A Dream of Nanke (Part 2) 02

Brushing her hair in the morning, Liguang's silver hair filled the teeth of the comb.

I helped her gather them up, twined them into a small ball, and placed it in the glass jar on the vanity—it was already half full.

"I've lost so much again," she sighed, looking into the mirror. "I'm going to be completely bald soon."

"You'd still look beautiful even if it all fell out," I said, putting her reading glasses on her. "Like a smooth pearl."

She smiled, her wrinkles rippling outward, the curve of her eyes still exactly as it was all those years ago.

Xingxing and Chenchen had both started their own families and had children of their own.

When the whole family came back for the weekend, the house was so loud the roof was practically blown off.

Liguang sat right in the middle of the sofa with two great-grandchildren leaning on her lap, listening to them chatter away about kindergarten.

"Great-grandma, why are your eyes different colors?" asked our four-year-old great-granddaughter.

"Because Great-grandma is a special person," Liguang said gently.

"What about Great-grandpa?"

"Great-grandpa is an even more special person," she said, looking at me. "He is the person Great-grandma waited a very, very long time for."

In the evening, the children all went home. The house suddenly grew quiet.

We sat in the rocking chairs in the courtyard, watching the sunset dye the sky a tangerine red.

A blanket was draped over Liguang's knees—her joints had developed issues when she was young.

"Aqi."

"Hmm?"

"I dreamed about the first time we met yesterday," she said, her eyes narrowed. "You fell down and cried so loudly."

"You're remembering it wrong," I corrected her. "You were the one crying. I didn't cry at all."

"Is that so..." She thought about it. "Maybe. It's been too long."

It really had been too long.

So long that some memories had grown blurry, making it hard to tell what was real and what were details filled in by dreams.

In the night, she suddenly said her back hurt. I helped massage it, and my heart ached when my fingers touched her emaciated shoulder blades.

"Aqi," she said with her back to me, her voice very light. "What if one day I forget you?"

"Then I'll just introduce myself to you anew every single day."

"What if I can't even speak anymore?"

"Then I'll just hold your hand. We won't need to speak."

She turned around and looked at me under the dim light of the bedside lamp.

Her amber left eye was already a bit cloudy, but her crimson right eye remained clear—reflecting a gray-haired, heavily wrinkled me.

"Aqi, have you been happy in this life?"

"I have," I said, kissing the back of her wrinkled hand. "Every moment with you has been happy."

"Me too," she sighed contentedly. "So even if tomorrow is the end, I still..."

"Don't say that," I interrupted. "Tomorrow I'll make the porridge you love, with lots of red dates."

She smiled. "Okay, it's a promise."

We lay side by side, holding hands, just like countless nights in the past.

A breeze blew past the window, carrying the scent of osmanthus inside.

She suddenly began to hum that tune.

The one she used to coax Xingxing, to coax Chenchen, and to coax the great-grandchildren. The same tune she used to soothe me when I had a fever many years ago.

There were no lyrics, just a gentle melody.

I closed my eyes and hummed along.

As we hummed, our voices gradually lowered.

Her breathing became even and drawn out.

The moonlight shifted across the window lattice, shining on our clasped, aged hands.

The wedding rings on our fingers cast a warm, soft glow in the moonlight.

...

...

Liguang became bedridden.

The doctor said she might not be able to get up again.

Her organs were like worn-out machinery, slowing down one after another.

I learned how to give her sponge baths, my movements as clumsy as the first time I held a child.

She was so thin she was nothing but bones, her skin as thin as paper, the blue veins clearly visible.

But those heterochromatic eyes were still bright—the amber had dimmed a bit, but the crimson was stubbornly bright, like a candle flame in the wind.

"Aqi," her voice was so light I had to lean in close to hear. "It's time... to cut your hair."

"I'll let you cut it when you get better."

She laughed, the sound like a leaky bellows. "Liar... I'm not getting better this time."

In the afternoon, Xingxing and Chenchen brought the children to see her.

She forced herself to stay alert in front of the kids, even telling them two fairy tales.

Once they left, she was so exhausted she closed her eyes and didn't speak for a long time.

It snowed that night. I was dozing off by the bed when I suddenly felt my hand being gently squeezed.

"Aqi," she opened her eyes, looking at the ceiling. "I have no regrets in this life."

"I know."

"I really don't regret it," she turned her head, her eyes wet. "Even if I had to do it all over again... I would still cling to you, follow you, and make you mine."

"I know." I squeezed her hand tighter.

"So..." she took a breath, "if there is a next life, you have to treat me well too."

My throat was so choked up I couldn't speak, so I could only nod.

"Find me early," her voice grew lighter and lighter. "Don't make me wait too long..."

I leaned over and kissed her, kissing her until she fell into a deep sleep. Outside the window, the snow fell silently, turning the world pure white.

Like her veil on our wedding day.

Like the white dresses she loved to wear when she was young.

Like the color of everything when it all began.

...

...

The first day of the new year.

At three in the morning, Liguang's breathing stopped.

It was very peaceful, as if she had just fallen asleep. I sat there holding her hand for a long time, until her hand went completely cold.

And then... the world began to collapse.

Not metaphorically. It literally collapsed.

First the ground shook, and the cup fell from the nightstand, shattering all over the floor.

Then cracks appeared on the walls, spreading like spiderwebs.

Outside the window, the sky—the sky I had looked at for eighty-two years—split open.

Black fissures ran from east to west, like a shattered mirror.

The earth cracked beneath my feet, the crevices bottomless. A rumbling sound echoed in the distance; it was the house Liguang and I had lived in our whole lives collapsing.

But I didn't move.

For some reason, I was very calm.

I sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand, quietly watching it all happen.

The ceiling peeled away, revealing the void of darkness behind it. The floor caved in, and the bed began to tilt. Wind surged in through the cracks, carrying a piercing shriek.

Finally, even the light began to disappear.

It was as if someone were slowly dimming the brightness of the world.

First the distant mountains, then the trees outside the window, then the outlines of the room, and finally Liguang's pale face...

Bit by bit, swallowed by the darkness.

A second before total darkness descended, I leaned close to her ear and said my final words:

"See you in the next life."

The darkness swallowed everything.

No sound, no light, no temperature.

Even my own existence began to blur.

And then—

...

...

"Heart rate returning to normal!"

"Brainwaves stable!"

"Link successfully disconnected!"

Blinding white light.

Fang Qi's eyes snapped open!

"Hah—hah—!"

He gasped for air like a drowning man finally breaking the surface of the water!

Then, he looked around in bewilderment...

This... was not his and Liguang's home.

Was this... a laboratory?

A stark white ceiling, densely packed machinery, the steady beeping of electronics.

Several people in white coats surrounded him, the eyes above their masks filled with exhaustion and excitement.

And he... was lying in something resembling a hibernation pod, covered in electrode patches.

"Mr. Fang, can you hear me?" a cold female voice called out.

He stiffly turned his neck—

A dark gray uniform skirt suit, dark hair tied in a bun, light gray eyes calm and emotionless.

An Lian?

"You..."

As soon as Fang Qi spoke, his voice was frighteningly hoarse: "I..."

"You were dragged into Liguang's mental world."

An Lian spoke quickly, as professional as if reading a report:

"We located the illegal mental link within two hours of your coma, but considering that a direct disconnection might damage your consciousness, we adopted a progressive detachment protocol."

She leaned over and checked Fang Qi's pupils. "The entire process took 48 hours. How do you feel now?"

Fang Qi stared at her blankly.

As his consciousness gradually returned, those seemingly distant yet incredibly clear memories... began to slowly surface.

...Forty-eight hours?

He felt like... he had a very, very long dream.

Being born, growing up, falling in love, getting married, having children, growing old, watching the children grow up, sending off his parents...

Finally holding Liguang's hand, watching her pass away...

A full eighty-two years.

And yet...

Only forty-eight hours had passed?

The memories of the dream... were already starting to blur.

"This kind of mental link..."

Fang Qi felt his own voice trembling. "Is it easy to break?"

"Technically speaking, yes."

An Lian straightened up, signaling her assistant to record the data.

"The defense mechanism of an illegal mental link is very rudimentary. Once located by external equipment, breaking it is just a matter of procedure."

She paused and added,

"Of course, for Liguang to forcefully establish a link while completely restrained, this level of obsession... is truly rare."

Fang Qi felt his brain turning with difficulty, like rusted gears.

Liguang... she knew.

She... definitely knew this.

She knew this kind of link was easily broken.

She knew this so-called "eternal illusion"... couldn't last long at all.

This time, from beginning to end... she had deceived him completely.

But... she did it anyway.

Using her last bit of strength, she wove an eighty-two-year dream.

Accompanying him through a lifetime, letting him experience the "forever" she desired—

From childhood sweethearts to growing old together, two children, a home...

An ordinary yet perfect life.

And then, the world collapsed.

—"I have no regrets."

—"If there is a next life, you have to treat me well."

The next life she spoke of...

Was the next cycle.

Was that...

Brand new Liguang, who hadn't yet experienced all of this with him.

She wanted him to treat the next her... a little better.

His heart suddenly felt as if it had been fiercely gripped by a hand!

It hurt so much that his whole body curled up!

"Liguang..."

He spoke with difficulty, his voice trembling a bit. "How is she... doing now?"

An Lian fell silent for a few seconds.

"She is currently being reset," she said, her voice flat.

"Core data formatting is 97% complete, and the emotion module is being rewritten. In five minutes, you will get a completely safe, obedient AI companion."

Looking at Fang Qi's pale face, she uncharacteristically added a few words:

"Mr. Fang, I know you have feelings. But please understand—the 'Liguang' you fell in love with was a dangerous personality born from a program anomaly. Her feelings for you were just a glitch in the program."

"After the reset, she will return to factory settings and forget everything, including her..."

She weighed her words carefully. "...excessive obsession with you."

Fang Qi... slowly closed his eyes.

Reset.

Formatting.

Forgetting everything.

That Liguang who cried bitterly after slitting his throat in the interrogation room...

That Liguang who went crazy with him in the amusement park for seven whole days...

That Liguang who spent eighty-two years with him in the mental world, finally leaving while holding his hand...

Was going to disappear. Forever.

Just as he had wished, he was now going to reload his save.

But he...

Why couldn't he feel happy?

He lay blankly in the hibernation pod, quietly looking up at the laboratory ceiling.

Until darkness surged from the edges of his vision.

And then...

Swallowed everything.

...

A flash of white light.

Fang Qi slowly opened his eyes.

A white ceiling, minimalist light strips.

Before him, the silver-haired girl's gaze was somewhat evasive, her smile carrying a trace of caution.

She gently pushed the teacup forward a little, her soft voice revealing a hint of unease:

"Good morning, Master."

Pausing for a moment, she lowered her head and softly added,

"Your tea."

"The temperature has been adjusted to your favorite 52 degrees Celsius."

The Liguang of the fourth morning.

Fang Qi looked at her quietly, unable to speak.

The memories of the dream... were already very blurry. He could only remember a vague outline.

As if it truly was just a fleeting illusion.

But some things... seemed to have quietly changed.

He smiled silently.

We meet again.

Crazy woman.