A Chaotic Dream: Now It's My Turn

Lin Qingyun had already decided that no matter what He Zhuoming said next, he wouldn't respond—unless she spoke at least ten sentences to him. Only when she reached the eleventh would he deign to answer.

What he hadn't expected was that the very first thing He Zhuoming said would be so interesting, so perfectly suited to his taste—they might as well have been of one mind.

Lin Qingyun grabbed a random book from the pile of exam papers and textbooks stacked in front of He Zhuoming's desk and, copying her pose, propped it upright as a screen in front of his face. In a low voice, he asked, "The apocalypse? Where'd you hear that? Is it reliable?"

He Zhuoming answered in a mysterious tone: "Very reliable, because I... ah, I can't tell you. I signed a non-disclosure agreement."

Lin Qingyun smiled, eyes curving into crescents as he rested his chin on the desk and watched her. Softly, he said, "So this is also a secret that friends can't share?"

He Zhuoming nodded earnestly. "The only reason I'd tell you even a little is because we're so close. I'm only sneaking it to you because we're good friends."

Lin Qingyun: "If the apocalypse comes, what will Xiao He do?"

He Zhuoming's face grew grave. "Don't worry about me. Someone like me won't have any problems."

Lin Qingyun: "What kind of person is Xiao He?"

He Zhuoming also lay down on the desk, gazing at him. "Me and you all—we're not from the same world."

Lin Qingyun: "Really?"

He Zhuoming: "Mm-hmm. I'm a dangerous person..."

Before she could finish, the math teacher on the podium hurled a piece of chalk at her. "He Zhuoming! If you keep talking, come up here and do the talking!"

The piece of chalk flew over with a sharp whoosh—and was caught neatly in one hand by He Zhuoming.

A collective "Whoa!" went up around them.

He Zhuoming set the chalk aside with an air of casual indifference, sat up straight, and fixed her eyes on the blackboard.

The math teacher slammed the desk, pointing at them. "He Zhuoming—and you, whoever you are! He Zhuoming's deskmate! What's wrong with you? Reading an English book in math class? You really like English, don't you? Both of you, get out and stand in the hallway!"

Amid the teacher's reprimand, a sharp, prolonged alarm blared across the campus. Every student in the class rushed to the windows and doors, poking their heads out and shouting, "What's going on? What's happening?"

They'd barely crowded in when—less than two minutes later—they screamed: "Oh my god! Zombies!"

A dense horde of zombies surged in from the corridor, slamming into the crowd and sending everyone tumbling. Exam papers and textbooks were knocked airborne, swirling in midair as pages slapped against each other like migrating flocks of birds—they flew out through the open windows and scattered over the walls tiled with long red ceramic strips.

He Zhuoming whipped a sword out from under her desk—and Lin Qingyun saw it clearly.

It wasn't the wooden sword he'd given her. It was a real one: pitch black from blade to hilt, save for a pommel of vivid red. It looked, for all the world, like his Wuyi Sword.

Sword in hand, He Zhuoming vaulted through the window into the corridor and took down several zombies with a single strike each. The students were stunned, jaws hanging open as they stared at her. He Zhuoming frowned and scolded them: "What are you gawking at? Run! All that effort in math class, like it was out to get you."

The students snapped out of it and bolted off the other end of the building.

Soon the classroom was empty, leaving only the desks, scattered books on the floor, and Lin Qingyun leaning against the corridor windowsill.

He watched He Zhuoming fight the zombies with great interest, easily recognizing the sword technique she used—the single-handed style he'd taught her. But in the real world, that technique could handle at most three or five street thugs. Any more than that, and she'd be overwhelmed. There was no way it could unleash devastating power like this, sending entire crowds of zombies flying with one strike.

The zombies she knocked away spun helplessly in the air before splattering onto the plaza below, one after another.

Fortunately, this was a southern school building with an open corridor, so the zombies could be thrown out. If it had been a northern one, the zombies she killed would have piled up in the hallway like carpet.

After clearing the wave, He Zhuoming flicked her wrist and slung the green blood off the blade.

She turned to look at Lin Qingyun and frowned. "Why are you still here? It's dangerous. More zombies are coming."

Lin Qingyun: "What about you? You're not leaving?"

He Zhuoming's face was full of gravity. "You don't understand. This is my mission. If I don't hold the line here, humanity will be destroyed."

Her face was still young and soft, and even her most solemn expression looked endearingly childish.

Lin Qingyun was deeply moved. He stepped forward, took He Zhuoming's hand, and said with exaggerated earnestness, "Then I definitely can't abandon you. We're best friends! No one in this world would abandon a friend in a crisis!"

