When Li Xin woke up from his coma, the only thing he felt was a sharp, throbbing pain radiating from his temple.
Thoughts and memories flashed through his mind, only to recede like the tide the exact moment he regained full consciousness, leaving him unable to grasp a single shred. In the end, he was left with nothing but a blank slate.
Forcing himself to sit up through the agonizing pain, Li Xin frowned and touched his temple. Unsurprisingly, his fingers came away with a smear of sticky blood.
He stared at the fresh blood on his hand for a moment, then decisively raised his sleeve to his nose and sniffed.
Figures. It’s definitely the smell of gunpowder.
After a brief silence, a look of skepticism crossed Li Xin’s face. “Did I commit suicide? What was the reason?”
The appearance of this question acted like a switch, actually forcing his striking brain to spit out a fragment of memory.
The scene in the memory was incredibly blurry, not much different from a heavily pixelated mosaic, save for the face of an old Taoist priest, which was crystal clear.
In the blurred setting, that fellow was sitting on something resembling a restraint chair, speaking in a smug, punchable tone: “The person you are looking for doesn’t exist at all. If you want to find someone who doesn’t exist, you naturally have to look in a place that shouldn’t exist in the first place. Do you dare?”
Whether the current, amnesiac version of himself dared or not, Li Xin couldn’t say for sure, but the past version of himself in that memory was certainly bold.
The very next second after the old priest finished speaking, Li Xin saw his past self smile, raise a hand, and shoot himself in the temple without a shred of hesitation. The sheer efficiency of the act almost made the relaxed old fellow opposite him jump out of his skin.
The memory cut off there. Li Xin rubbed his throbbing temple, a look of bewilderment on his face. So, I did this to find someone?
Faced with such an answer, Li Xin fell silent for a brief moment. Refusing to give up, he dragged his consciousness through his memories once more.
By the time he was done searching, he had practically turned that single fragment of memory inside out, yet he still couldn’t remember exactly who he was supposed to be looking for.
Splendid. Committing suicide to find someone, but having no idea who.
He looked up to scan his completely unfamiliar surroundings. If it weren’t for the fact that surviving a point-blank headshot with his consciousness intact was genuinely supernatural, Li Xin would definitely suspect that he had suffered from a cognitive disability before losing his memory.
As for now? Well, since he was already here, he might as well make the best of it.
Pushing the matters he couldn’t handle for the time being to the back of his mind, Li Xin finally stood up to observe his surroundings.
He was inside a spacious, empty house. Through the moonlight filtering through the window, he could see some simple furniture, though without exception, every piece was covered in a thick layer of dust.
Walking all the way to the coffee table, Li Xin spotted a slip of paper resting on it.
Compared to the dust-covered room, this piece of paper appeared excessively clean. The moonlight from the window made it glow, as if it were utterly terrified of being ignored.
There was only a single, concise line of text written on the note:
[Welcome to the City of Desires. Please write down your wish.]
Li Xin stared at the note of dubious authenticity for a moment, beginning to ponder what kind of answer an ordinary person would give to this question.
In truth, the answers were simple—status, power, love, health. It was nothing more than these things, any of which people would flock to.
Yet, perhaps due to his amnesia, Li Xin felt utterly indifferent to these concepts. Ultimately, he resigned himself to the realization that outside of finding that person, he couldn’t think of any other answer to write down.
With that thought, he suddenly turned his head to look at a mirror hanging on the accent wall behind the sofa.
The positioning of the mirror was incredibly subtle, but in this moment, Li Xin used it to look at himself.
—The person in the mirror possessed a rather striking appearance.
The eerie blue moonlight illuminated half of Li Xin’s body. He wore a dark, blood-stained jacket, and a deep blue gemstone pendant dangled from his right ear. A loose, casual smile was hooked upon his face.
He seemed accustomed to wearing a mask of a smile, even though he knew perfectly well that he wasn’t smiling at all right now.
Hypocritical, detached, arrogant, paranoid.
This was the judgment Li Xin passed upon himself.
Perhaps someone like this truly would shoot himself for the sake of another person, but what could that person’s identity be?
His blurred memories left him without a definitive answer, forcing Li Xin to admit that no one could ever fully understand themselves.
With his remaining memory serving as his only guidepost, Li Xin hesitated no longer. He picked up a pen and wrote down two words: “Find someone.”
Looking at the answer he had written with his own hands, he felt a delayed sense of absurdity.
He was now about to risk his life in a completely unknown world for someone whose name he didn’t know, and whose appearance and identity were a complete mystery.
It sounded idiotically foolish.
With yet another wave of doubt regarding his own IQ, Li Xin carelessly tossed the note onto the table. However, the moment he let go, the paper instantly spontaneously combusted, ultimately turning into fine dust and vanishing entirely.
Li Xin: “…”
Too many things that defied his understanding had happened tonight. Li Xin couldn’t be bothered to comment on it further. Instead, he toured the entire living room, but aside from that initial note, he found absolutely nothing.
However, there was a staircase in the corner of the room, which presumably led to the second floor.
Li Xin had no intention of going up just yet. Thus, he merely cast a brief glance upward before turning to walk toward the main entrance.
The door wasn’t locked. When Li Xin pushed it open, a deserted, grey street stretched out before him.
This ghostly place resembled a villa district. The surroundings were filled with these uniquely styled, detached two-story western houses, with the house numbers hanging on the doors serving as the most prominent distinction. On the walls, which were still reasonably well-preserved, were stains of indiscernible colors.
Li Xin couldn’t be bothered to walk over and examine traces that anyone with a brain could guess the nature of. Just as he turned around, preparing to explore the vicinity, he heard a lowered shout coming from not far away:
“Hey, don’t go over there!”
