Xie Ziyin’s home was located in the suburbs of the city—a two-story rural self-built house. The yard was planted with vegetables, though it seemed they hadn’t been tended to in a while, as weeds had overgrown the patch. It must have been his grandmother’s doing. After she was hospitalized, the vegetable garden had been left to wither.
"I never imagined we’d have a connection in the modern world too," Wen Shuangbai turned to look at Xie Ziyin standing beside her. "What do you think would’ve happened if we’d met back then?"
"Nothing," Xie Ziyin lowered his gaze, gesturing at the height difference between them before drawling, "I’m not interested in middle schoolers."
Wen Shuangbai: "?"
What was going through his head? That wasn’t what she meant at all.
Xie Ziyin only doubled down, patting the top of her head, which barely reached his waist. "I didn’t realize you were so short in middle school. Late bloomer?"
Wen Shuangbai: "???"
Seeing the girl’s visibly irritated expression, Xie Ziyin’s eyes curved in satisfaction.
He immediately turned away. "I’ll get you something to eat."
With that, he took three long strides up the steps and disappeared into the house.
Wen Shuangbai stuck out her tongue at his retreating figure, muttering a few choice words under her breath before stepping back and sitting alone on the front steps.
In this dreamlike memory, it was the height of summer.
The countryside, far from the city, was serene and picturesque.
The afternoon sun blazed overhead, cicadas chirped incessantly, and the sky stretched endlessly blue without a single blemish. The breeze carried the nostalgic scent of summer vacation.
As she sat there, Wen Shuangbai began to wonder—what if everything that happened after transmigrating into the Xuantian Continent was just a figment of her imagination?
What if she woke up and was still that middle school girl with a gravely ill father?
The line between reality and illusion blurred until it was nearly indistinguishable.
Just as Wen Shuangbai lost herself in thought, something cold pressed against her left cheek.
"Ah!" She startled, turning to see a dark-eyed boy with short hair sitting beside her, holding out an ice cream bar. "Figured out how to break the dream yet? You were so deep in thought you didn’t even hear me calling you."
Wen Shuangbai blinked slowly.
If the Xuantian Continent was all in her head, then the present her wouldn’t know Xie Ziyin, wouldn’t be sitting on the steps of his house.
In this deceptively realistic dream, Xie Ziyin—somehow brought in by her—felt like the only real thing left.
She took the ice cream from him and took a bite, the sweetness spreading across her tongue.
After finishing it, she finally spoke. "Actually, back at the hospital, I had an idea of what we’d need to do to leave this place."
But at the time, she had chosen to run—away from the hospital, away from the thing she wasn’t sure she could face.
Xie Ziyin: "Mm."
Seeing his unfazed expression, Wen Shuangbai knew. "So you already figured it out too, didn’t you?"
He didn’t deny it.
This was her dream—or rather, her inner demon. As an outsider, he could see it clearly.
Wen Shuangbai: "Then why did you take me away from the hospital when I asked?"
"What does it matter?" Xie Ziyin reached over, casually wiping away a smudge of ice cream at the corner of her mouth. "You’d have realized it sooner or later."
"Really?" Wen Shuangbai lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes, so close she could count his lashes. "But Xie Ziyin, what if I don’t want to face it? What if I’d rather lie to myself, stay trapped in this memory, and live out this fake but happy life where nothing goes wrong?"
Here, her father would recover. Her mother wouldn’t work herself to death. Both would live long, fulfilling lives.
She would study hard, graduate, land a good job, and the three of them would live happily together.
"Then I’ll stay with you," Xie Ziyin said, his gaze unwavering as it bore into her soul. "I’ll drown with you."
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, the cicadas’ cries faded. The wind brushed past, lifting loose strands of their hair, tangling them together before letting them fall against each other’s skin—tiny, ticklish pricks.
Something buried deep within her heart began to stir.
Wen Shuangbai quickly looked away and stood. "Let’s go!"
Xie Ziyin chuckled, still seated as he tilted his head up at her. "Where to?"
"The hospital!" She grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet, dragging him along without another word.
---
"Shuangbai, here to see your dad?"
"Your mom said you ranked first in your grade this semester. That’s amazing! I wish my daughter could do half as well."
"Shuangbai, want some watermelon? We’ve got some in our room."
"..."
When they returned to the hospital, everything was back to normal.
If not for Xie Ziyin beside her, Wen Shuangbai might’ve doubted whether the ghostly apparitions from earlier had even existed.
The dangers of the Divine Mist Valley were no joke. No wonder the city lord’s note had warned them to beware of madness.
In this dream, where reality and illusion were indistinguishable, how could anyone not lose their mind?
Internally, Wen Shuangbai cursed a storm, but outwardly, she wore a practiced smile, politely greeting the uncles and aunties who had once been so kind to her—pretending nothing was amiss.
Behind her, Xie Ziyin kept a low profile, a black cap pulled low over his eyes, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants as he followed at a distance.
For safety, they didn’t walk together.
One in the light, one in the shadows—that way, if anything happened, they’d have a backup plan.
Inside the crowded elevator, Wen Shuangbai stood at the front, Xie Ziyin at the back. Through the reflective panel, their eyes met briefly before flickering away.
When the doors opened, Wen Shuangbai stepped out first.
Facing the all-too-familiar hallway of the inpatient ward, she took a deep breath and marched forward—step by step—toward her past.
She pushed open the door to the room without a sound.
Her father’s bed was by the window.
The afternoon sun slanted in, casting golden light over her mother as she sat by the bed, stringing together beaded bracelets.
Back then, to make ends meet, her mother had taken on countless odd jobs—cooking meals for others, doing piecework like this, even working as a hospital caregiver in between.