He Zhuoming thought it over for only a few seconds before readily accepting this premise.

Sword in one hand, she took Lin Qingyun's hand with the other. "Fine then. Let's go together."

He let himself be pulled along, grinning so hard he could barely walk straight, stumbling as he went.

He'd been inside many people's dreams, but Xiao He's was the most fun—absurd and hilarious. So funny, in fact, that Lin Qingyun wanted to pinch her cheeks, or bite her.

A strange urge. He had no idea why he felt that way.

They reached the connecting corridor of the teaching building. It was the top floor, and the open sides let the wind through, staining the floor a warm orange in the setting sun.

The world fell silent all at once. There was no one to be seen anywhere: no zombies, no students, no teachers.

Looking out from the open corridor, the sky was clear without a single cloud, and towering buildings glittered in the sunlight, layer upon layer.

Lin Qingyun looked around, curious, while He Zhuoming paid no attention to the sights she saw every day. She simply pulled him forward with long strides, through the corridor, and into an empty lecture hall.

The lecture hall was deserted, but the connected tables were covered with music books—some open, some closed, all in disarray.

He Zhuoming directed him: "Go pull open the curtains by the podium."

Beneath the podium stood a piano draped in black velvet. By the time Lin Qingyun pulled the curtains aside, He Zhuoming had already whisked the velvet cover off.

She sat on the piano bench, set her bloodstained sword against the podium, and began flexing her fingers.

The setting sun streamed in through the now-open window, spilling over the piano and He Zhuoming alike, gilding her hair with a layer of gold. The silver butterfly hairpin glinted.

Lin Qingyun reached out to touch the instrument—something he'd never seen before. Though he didn't recognize it, he knew at once that it must be some kind of musical instrument.

Then He Zhuoming pressed the keys, and the piano sang out in rising and falling notes.

She played "A Dream of a Wedding."

Of all the named piano pieces, that was the only one He Zhuoming could play—other than "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." But the former sounded more impressive, so whenever there was a chance to perform, she'd play it. It was good enough for showing off.

Her playing was just average, hitting two or three wrong notes in the middle, but she didn't care. She was content with how she played, and her confident, proud demeanor could easily fool anyone into thinking she'd played flawlessly.

As the final note faded, she lifted her head and stared at Lin Qingyun with eager expectation. He straightened up under her gaze, and after a moment, caught on. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he applauded her. "How did you play so well?"

He Zhuoming feigned modesty. "Just average, average. Still a notch below my sword skills."

Lin Qingyun: "Did you teach yourself?"

He Zhuoming: "I took classes. Practiced the entire summer break!"

In truth, her parents had wanted her to keep at it for a few years and get certified for extra points on the high school entrance exam. But after one summer, He Zhuoming found the piano boring, refused to go to the tutoring center anymore, and switched to wanting to learn guitar.

She could hardly tell Lin Qingyun that. Even if they were friends through life and death, it was so embarrassing! It would make her look completely lacking in perseverance.

He Zhuoming draped the black velvet back over the piano and grabbed her backpack from beside her—this was He Zhuoming's dream, and if she thought she had a backpack, then a backpack would be there.

She slung it over one shoulder, both hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

It was early summer, and everyone else had started wearing short sleeves, but He Zhuoming insisted on wearing a jacket—short sleeves had no pockets, and shoving both hands in your pants pockets made you look like a thug. But with them in a jacket's pockets, you just looked cool.

She called out to Lin Qingyun: "School's out! Let's head home together!"

Lin Qingyun agreed with a smile and followed her out of the school.

Despite the utterly unfamiliar world before him—one he'd never seen—he felt not a trace of fear, only curiosity: so this was where Xiao He grew up. So this was where she studied. So she knew how to play an instrument... though she'd probably missed a few notes just now.

They reached the bus stop just as a bus pulled up.

He Zhuoming grabbed Lin Qingyun's hand, hopped on, and with lightning speed tapped the card reader twice.

Lin Qingyun asked with interest, "What's that for?"

"Swiping the bus card. My treat. You've always taken care of me, so now we're in my hometown—it's my turn to take care of you."

As she spoke, she pushed on Lin Qingyun's shoulder, turning him around. "Go, go, keep moving. Don't block the door."

The bus was packed with students and office workers who'd skipped overtime, leaving only a single seat free in the middle.

He Zhuoming guided Lin Qingyun over and pressed him into the seat. He looked up at her and asked, "Aren't you going to sit?"

Standing beside him, she reached up and grabbed the overhead handle, saying carelessly, "I don't like sitting."

