The night in the snow-covered cabin was bitterly cold, with a blizzard raging outside and the wind howling. Nearby, friends were laughing and joking around.
Hearing the commotion, Wen Shuangbai turned her head to look at him. In the dim, hazy darkness, she couldn’t quite make out the expression on Xie Ziyin’s face, but the sharp contours of his features stood out clearly.
Xie Ziyin suddenly asked her, "Do you want to know?"
Wen Shuangbai blinked in surprise. "Know what?"
"About me," Xie Ziyin repeated. "Do you want to hear it?"
Wen Shuangbai hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest. "Yes." She couldn’t deny it—she was genuinely curious about him.
Xie Ziyin smiled faintly, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts before speaking concisely. "My parents divorced when I was young, and I was raised by my grandmother. During the summer before my senior year of high school, she was diagnosed with brain cancer and didn’t make it. That’s part of why I became a doctor later."
Wen Shuangbai was stunned. "N-no way…"
Xie Ziyin frowned. "Hm?"
She grabbed his forearm, her voice tinged with shock. "I—I think I know who you are!"
Back in the modern era, when her father had been hospitalized with a brain tumor, there was an elderly woman in the same ward who had always been kind to her. Every time Wen Shuangbai visited her parents, the old lady would give her treats.
At the time, the woman had a grandson in his final year of high school—also from a divorced family. Because he was busy preparing for the college entrance exams, he only came to the hospital late at night to visit his grandmother.
Because of that, Wen Shuangbai had never actually met him.
But she often heard her parents talk about him—how tall and handsome he was, how outstanding his grades were, and how the snacks the old lady gave her were actually brought by him for his grandmother.
However, the good times didn’t last. Shortly after summer break began, the old lady passed away.
Wen Shuangbai still remembered it vividly.
That afternoon, when she and her mother brought lunch to the hospital, the bed next to her father’s was already empty, with a nurse changing the sheets.
Her mother set down the food containers and sighed. "Just a few days ago, they said her condition was improving. How could she be gone so suddenly?"
"Yeah," the nurse said sympathetically. "It’s such a shame. Her grandson just got his exam results—he was the provincial top scorer in science! But she never got to hear the news."
"That poor kid," Wen’s father added quietly, staring at the empty bed. "I saw him earlier—he didn’t look well at all."
"Shuangbai," he suddenly called out to her.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Wen Shuangbai stepped forward. "Yeah?"
Her father looked at her, as if wanting to say something but stopping himself. "Never mind."
Her mother glanced between her husband and daughter before handing Wen Shuangbai an empty thermos. "Shuangbai, go fill this with hot water."
"Okay!" At the time, she was still in middle school, too young to understand the weight behind her parents’ gazes. She took the thermos and left to fetch water.
She didn’t know that, just days later, her father would defy the doctors’ advice and check himself out of the hospital. He passed away at home within a month.
After that, her mother’s health also deteriorated, though she stubbornly refused to seek treatment, not wanting to burden her daughter. Before long, she too was gone.
All of it—every tragedy—stemmed from one word: money.
Without the means to afford treatment, they had given up hope, unwilling to drag down the living.
Being poor was unbearably hard.
From that moment on, Wen Shuangbai grew up overnight. She worked tirelessly, striving to earn enough so that no one she loved would ever suffer the same fate again.
She often wondered—if only she had been older when her parents fell ill, if only she’d had enough money then, maybe things would have been different.
But wishes were just wishes. Life moved forward, and so must she.
After filling the thermos, Wen Shuangbai took a deep breath, tightened her grip on it, and turned to head back to the ward.
But as she walked, she abruptly froze.
She looked down at her small frame, at the thermos in her hands.
The texture of the thermos felt unnervingly real, and the bustling noises around her matched her memories of the hospital perfectly.
It was as if she had truly been transported back to that summer in middle school…
Damn it!
Had she fallen into a dream?!
After all her precautions, even planning to stay awake all night—had she really slipped into a dream just by reminiscing?!
Wen Shuangbai pressed a hand to her forehead, steadying herself against the wall as she glanced around.
The hospital ward was as lively as ever, with doctors, nurses, and patients’ families coming and going. Some even recognized her and greeted her warmly.
"Shuangbai, here to see your dad?"
"How were your final exams?"
"You’ll be starting eighth grade soon, right?"
"..."
Wen Shuangbai smiled and responded to each familiar face while silently analyzing her situation.
Was she trapped in this memory? Was the dream trying to keep her here forever?
If she wanted to break free, what should she do?
Just as she was deep in thought, the ward door opened, and Wen’s mother stepped out.
Spotting her daughter lingering outside, she asked in surprise, "Shuangbai? Why are you standing here alone? Come inside."
Everything felt surreal, like a lifetime had passed.
Wen Shuangbai lifted her gaze, taking in her mother’s face—lined with wrinkles, her hair already half-gray despite her relatively young age. A pang of bittersweet emotion tightened in her chest.
