In the dead of night, a certain hospital in Linshi was packed to the brim.
Located at the very center of the convergent dreamscape, this hospital was also one of the largest in the region. A massive number of people injured by the convergent dreamscape were being rushed for emergency treatment here, and survivors from Flight LA1718 had also been uniformly brought over for medical examinations.
Qiu Mian knew very well that his own body was fine and had no intention of undergoing a psychiatric evaluation. He had merely followed along on the shuttle bus to avoid sticking out too conspicuously under the public eye. In a situation like that, stubbornly walking away would have invited a host of unnecessary troubles.
Besides, Wei Pu was here too. No matter how oblivious Qiu Mian might be to social conventions, he still felt it was best to confirm Wei Pu’s condition.
Wei Pu was waiting in line for a checkup, having sustained minor injuries from the violent collisions. Qiu Mian, meanwhile, had bought a can of soda from a vending machine, not for the taste, but simply because he felt that tingling sensation of carbonation was rather nice.
Visibly sustaining the lowest degree of injury, maintaining an excellent mental state, and even proactively yielding his place to others for priority treatment, he had instantly become the most leisurely person in the entire hospital.
Patients groaned, family members wept bitterly, doctors rushed about, and nurses sprinted. Moving against the current through the bustling crowd, he brushed past countless blank yet anxious faces. Without ever intentionally concealing his aura, he remained entirely unnoticed amidst the clamorous atmosphere.
An emergency stretcher brushed closely past his arm. In a hasty glance across, he caught a vague glimpse of fractured white bones and a lifeless face.
Hospitals had always been like this.
Peculiarly enough, throughout all his years of dream-traveling, Qiu Mian had always deliberately avoided hospital-related dreamscapes.
Although the proportion of black holes in patients’ dreams consistently remained high, featuring relatively fewer fantastical elements contradicting reality, the probability of forming a convergent dreamscape given the opportunity was certainly quite substantial. Yet unless a high-level dream danger threshold was reached, Qiu Mian truly made a conscious effort to stay far away from such places.
Getting lost in the worm’s hospital dream last time also stemmed partly from this factor. He almost never went to hospitals and was unfamiliar with the layout and furnishings, which was definitely not because of a poor sense of direction.
Thinking of this, Qiu Mian noticed that the overall arrangement of this hospital bore a striking resemblance to the one in the worm’s dream. It wasn’t about the department zoning, as he hadn’t paid attention to that aspect, but rather the architectural layout. It featured a triage desk in the middle, two rows of AI registration kiosks beside it, and an open atrium design connecting the upper and lower floors, resembling a large shopping mall.
Did all hospitals look like this nowadays? Sipping his soda, Qiu Mian walked past two people anxiously making phone calls, faintly catching words like worm and Jiuying.
He paid them no mind, however.
The worm, everyone had seen it. As for Jiuying, who was that supposed to be?
“The situation has stabilized for the moment. Everything that can recover has recovered. This wave is primarily property damage, and the casualty ratio is still within acceptable limits. The tricky part is the explanation; too many people saw it, so we’ll probably end up pinning it on a public projection malfunction from Peiying. I’ve already notified President Chi to come visit the patients so we can wrap things up neatly afterward… Chief, Chief? Are you listening?”
Pu Xinluo snapped out of his daze, though his gaze still drifted into the distance.
“What’s wrong with you… Who did you see?” The team leader responsible for real-life operations regarding the dream followed his line of sight, only to spot a tall figure in luxury designer clothes walking past while drinking a soda. “Someone you know?”
“No, just felt very familiar.” Pu Xinluo let out a breath and returned to business. “What are the exact casualties?”
“Most are psychological trauma from fright, along with a series of accidents derived from it. Very few people were directly corroded by the sludge, and serious injuries are under double digits. There shouldn’t be any life-threatening cases, but… there are fatalities.”
“How many?”
“Currently one confirmed, swallowed on the spot before dream travelers could rescue him. Another person is still in emergency surgery.”
Fairly speaking, compared to a convergent dreamscape spanning over a radius of thirty kilometers and encompassing hundreds of thousands of people, this number could be considered nothing short of a miracle. On one hand, it was thanks to the rapid deployment of dream travelers. Whether saving lives or handling the dreamscape, the entire convergence event had lasted less than twenty minutes, and the giant worm itself had only made a five-minute appearance. Despite the widespread impact, the duration was at least short. On the other hand, the worm’s intent was not world destruction. While its true purpose was difficult to articulate clearly, judging from the current outcome, most injuries stemmed from chain reactions caused by panic, and the flow of the slime was merely a phenomenon resulting from the dreamscape’s logic perfecting itself, differing somewhat from the worm actively and massively harming people.
This point was critically important as it pertained to the dream trial awaiting the worm upon its apprehension.
Pu Xinluo nodded to show he understood. “Has the worm’s identity been found? I heard Jiuying provided you with a clue.”