As she reached for the strap, her jacket slipped off one shoulder and bunched around her elbow.

Soon the bus rumbled off, and He Zhuoming swayed with the motion before steadying herself. She pulled her tangled earphone cord from her coat pocket and plugged it into her phone—she popped one earbud into her ear and offered the other to Lin Qingyun.

Lin Qingyun copied her movements and settled the earbud in.

White cord looping between them, he heard music he'd never encountered in his life.

He tilted his head up to look at He Zhuoming, but she wasn't looking at him—she'd turned her face the other way. Outside the window, the setting sun, split by roadside trees into slats of light, swept across her profile one by one. Her eyes were slightly lowered, and then her gaze flickered briefly over Lin Qingyun's face—quick and light, gone in an instant like a swallow darting away.

She blinked rapidly several times, pressed her lips together, then felt a smile creep up her cheeks. She wanted to laugh but tried hard to hold it back.

Inside her coat pocket, her hand twisted at a scrap of fabric, kneading it until her palm went slightly damp.

The bus soon reached their stop. He Zhuoming called Lin Qingyun off, and he asked, all smiles, "Xiao He, why aren't you holding my hand anymore?"

He Zhuoming pinched her damp palm and put on a stern face. "I'm a girl, and you're a boy. If I walk holding your hand and my parents see, they might think I'm secretly dating. Alright, enough complaining—I'll treat you to ice cream."

Lin Qingyun tilted his head, a habitual smile still on his face, but he felt strange inside.

Before she said that, he'd never once thought about the fact that the two of them were a boy and a girl.

To a True Deity, gender hardly mattered, and he'd been pushed into that position far too young. No one had ever looked at him as a 'boy.' His gender had simply been 'god.'

Even Lin Qingyun himself had never been aware of it.

The more he thought about it, the stranger his mood became. He stared at He Zhuoming—she was already ahead of him, both hands back in her coat pockets, looking properly cool.

But only one earbud was in her ear. She'd forgotten to put in the other, and it dangled empty, swinging with each deliberately hurried step.

Lin Qingyun caught up quickly but didn't speak as he usually would. He was still mulling over her words, then remembered that glance she'd cast his way in the metal box, and the slight quirk of her lips.

For a moment, a vague feeling welled up in his chest—he couldn't identify it at all. It felt like his mouth had been sewn shut, and he couldn't manage a single word.

Summer was so hot. The two of them walked a small distance apart, silent, not speaking. By the time they reached home, He Zhuoming's cheeks were flushed from the heat.

Her first move inside was to turn on the air conditioner. The second was to open the fridge. Her room had its own mini-fridge, stocked exclusively with her cakes, ice cream, and fruit juices.

She shrugged off her school jacket, revealing two arms red from the heat, and sat cross-legged in front of the open fridge, waving at Lin Qingyun.

He walked over and sat down with her. The cold air spilling from the fridge enveloped them both.

He Zhuoming asked, "What flavor ice cream do you like?"

Lin Qingyun said nonchalantly, "Whatever flavor you pick, I'll like the same."

He Zhuoming rummaged around in the freezer, pulled out a tub of dried plum ice cream, popped it open, and handed Lin Qingyun a wooden spoon.

"This is the big one, so we can share. It's my favorite flavor!"

She was eager to share her most beloved taste with her most beloved friend, and behind her sweat-damp lashes, her eyes sparkled as they reflected Lin Qingyun.

Those gleaming eyes were like glass beads.

Lin Qingyun scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth. The processed dessert melted softly on his tongue, but he tasted nothing—not even the cold.

He curved his eyes in a smile—this time truly happy, his eyes squeezed shut in delight. "I love this flavor!"

He Zhuoming was smug. "I knew it—I knew you'd like it!"

Lin Qingyun: "Does Xiao He live here?"

He Zhuoming: "Yeah."

Lin Qingyun: "Alone?"

He Zhuoming, mouth full of ice cream, mumbled, "How could I live alone? I live with my mom and dad, of course..."

The moment she finished speaking, the faint click of high heels echoed from the stairwell outside.

He Zhuoming jumped to her feet. "Mom's home! Mom's home! Hide, quick!"

She kicked the fridge shut with one foot, grabbed Lin Qingyun by the collar with the other, and, not bothering to wait for him to scramble up on his own, hauled him straight into the wardrobe.

The wardrobe door clicked shut, but light still filtered through the gaps in its slatted vents, casting a dim glow inside.

He Zhuoming pressed her face anxiously to the crack, still clutching Lin Qingyun's collar in one hand.