Entering the Dreamscape Again

"For some reason, whenever I saw that old monk, I felt a strange sense of familiarity." As Zhang Chen descended the mountain, he recalled what had happened at the temple.

As he thought about it, he pulled the little pouch from his backpack. Looking closely, he saw a few small characters written on the two red pouches, each about the size of a thumb. They did not seem to be Chinese characters—probably Buddhist Sanskrit. Zhang Chen stared at them, wanting to open the pouch and examine the talisman paper inside.

"First ghosts, then Buddha. I haven't seen Buddha, but I have seen ghosts. This thing should be genuine. Forget it. Better not open it. What if there's some kind of spiritual energy leakage or something? Then this whole trip will have been for nothing."

With that thought, Zhang Chen quickly put the pouch away, got on his bicycle, and headed home. In fact, he had not noticed that even though he had not gone to the internet café for fun that weekend, he did not feel restless at all. His internet addiction was slowly fading away.

"That old master said that thing was a resentful ghost and told me to find out the truth. Doesn't that mean I'll have to sacrifice my whole weekend?" Zhang Chen shook his head as he pedaled.

"That baby was so small. If it was born from resentment like the old master said, could it be because its mother threw it into the sewer after giving birth? And could that mother have been the landlady?" As Zhang Chen thought, news stories about high school students giving birth in dormitories, killing their babies, and throwing them into toilets surfaced in his mind.

"No, no. Everyone knows why high school students kill babies. But if the dream I had that night was a reflection of this house's past, then a woman who was so happy after getting married should have been overjoyed to have a child. There's no reason for her to kill it. Even if the baby had been born disabled or deformed, current technology could detect that in advance. Right—the white sheet of paper marked Fangren Hospital. What exactly was written on it? Both of them looked so strange after reading it. Part of the problem must have come from that paper. But what could have been written on it that would lead to the child being killed?" Zhang Chen could not figure it out no matter how hard he thought.

"Could the man have killed it? Maybe he knew the woman had an affair or some other reason made him suspect the child she was carrying was not his. Before the baby was born, he couldn't be sure. But after it was born, he had a paternity test done, confirmed the child was not his, then came home and killed the baby in its swaddling clothes. Whether that's true or not, I should ask Mother for the landlady's contact information when I get home. I'll only understand things after meeting the landlady." Zhang Chen startled himself with the strange deduction that had popped into his head. He knew too little to draw any useful conclusions, so he stopped thinking about it and decided to deal with it after getting home.

The sun had already set by the time Zhang Chen got home. It was nearly six-thirty, and his stomach was growling. He had no idea whether his parents had prepared food for him, since he usually stayed out playing until very late on Friday afternoons.

He took out his key, opened the door, and casually called out, "Mom, Dad, I'm back."

"Why didn't you go out with your classmates today? Have you eaten?" Mother Zhang looked surprised to see Zhang Chen home.

"Oh, Mom, not yet. Is there still anything to eat at home?" Zhang Chen asked.

"I only made food for your father and me. Wait a moment, Mother will make you a bowl of noodles." Mother Zhang set down her rice bowl and headed for the kitchen.

"Okay." Zhang Chen walked over to the table. Seeing a bowl of pickled vegetables and a bowl of stir-fried greens, his heart sank a little.

Zhang Chen's father had always been fairly talkative. In the past, whenever he saw his son come home, he would surely ask after him. But now he sat at the table, slowly eating. He only glanced at Zhang Chen without saying anything. Zhang Chen had not looked closely at his father the night before. Now, after examining him carefully, he saw that his father was still strong and sturdy, but somehow seemed weak. The color in his face was no longer as rosy as before. Most importantly, even as his father sat there eating, that chilling aura that made Zhang Chen uncomfortable still clung to him.

"Dad, have you been feeling unwell lately?" Zhang Chen asked.

"Just a slight cold. It's nothing." There was also a trace of helplessness on Father Zhang's face as he answered.

