What the hell is going on

"Pan Pan?" Su Yang called out while putting on his clothes and getting out of bed.

He walked to the bathroom door, turned on the light, and looked inside. Apart from the usual bathroom fixtures, there was nothing—no sign of Pan Ning.

"What the hell? Where is she?"

After scanning the bedroom and finding no trace of Pan Ning, Su Yang quickly stepped out of the room.

As he moved from the hallway into the pitch-black living room, his peripheral vision caught something flitting past the balcony.

A sudden unease gripped him, making him freeze mid-step before instinctively ducking behind the wall to peek.

His eyes narrowed, and in an instant, his hair stood on end. His pupils dilated, and he clamped a hand over his mouth.

Two figures stood on the balcony—both unmistakably female, judging by their silhouettes.

One was clearly Pan Ning. The other had a high ponytail, a curvaceous figure with an hourglass shape, and a height roughly matching Pan Ning’s, around 170 cm.

The balcony’s glass door was shut, and the glare from the lights of neighboring buildings made it hard for Su Yang to see the other woman’s face clearly. Still, he could tell she was drop-dead gorgeous.

The two stood face-to-face, engaged in what seemed like a heated argument. Their voices were muffled, but their body language suggested they were on the verge of a physical altercation.

‘What the actual hell is going on? Did I wake up in the wrong reality or something?’

Su Yang swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the balcony.

After what felt like an eternity of arguing, Pan Ning suddenly turned her back to the living room.

The other woman remained motionless.

Su Yang’s brain short-circuited. Abandoning stealth, he decided to march over and demand an explanation.

Who was this woman? Why was she on his balcony in the middle of the night? And what were she and Pan Ning arguing about?

But before he could take a single step, the bombshell of a woman abruptly grabbed Pan Ning and shoved her off the balcony.

"Holy—FUCK!!!"

Su Yang’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull as the expletive tore from his throat. His mind went blank.

BOOM!!

An indescribable, thunderous roar exploded inside his head.

His heart wrenched in agony as he lunged toward the balcony.

"I’LL KILL YOU!!"

……

With a strangled shout, he jolted upright, drenched in cold sweat.

Su Yang blinked at his surroundings, his face a mask of utter confusion.

"What the—?!"

Yep. He was sitting in bed. Pan Ning lay beside him, undisturbed.

Hearing his outburst, she stirred, rolling over with a groggy murmur. "Have you… lost your mind?"

"Was I… dreaming??"

"What are you talking about?" Pan Ning pushed herself up weakly, studying Su Yang’s bewildered expression.

After a two-second lag, Su Yang turned and helped her sit up.

"You… didn’t go out?"

"Go where?"

"Huh?! This doesn’t feel like a dream!"

"What’s wrong with you?" Pan Ning leaned against the headboard, frowning at him.

"Nothing… just a nightmare."

"You’re a grown man. Since when do nightmares scare you like this?"

Su Yang slapped his cheeks, then pinched his thigh—hard. The pain was real.

Whether the earlier scene had been a dream or not, this moment definitely wasn’t. As his pulse steadied, a dry thirst clawed at his throat.

He glanced at Pan Ning’s questioning face before swinging his legs off the bed. "Feeling any better?"

"A little."

"I’ll get water." Su Yang left the room and headed for the living room.

At the hallway entrance, he instinctively glanced toward the balcony.

Nothing.

Gulping, he poured himself a glass of ice water, chugged it, then filled another with warm water for Pan Ning before returning.

"Here, drink."

He sat beside her, carefully helping her sip.

Then he grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The screen read 2:46 AM.

His 3:00 AM alarm was still fourteen minutes away.

"Damn. It really was just a dream."

"What kind of nightmare was it? Ghosts chasing you?" Pan Ning asked weakly.

"Worse than ghosts."

"Tell me."

"Let’s talk tomorrow. Not in the mood now. Let me check your temperature." Su Yang picked up the digital thermometer and scanned her forehead.

Beep. 39.1°C.

"Phew—it’s dropped a bit. Stay under the covers; don’t catch another chill."

"I need the bathroom."

"Hold on, put this on first." Su Yang grabbed one of his jackets from the closet and draped it over her shoulders.

Two minutes later, Pan Ning emerged from the bathroom and obediently settled back into bed.

Su Yang touched her forehead again. Still feverish.

"Take another dose before sleeping."

"Mhm." Pan Ning nodded faintly.

He fetched a fever reducer and an antiviral pill, feeding them to her one by one.

"Alright, your fever should break below 39 in a few hours. Get some rest."

"Okay… You should sleep too."

"Yeah." Su Yang climbed in beside her.

Once the lights were off, Pan Ning drifted back to sleep almost instantly.

But Su Yang lay wide awake.

Staring at the ceiling, he thought, ‘Was that really just a dream? Something feels off.’

‘Dreams aren’t supposed to feel that real.’

He took a deep breath and mentally called out:

—System?

[Here.]

—Was I dreaming earlier?

[Yes.]

—But it didn’t feel like a dream. I’ve had dreams before. This was different.

[Scan confirms host was dreaming.]

—No way. Something’s not right.

The memory replayed in his mind—Pan Ning being shoved off the balcony—and his skin prickled with goosebumps.

Gulping, he quietly sat up and studied her sleeping form.

Assured she was undisturbed, he slipped out of bed and left the room.

At the hallway entrance, he slowed his steps and peered at the balcony again.

Still empty.

Su Yang flicked on every living room light before striding to the balcony and yanking open the glass door.

His half-finished pack of cigarettes lay on the side table next to the lounge chair where he’d last smoked.

He picked it up, counted the remaining sticks, then snorted at his own paranoia.

"Why am I checking my smokes? Even if that was real, it’s not like that woman would’ve helped herself to my cigarettes."

Shaking his head, he lit one and slumped into the chair.

In the quiet, his brain replayed the scene against his will.

Every time he pictured Pan Ning falling, his heart twisted like it was being ripped apart.

Leaning on his hand, Su Yang gazed into the distance. The early-morning air in Haicheng carried a biting chill.

A cold breeze swept over his bare torso, making him shiver. After two more drags, he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray.

—System?

[Here.]

—One last time. That was a dream, right?

[Confirmed: dream.]

[The translated content will appear here once the original Chinese text is provided.]