“The situation is exactly as I described. Not only can I dream about fanfiction featuring her, but I can also move freely within the dream.”
“Furthermore, the people in my dreams react based on my actions without breaking character—they’ve even started to suspect my existence.”
Song Jin sat cross-legged on a beanbag chair in the studio, facing Fang Xin.
She watched as Fang Xin’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper, though her eyes betrayed a sense of profound bewilderment.
“Song Jin…” Fang Xin’s lips trembled slightly. “Are you trying to ruin me?”
Song Jin curled her lip in displeasure and said decisively, “Everything I’m saying is true!”
“I know it’s true…” Fang Xin replied through gritted teeth. Frustrated, she took off her glasses and began massaging her temples. Song Jin waited for her to process the information. Once Fang Xin put her glasses back on, Song Jin asked tentatively, “So, have you spotted the problem?”
“There is a problem.” Fang Xin let out a heavy breath. “I haven’t mastered my craft, and you’ve lost your mind.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I think we can try a different approach.” Seeing that Fang Xin was on the verge of a breakdown, Song Jin quickly offered a suggestion. “These symptoms of mine—have you seen anything similar in other mental illnesses?”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? The problem is, not a single one fits!” she said, scratching her head in agitation. “Lucid dreaming is easy enough to explain—it’s either ‘pseudo-lucid dreaming’ driven by the subconscious or a precursor to schizophrenia. But dreaming of a fanfiction word-for-word that you’ve never even read? What on earth is that?”
Song Jin pulled her legs up and hugged her knees, whimpering, “I have no idea—”
“If I had known, I would’ve gone abroad to study the year before last! Why did I decide to open my own studio? It was all for nothing! All those years of studying—wasted! If my mentor found out about this, she’d literally cough up blood!” With that, Fang Xin slapped the table and stood up abruptly, announcing grandly, “I’m booking a flight to Germany right now!”
“Stop joking. By the time you graduate and come back, I’ll already have kids,” Song Jin said, blinking.
“?”
“Didn’t you swear you’d never have children?”
“Oh, it just feels like you won’t be back for a long time.” Song Jin shrugged. “They say ‘the three years you spend in Germany will be the most unforgettable seven years of your five-year study abroad trip.’ My mind might have changed by then.”
Fang Xin slumped back into her seat, clutching her head in agony. “I hate you. I was actually feeling quite confident about my work today.” She wiped her face and took a long moment to recover before looking up again, her gaze filled with the desperation of someone with nothing left to lose. “Let’s try one last angle—tell me about you and Wen Yu. I want to see if there’s any connection to this ‘paranormal event.'”
Song Jin’s fingers, which were picking at her jeans, froze. Her eyes flickered as she looked at Fang Xin, and she pulled her lips into a guilty-looking smile. “What is there to say about us—”
“Last time you were here, it was ‘Me and Her,’ and now it’s ‘Us’.” Fang Xin noted. “Song Jin, watch your wording.”
Song Jin pursed her lips and lowered her legs.
Fang Xin reached for her laptop on the desk and began typing away. She didn’t let her mouth rest either, saying syllable by syllable: “Since we can’t figure out how this is happening, we might as well solve the problem from the source.”
“I don’t think the source is her.”
“Is it that you ‘don’t think’ so, or you ‘don’t want’ to say it?”
“I don’t think so,” Song Jin said, her face devoid of expression.
“Fine. If you don’t want to talk, then do some exercises—” Fang Xin stopped typing and looked up from behind the screen, asking one last time, “Are you sure you don’t want to see another psychologist or some metaphysical master?”
Song Jin swallowed hard and said weakly, “If I just tell people this kind of thing, they’ll think I’m insane.”
Fang Xin gave a strained smile. “I feel like I’m already being driven insane.”
She moved quickly, pulling a Word document from a USB drive. After opening it, she turned the laptop around to face Song Jin. “Come here and answer these.”
Song Jin took the laptop obediently. The first thing she did was scroll all the way to the bottom—there were exactly 500 questions.
“?” It would take her until next year to finish this.
Song Jin pushed the laptop back, her face full of sincerity. “The main thing is, there’s really nothing going on between us. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Hearing this, Fang Xin pushed her glasses up with her index finger, a sharp glint in her eyes. “Think back carefully. Is there any connection between your dreams and reality? And, when you spend time together, has anything strange happened?”
After leaving Fang Xin’s place, Song Jin drove straight to her mother’s luxury apartment in Qing City.
Qing City had changed a lot in recent years. The constant roadwork and renovations had made the city beautiful, but also unfamiliar. Usually, Li Zhengzheng would go to find her; Song Jin hadn’t been here in several years.
At first, Song Jin tried to find her way based on her fading memories, but after a few twists and turns, the surroundings became increasingly foreign. Helpless, she pulled over and took out her phone to start the navigation.
The moment she opened the long-unused app, a full-screen ad popped up. Song Jin held the phone very still, afraid that a single shake would send her clicking into some other page.
She turned the brightness to the maximum, and in the reflection of the screen, she saw another face.
Wen Yu’s.