Zhang Chen wanted to take the pouch from his bag and have his father wear it, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. If he brought it out himself, his father would not take it seriously. Just then, Mother Zhang brought over the noodles she had cooked. Zhang Chen was starving, so he took the bowl and began wolfing them down. In barely five minutes, he had finished every last drop of soup.

Mother Zhang was fairly devout in her faith in Buddha. Realizing this, Zhang Chen wiped his mouth, carried the empty bowl into the kitchen, and suddenly had an idea. He casually took the little pouch from his backpack, sat beside his mother, and said,

"Mom, a monk gave me something on the way home today. He said I should keep it safe, that it might be useful to me or something." Zhang Chen deliberately put on a curious expression.

Mother Zhang took the item and examined it for a long while. She seemed rather pleased, then turned to Zhang Chen and asked,

"Why did that monk give you this?"

"I don't know. I was riding along when a monk walking toward me by the roadside stopped me. He said something about someone around me possibly needing it, so he told me to keep it. There's even a talisman paper stuffed inside." Zhang Chen spoke as naturally as he could.

Mother Zhang did not suspect her son of anything. Holding the pouch in her hand, she glanced at Father Zhang from time to time, then finally said to him,

"You haven't been well these past few days. We got medicine for you, but you still haven't improved. Why not wear this on you?"

Father Zhang was an atheist, but he had always listened to Mother Zhang at home. In all these years, Zhang Chen had rarely seen the two of them argue. This time was the same. When Mother Zhang tied the little pouch around his wrist, Father Zhang did not protest or try to refuse. He thought that even if it did not help him, at least it would put his wife's mind at ease.

Seeing the pouch on his father's wrist, Zhang Chen felt much more reassured. Then his stomach growled again. Even after eating that huge bowl of noodles, he was somehow still not full. He asked Mother Zhang to make another bowl, which he polished off completely.

After dinner, his parents would usually go out for a walk. Thinking about it, Zhang Chen realized that ever since he entered fifth grade, he had never gone out for a walk with them.

"Mom, Dad, let's go for a walk together later." Zhang Chen decided to spend some time with his parents. It would also give him a chance to ask about the house and the landlady.

"Mm." Mother Zhang only answered softly, but a warm feeling rose in her heart.

Zhang Chen's residential complex was on the outskirts of the county town. There were no other complexes nearby, and behind it was a greenbelt. The family of three walked along a quiet, tree-lined path. Since they had not come out for a walk together in so long, no one spoke at first.

"By the way, Mom, wasn't this house pretty cheap when we bought it?" After walking for a while, Zhang Chen could not hold it in any longer and asked.

"Yes. When we bought this house a year ago, we found it through an agency. It was a little far from downtown, but the price was very low. The owner also seemed eager to sell it. We bought the house within a couple of days." Mother Zhang seemed especially happy that day and explained everything carefully to Zhang Chen.

Zhang Chen nodded, then suddenly had an idea. Taking Mother Zhang's hand, he asked,

"Mom, our teacher assigned us homework this week. We have to investigate a stranger to improve our social skills. We're supposed to find out as much information as possible about the person, including their name, age, home address, and so on. I thought of the person who sold us this house."

The moment Mother Zhang heard it was related to her son's studies, she began thinking seriously. Then she said,

"The person who sold us the house was a twenty-seven-year-old lady surnamed Wen. After we bought the house, we didn't know her exact contact information. We could only reach her through a landline number she had left with the agency, and sometimes even that didn't go through. We've owned this place for a year now, and nothing has gone wrong, so we haven't contacted her at all during that time. I don't know whether that number still works. Why don't you investigate someone else? It would be easier."

Zhang Chen quickly waved his hands. "No need. I want to challenge myself too. Mom, just give me the number when we get back."

Mother Zhang felt very gratified and nodded at once. Because Zhang Chen had started the conversation, the family spent the rest of the walk chatting and laughing together.

As soon as they returned home, Zhang Chen dialed the previous owner's number that his mother had given him.

"Beep... beep..." At least the call was going through, which made Zhang Chen breathe a sigh of relief.