“The search scope has basically been locked down. Within today, no, before dawn, we’ll definitely find him!” the operation team leader guaranteed. “Speaking of which, Captain Chi said this was a clue given to him by Passerby…”
“Passerby? He ran into Passerby?”
Pu Xinluo tapped his brow, falling deep into thought as if considering a new strategy.
Meanwhile, Qiu Mian stopped in his tracks at an unfamiliar location.
He tilted his head back, took three steps back, and carefully inspected the directional sign overhead.
The directions were clear. This was the Department of Neurosurgery, not far from where Wei Pu was waiting to get a cranial CT scan. It seemed he still possessed a decent sense of direction.
The stream of people surged like waves. He sidestepped a few steps to the edge when he heard a child’s soft voice calling from behind him: “Big brother.”
Qiu Mian ignored the call, merely shifting sideways to yield a bit more space.
The voice paused, then spoke again: “Passerby… big brother.”
Qiu Mian slowly turned his head. Sitting in a children’s wheelchair behind him was a short yet broad child.
He was not tall, at most under ten years old, and beyond that, every single feature was utterly unrecognizable.
He had no hair, and starting from his temples, his face, limbs, and torso were covered in densely packed tumors that distorted his forehead, cheeks, ears, and nose like melting wax. His facial features were impossible to discern, or rather, those vine-like growths winding down from his body were effectively his face.
His eyes were squeezed to the side by rugged, protruding tumor lumps, leaving only slit-sized spaces to reveal white sclera and pupils. His mouth resembled a half-melted candle dropping wax, articulating words indistinctly. When he opened his mouth, however, it revealed tumor granules inside his oral cavity packed as densely as teeth. The hospital gown on his body expanded loosely; without needing to take it off, an onlooker could easily imagine what kind of horrifying sight lay hidden beneath those clothes.
Even inside a large hospital, an appearance like this could easily be labeled terrifying.
Putting aside gender, if not for sheer intuition, even the most basic definition of being a human would probably be rejected by some people. Perhaps compared to him, that worm inside the dreamscape was far easier for people to accept.
At this moment, this monster asked softly: “…Is, is that you?”
“Chengjie.”
Qiu Mian uttered his name, tacitly acknowledging his identity as the Passerby big brother.
The child smiled weakly: “My name is Zuo… Chengjie.”
“Oh,” Qiu Mian asked. “You recognize me?”
Could it be that his appearance during dream-travel had a face now?
Zuo Chengjie looked somewhat puzzled: “Big brother, y-you are wearing the same… clothes as in the dream.”
Qiu Mian lowered his gaze to look at the branded luxury designer outfit he had been instructed by sponsors to wear at the airport, belatedly realizing he had made a major mistake.
Normally during dream-traveling, his apparel consisted of a hooded sweatshirt and a sports cap as a casual youth, which indeed reflected his foundational impression of his persona because dressing like that was comfortable. His everyday private clothes were also of this style, and this clothing aesthetic was ultra-mainstream with nine out of ten young men dressing this way on the street, leaving zero memorable impressions.
Yet today, he had worn a highly recognizable designer outfit, and he had happened to dream-travel precisely inside a convergent dreamscape that interacted with the real world. Coupled with the emergency situation, a hurried process, and his chronic lack of self-awareness regarding his surroundings, he hadn’t realized how different he looked from usual.
Surely the authorities wouldn’t recognize him from this… Qiu Mian felt a rare twinge of guilt.
Whatever, if they recognize me, they recognize me. There’s nothing they can do to me anyway.
Pondering for a moment, he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore and simply looked at Zuo Chengjie: “Do you know that your dream has turned into reality?”
“E-Even if I didn’t… know originally, seeing… these… I know now.”
He gazed through his remaining slits at the hundreds of people waiting in line.
“And I heard them mentioning… the worm.”
“Quite calm, aren’t you?” Qiu Mian evaluated. “Though that makes sense. Someone who lacks calmness can’t control dreams anyway.”
“Control, dreams?” Zuo Chengjie shook his head blankly. “I, I don’t know why… it became like this… clearly, clearly it was just… a dream…”
Qiu Mian finished the last sip of his soda, casually pinching the aluminum can.
“When I walked past just now, I saw a corpse corroded down to just its head, yet still symbolically sent for emergency rescue.”
“That was your father, wasn’t it?”
Coincidentally, Qiu Mian couldn’t make out human faces to begin with, and that corpse had also been blurred beyond recognition by the slime, with anything below the head covered by a white sheet.
Yet he had happened to notice that iconic bald head, the sparse Mediterranean ring with only three strands of hair bridging the left and right continents.
While middle-aged men’s baldness shared general similarities, it was rare to find someone with cafe-au-lait spots in the exact same spot on their face, especially when he had just seen him shortly before in the worm’s memories.
Zuo Chengjie remained motionless, sinking into a prolonged silence until the crowd gradually dispersed, whereupon the mouth sagging toward his chest dragged out a hollow, shrill sound: “I hate him! I’m going to kill him!!”
