Chapter 647: The Dream Orphanage instance has been completely closed
The black shadow struggled in the flames, emitting inhuman piercing screams.
The small child stood fixedly before it, his entire face illuminated by the fierce fire, the depths of his pale eyes reflecting flames that could devour the entire world.
He watched this apocalyptic scene.
Yes, he indeed knew how to end all this.
How to…
Commit sin to the flames.
He had witnessed flames leaping, buildings collapsing.
And he himself was the arsonist.
The screaming flames danced, thick black smoke spiraling upward. The beautiful orange-yellow color burned through half the sky, as if the next second it would swallow the child before it whole.
However, just then, a wide palm covered little Wen Jianyan’s eyes.
Then pulled him into a cold, familiar embrace.
The child turned to look.
The terrifying yet beautiful vision of fire disappeared, replaced by reassuring cold and darkness.
Not far away, the orphanage was collapsing, dense cracks covering it, spreading like a spider web, making cracking sounds. Like a sand table soaked in water, it fell apart bit by bit, reduced to ashes.
The real and concrete blood, pain, screams, and wails began gradually receding, like moonlight reflected in water, dispersed bit by bit by ripples.
“What’s happening?” little Wen Jianyan murmured.
Wu Zhu lowered his eyes and answered in an almost gentle voice, “The dream is waking.”
“What about the others?” Little Wen Jianyan looked confusedly toward where the others had stood—that area was somehow now completely empty, not a single person remaining.
“They’ve already returned,” Wu Zhu said, “back to the waking world.”
The flames behind them still burned, but the temperature was gradually disappearing, like an old photograph rapidly fading.
“Then… in the waking world, have I grown up?” Little Wen Jianyan rested his head on his shoulder, raising his eyes to look at the man holding him.
“Mm.”
“What am I like when I grow up?”
Strong, beautiful, frivolous, arrogant, cunning, silver-tongued, uninhibited.
Wu Zhu thought for a long while and answered: “…One of a kind.”
—Absolutely unique, one of a kind.
“After I grow up, are we still friends?”
Wu Zhu: “No.”
They were enemies with blades drawn, opponents maneuvering step by step, allies using each other, lovers with ambiguous relations… but uniquely not friends.
“I don’t believe it.”
Little Wen Jianyan looked up at him, his expression stubborn.
“Why?”
“Because,” little Wen Jianyan gazed with those clear eyes at the man embracing him, “you’re important.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.” The child’s tone was stubborn and certain.
Hearing this, Wu Zhu laughed softly.
“We’re indeed not friends.”
He lowered his head, using his fingertip to brush aside the fluffy, messy hair on Wen Jianyan’s forehead. Though his movements were gentle, his voice carried a certain spine-chilling power: “But between us is a more… unbreakable relationship.”
Friends might turn their backs, allies might betray, lovers might grow indifferent.
Love, hatred—all would dissipate with time, but they had no possibility of separation.
Entangled unto death, without end.
“So does that mean you won’t leave me?”
Little Wen Jianyan lowered his gradually heavy eyelids, curling deeper into Wu Zhu’s embrace.
These were words he would never say outside the dream.
A person already accustomed to loneliness wouldn’t ask such a question.
Everyone who left a mark on his life would inevitably disappear—some for money to repay debts, others cruelly taken by death.
And he himself had long since calmly accepted this fact.
“Never.” Wu Zhu pressed a cold kiss to his forehead.
“How nice…”
Little Wen Jianyan murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.
He finally fell into a deep slumber.
Outside the dream, in the real orphanage.
Flames shot skyward, dyeing the entire world crimson red, heat waves rushing forth.
Tongues of fire licked up walls, burned through wood, greedily hollowing out the entire building. Burning beams crashed down heavily, stirring up even higher waves of fire.
However, just one second before everything was burned to ash—
Everything came to an abrupt halt, the world suddenly returning to silence.