Truly “haunting.”
Song Jin wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but she managed to click the ad in the very last second before it ended. Inside was a download path for Wen Yu’s voice pack. You could have the whole thing for just 12 yuan.
Song Jin felt a bit gloomy.
She had recorded a navigation voice pack before, too. Why was hers only 6 yuan?!
Despite her thoughts, her hands didn’t hesitate; her password-free payment went through faster than anyone else’s.
The English song in her Bluetooth headset was soon replaced by Wen Yu’s voice. Her vocal quality was like high noon in Qing City during winter—slightly cool but still possessing warmth, never cold enough to be heartless. It was also a bit like the trickling streams formed after the snow melted in Beijing, flowing clearly and smoothly through the ear canal toward the beating heart.
“Hello. I am not happy to serve you,” Wen Yu said in the headset. Her tone was as flat as if she were saying “Tomorrow will be sunny.” Just by hearing the voice, Song Jin could imagine her expressionless face when dealing with outsiders.
A massive question mark rose in Song Jin’s heart:
Do people nowadays actually like this style?
Then what was she doing back then, saying “Dear” this and “Dear” that in her recordings? Was she a customer service rep?
“There is a traffic light ahead. Just keep going straight with your eyes closed. Trust me.”
“I’m driving! How can I close my eyes? If I get hit and die, are you going to collect my body?” Song Jin talked back, silently beginning to speed up.
“Pay attention to the distance to the car in front. Any closer and you’ll be pressing your warm face against a cold bumper.”
“Wait, it slowed down for no reason! Why aren’t you blaming them?”
“The weather is quite nice. Let’s go for a walk together when you have time.”
“Oh? You can speak like a human? I’ve got my screen recording on. Don’t you dare go back on your word when we meet on Monday.” The corners of her mouth curled up. She turned left at the intersection and, after a few more maneuvers, finally arrived at her destination.
Li Zhengzheng lived on the 22nd floor in a building with one apartment per floor. Most of the people in the building didn’t know each other. Even so, Song Jin didn’t take off her helmet until she got into the elevator, fearing any unnecessary trouble.
Li Zhengzheng knew she was coming and had left the door unlocked for her. Song Jin placed her helmet on the shoe cabinet by the door and habitually took out a pair of disposable slippers. She pushed open the main door and called out in a drawn-out voice, “Mommy—I’m ba—cough cough cough!”
Great. She had used her voice too much on the road, and now her throat was splitting. She coughed so hard she felt like she might pass away on the spot.
Li Zhengzheng, who had been watching TV in the living room, was startled by the thunderous noise. She hurriedly poured a glass of water and handed it over. “Look at you, look at you. How many times have I told you not to shout when you talk? It’s so hard on your voice.”
“I wasn’t—cough—I wasn’t shouting. I just talked too much on the way here and my throat got dry.” After a few gulps of water, the intense discomfort in her throat finally subsided. She squinted at Li Zhengzheng and grinned. “Mom, it’s been a long time since I saw you.”
“Didn’t we just see each other last night?” Li Zhengzheng tapped her on the head, though an honest smile appeared on her face.
Even though she had no feelings for Song Jin’s biological father, Song Jin was still her own flesh and blood. How could Li Zhengzheng not love her?
When Li Zhengzheng was home alone, she was used to being barefoot. Without the help of high heels, she was half a head shorter than Song Jin. She raised both arms and pinched the little bit of soft flesh on Song Jin’s face, nearly failing to get a grip on the first try.
Li Zhengzheng held Song Jin’s face and looked her over, her expression a bit hard to describe. “Is the company mistreating you? You’ve grown so thin.”
“Mom, I worked so hard to lose that weight…” Song Jin’s brow relaxed, her expression a bit helpless.
Back when she was an idol, people often praised her for being cute, gentle, and approachable, but that wasn’t the style Song Jin wanted. She had spent a long time studying herself in the mirror and eventually blamed it on the baby fat on her face.
You can adjust your eye shape and fix your eyebrows yourself, but baby fat is stubborn.
Li Zhengzheng led her to a mahogany chair with a plush cushion and set the empty water glass aside. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and asked with concern, “How is the work with the crew lately? Are you getting along with your colleagues?”
“Very well.” Song Jin’s eyes curved like a rabbit that had just eaten a carrot. “Even though the workload in Hangzhou is indeed heavy, there are many familiar faces in the crew, and everyone takes good care of me.”
“Oh—that’s good.” Li Zhengzheng nodded thoughtfully. After a moment, she remembered something and asked, “What about Yu Yu? I see people online arguing so fiercely whenever the two of you are mentioned.”
“Oh, I get along with her pretty well too.” Song Jin waved it off, indicating it wasn’t a big deal. “She even stayed with me for my birthday last time.” Although she had been dragged there halfway through by Li Hang.
Li Zhengzheng nodded solemnly. “That’s good. I actually quite like that girl.”
Song Jin poured herself another glass of water, the glass in her hand feeling pleasantly warm.
She blinked at Li Zhengzheng and smiled. “I quite like her too.”