Chapter 21: A Strange Dream

The mist-shrouded street lay veiled in a thin gauze, mysterious and oppressive. The Central Hospital, marked with a cross symbol, stood quietly at the corner, emitting a faint, shimmering light.

There was not a sound around, the silence as still as stagnant water. No breeze stirred the air, no insects chirped, and even her own breath sounded unusually clear.

The hospital was the main place where dreamers operated.

Yuan Fu stood at the hospital entrance, made her judgment, and then stepped inside.

She walked down a long corridor lined with crude, eerie black eyes painted on the walls. The black paint seemed to ripple and flow, exerting a strong sense of pressure.

There were indeed people inside. Doctors in white coats moved about expressionlessly, their vacant, numb eyes as if mechanically performing some task.

Patients in striped uniforms sat dull-eyed in wards or on benches in the hallways, their gazes devoid of any life.

This time, the dreamer’s dreamscape was larger in scope; Yuan Fu sensed a clear difference from before.

Though still lacking spiritual energy, it was far more spacious than any previous dream she had entered. The hospital corridor seemed endless, with one ward after another on both sides, doors half-open, faint light spilling out.

The oppressive atmosphere matched exactly the woman’s description from the daytime, so Yuan Fu headed directly to the nephrology ward on the fifth floor of the inpatient department.

The closer she got, the heavier the oppression grew.

The elevator was impassable; Yuan Fu found the emergency stairwell, twisted the lock a couple of times, and climbed up.

By the time she reached the fifth floor, the walls had begun to warp, turning into writhing fleshy tumors. The painted eyes had transformed into living creatures, glaring at her fiercely.

The flesh walls crowded toward her, as if trying to exclude her.

Yuan Fu didn’t know if this was the woman’s subconscious rejecting her, or a rejection of all others, or perhaps the woman’s feeling that no one would come to help.

White light burst forth from Yuan Fu’s body, swirling and clinging to her form, outlining her figure in a pale glow from afar.

The flesh walls approached but seemed to burn upon touching the light, twisting in midair with sizzling sounds, turning into black ash that drifted down.

Yet this dissolution seemed endless, infinite, as if some derivation from an unknown being, unconcerned with conservation of mass.

Watching this, Yuan Fu couldn’t help but think of scenes from fantasy films—people wandering inside the intestines of a massive creature, the walls writhing to digest them into nutrients.

Bathed in white light, Yuan Fu was like a moth to self-destruction; the flesh walls lunged at her repeatedly, but all in vain.

She arrived at the door marked “SN-506,” the room where the woman was.

The door had become a heavy bronze barrier, thick vines sprawling across it, extending from within. The vines were an eerie blue-green, covered in sharp thorns.

They resembled venomous snakes with eyes.

Seeing Yuan Fu, they only hissed warnings without attacking, loyal sentinels guarding the door against any intruders, including the ravenous flesh walls.

She intended to enter.

A faintly glowing sword appeared indistinctly in her hand, twisting in the air before solidifying.

More a paper sword than a blade, it was thin as a sheet of paper.

Yuan Fu lightly swung it; the flimsy paper blade struck the heavy bronze door but bore the weight of a thousand pounds. With a thunderous crash, the bronze door fell.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, shielding them from the dust. When the dust settled, she looked up but saw no figure.

Floating in the air was a great tree, its poisonous snake-like vines serving as roots.

Its branches crawled across the ceiling, roots spread over the entire floor, twisting and writhing, thick and thin alike, sending chills down the spine.

The tree’s leaves were an unnatural red, as if soaked in blood.

Strangely, they showed no hostility. Yuan Fu approached and saw the bark’s creases vaguely forming a human outline, though details remained indistinct.

Her intuition told her this was the woman’s dream from the day.

The woman must be inside this tree.

She patted the trunk, calling out repeatedly. It was awkward—having known the woman all afternoon, she still didn’t know her name.

“Hey—wake up—”

Yuan Fu called, but the woman seemed unconscious, unresponsive to any call.

This was the first time Yuan Fu had encountered such a scene. Dreamers had turned into plants or animals before, but she had never paid it much mind, as communication was impossible.

She looked at the paper sword, pinched it, and it dissolved.

Looking at the vines, seemingly part of the woman, Yuan Fu dared not cut them recklessly, fearing some adverse consequence.

“I’m the one who took you to the hospital this afternoon. You’re dreaming now, so please wake up quickly. I don’t know what will happen if you stay in the dream too long. If you die in reality, no one can say.”

“Oh, by the way, you still owe me 50 yuan for the delivery. If you die, I’ll go ask your parents or your brother for it tomorrow. Maybe they’ll pay up.”

“...”

Yuan Fu babbled on, trying to stir the woman’s will to awaken.

Somewhere, some word must have worked. The woman’s vines clung to her wrist; her face gradually became clearer but appeared much older.

“Don’t go…”

Her lips murmured, eyes still tightly shut, seeming to suffer great pain.

Yet in this state, she no longer looked pitiful as she had in daytime but rather carried a hint of horror.

“Don’t go, don’t go,” Yuan Fu soothed, then asked, “How did you become like this?”

The woman seemed to want to shake her head; the leaves rustled softly. Her voice was faint: “Man… curly hair…”

After that, she fell silent.

No matter how Yuan Fu called, the woman spoke no more, and the human shape on the trunk blurred until it was nearly invisible.

*

At dawn’s first pale light, Yuan Fu regained consciousness. She immediately grabbed her phone to book a car to the hotel.

She threw on a coat and hurriedly ran toward the hospital.

Perhaps it was early morning, and the nighttime ride-hailing drivers were taking their last orders.

After waiting downstairs for a minute, Yuan Fu got into the driver’s car, gave the last digits of her phone number, and buckled up.

“Got it.” The driver was talkative, glancing at Yuan Fu in the rearview mirror and starting a conversation: “Working hard, huh? Going to the hospital so early, not sure if it’s even open yet.”

Yuan Fu replied, “It’s open. Visiting patients. The wards operate 24 hours.”

The driver chuckled awkwardly, having thought she was a doctor but realizing she was a family member.

“About 12 minutes.”

Yuan Fu nodded, gazing out the window, momentarily seeing the scruffy man she had met at the hotel—the one who claimed there was no hot water—pressing his hands to his face as if massaging it.

Compared to when she left, his beard seemed to have grown remarkably fast.