The Sickly Dream

A row of red characters flashed across the large screen in the waiting area, and a mechanical female voice began broadcasting from the speakers on the wall.

“Number 8, Xu Feng. Please proceed to Consulting Room 10.”

After the announcement repeated a few times, a youth stood up. Strands of white, rare for someone his age, were scattered through his hair. This was Xu Feng.

Whether it was from waiting too long or a poor night’s sleep, Xu Feng felt light-headed as he walked. He passed rows of public seating and turned the corner to find Consulting Room 10. Staring at the white door, he took a deep breath and pushed his way in.

Inside was a computer, a desk, and a doctor in a white coat. The doctor smiled warmly and pointed to the chair in front of him.

“Have a seat, young man.”

“Oh, okay.”

Xu Feng sat down. Across the desk, the doctor clicked his pen and began taking notes as he inquired about Xu Feng’s condition.

“What seems to be the trouble?”

“I keep dreaming. The dreams are just too long. I used to wake up in the morning, but now, for several days in a row, I haven’t woken up until late afternoon. My body feels exhausted, and no matter how I try to adjust, nothing works.” Xu Feng vented his frustrations. Although there were no dark circles under his eyes, his gaze was filled with fatigue and anxiety.

“Do you usually stay up late?” The doctor paused his writing and looked at Xu Feng’s face with concern.

“It’s alright, not too often. I just graduated from high school, and it started happening a few days after my final exams.”

“Just finished high school? No wonder.” The doctor showed a sympathetic expression, while Xu Feng gave a slight shrug.

“I thought about that factor, but I don’t think that’s it. Doctor, do you have any good way to stop the dreaming? To be honest, I’ve set a dozen alarms on my phone, and lately, not a single one can wake me up in the morning.” Xu Feng sighed in distress, but the doctor offered patient comfort.

“Young man, dreams aren’t something we can personally control. It’s a mechanism the brain uses to organize memories. Go travel, play some games, find a way to relax; your lethargy will improve significantly. I’ve seen patients like you before. Do as I say, and you can’t go wrong.”

“Uh… Doctor, how about just prescribing some medicine? I’m worried.” Xu Feng remained uneasy.

“Medicine isn’t ideal. How about this: tell me about those dreams. Anything unusual about them? I’ll help you analyze it.”

At this suggestion, Xu Feng momentarily froze. His expression became slightly strained, and his fingers clenched as if the words were difficult to say.

“Doctor, please don’t tell anyone else about this.”

“I hold myself to my medical ethics. Go ahead.”

Xu Feng looked into the doctor’s eyes, paused to steady his nerves, and then continued.

“Ever since these dreams started, there’s been an identical girl in them every single day. It’s like watching a movie; I watch her live in a castle, picking flowers, having dinners, celebrating birthdays, and so on. I can even hear her voice and remember her smile. When I wake up, the impression isn’t blurred in the slightest.” Xu Feng described it with total earnestness.

The doctor couldn’t help but frown, his gaze toward Xu Feng turning complex.

“That girl… is she someone you’ve met?”

“No. She’s very young, with silver hair and red eyes. When she laughs, her ears turn slightly pink.” Xu Feng recalled the details, describing them as minutely as possible.

The doctor’s frown deepened.

A wet… dream? No, the content isn’t right. And how does he remember it so vividly?

“So, Doctor, what do you think?” Xu Feng looked at him pleadingly. The doctor remained silent, seemingly pondering a solution.

“How about this: go back and try my method before bed, and add a glass of hot milk. If you’re still not better tomorrow, come back and I’ll prescribe you something.”

The doctor’s proposal wasn’t bad. After all, all medicine has side effects; it’s always best to rely on the body’s own regulation, especially for a healthy young man.

But Xu Feng didn’t see it that way. He already knew everything the doctor suggested from the internet and had tried it all. He only came to the hospital because the results were poor.

“Doctor, please, just prescribe a little something. I’m really uneasy. If this keeps up, I’m probably going to need a few doses of antidepressants later on.” Xu Feng scratched his arm restlessly. Seeing his state, the doctor let out a deep sigh.

“Alright, I’ll prescribe some sleeping pills. They have a certain effect on reducing brain activity, which should naturally shorten the dreams.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” Xu Feng finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The doctor tapped at the keyboard to pull up the files, but when Xu Feng’s photo appeared, his eyes involuntarily widened.

The hair on the young man’s ID photo was pure white—completely different from his current appearance.

“Young man, did you dye your hair?” the doctor asked in surprise. Xu Feng rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, yeah. It’s natural. I used to get discriminated against for it, so I had to dye it. I’ll have to do it again in a few days.”

“It’s not albinism, is it?” the doctor asked with concern.

“No, my eyes are normal. It’s just a hair gene issue, no big deal.” Xu Feng spoke casually, but only he knew what his past was really like.

“Ah, that’s good then. Here is your prescription. Go to the window on the first floor to collect your medicine.” The doctor tore the slip from the printer and handed it over.

“Will do.”

Xu Feng stood up and took the slip. As the doctor watched him leave, he turned back to the computer.

According to the queue, it should have been the next patient, but Xu Feng’s interface hadn’t finished refreshing yet.

What’s going on? Is the network down?

The doctor refreshed the page several times before Xu Feng’s photo finally reappeared.

The hair was still white, but the black eyes had turned a blood-red color, as if the file was corrupted.

The doctor rubbed his eyes to check again, but the photo mischievously changed to “Load Failed.”

What is wrong with this crappy network?

……

The city lights began to rise, and on the neon-lit streets, groups of pedestrians laughed and talked—a scene starkly different from the one inside a certain window.

Sitting at his computer, Xu Feng silently took off his headphones. He twisted his aching neck, moved his shoulders, and stood up to look at the night view outside.

So lonely.

There was a reason for it. Xu Feng’s hometown was far from his high school, so he had been renting a place alone since his first year. Aside from long holidays, he rarely contacted his family, and visits home were few and far between.

Hopefully, before the lease is up, the dreams will end and I can return home in peace.

Xu Feng took the prescribed dose of medicine, and soon, his eyes closed in a heavy stupor.

Outside the window, the stars shone brightly. Pedestrians grew sparse as a thin, strange mist birthed within the city. It wound through the alleys like a beast seeking prey until it surrounded Xu Feng’s home. Slowly, it seeped through the cracks of the window, enveloping Xu Feng’s body.

Whoosh—crack—thud thud.

Wind and fire, mixed with the sound of chaotic footsteps.

Crackle, pop!

It sounded as if someone had piled up firewood and set it ablaze.

Xu Feng suddenly felt a wave of heat against his face. Did the AC turn off?

Wait… why did his body feel like it was standing up?

The abnormal sensation caused Xu Feng to snap his eyes open. What lay before him was no longer his comfortable room.

What’s happening up there?

A dense, dark mass of people—villagers dressed in gray—were hoisting farm tools and torches. They scrambled and shouted in an incomprehensible language, their gazes vicious, as if they wanted to tear something apart.

A roaring bonfire surrounded a sacrificial altar where a cross had been placed. Waves of heat surged outward, proclaiming the boundless divine power of the flame.

Upon the pale white cross, a girl in tattered clothes hung high. Black smoke choked her heart and lungs like the Grim Reaper. She shook her head desperately, gasping for air. On her visible, fair skin were the crimson marks of brutal torture.

A human sacrifice… a ritual?

A dream. This is a dream, right?

A sudden chill gripped Xu Feng’s heart. He looked down at his own hands and clenched them—the tactile sensation of pressure was real. He patted his head—the physical movement was real.

It’s a dream… but something is wrong.