Then the call connected. Zhang Chen was still a little nervous in this situation, so he hurriedly said, "Hello, are you Ms. Wen? I'm the son of Mr. Zhang, who bought your house a year ago. There are a few things I'd like to ask you."

But after a long silence, no one on the other end spoke. Zhang Chen said again, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"I am Ms. Wen's mother. May I ask what you need?" A low, cold voice came from the other end, giving Zhang Chen goosebumps.

"Oh, hello, Grandma. I wanted to ask your daughter about this house. Is she there?" Zhang Chen calmed himself and asked.

"My daughter is dead." The voice that came through was utterly emotionless.

Zhang Chen's face changed drastically. For several seconds, he could not say a word. After quickly calming down, he thought of a response and said,

"Grandma, I'm truly sorry. Could you give me your home address? I'll come visit tomorrow and ask about the house." Zhang Chen was not stupid enough to directly ask how Ms. Wen had died or when she had died. If he offended her mother, he would never be able to find out anything about Ms. Wen.

"No. 11, Group 5, Xiashui Village, XX Town, XX County." After a moment, the old woman answered.

"Sorry to disturb you. Goodbye!" Zhang Chen hung up. Thinking about it, Xiashui Village did not seem far from the village where he used to live. He could take a bus and walk a few hundred meters to get there. Now that he had some information, it would be tomorrow's task.

It quickly became ten o'clock. Father Zhang went to bed early again. Both of Zhang Chen's parents were ordinary workers, and Sunday was their only day off each week.

When Zhang Chen saw his father enter the bedroom with the little pouch still hanging from his wrist, he felt somewhat relieved. He stood at the bathroom door and hesitated for a long time before finally forcing himself inside. The same chilling aura—perhaps even stronger than before—filled the bathroom. After quickly washing his face and brushing his teeth, Zhang Chen ran back to his bedroom and finally let out a breath.

"All right. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. I'm exhausted today. Er Wa and Tan Fei must have had a blast playing today. Ah, forget it. Time to sleep." Zhang Chen lay on the bed and quickly fell asleep without thinking much.

Fragmented scenes began to form before Zhang Chen's eyes again. He returned to the room from his previous Dreamscape. The decorations were unchanged, making him realize that he seemed to have come back. He first looked at his hands, then at the floor. The crumpled white paper was nowhere to be seen.

Then the door opened, and just like before, a man and a woman entered. But unlike last time, their relationship did not seem so good. Although the woman held the man's arm, their movements made it clear that she wanted to get close to him but was very hesitant. The man, meanwhile, seemed wary. Even as she held his arm, he tried to keep his distance.

Zhang Chen could only remain where he was. Whether he walked or ran, he could never leave that spot. The scenes before him passed quickly. As he watched the two of them live day after day, he could feel their relationship worsening. They even began arguing.

After an unknown number of days, the scenes before Zhang Chen returned to normal speed. A knock sounded at the door—the first sound Zhang Chen had heard in the dream. He turned around and watched the woman slowly walk over and open it. Another woman stood outside. Her height, figure, and even the way she walked were almost identical to the Mistress of the house. Since Zhang Chen could not see her face clearly, he had no idea what she looked like.

The newly arrived woman was dragging a large suitcase, as though she planned to stay for a long time. The two women began chatting happily as soon as they met. They were probably good friends. After that, the house became a living space for three people. What caught Zhang Chen's attention was that the man actually became increasingly intimate with the new woman, yet the Mistress did nothing to stop it.

One night, the man entered the new woman's room. From where Zhang Chen stood, he could not see what happened inside. He could only see the door of the room the man had entered slowly open. The Mistress sat on the bed with no expression on her face, gripping a large stuffed doll in her Left Hand while using her Right Hand to tear clumps of cotton stuffing out of its body.

Suddenly, the Mistress stopped tearing at the doll. She raised her head sharply and stared fixedly at where Zhang Chen stood. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips purple, and Zhang Chen's heart tightened under her glare.