The flames disappeared, the figures vanished, leaving only emptiness.
Gray-white smoke floated in the air. The atmosphere was cold and deathly silent. The pitch-black walled building stood silent, like an empty dried corpse long dead.
“…”
The three stood fixedly on the dark fourth floor, facing an empty room.
If not for the bright spots from flames burned onto their retinas and the scalding traces left by heat waves on their faces that hadn’t yet faded, they would almost believe that what they had just seen was merely their imagination.
“Just now… that was…” Wei Cheng said in a daze.
The fragments they had just glimpsed contained massive amounts of information, difficult for them to digest.
But before he could finish, the entire building began shaking violently. This tremor was stronger than any before. The building already ravaged by flames swayed precariously. Charred debris fell from overhead, as if to bury them here forever.
Orange Candy’s expression changed slightly. She turned her head and said sharply:
“Check the mission interface!”
Zhao Ran barely managed to stand steady in the violent shaking and opened his phone.
The main mission progress bar that had just been advancing steadily suddenly shot upward like a rocket. At this rate, they should soon complete the mission and leave the instance in a conventional manner.
“This instance is about to end!!” Zhao Ran also shouted loudly, confirming Orange Candy’s guess.
Seeing that the instance loop that had tormented them for nearly half a month was finally about to end and they could finally leave this place, somehow they couldn’t feel happy at all.
Suddenly, just then, an astonished voice came from not far away: “…Orange Candy?”
…This voice?
Orange Candy froze, raising her head to look toward where the voice came from.
Through smoke, dust, and falling rocks, she quickly captured a familiar figure.
“Ah, you’re, ” Orange Candy blinked and tilted her head, “that what’s-his-name from Dark Fire?”
Qi Qian: “…”
Behind him, Chen Cheng persistently let out a loud mocking laugh.
Orange Candy’s gaze fell behind Qi Qian, again showing a surprised expression: “…Bai Xue?!”
Bai Xue, who had not appeared since entering this instance, was now standing properly not far away.
And not just him—following beside Bai Xue were many anchors belonging to Wen Jianyan’s guild, among them even a few faces she had no impression of.
With the unexpected appearance of these people, the building’s tremors began to diminish. Soon, everyone could finally stand steady on the ground.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in the place where we were before?” Orange Candy looked at everyone with confusion.
“Yes,” Wen Ya answered concisely, “but it seems now that the barrier dividing the entire instance into two worlds has disappeared. However… we haven’t figured out the specific reason yet.”
Regardless, for them, meeting up with Orange Candy meant that once the instance ended, they would all be brought back under Nightmare’s control together—for them, now at the end of their resources and in desperate straits, this was undoubtedly good news.
“Wait, where’s your president?” Orange Candy seemed to think of something and asked abruptly.
“He’s not with us.” Chen Mo answered.
“However…” Recalling the scene they had witnessed before darkness fell, and the scenery changed, everyone’s expressions couldn’t help but become complex. “His safety… probably doesn’t need too much worry for now.”
“What about your side? Where are the passengers?” Wen Ya looked around and asked.
“Other floors, they haven’t caught up yet,” Zhao Ran shrugged, “but I estimate it’ll be soon.”
Wei Cheng added: “Earlier, some anchors in the same instance as us fed them heads—at least when we last encountered them, their bodies had already started becoming complete.”
This was not good news.
“However, we haven’t come away empty-handed either.”
Orange Candy spoke up in a timely manner.
“Remember the white corpse oil from the ‘Changsheng Building’ instance? We found its source.”
“What?” Qi Qian froze.
“It… was refined from the orphans here.” Wei Cheng took a deep breath. “And the methods weren’t gentle.”
It wasn’t simply throwing corpses into flames to refine corpse oil—based on the inhumane bloodstains in the cremation room on the second floor and the dialogue from the “Mommas” in those memory fragments, to refine people into corpse oil required some kind of “processing.”
