fluttered, like butterflies flapping their wings.

"Su Wanning."

"Um."

"I like you."

"The first time today."

"This isn't the first time. It's the forty-seventh time today."

Su Wanning smiled. The moonlight flowed across her smiling face, gilding her smile with a silvery glow.

"Did you count them?"

"I counted. I've said it forty-seven times since this morning. Once in the morning, once at noon, once in the evening, and the other forty-four times I said it whenever I thought of it."

"You just tell me what comes to mind?"

"Just say it when you think of it."

Su Wanning looked at him, the light in her eyes growing brighter and brighter.

"How many times have you thought about me?"

"countless."

Su Wanning didn't speak. She buried her face in his shoulder, nuzzling him like a shy cat. Lin Ye felt her face was hot—not cold, but burning hot. Her hands were hot too. Her whole body was burning. She was like a flame that had been lit, burning quietly in the moonlight.

The autumn leaves shone between their hands, their golden light turning orange-red, like the color of a campfire. It didn't ask what color it was; it knew. It was the color of an embrace. Not the contact of skin, but the contact of consciousness. Two consciousnesses collided, neither separating, neither testing, neither retreating. Simply touching. Like two clouds meeting high in the sky, their edges merging, indistinguishable as to which belonged to which.

"The autumn leaves are changing color," Su Wanning said.

"It is learning."

"What to study?"

"What color is a hug?"

"Has it learned it?"

"I've learned it. Orange-red. Like a campfire."

Su Wanning looked up at the orange-red patch on Lin Ye's wrist. It looked especially warm in the moonlight, like a lamp lit in the cold night.

"It looks good," she said.

"Um."

"I'll watch it every day from now on."

"every day."

What about rainy days?

"Watching it in my room on a rainy day."

"What if it's cloudy?"

"Watching it in the corridor on a cloudy day."

"What about winter?"

"Watch it in bed during winter."

Su Wanning looked at him, unable to suppress the smile on her lips.

"You're thinking quite far ahead."

"Because the future is long."

Su Wanning didn't answer. She buried her face in his shoulder again and closed her eyes. The night wind blew from the east, rustling the morning glory leaves. The distant city breathed quietly under the moonlight, its myriad lights like an inverted starry sky on the ground. The rooftop was quiet, with only the sound of the wind and their soft breathing.

The autumn leaves shone between their hands, their orange-red light flickering in the moonlight like a heartbeat. It was learning. Learning how humans come together—without speaking, without promises, without embraces, simply leaning against each other. Doing nothing, yet lacking nothing.