Yan Yongbo abruptly opened his eyes, and the fog of his dream shattered with a crash. The dark cabin enveloped his vision. The faint glow of the nightlight spread over the sparse furnishings within; though blurry, it carried a barely comforting sense of reality.
He sat up. At a thought, the cabin lights blazed on, making that sense of reality even more pronounced.
Perhaps that reality had arrived too quickly, washing away everything that had happened in the dream. No matter how hard he tried to remember, he could not recall its details for the moment.
He only knew that it had to have been a nightmare.
Only then did he realize he was drenched in sweat, his hair soaked through.
Yan Yongbo felt none of the vigor he should have had after resting. On the contrary, he was utterly exhausted, his mind muddled. It was not until he got up and washed his face in the restroom that he became somewhat clearer-headed.
Bracing himself against the sink, he watched droplets fall from his forehead and temples. Like his memories of the dream, they came bit by bit... Still better than nothing.
Yan Yongbo remembered. In the dream, he seemed to have been fighting without pause, trapped in some chaotic battlefield surrounded by vague, crazed enemies.
As for how the battle had begun, he did not remember at all.
He only remembered that the enemies never decreased in number and only grew stronger, until he was outnumbered and beaten to death by the mob—only to come back to life again without any logic whatsoever and begin the next round without a moment's pause.
There was no point demanding logical continuity from a dream, but the exhaustion brought on by that prolonged "endless battle" mode had continued on in a paradoxical