Though they hadn’t personally witnessed this “processing,” imagination could fill in the gaps.
Pinocchio’s childhood was spent here, until he discovered his predetermined death fate and began attempting to escape…
From the results, he succeeded.
But paid a terrible price.
“Moreover,” Orange Candy raised her eyes and suddenly said, “I think… part of him was left here, as the framework supporting the entire instance’s operation.”
Hearing this, everyone froze and showed astonished expressions.
“What?!”
This was too horrifying to hear, truly unacceptable.
But Qi Qian’s eyes flashed: “You mean… the furnace core?”
“You know?” Orange Candy raised an eyebrow.
“Mm,” Qi Qian nodded. “I’ve heard a little about it.”
He had climbed highest to the pinnacle of power among everyone present. As vice president of Dark Fire guild, this position brought not just power and prestige, but also information privileges.
“Like how machine operation needs fuel, all instance operations require furnace core energy supply,” Qi Qian said. “Although no one knows what exactly the ‘furnace core’ is, to drive such massive instance operations, its existence must be extraordinary… Some speculate it’s some kind of supernatural energy source, others guess it’s some powerful monster. Of course, there are also unreliable theories attributing it to religion…”
But… a human?
And part of a living, undead human?
This was truly beyond imagination, unheard of.
“Don’t worry, there’s no mistake.” Orange Candy pulled at the corner of her mouth, but there was no smile in her eyes.
In fact, even Orange Candy herself had difficulty believing this judgment at first, but the scene just now was too clear and vivid, irrefutable. Everything told her that her guess was correct.
Once reaching this conclusion, many previous questions were resolved.
Why the Wen Jianyan in this instance was so vivid and lifelike, as if truly existing?
Why was everything in this instance intimately connected with him?
Why, after escaping the orphanage, when other children looked toward the non-existent streets with amazed expressions, he looked so confused and vacant.
And also…
Why, though the loop never actually reached the seventh day, the illusion created by the “dog cage” showed real scenes of slaughter.
This was why the fourth floor “memory” they just saw was so detailed, realistic, and lifelike.
Because for the Wen Jianyan left here, everything had only just happened.
“…”
The entire floor quieted down, the atmosphere oppressive and deathly silent.
However, just then, a cold youthful voice came from behind.
“Here.”
Everyone froze and turned toward where the voice came from.
Bai Xue had somehow separated from the group and come alone to the edge of some ruins. He now stared fixedly at them, his pure white skin and hair color appearing particularly eerie in the darkness.
“Come here.” He repeated in the same flat tone.
“…”
Suddenly, Orange Candy froze. She looked around and discovered something.
The position where Bai Xue now stood was exactly where, in that massive and real illusion just now, one of the Mommas had been burned alive to death.
Seemingly having a similar hypothesis, Orange Candy immediately strode forward.
Following the direction of Bai Xue’s finger, she lowered her head to look at the ground at her feet.
She saw that on the ground covered with pitch-black scorch marks, there seemed to be a thin layer of grease, presenting a terrifying bright red color under the weak light.
Orange Candy’s heart pounded like a drum. She squatted down, rubbed a bit with her fingertip, and brought it to her nose to smell—the rotten and sickly-sweet corpse smell was extremely familiar, but it precisely proved her guess—she abruptly raised her head, staring tightly at Bai Xue.
“…Red corpse oil?!”
“What?” The few behind were shocked and immediately stepped forward.
In the ‘Changsheng Building’ instance, there were two types of corpse oil.
One was gray-white. Though when lit, it would attract ghost attention, it could protect people within the lamplight from harm.
The other was deep red, the color of congealed blood. It could prevent humans from transforming into ghosts, but would awaken and attract all latent dangers, and wouldn’t provide any protection.
The two types of corpse oil were so similar yet complementary. There was no reason one would find its source here while the other remained unknown.
But Orange Candy hadn’t expected the answer to come so quickly.
