Coffee

"Doctor, don't scare me," the Fatty said with a pained expression, trembling. "I might look big and strong, but it's all fat. I can't handle a scare at all."

Jiang Cheng glanced up at him. Perhaps remembering how delicious the Fatty's cooking really was, he let him off the hook and didn't say anything more.

Since getting together with Jiang Cheng, the Fatty had become a lot less jumpy. Before long, he was bouncing around again. "Doctor," he asked in a low voice, licking his lips, "do you think we'll enter another nightmare after we fall asleep tonight?"

Every step in a nightmare was fraught with danger. The eerie yet unnervingly real feeling was enough to make anyone shudder.

Jiang Cheng was hanging up wet clothes. He paused, thought for a few seconds, then replied, "Probably not. We fully recover our physical strength after escaping the last nightmare, but our minds don't recover from the strain."

The Fatty understood what Jiang Cheng meant: the mental energy they spent in nightmares couldn't be restored like their physical strength. If this went on, they'd grow more and more exhausted until the nightmares wore them down to death.

From Fan Li and Sister Nuan, they'd learned that nightmares were frightening, but they usually left a sliver of hope. That clearly didn't fit the rules of a nightmare.

"Good," the Fatty said, letting out a long breath. Then he added, "I was wondering if I should force myself to stay awake tonight."

"Pointless." Jiang Cheng shook his head. "You might manage a few nights at most. When you finally can't stay awake and fall asleep, you'll die in the nightmare."

The word "die" sent an instinctive chill down the Fatty's back. He hurriedly explained that he'd only been complaining and wouldn't actually do it.

Night fell. Neon lights began to glow in the distance, and through a half-open window, they could see the bright and bustling world outside. The Fatty rested his chin on his hand, staring blankly out the window.

Thinking back on every moment in the nightmare only made him cherish the beauty of the real world all the more.

Jiang Cheng was sprawled in his office chair, watching a horror movie and eating fries dipped in ketchup. He'd invited the Fatty to join him, but the latter had stubbornly refused.

After finishing Mountain Village Old Corpse, Jiang Cheng nearly fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the Fatty curled up on the sofa, plugging his ears and looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

Noticing that Jiang Cheng was awake, the Fatty let go of his ears and called out as if he'd just seen his savior, "Doctor, what movie are you watching? That ghost is way too scary."

After hearing the Fatty's explanation, Jiang Cheng understood. The Fatty had heard a very eerie song, then tried to go over and turn off the movie, only to arrive just as Chu Renmei appeared.

"The ghost you saw was Chu Renmei," Jiang Cheng explained. "She was a tragic woman from feudal society and the inspiration for Lu Xun's The Lady of the Camellias."

The Fatty automatically tuned out what Jiang Cheng said.

After turning off the computer, they went upstairs to bed.

The Fatty said it had been a little cold the night before, so Jiang Cheng found him another blanket. Seizing his last chance to follow Jiang Cheng into the bedroom, the Fatty told him that if he was scared after watching the horror movie, he could keep him company.

Before he could finish speaking, the bedroom door slammed shut with a bang, followed by the sound of the lock clicking.

The Fatty smacked his lips and reluctantly lay down. Jiang Cheng had warned him earlier that it was best to put on his clothes and shoes before going to sleep.

So, taking advantage of the sunny weather, the Fatty had washed his shoes. Then, while he was out buying groceries, he'd bought himself a new pair of sneakers, which he was wearing now.

The studio was in a rather isolated area, and at night it was very quiet.

As usual, Jiang Cheng pulled the blanket up to his chin. His breathing was steady and even.

His physical constitution was very different from other people's. He wasn't particularly sensitive to heat or cold, rarely got sick, and had a rather dull sense of pain.

Sometimes, he even felt like an emotionless tool.

He drifted off to sleep.

He slept deeply.

An inexplicable melody echoed in his ears.

It wasn't classical, pop, or jazz. Its melody didn't belong to any genre he knew.

The sound seemed to have been born in darkness.

Born in darkness, and returning to darkness.

Jiang Cheng felt everything slipping away from him. He seemed to be sinking into the depths of the ocean, or perhaps walking down a tunnel with no end.

Despair. Nothing but despair. There was nothing else.

A crisp cracking sound rang out, like a pure-black bolt of fabric being ripped apart by brute force. Jiang Cheng jolted awake.

He found himself standing at the corner of the studio's first floor, facing a tall black iron door.

His body acted before his mind could catch up. He reached out and pushed the door open.

After a strange wave of dizziness, it felt as if his feet had found something to stand on again. He was standing on solid ground.

Before him stood a building that resembled a school. It wasn't very large, and he could see its boundaries at a glance.

Several buildings stood silently beneath the afterglow of the setting sun, casting deep gray shadows and lending the place a somewhat romantic air.

He squinted at the sun, judging that it was around four or five in the afternoon in this world.

He didn't see anyone nearby for the moment, and the school gates were already shut.

Shielding his eyes from the glaring sunlight, he watched the school for a few moments, then turned decisively and walked in the opposite direction.