Following the sound, Li Xin turned his head toward the villa opposite him, immediately locking eyes with a pair of eyes hiding behind the curtains.
That gaze could hardly be described as friendly, but after a brief observation, Li Xin walked toward it entirely unbothered, a smile hanging on his lips as he asked, “Good evening. Did something happen over there?”
Noticing his movement, the person behind the window suddenly spoke in a panicked, anxious tone filled with terror, even forgetting to lower their voice: “Don’t come over here!”
The voice was incredibly piercing. Li Xin narrowed his eyes slightly and ultimately stopped in his tracks.
“My apologies, it seems I didn’t know the rules.” Saying this, Li Xin gauged the distance between them and even considerately took a step back. Ultimately, he left a safe distance where they could only see each other’s rough outlines.
Seeing this, the person inside the window loosened their grip on the hammer slightly, though their eyes remained glued to the man not far away.
There was no doubt about it—if this newcomer had continued to approach just now, they really would have used the hammer to smash his head open without hesitation.
Seeing that Li Xin had no intention of moving again, the person inside finally breathed a sigh of relief, but a sense of disappointment quickly followed.
This man’s emotions were incredibly stable, completely unlike the panic and frenzy displayed by others. While this saved them a lot of trouble, it also indirectly proved that this man was clever and highly difficult to deal with.
The eyes of the person inside the window were bloodshot. They couldn’t quite tell what emotions they were harboring, but they stared intently at the figure for a long time until the other party spoke again: “Can you tell me now why I can’t go over there?”
Li Xin had noticed the person’s almost neurotic state right from the start. For a moment, he almost thought he had landed in an insane asylum, but this didn’t affect what he needed to do.
The person behind the window seemed lost in thought, and only after a long while did they speak in a sinister voice: “Are you a newcomer?”
Li Xin didn’t hide it: “Yes.”
The person inside continued to question: “Did you make a wish?”
Asking about privacy right off the bat—anyone else would have turned around and walked away in annoyance. Yet Li Xin merely stood in place, his expression unchanged. “I did. Is there a problem?”
Hearing his response, the person inside let out a raspy chuckle.
Faced with a newcomer who answered every question, they felt a rare, inexplicable sense of superiority.
“Regardless of whether you’ve made a wish or not, you cannot leave your villa for too long, otherwise, someone will break in and steal your wish!”
Steal a wish? Thinking back to that note which had entirely turned to ash, Li Xin replied half-heartedly, “Steal a wish? Do you mean using a vacuum cleaner to suck the ashes together and piece them back layout?”
The person inside the window: “…”
Don’t think I can’t tell you’re being sarcastic!
Choked by his words, the person inside instantly grew irritated. If it weren’t for that damn task requiring them to give the newcomer a breakdown of the rules to ensure he survived his first night, they wouldn’t have bothered wasting breath on this self-righteous, pretty boy!
Brought to a boiling point by a single sentence, the person inside snapped furiously, “Are you going to listen or not?!”
“I’m listening, of course I’m listening.” Li Xin smiled nonchalantly, already forming a few deductions in his mind. “So, how do they steal a wish?”
“The wish? The wish is right behind you.”
Behind me… Li Xin instinctively turned around to look at the gloomy western house behind him.
“You mean… this house.” Li Xin lowered his gaze, his eyes reflecting contemplation. “The wish didn’t disappear; rather, it fused into this house…”
“Exactly.” The person inside the window sneered. “One house represents one wish. Some people died mid-task and were forced to lose their houses, while others regretted the wishes they made. They will all look for new houses.”
“As for how to get a new house, I don’t need to spell it out for you, do I?” After saying this, they stared at Li Xin’s noticeably un-athletic back and laughed maniacally. “Right now, you are just as weak as your wish! Hahaha! As your neighbor, let me give you a piece of advice: you’d better scurry back inside and act like a turtle hiding in its shell. Don’t go wandering around!”
After listening to his good neighbor’s advice, Li Xin gave no reaction, merely letting out a hum. “Thanks for the advice. But may I ask one more question?”
“Hahahahaha—cough, cough, what?” The person inside the window seemed to have exhausted themselves from laughing and coughed uncontrollably a few times.
Li Xin stared at the face that remained entirely hidden beneath the curtain, tilting his head slightly. The blue pendant by his ear swayed gently with his movement.
“Why do you keep covering your face?”
This question caused the person under the curtain to fall into a prolonged silence. It lasted so long that Li Xin almost thought they wouldn’t answer, until a voice dripping with despair slowly echoed out.
The man’s eyes in the darkness were hard to see clearly, but from that excessively raspy voice, Li Xin caught a faint, subtle trace of sorrow.
“In this place, don’t let anyone see what you look like… You’ll understand eventually.” Leaving behind these words, they vanished from behind the curtain.
Watching his neighbor depart, Li Xin withdrew his gaze. He had gained quite a lot from this trip, and the information was highly likely to be true.
Turning back to look at his dark residence, Li Xin decided to take his neighbor’s advice.
The darkness of the interior didn’t bring him any discomfort. With a look of utter disdain for the dirt, Li Xin wiped the sofa clean before leaning back against it, locking eyes with his reflection in the mirror from a distance.
Even now, he remained highly skeptical of his situation.
A massive trap seemed to shroud him. He knew who he was and he knew what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t remember anything outside of that.
He certainly didn’t believe this was some post-traumatic stress disorder. After all, how could a lunatic who could shoot himself without a single shred of hesitation possibly be afraid of death?
With these thoughts, he looked back at the empty table, recalling the wish he had written down.
“A person whose name I don’t know, whose appearance I don’t remember…” he murmured softly, then let out a carefree laugh.
“Well… I’m looking forward to it.”