White corpse oil was refined from innocent victims after tremendous suffering.
And the source of red corpse oil…
Was the sinful perpetrators.
This also explained why the quantity difference between the two was so vast.
In this thorough slaughter plan, the victims were so powerless and helpless. To swim against the current and kill in desperate counterattack was nearly impossible.
Even difficult to replicate.
“Wait, these two types of corpse oil have been continuously produced, could it be because this instance has been continuously operating?!” Qi Qian’s eyes flashed.
“I’m afraid so.” Orange Candy’s expression was grim.
That “Mr. Yun” actually never planned to let the Mommas leave alive from the start, which was why it showed no avoidance when discussing its plans.
As long as there was no platinum clear, the instance could restart repeatedly, which meant endless production of corpse oil.
This was also why, even though Wen Jianyan had burned down the orphanage and successfully escaped, the instance still opened.
This was part of the plan all along.
“The threads are no longer tangled.”
Bai Xue slowly spoke, his cold voice echoing in the darkness.
He looked toward Orange Candy not far away.
“This is the purpose of bringing you here.”
Orange Candy froze, suddenly remembering when Bai Xue had found her before entering the instance—
“This is the key to freedom,” the youth’s eyes were cold and pitch-black, like a huge vortex, “for everyone.”
Her expression gradually grew heavy: “What do we do next?”
“Complete the unfinished fate here.”
Bai Xue looked steadily at her. His expression was calm as always, but his words sent chills down one’s spine.
“Burn.”
The main mission progress bar that had shown no movement for nearly half a month began rising rapidly at a visible rate. They didn’t have much time left in this instance.
Everyone sprang into action, doing their utmost to collect the red lamp oil remaining on the ground at the fastest speed, then began setting up on the fourth floor.
“This side is ready.”
Chen Mo said.
“What about you?”
Chen Cheng made an OK gesture.
Blood-red corpse oil was placed throughout the room, connected by masses of dense flammable materials.
“How’s it going over there?” Wei Cheng turned toward the door and asked.
“Based on the time, it should be soon…” Before Wen Ya could finish answering, dense footsteps sounded in the corridor not far away.
The next second, An Xin rushed in, gasping as he shouted:
“Get ready!”
Behind him, darkness spread forward bit by bit along the corridor. In the darkness, one could vaguely see dead people’s pale blue hands, feet, and skin—though it hadn’t been long since they last met, their completeness had improved even more, the terrifying oppressive feeling gradually advancing.
Not far ahead of the darkness burned a point of flickering faint light.
This was their last remaining bit of gray-white lamp oil, held by Qi Qian, with Orange Candy following behind him. She held a long blade disproportionate to her height, focusing vigilantly on her surroundings while controlling the distance from the “passengers” and protecting the lamp bearer—though lamp oil could protect those in its light from attack, they had too little lamp oil and too many “passengers” nearby. Once they got close, it would be certain death.
“Never thought I’d have a day of being protected by you.”
Qi Qian caught his breath and sighed with emotion.
The last time he and Orange Candy had dealt with each other was in the ‘Changsheng Building’ instance. He had been Wen Jianyan’s teammate, while Orange Candy was the high-priced killer hired by Oracle—Orange Candy herself had made an irrefutable contribution to that instance’s degree of danger.
Before Orange Candy could answer, the next second, cold footsteps came in succession.
Her eyes sharpened:
“Qi Qian!”
Qi Qian was startled and, with amazing reaction speed, barely dodged a wave of attacks from the side.
“Hmph, not bad.” Orange Candy looked him over with critical eyes for a moment.
The stimulation from the brush with death hadn’t yet passed when Qi Qian suddenly realized something: “Wait, don’t you know my name?”
“Nonsense.” Orange Candy scoffed.
“I remember the name of everyone who escaped from my hands. After all,” she said with a smile, “there aren’t many people on that list.”
Qi Qian: “…”
She had definitely done that on purpose just now!
