I was sure I was in a dream, and at the exact moment when Mr. Cheng fell from the entrance to the alternate space.
I was worried about the situation in Yangshan District, about my own body, and about Liu Miao, the Skinny Man, and Nantian.
Thinking it over carefully, I seemed to remember some things—memories I had lost. But they were all vague. I could only be sure that I had been through something similar once before.
The situation in Yangshan District was probably different from the possibilities I had previously imagined.
We might have been traveling through different points in time within the alternate space in Yangshan District, or we might have been reliving the same events again and again.
I couldn't even be sure how many times I had already traveled through time like this.
Mr. Cheng walked toward the lush fields, but before he could reach them, I felt the dream's setting change.
The barren farmland around us gave way to a city filled with high-rises.
Mr. Cheng lived in a large apartment on a high floor. Carrying a glass of water, he walked from the kitchen to the balcony. It took him two or three minutes.
Beyond the balcony, the rooftops of high-rises rose through the sea of clouds, like something out of a fairyland.
Mr. Cheng stood on the balcony, watching the sun rise from the sea of mist. He held his empty glass out over the railing.
He lowered his head and looked down at the vast sea of mist, then gently let go.
The glass fell. Not a sound came back from below. In the blink of an eye, it vanished.
Mr. Cheng went back inside, sat on the sofa, and turned on the TV.
The TV showed a news broadcast. The