Her father, unusually alert today, was helping too, sorting beads with half-lidded eyes.
The couple chatted idly as they worked.
Wen Shuangbai lingered silently in the doorway, watching.
Finally, she steeled herself, shut the door behind her, and approached.
"Dad. Mom," she called out, her voice thick.
Her mother looked up, scolding gently, "Where’ve you been, child?"
Wen Shuangbai hesitated. "I... ran into a friend. Went out for a bit with them."
"I told you, there's no need to worry about our Shuangbai. She knows what she's doing—she won’t run off recklessly." After speaking to her mother, her father turned to his daughter and said, "A young girl should go out and have fun more often, not spend all her time at the hospital. I can take care of myself just fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Stay home, do your homework, and spend time with your friends. Don’t fret over your dad, understand?"
Wen Shuangbai’s voice trembled with unshed tears. "...Mm."
"I’m sorry," she whispered, raising a slightly shaking hand.
Even though she knew the two figures before her were illusions, guilt still gnawed at her for what she was about to do.
But she couldn’t help it—she wasn’t alone anymore.
She had teammates fighting alongside her, and she had no idea how Senior Brother Zhuohua, Second Shen, Lu Santu, or Xie Ziyin were faring. She needed to escape this dreamscape as quickly as possible—she couldn’t afford to lose herself in it.
Closing her eyes, Wen Shuangbai summoned a massive fireball in her palm, channeling her spiritual energy. Suppressing her reluctance, she struck decisively at the phantoms of her parents.
To end their suffering swiftly, she poured all her strength into the attack, aiming for a single, fatal blow.
Yet the outcome was nothing like she expected.
The spiritual fire that could effortlessly vanquish malevolent spirits failed to extinguish the illusions.
Amid the roaring flames, her parents writhed in agony, their faces twisted in disbelief as they cried out, "Shuangbai?! What are you doing?!"
"Shuangbai?! How could you kill your own parents?!"
"Shuangbai, we’re your mother and father!"
"Shuangbai, how could you do this?! Are you even human anymore? You don’t deserve to live! You’re a monster!"
The inferno surged, devouring everything in its path. Wooden beams in the hospital room collapsed one after another.
Standing in the sea of fire, Wen Shuangbai stared at her hands, then at her burning parents, and instinctively denied it. "...No, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…"
"Then what are you doing?!" her mother shrieked, her voice raw with pain. "Shuangbai, do you really want to burn your own mother alive?! Child, stop this—it’s not too late! Put out the fire, save us! If you let us die like this, how will you ever live with yourself?! You’ll regret this for the rest of your life! This sin will haunt you forever—you’ll never know peace again!"
Wen Shuangbai studied the woman’s contorted, desperate face—and suddenly laughed, as if a weight had lifted. "You’re not my mother."
The illusion faltered. "I—I am! Of course I am!"
"No, you’re not." Wen Shuangbai smirked. "You’re not even human, are you? That’s why you don’t understand."
Her real mother would never speak like this.
In her final moments, her mother had only worried for her.
In her memory, the frail woman on the hospital bed had cupped her face and whispered, "Shuangbai, I’m sorry… I won’t be here for you anymore. But promise me you’ll live well. I hope you meet wonderful friends, find someone who loves you… Your father and I just want you to be happy."
Wen Shuangbai lifted her gaze, her heart now clear and calm.
She stepped forward into the flames and wrapped her arms around the illusion of her mother. Golden spiritual energy—gentle, warm, like a mother’s embrace—flowed from her body, devoid of any hostility.
At last, she understood how to break free from this nightmare.
The answer wasn’t destruction—it was letting go.
Letting go of the past, of the grief of losing her parents, and making peace with herself.
After their deaths, she’d thought she had moved on—but in truth, she’d been trapped in the past all along.
That was why she’d obsessively chased wealth, pinching every penny, pretending to be sociable while never truly opening her heart to anyone.
As the golden light shimmered, the phantom in her arms faded, and the dream world trembled before collapsing entirely.
Through the fire, Wen Shuangbai smiled at the memories of her parents, watching as they walked away hand in hand.
......
The dream shattered, and Wen Shuangbai and Xie Ziyin awoke in the real world.
Her eyelids felt unbearably heavy, as if she’d slept for years. As she struggled to open them, she heard her teammates’ voices.
Lu Jiayao shrieked, "Holy heavens! So we were never actually in the snowy mountains?! It was all an illusion—just like Ziyin said! From the moment we stepped in, everything was fake!"
A sharp kick landed nearby, and Shen Hefeng’s smug voice came from above her. "These three were way too weak. Can’t compare to this old master—I broke free from my inner demons in one go!"
Lu Jiayao bluntly called him out. "You literally just woke up too."
Back in the cabin, he’d been brainstorming menu ideas for a future feast when—bam!—Senior Sister Zhuohua, Shen Hefeng, Ziyin, and Shuangbai all collapsed. Only he and Senior Brother Yin had stayed conscious.
Thank the heavens Senior Brother Yin had been awake—without him, Lu Jiayao would’ve been no match for the cabin’s mistress, and they’d all have died.
Luckily, fate was on their side. Together, he and Yin Xuan had defeated the woman, dispelling the snowy mountain illusion.
Only then had Shen Hefeng been the first to wake.
Shen Hefeng snapped, "Do you ever shut up?"
Lu Jiayao shot back, "I’m just stating facts!"
The two immediately launched into another squabble. Nearby, Yin Xuan sighed, crouching with his sword as he half-heartedly tried to mediate. "Stop fighting… Actually, never mind. Go ahead."
He gave up.
