“Was that… a dream?”
Huang Xiu sat halfway up in his dorm bed, his expression clouded with a daze.
Had everything that just transpired been a dream?
There had been no pig-headed man, no cactus; it was all merely a nightmare.
Yet… it had felt so undeniably real—so vivid, in fact, that every detail seemed to have unfolded mere moments ago.
Typically, no dream possessed such startling realism, nor would one recall it with such crystalline clarity upon waking.
Huang Xiu’s nostrils flared almost imperceptibly, as if the foul stench of the pig-headed man still lingered acutely in the air.
‘But if it wasn’t a dream… hadn’t he already died?’
Given his injuries, even a legendary healer like Hua Tuo would have shaken his head in despair, short of some miraculous healing power pummeling him back to health.
“So… it really was a dream?” Huang Xiu murmured to himself.
‘But where did the boundary between dream and reality begin?’
‘And when had he returned to his dorm room?’
After finishing his online session, he had gone straight to the academic building.
Huang Xiu remained deep in thought, until the creaking sounds emanating from the bed opposite his shattered his concentration.
“Ah!” Stretching languidly, tears of pure comfort welled in Fang Yongyi’s eyes as he climbed out of bed.
He rubbed his eyes, then spotted Huang Xiu.
“Huang Xiu, you’re awake? Feeling any better?”
“When you came back last night, your face was ghostly white, and you didn’t say a word.”
“Me, last night?”
Huang Xiu’s expression flickered. “I had a bit of a headache last night, but I’m fine now.”
He instinctively concealed the bizarre events of the previous night.
“That’s good then.” Fang Yongyi yawned.
“Oh, by the way, what time did I get back last night? It felt pretty late,” Huang Xiu asked, feigning nonchalance.
Fang Yongyi scratched his head. “Ah, let me think. Probably around half past ten.”
“I had just finished writing my self-criticism then and was coming back from the classroom.”
‘He had left the computer around ten o’clock; if he went to the academic building and then returned to the dorm… the timing did align, yet he possessed no memory of it whatsoever, which plagued Huang Xiu.’
It was as if all his memories had been severed, reaching a chasm the moment the pig-headed teacher tore off his head.
“Oh, your hair’s gotten so long, it’s almost covering your eyes. Remember to get a haircut, don’t let Bald Liu catch you.”
“I can’t hold it anymore, I’m going to the restroom first.”
Fang Yongyi, having held his bladder all night, could barely contain himself, and with those words, he rushed toward the toilet.
‘My hair is this long?’
‘My hair is long… that can’t be right!’
Sitting on the bed, he ran his right hand through his hair.
Previously unobserved, Huang Xiu now realized that his hair had grown considerably overnight.
His bangs now reached his eyes, and the hair on the sides fell naturally to cover his ears.
This length of hair, at First High, was not merely a major transgression, but a practically capital offense.
First High School had strict regulations regarding hair length: boys’ hair could not exceed their eyebrows, and girls’ hair could not go past their shoulders.
To enforce these rules rigorously, violators faced dire consequences.
Thus, to avoid trouble, Huang Xiu had always kept a buzz cut, leaving only a small fringe.
“But I only got a haircut half a month ago!”
Huang Xiu still remembered his last haircut.
Having spent two days at home catching up on homework, he had gotten a crew cut for twenty yuan at a shop across from the school on the day he returned.
‘Even with his youthful metabolism, it was impossible for his hair to have grown back so much in just twelve days.’
‘This is truly strange…’
Unable to comprehend it, Huang Xiu decided to stop dwelling, intending instead to get up and visit the classroom where he had ‘dreamed’ last night.
He rose, dressed, and headed to the restroom to wash up.
Brushing his teeth, washing his face, and hanging the damp towel on the metal rack.
Gazing at his familiar reflection in the mirror, Huang Xiu suddenly noticed that his complexion seemed to have lightened.
Originally, his looks were average, but his fair skin, combined with his youth, made him appear sunny and handsome.