It really was her.
"Shuangbai, is something wrong?" Her mother noticed her strange demeanor and crouched down, concern etched on her face. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"
Wen Shuangbai shook her head, her eyes drinking in the sight of her mother as her voice trembled. "Mom…"
"Silly child, I’m right here. Don’t cry." Her mother reached out to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
A single tear slipped free. Wen Shuangbai clutched the thermos tighter and abruptly took a step back, putting distance between them.
Her mother blinked in confusion. "Shuangbai?"
"I’m sorry, Mom. There’s something really important I have to do." After one last lingering look, Wen Shuangbai turned and ran.
As she rounded the corner of the hallway, she caught a glimpse of her mother still standing at the ward door, wringing her hands anxiously as she watched her go.
Wen Shuangbai faltered for a second but forced herself to keep moving—until her father’s doctor suddenly stopped her.
"Shuangbai, wait. I need to talk to you."
Wen Shuangbai frowned. "What is it?"
"Here’s the thing," the doctor said. "The hospital has just imported a new batch of specialized medication for brain tumor patients. It could significantly improve your father’s condition. And since it’s newly introduced, the hospital is offering it to your family free of charge as part of a trial. What do you think?"
Wen Shuangbai was silent for a long moment. "Really?"
"Really," the doctor confirmed. "Go discuss it with your parents. If they agree, we’ll just need to sign some paperwork to proceed."
"Sure." Wen Shuangbai agreed readily, but as the other party turned away satisfied, she suddenly grabbed the thermos in her hand and hurled it with precision at their head.
With a loud crash, the silver bottle shattered, sending boiling water splashing everywhere. Amid the rising steam, Wen Shuangbai smirked mockingly.
A miracle drug, free trial? After the trial, her father would fully recover, return home safely, and their family would live happily ever after, right?
The trash hiding behind this scheme really knew how to write a script.
But she knew better than anyone—her parents were already dead.
The attending doctor shook off the thermos fragments clinging to his body, his face, reddened from the scalding water, suddenly turned ashen gray, his features twisting eerily in an instant. "Hmph, you refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit!"
The figure lunged toward Wen Shuangbai, sharp claws swiping at her head.
Wen Shuangbai raised an eyebrow and stepped forward instead of retreating. With a swift hand seal, the power of the Yaoling Heart Technique proved formidable against the spectral foe. In just a few moves, the attending doctor dissipated into the dream.
But the trouble was—how many people were in a hospital?
As she fought the doctor, more and more physicians, nurses, and patients converged from all directions, closing in on her like a horde of zombies.
Wen Shuangbai only had her spiritual consciousness in the dream. Without her Fire-Plume Whip or talismans, she could only rely on her innate spiritual power to fight back.
Suddenly, just as a ghostly hand nearly grabbed her from behind, a black backpack materialized out of thin air and slammed straight into the sneaky assailant.
At the same time, a hand reached out from behind her, gripping her wrist. A clear, youthful voice spoke: "Let's go."
Wen Shuangbai turned in surprise.
The newcomer wore a simple black hoodie, his short hair framing a strikingly handsome young face.
This was Xie Ziyin—just after his college entrance exams, barely in his teens.
Wen Shuangbai kicked a ghost into oblivion and blurted, "Why are you in my dream?"
"No idea," Xie Ziyin replied, wielding a mop he’d snatched in his other hand as a makeshift barrier. He pulled her back step by step, adding, "I thought I was in my own dream."
But the current situation seemed far more like hers.
"Never mind that for now." For some reason, Xie Ziyin’s presence instantly put her at ease. "Let’s get out of the hospital first."
Xie Ziyin didn’t object.
As longtime partners, their teamwork was seamless.
No words were needed—each already knew what the other would do.
Xie Ziyin bent slightly, and Wen Shuangbai nimbly climbed onto his back, snatching the mop from his hand. Channeling the Yaoling Heart Technique, she ignited one end of it.
Xie Ziyin secured her legs with one arm to keep her steady, then activated the Nine Infants’ Phantom Steps and charged straight into the encroaching horde of ghosts.
Wen Shuangbai swung the flaming mop like a torch, keeping the ghosts at bay.
Together, they raced out of the hospital at top speed, leaving the spectral mob behind.
Staring at the familiar-yet-alien modern cityscape ahead, Xie Ziyin adjusted his grip on her and asked lightly, "Where to?"
Wen Shuangbai pondered. "Do you know any place with few or no people?"
Given that every human here seemed to be a ghost, the safest bet was to find somewhere deserted to regroup and strategize.
"Yeah." Xie Ziyin carried her effortlessly, ducking into a narrow alley beside the hospital and sprinting toward an unknown destination.
Wen Shuangbai clung to his back, scanning their surroundings warily. "Where are you taking me?"
Xie Ziyin paused before answering, "My place."
Wen Shuangbai: "Huh?"
He coughed, clarifying hastily, "No one’s home."
Wen Shuangbai: "…"