While exchanging words, the door ahead was already within reach. An Xin guarded the entrance, waiting for them.
The two fell silent in tacit understanding and quickened their pace together.
Inside the room, everything was set up, all preparations complete, only waiting for their arrival.
“Will it really succeed…” Ma Qi gripped her fingers anxiously, her forehead and palms covered in sweat.
Wei Cheng took a deep breath, his voice carrying similar tension: “Don’t know.”
Outside the door, footsteps gradually approached.
Everyone’s nerves were stretched to the limit.
The next second, accompanied by weak lamplight, two figures, one tall and one short, appeared before everyone, and behind them was sticky darkness flooding in like a tide.
“They’re here.”
The cold, decayed aura gradually intensified.
After luring the “passengers” into the room, Chen Mo and Wen Ya, who remained at the rear, quietly and quickly began moving, pouring the remaining red corpse oil at the back, blocking the path.
Almost there.
Everyone’s eyes locked tightly on the “passengers” walking toward the center of the room. In darkness so oppressive it was suffocating, pale hands and feet covered with blue-black corpse spots slowly moved forward.
Five more meters… four meters…
Suddenly, a strange “buzzing” sounded, and the next second, a familiar, intermittent mechanical voice echoed in everyone’s ears:
“Live stream… line maintenance complete, signal… recovering…”
Wait, what?
Everyone froze.
The live stream that had been closed for so long due to signal failure was actually recovering at this critical juncture?!
Viewers began flooding into the live stream.
And this time, the comments were mixed with strange, garbled symbols, as if part of the content had been directly blocked. Among the mass of garbled text were scattered a few text discussions.
“Finally open…”
“Which instance is this?”
“Is this the orphanage from my memory? Why does it feel like everything changed?”
“Why do I feel like we came in right at some critical moment… wait, what are the anchors preparing to do?”
The intermittent metallic voice was noisy and urgent.
“Detected, instance??? abnormality! Initiating… early instance termination! Please anchors prepare… to leave!!”
“Countdown sixty seconds—”
“No good, we must light the fire now!” Chen Mo’s voice was sharp and tense. “Otherwise, we’ll be pulled out of the instance!”
Though the “passengers” were still some distance from their calculated position, now wasn’t the time to think about that. If they delayed any longer, Nightmare would forcibly end this instance and they would have worked in vain!
“Get away from there!!” Ma Qi screamed toward Qi Qian and his companion who were closest to the “passengers.”
Receiving the warning, the two immediately began fleeing.
In Qi Qian’s hand, the wick emitting faint light flickered, finally exhausting the last bit of lamp oil. It flickered once and went out.
Darkness descended.
At this moment, the person closest to the “passengers” was in the greatest danger.
Precisely because of this, the people responsible for “luring ghosts” had to be Qi Qian and Orange Candy—because only they two had a chance to escape from such direct and dangerous death circumstances.
A cluster of flame flickered and fell into the red corpse oil.
Eerie crimson flames lit up from the ground. Unlike the explosive burning that gray-white corpse oil could create, the flames created by red corpse oil were cold and slow, like a soft red snake licking and climbing along the artificially created path.
“Instance ending—ending—!!”
“Countdown forty-two… bzzt—ten seconds!”
The originally one-minute countdown was suddenly forcibly cut in half!
Even they could instantly sense Nightmare’s urgency from this.
“No good… no good, we won’t make it!!” Watching the red tongue of fire slowly crawling forward, everyone was anxious as ants on a hot pan—but they knew that no matter how they calculated, the flames couldn’t reach the designated location within ten seconds.
At the edge of darkness, Orange Candy stumbled.
No matter her abilities, she had a child’s stature. Even running at full strength, she couldn’t match Qi Qian’s height and long legs.
In the darkness, a pale blue palm firmly grasped her calf. The next second, blue-black corpse spots began spreading on her skin—she sharply turned, blade light flashing, severed limbs flying—if only one… even two or three “passengers” were following her, it would definitely be possible, but the problem was, there were a full seven “passengers” walking in the darkness.