However, after the first-year military training, the scorching sun had tanned his face to a dark, yellowish hue, making him look decidedly more mature.
Even after a year, it had remained that way.
Still, he quite liked it, as it lent him an air of masculine ruggedness.
Huang Xiu rubbed his face, opened his phone, and scrolled through his middle school selfies to confirm his suspicion.
‘No, it’s even fairer than before!’
If his previous fairness had been a clean, bright white.
His current pallor resembled the gentle luster of white jade.
He pinched his cheek again; the skin felt smooth and tender.
Combining the suddenly fair skin with the rapid hair growth.
Huang Xiu instantly understood.
Some transformation seemed to have occurred within him.
And these changes were likely connected to the dream-like, yet intensely real, experience of the previous night.
‘Holy hell, my ordinary life isn’t actually going to turn into some hot-blooded shonen anime, is it?!’
In that moment, Huang Xiu was suddenly gripped by a sense of dread.
It was the unease that came from an unchanging life about to face swift and drastic transformation.
As the saying goes, Lord Ye loved dragons (TL Note: A Chinese idiom, ‘Yègōng hàolóng,’ describing someone who professes to like something but is terrified when confronted by the real thing.).
When something one had always fantasized about actually manifested, it only inspired fear.
‘After all, in anime, the ones who charge in, screaming about bonds and friendship as they wreak havoc, are always the protagonists.’
‘Someone like him, with average grades, neither top-tier nor bottom-of-the-barrel, was merely the most ordinary background character.’
‘His only purpose in life would be to highlight the protagonist and serve as emotional fodder.’
“Going out for breakfast?” Fang Yongyi asked, emerging from the restroom.
“You go ahead, I’m not hungry,” Huang Xiu replied, forcing a smile.
He wanted to check the academic building first; he had no appetite for food right now.
Grabbing his phone, which was already flashing a low battery warning, Huang Xiu quickly put on his shoes and hurried out of the dorm.
First High School’s dorms were located to the right-rear of the academic building, with a straight-line distance of less than fifty meters between them.
Huang Xiu reached the base of the academic building in just a few strides.
He watched students moving in and out of the hallways, their joyful chatter drifting through the air, yet he hesitated, unable to take a single step.
Everything from last night still pricked at his nerves, warning him not to enter this place of trouble.
Huang Xiu suppressed his fear, lowered his head, and stepped into the first-floor corridor.
Nothing happened.
A sigh of relief escaped him.
He quickly arrived at the spot where, last night, he had been cornered by the pig-headed teacher and had his head torn off.
Everything there was normal.
The walls were pristine white, the floor immaculate, and the mop leaned perfectly against the railing.
“Everything last night really was just an illusion!” Huang Xiu breathed a profound sigh of relief, then burst into hearty laughter.
This drew curious glances from nearby students.
But Huang Xiu didn’t care; he felt like singing aloud, or perhaps spending a whole afternoon reveling at an internet cafe.
Anything to release his agitated and depressed mood.
“Hey, there used to be two potted cacti here, right? How come there’s only one now? Where did the other one go?”
A girl’s puzzled voice drifted from Class 3, Grade 1.
Huang Xiu, who had just turned and taken a few steps, instantly froze, his face stiffening as he slowly turned his head.
‘Cactus. That’s right, at the end of that dream, a giant cactus seemed to have appeared.’
That colossal cactus had imbued him with a profound sense of safety and warmth.
This feeling stemmed from the deepest parts of his being, rooted in his very bloodline.
And that cactus—it seemed to have grown from a small potted plant after being tainted by his blood.
A giant cactus appeared in his dream, while a potted cactus disappeared from reality…
‘A coincidence? Or…?’
Huang Xiu returned to the windowsill, where, sure enough, only one potted cactus and one succulent remained.
The exact spot where the missing potted cactus had been was identical to the location of the cactus in his dream last night!
Refusing to give up, Huang Xiu turned the vicinity upside down, yet found no trace of a plastic flowerpot or soil.
It was as if that potted cactus had vanished into thin air.