The Vanishing Street, My Name Is Xie Yi

I've been having the same dream repeatedly lately.

It's always the same small street, where I spent my childhood.

That street was completely changed ten years ago during the old city renovation, and it's now a famous commercial district.

There weren't many residents on the street; walking from one end to the other, there were only about thirty-odd households, a little over a hundred people.

Uncle Long, Sister Xiaoping, Er Lai, Zhijun, Aunt Qin...

I could name everyone who lived on that street.

Back then, our small county town didn't have any skyscrapers. Most of the buildings were low, single-story houses. The wealthiest families might have had a two-story house. Neighbors were close-knit, and children would often play from one house to another. The adults wouldn't get angry at the children's mischief; instead, they'd smile watching the kids have fun.

I really miss that time. Although the conditions back then couldn't compare to now, the relationships between people were simple, pure, and full of warmth.

But you can't find that anywhere anymore.

I also rarely saw those neighbors from the small street later on. Even when I did occasionally see them, we had become quite distant.

But recently, they've all come back, just in my dreams.

I'm only in my early twenties. I shouldn't be the nostalgic type, so why do I have the same dream every night?

It's just that the small street in my dream is always hazy, like twilight but not quite night. I can't describe the feeling. The familiar faces of those people don't have their familiar smiles, their eyes are vacant, as if devoid of life.

This dream makes me feel uneasy. Why am I having this dream, and why has it been going on for days?

I told my best friend, Eccentric Song, about it. We were high school classmates and got into the same university, though in different departments. I studied philosophy, and he studied psychology. I hoped he could use his expertise to enlighten me.

Who knew that after extorting a meal of crayfish from me, his conclusion was that I'd been watching too many horror movies lately.

Maybe. I do like watching horror movies, not because I believe in ghosts and spirits, but because I find it offers a different kind of experience. As for what that experience is, I can't quite say.

Eccentric Song once interpreted it from his professional perspective, saying that people like me are contradictions, enjoying emotional experiences from both positive and negative stimuli simultaneously.

"Oh, right. If you're really bothered by this dream, I can take you to see my teacher. Maybe he can give you a satisfactory answer."

It seems he didn't eat the crayfish for nothing. I agreed immediately.

It's not that I'm bothered by the dream; I'm just curious why the exact same dream appears every night.

Seeing that it was still early, Eccentric Song took me to his teacher's house. Along the way, he told me a lot about his professor, speaking so fantastically that he almost put his teacher on a pedestal.

I don't believe everything he says. I've known him for so many years; I know his personality very well. If you remove half the exaggeration from his words, the remaining part might not even be the actual substance.

This is the university's expert building. Anyone who can live here must be an extraordinary person, even considered top-tier throughout the entire Guizhou Province.

Eccentric Song knocked lightly twice on the door. The door opened, and a middle-aged woman stood before us. She smiled when she saw him: "Little Song, come in, come in. I was just talking about you with your teacher."

Eccentric Song, abandoning his usual flippant demeanor, obediently greeted her: "Hello, Auntie. This is my good friend. He wants to ask the teacher some questions."

The woman then looked at me, sizing me up.

"Hello, Auntie!" I felt a little embarrassed under her gaze and greeted her as well.

The woman beamed: "Good, good. Let Little Song take you. He's in the study. I'll go make some tea for you."

Eccentric Song led me to the study with practiced ease. It seems he's a frequent visitor here. I can't believe this guy actually has connections; I'm already in my third year, and I don't even know where my own professor's office is.

There were two people in the study. One of them was Eccentric Song's teacher, Professor Wang Kaiguo, a renowned psychology professor at Qian University. The man sitting opposite him looked about thirty years old, wearing loose Zen clothing, with shoulder-length hair. Although it was a bit messy, it didn't feel out of place. His eyes were as clear as water, yet as sharp as an eagle's, as if they could see through people's hearts.

My intuition told me that this man wasn't a student of Professor Wang. I sensed that Professor Wang treated him with great respect, suggesting they were equals.

This made me curious. Judging by their age, they were about twenty years apart. For Professor Wang to treat this man as an equal, he must be quite remarkable.

"Little Song, why are you here?" Professor Wang asked with a smile.

Eccentric Song said sheepishly, "Teacher, there are guests. We can come back another time."

Professor Wang glanced at the other man, his smile unwavering. "No matter, it's just old friends catching up. What did you need me for?"

Eccentric Song pointed at me and said, "Teacher, this is my childhood friend, Jiang Xiaobai."

"So you're Jiang Xiaobai! I've heard so much about you!" Professor Wang's hearty laughter followed, and even the other man chuckled along.

Professor Wang's words made me blush. My parents gave me this name, and they couldn't have imagined that years later, a brand of baijiu would share the same name. Professor Wang's "heard so much about you" was probably thanks to that liquor.

"Professor, my friend here has encountered something strange," Eccentric Song said earnestly.

"Strange?" Professor Wang's smile faded. He exchanged a look with the other man, and then both their gazes fell upon me.

"Yes, he's been having the same dream lately. Originally, I didn't think much of it, but he's been quite fixated on it. I was worried he might be obsessing, so I brought him here for you to counsel him," Eccentric Song said, quite eloquently.

"Oh? Can you tell us what you've been dreaming about?" Professor Wang asked curiously.

I roughly recounted my dream. I noticed the other man's brow furrowed slightly, and then he spoke, "How long have you been having this dream?"

I thought for a moment and said, "About seven or eight days now. It's the same every night. Professor, I heard that having the same dream repeatedly means you have an unresolved issue, but I don't think I have any. And after so many years, I've hardly ever intentionally thought about the past. I really want to know what's going on."

Professor Wang said, "Logically, people don't have the same dream repeatedly. Even if it's possible, it wouldn't be like this. Honestly, I don't know what's going on either. Of course, if you really want to figure it out, there are ways. We could use hypnosis to find the root cause, but do you think it's necessary?"

I didn't think it was necessary. I knew that hypnosis essentially exposes your inner world completely to another person. Although my inner world is pure, I still don't want others to pry into my personal secrets.

Just as I was about to refuse, the other man spoke, "Is the small street you're dreaming about called Little Ancestral Hall Entrance?"

I was stunned. That street was indeed called Little Ancestral Hall Entrance. The elders said there used to be a dilapidated ancestral hall there, which was later demolished and replaced by the street, hence the name.

"How did you know?" I asked back, but it was also an answer.

He ignored my question and continued, "Among the people you dreamed of, were there any named Long Zhong and Qin Yueying?"

My heart grew even more confused. Long Zhong is Uncle Long, and Qin Yueying is Aunt Qin. How did he know?

I nodded heavily, but asked, "Who are you? How do you know their names?"

Perhaps seeing my overly strong reaction, Eccentric Song gently tugged my sleeve.

The man looked at me and said, "Perhaps I can tell you why you're having these dreams, but you have to come with me."

Come with him? Go where?

Why should I go with him when I don't even know who he is?

However, he had certainly piqued my curiosity.

"My name is Xie Yi, from Bureau Five, Section Nine. I not only know why you're having the same dream, but I even know what will happen to you in the future. If you don't want to die, come with me."