More palms reached from the shadows.
Surrounded by endless darkness, she looked so small for the first time.
“Orange Candy!” Qi Qian abruptly stopped and turned to come back, but he was too late.
“Move aside!!” A roar came from behind.
Zhao Ran raised his hand, flames suddenly leaping from his palm.
“Go.” He said.
Strange flames ignited in his palm.
Like a drop of water falling into nearly boiling oil, almost instantaneously, the fire snake that had just been slowly advancing suddenly surged, its fangs tightly strangling his body.
“Ahhhhhhh!!” That sound was extremely miserable and terrifying, as if experiencing unbearable horrific pain.
The ignition material for red corpse oil wasn’t wood, wasn’t gasoline… but living, breathing humans.
But even so, Zhao Ran still gritted his teeth and moved forward step by step. He used his talent to violently burn his own body, using this to fight against that eerie corpse fire, actually managing to guide the fierce flames created by the red corpse oil toward the “passengers” in the darkness.
The instant it was burned, even the lifeless “passengers” felt fear. The pale blue palms that had tightly gripped Orange Candy’s body released.
Orange Candy sharply turned. Her eyes were cold and fierce, her movements swift.
Blade light flashed, slashing horizontally down.
Zhao Ran’s half-body that had been ignited was brutally split open. Just then, Qi Qian caught up from behind. He dragged Zhao Ran’s barely breathing body onto his back, saying lowly “pardon me,” then with his other hand picked up Orange Candy whose legs could no longer move.
The three, covered in blood, turned their backs to the flames and ran wildly outward.
Having obtained humans as nourishment, the red corpse fire that had been burning slowly suddenly surged explosively. Infinite terrifying heat waves overturned everything.
Not far away, Bai Xue stared fixedly at all this, his pitch-black pupils reflecting this sky-high sea of fire.
From the corner of his mouth, dark red blood slowly trickled down.
—All the “threads” had been brought to where they most should be.
The live stream, with all its attention attracted by ‘Lucky Cruise Ship’, lost its surveillance and control over the key instance, allowing them to exploit the opening.
The great ship capsized, the cruise sank, the live stream was forced to switch signals and could no longer control the orphanage’s state.
Thus, the flames delayed by ten years were finally released.
The corpse fire burned violently—if the “passengers” within were still in their initial state, it probably couldn’t do anything, but at this moment standing in the flames were ghosts who had killed and seized countless human bodies, and this was precisely the indispensable fuel for corpse oil—they were implicated by what they had obtained, forcibly dragged into the roaring sea of fire.
The red sky-high firelight awakened all lurking supernatural forces.
The orphanage began violently shaking. Walls crumbled, beams crashed down, floors collapsed. The white souls of orphans broke free from their bonds, gently floating up to the sky.
They murmured in the air:
Thank you, thank you.
Goodbye, goodbye.
【Bzzt… bzzzzt】
【Detected… irresistible factors…】
【Sweet Dream Orphanage instance—completely closed】
Wu Zhu gazed into the darkness.
No matter what evaluation he made of humans, it was hard not to admit…
Wen Jianyan’s companions had done very well.
After all, some restraints could only be broken by outsiders.
With the building’s collapse, the truly critical thread grasped in Nightmare’s hand finally snapped, and the soul that had always been imprisoned here finally gained freedom.
Whether those who died unjustly, or the thin child who had been trapped in the distance since the day of escape.
Wu Zhu lowered his eyes, gazing at Wen Jianyan lying in his arms.
The other’s form gradually lengthened, becoming the beautiful, powerful appearance of a young man.
He hadn’t yet awakened, his brow tightly furrowed, cold sweat seeping from his pale forehead.
He covered his hand over the other’s forehead.
The return of soul fragments was always lengthy.
