Chapter 41
The police came.
The police left again.
After mediation, the landlord and the rental agency returned the 450 yuan to Lian Xia, and promised she could stay rent-free until the end of the month.
So for the past few days, she'd been busy moving out.
Clatter.
She looked down. A book had fallen onto the floor—brick-red cover, large gold lettering.
This scene felt oddly familiar.
She picked it up and dusted it off. Just like in the dream, the grubby gutter of the book bore a donor's personal seal—faint and hard to make out, but she could still make out the outline of the name from the characters.
"Gu... Xi... chen."
Lian Xia stood frozen for a long time. By the time she came back to her senses, tears had already soaked into the old red ink.
"Why am I crying... it was just a vivid dream. My tears are so cheap..."
Even so, she had a thorough, proper cry. After venting her emotions, she gradually began thinking about what came next.
So—was it a dream or not?
Or was it like Chen Xi—was this "Gu Xichen" also just reality's projection in a dream?
She actually had some recollection of this book. Ten years ago, she was still a middle schooler. Her teacher had rounded them up like chicks from a drafty classroom and marched them to the village hall. Since most of the kids wore shabby clothes and looked sallow, the homeroom teacher had reluctantly sacrificed her own lipstick to paint big red smiles on each of their mouths.
She'd secretly licked hers—it tasted of cheap artificial flavoring.
Entrepreneurs from the city had come down to deliver supplies, and there was even talk of building a factory locally—good for the country, good for the people.
So the village chief, the school principal, the teachers, and the students all stood in a row at the village entrance. She was among them, shouting "Welcome, welcome, warm welcome" in her clear, sweet voice all afternoon.
Whether it was truly warm, she couldn't say—she only remembered the cold wind making her chapped cheeks sting.
The person handing her supplies was a young man, still somewhat boyish. Lian Xia had been shouting until her mouth was dry, and when she saw he was handing her a stack of test-prep books, she was a little disappointed.
She wasn't even in ninth grade yet—she would have preferred a warm padded coat over practice questions.
After so many years, all she could remember was his crisp suit and polished shoes—she truly couldn't recall his face anymore.
So Lian Xia gathered her courage and typed "Gu Xichen" into the Baidu search bar.
Unlike in the dream, the photos on his encyclopedia page were nearly all paparazzi shots. The real Gu Xichen had the same face as in the dream, but a completely different aura.
A calm expression, narrow eyes, sharp brow bone, fuller lower lip.
It reminded her of the way he had kissed her—with such deep intoxication.
To her surprise and joy, the date of birth on Gu Xichen's encyclopedia entry was followed by an extended line—its meaning unmistakable.
Lian Xia nearly dropped to her knees in gratitude to every deity from east to west—whether it be the Jade Emperor, Buddha, the Queen Mother, or Jesus—she was done being a materialist!
"He's alive. He's still alive..."
No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, warm tears still burst forth!
She was such a useless person!
Whether it was illusion or truth, beautiful dream or delusion—he was truly, tangibly alive in this world. What was she crying about!
"Right, there's one more clue!"
Proof that none of it was delusion—there was one more person!
...
She grabbed the censer and rushed downstairs. The same ten-yuan shop, and the same familiar young man standing at the door.
"Buying something, miss?"
That familiar voice, that familiar playful banter.
"Can you tell me if this censer is an antique?"
The young man studied it carefully, then stated with certainty: "It's not an antique. It's a very ordinary censer—see, no maker's mark, and the molding is quite rough."
"You sold this to me."
The young man paused, rubbing his nose: "Ah—well, it's not that bad. It's pretty good value for its price, at least."
Seeing her furrowed brow, he added with a flattering smile: "Do you still want it, miss? I have a whole shelf of these in stock—can sell them by the kilo."
Lian Xia: ...
"No, I'll just keep this one."
She took two steps away, then turned back unwilling to give up: "How about you ask your master to take a look for me?"
"How do you know I have a master?"
"Just call him out!"
"He... he left a few days ago."
Then Lian Xia watched as the young man pulled out a wooden photo frame from amid the paper effigies surrounding the reclining chair. The old man's white eyes seemed to stare into the void, his expression neither sad nor happy.
"Look, his memorial portrait is already done."
A chill crawled up her sides. Lian Xia immediately stepped back: "I've got something to do, I'm leaving!"
The more she thought about it, the creepier it was.
A dead old man, a vivid hallucination, and all the dream's elements that could be traced to real-world counterparts... Baffled, she suddenly remembered the old man's last words in the dream.
"Because you're not in the same world, you have no way to meeting each other."
But now?
They were already in the same world!
A surge of wild joy swept through her, instantly dissolving all the sorrow. She practically ran all the way home.
The security booth downstairs had the TV blaring. Several aunties sat below, enjoying the cool air and commenting on every young person who walked by. School kids ran around hollering with their parents chasing after them.
"Recently, the founder of Xuanchen Tech drove onto the highway late at night and was involved in a multi-vehicle collision. The founder had already suffered multiple investor withdrawals after failing a performance-guaranteed IPO—"
It seemed to be using old footage. The man on screen looked familiar, sitting composed and speaking smoothly.
The scene was eerily familiar—almost an exact replica.
Standing at the building entrance, she felt as if she'd been transported back to that day.
Chapter 42
To be honest.
Lian Xia couldn't forget Gu Xichen, but she also didn't have the audacity to show up at his door uninvited. After agonizing in uncertainty for a few days, she finally decided to get some clarity.
Fortunately, in this era of information explosion, looking things up was easy. She quietly installed Weibo and spent 500 yuan on a paparazzi tip to get his address.
She received the info that morning, and by afternoon she'd found the hospital where he was recuperating.
Her timing couldn't have been better. On the very day she arrived, the hospital staff had been overwhelmed by media from all directions. They'd added a new screening procedure: anyone entering had to present ID and have their bags checked for weapons.
Two security guards flanked the entrance to Gu Xichen's room like temple guardians.
Lian Xia shuffled forward cautiously, her tone meek: "Hello, I'm looking for Gu Xichen."
"Wait—can't you see there's a line?"
Sure enough, a long queue stretched along the corridor. Among them were camera-toting journalists, suited middle-aged men, and—most numerous—young women, each more glamorous than the last.
The person currently being processed was a small-faced internet celebrity. A security guard went in, came back out, and returned her ID: "Sorry, Mr. Gu says he doesn't know you."
"How's that possible? We clearly had dinner together!"
The guard couldn't be bothered to argue and simply gestured for her to leave.
Seeing that even a beauty like her had no privilege, Lian Xia resigned herself to queuing.
The process moved quickly enough. When it was her turn, the guard's gaze traveled downward and fixed on the worn, pilled fabric at her shoulder—a basic T-shirt and jeans combo so faded it couldn't have cost more than a hundred yuan total.
Mr. Gu's friend?
Unlikely.
Lian Xia noticed the hostility in their eyes and instinctively stepped back.
The two guards swept their gazes over her from top to bottom, joking with each other: "All kinds of people come to ride his coattails nowadays."
"Hey, traffic is money!"
Lian Xia: ...
They didn't even bother taking her ID. She could only slink away and sit on a bench further down the hall.
Time passed minute by minute. The line grew shorter. People went in and out of that door, but she never caught a glimpse of the familiar figure.
With no other option, she could only wait in silence.