This was actually insufficient evidence to prove active dream control. If it were an official investigation, more factors would certainly be considered, but he had confessed just like that.
Qiu Mian said calmly, “You don’t need to tell me. Whether you intended it or not, and how you explain it to the authorities later, is your own business.”
Zuo Chengjie slowly raised his head. “…Big brother, y-you’re not arresting me?”
“I really am just passing by.” Qiu Mian shrugged, looking thoroughly innocent.
“Though knowing someone would arrest you implies someone told you about it?” He thought for a second. “That Doctor Cai?”
“You… saw many of… my memories.”
“Not that many, just a bit. Probably including Beibei?”
Zuo Chengjie lowered his head again, his swollen fingers nervously clutching his hospital gown, looking rather pitiful.
Yet Qiu Mian still voiced the doubt in his heart: “If you could control dreams, why didn’t you dream of yourself recovering to normal?”
“I… don’t know… I forgot…” He slumped in the wheelchair, his tone dazed and wooden. “Things about dreaming, many… I don’t remember…”
“Seeing… big brother, I… remembered. Really…”
Qiu Mian didn’t think these words were a lie.
Judging from the contents of the worm’s first two dreams, they indeed fit the characteristics of logical chaos and vague objectives. Even in this convergent dreamscape, the behavior of chasing Jupiter felt more like instinctual traction stripped of higher thought.
Rather than consciously controlling himself to act as the worm to commit evil, Qiu Mian was more inclined to believe Zuo Chengjie possessed an extremely deep obsession regarding killing his father with his own hands. This obsession had materialized into the foundational consciousness constructing the dreamscape, attacking anyone possessing traits like middle-aged male or bald indiscriminately within the dream world, while achieving precise strikes and fulfilling wishes completely within the convergent dreamscape.
Coupled with the guidance of that Doctor Cai, Zuo Chengjie probably had no idea how massive a trouble he had stirred up, yet he had stubbornly shouldered all the blame.
Still, the authorities would eventually investigate everything clearly, Qiu Mian figured. He checked the time; it was almost midnight. Based on the clues he provided, within another two to three hours at most, the authorities would surely pinpoint the worm’s identity.
Before that happened, he perhaps should leave in advance to avoid running into them.
Yet leaving Zuo Chengjie abandoned right here didn’t quite sit right either.
Qiu Mian walked toward him: “Where is your ward? I’ll push you back.”
“Mom… went out… a long time ago. I… am waiting for her.” Zuo Chengjie nervously gripped the wheelchair armrests.
Qiu Mian glanced at the label on the wheelchair, a new model of electric wheelchair capable of automatic navigation and convenient operation, a brand so well-known that even someone like Qiu Mian, who turned a blind eye to the outside world, recognized it because Liang Rui used the exact same one.
He suddenly asked, “What illness do you have? Was the reason it couldn’t be cured a lack of money?”
“At first, lacking… later, beyond saving…” Zuo Chengjie didn’t answer directly, merely stroking the tumor granules on his hand slowly. “I… had surgery before, got them cut off… only a month, and they multiplied… and erupted again…”
Then they grew more and more, until limitless-growing tumors engulfed his flesh as if he weren’t a human, but merely a flowerpot nourishing tumor bodies.
“So… Dad, gambled away… the money, I don’t hate him… But he, hacked Mom!”
Zuo Chengjie suddenly heightened his tone, gripping his hand tight as though completely impervious to pain.
Qiu Mian gazed quietly at him, then suddenly stated, “I can make you recover.”
Yet Zuo Chengjie didn’t display much pleasant surprise. He averted his gaze, seeming to have had his hopes crushed by this promise multiple times already.
“Looks like someone has let you down before.” Qiu Mian said flatly, “Nod if you need it, shake your head if you don’t. The price is that I’ll wipe your memory of meeting me.”
“A dream… that can fulfill… wishes, has already… ended…”
Zuo Chengjie muttered, as if trying to use this fact to suppress his newly reawakened expectations. Clearly unable to even see the expression on Qiu Mian’s face, he could only catch a narrow angle of Qiu Mian’s clothing, a complex, chaotic wave-patterned hand-painted printed shirt paired with an elegant, clean dark-blue tone, its material as slippery as silk, something he couldn’t even imagine in his dreams.
Was this shirt woven from the silk spun by silkworms? Zuo Chengjie’s thoughts drifted, letting his imagination run wild.
Perhaps it was Qiu Mian’s tone of absolute certainty, perhaps it was wanting to give himself one more chance, or perhaps silkworm silk had narrowed the distance between them, but Zuo Chengjie ultimately nodded.
Qiu Mian said nothing more. Pressing his fingertips against the center of Zuo Chengjie’s brow, the area occupied by tumors, he gently closed his eyes, opening them again after a mere ten seconds.
“Done.”
“Wh… What?”