After all, he himself had experienced it more than once.
What the return of fragments brought wasn’t just the soul’s completion, but also the mending of memories.
This didn’t just represent the return of those seven days of memories, but also represented everything experienced as the instance’s furnace core—countless loops, innumerable deaths, repeated torments, all would together become part of his own experiences.
But this time, that wouldn’t happen.
In this dark world, he silently waited.
Wen Jianyan had a very long dream. He dreamed he returned to his fragile, helpless dark childhood.
Then was trapped there forever.
He curled up on the hard bed board, his head covered by a quilt washed stiff as cardboard. In his palm, a shard of glass glittered, a golden eye shining within.
“What are you?” he asked quietly.
“A friend,” a voice answered.
“Why are you here?”
“…” The other didn’t answer.
The child walked in the corridor, an invisible shadow following beside him.
“Are you a ghost?”
“Mm.”
“Then… how did you die?”
“I didn’t die.”
“Didn’t die? Then how did you become a ghost?”
“I forgot.”
“I’ve heard that after people die, they become ghosts because they have unfulfilled wishes—do you have any wishes?”
“Perhaps.”
“Tell me, maybe I can help you fulfill it,” Wen Jianyan lowered his head. On the ground, only his small shadow tilting its head could be seen. He thought for a moment and quickly changed his words. “Ah, maybe not now, but definitely when I grow up!”
A tall Momma appeared not far ahead. She lowered her head: “Little bastard, what are you doing here? Slacking off again?”
The child’s face paled. He opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to say some lie to exonerate himself, but the next second, a palm like a fan fell heavily.
He fearfully closed his eyes—he was so practiced at this, as if he had experienced it hundreds of times, ingrained in his bones.
But the expected pain didn’t appear.
He froze, slowly opening his eyes. The Momma who had just been fierce now had a face white as gold paper. She stared blankly at the void, swaying back two steps, then screamed and ran into the distance.
“You did that?” Little Wen Jianyan’s eyes widened as he turned to look at the shadow beside him.
“Mm.”
“Amazing!!!” His eyes lit up. “Besides this? What else can you do?”
The tall man lowered his eyes and said softly.
“Many things.”
The dark world was bit by bit, subtly distorted.
Terrifying, twisted, bloody memories were painted over, new memories gently and slowly covering them.
Until one day.
Wen Jianyan escaped that prison of steel and concrete. His companions cheered jubilantly beside him while he stood on the hillside, looking back at that distant nightmare-like building. All terrifying memories were cast behind, never able to catch up again.
His companions’ voices came from beside his ear:
“Boss boss! What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” little Wen Jianyan turned his head, showing a big smile. “We’re free.”
“Yes, yes,” the children nodded happily. They turned around. “We should go too.”
Wen Jianyan was about to follow when he was stopped.
“Let’s part ways here.”
He looked confused: “But… why?”
“Because it’s not time yet,” bright smiles appeared on his companions’ faces, the same as always, as if all the darkness had never happened and only a brilliant tomorrow awaited them ahead. “Thank you for everything along the way, make sure to take care of yourself boss!”
“Yes, yes!”
“We’ll miss you, but don’t come find us too early!”
“Alright, we’re really leaving now!”
They cheered jubilantly, holding hands, bouncing and skipping away into the distance.
“Bye bye! Boss bye bye!”
Little Wen Jianyan stood in a daze. From somewhere, the entire world became empty, leaving only him standing alone on the hillside. He turned around. The invisible black shadow still followed beside him.
The other extended a hand, a cold, wide palm pressing on his head, patting it.
“Has your wish been fulfilled?”
—”Why are you here?”
This was the unfinished question from their first meeting.
The black shadow lowered its eyes and said, “Mm.”
—”For you.”
This was the unanswered reply from their first meeting.
“Then… will you leave too?”
The deity who came specifically for him bent down, kissed the youth’s forehead, and once again answered softly:
“No, never.”
