Volume One, Chapter 18: She Who Should Not Exist

The Source Laboratory possessed two units of “The Other Shore,” which could be activated simultaneously without causing a short circuit.

Investigations revealed that worldwide, there have been at least hundreds of cases where two people shared the same dream. Unless something unexpected occurred, the experiences within “The Other Shore” could indeed be regarded as lucid dreams.

If the electromagnetic waves interfering with the hippocampus could be tuned to the same frequency, perhaps it would be possible to share a dream together.

At the moment he closed his eyes, Song Qi’s sarcastic “advice” was vividly imprinted in Ran Yi’s mind. Deep down, he knew she was provoking him. Wang Xu called the police to have her locked up again, and Bai Chen also believed it was too risky, but none of them understood the weight Tang Hui held in Ran Yi’s heart.

When it came time to vote on who would enter “The Other Shore” alongside Tang Hui, Ran Yi chose himself without hesitation.

There is a kind of fear and unease that cannot be lifted unless witnessed firsthand and experienced with one’s own hands—the heart forever suspended in uncertainty.

Both the police and the laboratory personnel regarded Tang Hui as a suspect, and Ran Yi could not bring himself to trust them.

This met with fierce opposition from the other members of the Fifth Squad: why ignore seasoned police officers and instead trust a mere college student?

Unexpectedly, Bai Chen cast his vote for Ran Yi.

“The effects of ‘The Other Shore’ on the psyche remain unknown. Under interference, even our professionalism cannot be guaranteed. He and Tang Hui are classmates and understand each other. Besides—” Bai Chen sent Ran Yi a mysterious smile.

“I also believe in this kid’s stubbornness.”

Back at the Source Laboratory, Ran Yi saw Tang Hui again. She lowered her gaze to the floor, silent. He tried to break the silence.

“No matter what conclusion they reach, I will always stand by you. If... if our dreams can connect, I hope you’ll tell me the truth.”

But his hope was dashed. Tang Hui showed no reaction, expressionless, and walked straight toward another “Other Shore” unit.

“Looks like the emotional situation isn’t promising either~” Bai Chen teased from the side.

Before entering “The Other Shore,” Bai Chen gave Ran Yi a reminder.

“To prevent your memory from becoming confused, we have a code word. You say ‘trace,’ and if I respond with ‘source,’ it means you’re not dreaming.”

The moment he entered “The Other Shore,” that dizzying sense of oppression struck again. But for Tang Hui, Ran Yi would not retreat.

He lay down inside the metal pod at the center. As “The Other Shore” was activated, the interior lighting dimmed to a dark red, like the cluster amaryllis blooming by the Netherworld Bridge.

A buzzing sound filled his ears. Ran Yi seemed to sense a subtle tremor from the electromagnetic wave emitter before him. The tremor grew stronger until the images he saw began to distort.

Unconsciously, he closed his eyes and his mind gradually emptied. Suddenly, he felt his body unbound, as if submerged in pitch-black water. When the buzzing faded and all returned to calm, he snapped his eyes open.

---

The evening breeze brushed his face, cicadas chirped softly. He stood in the corridor between two teaching buildings, bathed in the last rays of sunset.

The time was 18:55. He had truly returned to the day of the incident, just before the meeting began.

What delighted Ran Yi even more was the vibrant, youthful voice he longed to hear once more ringing in his ears.

“小 Yi, why are you standing there dazed? Still savoring what Cheng Yu said? We have to get to the meeting or we’ll be late!”

With that, Tang Hui grabbed Ran Yi’s wrist but found she couldn’t pull him along.

“Hey, hurry up... Why... are you staring at me?”

Ran Yi understood the purpose of this journey. He knew well this was just a virtual world created by “The Other Shore,” yet Tang Hui stood before him—a normal Tang Hui, just as he remembered.

The evening wind rose, her silhouette shone brilliantly in the sunset. He could not take his eyes off her face.

“Tang Hui, you’re finally back.”

“What? What nonsense are you talking about?” Tang Hui frowned slightly.

“Alright, alright, let’s go!”

Thanks to Ran Yi’s dawdling, they unsurprisingly ended up in the first row again. Everything was as before—the lecturer on stage was still Hu Chuan, who still asked that unexpected question and still called on Ran Yi.

This time, however, Ran Yi changed his perspective.

“Life is a wilderness, not a fixed path to success. If we stubbornly choose one path and blindly follow it, we will only torment ourselves repeatedly, making it all for naught. So I believe there is always a way back in life, and everyone can make new choices.”

“Not bad.” Hu Chuan smiled knowingly, as if Ran Yi’s words pleased him greatly.

“This student makes a good point. If time permits, we can have a face-to-face talk after the meeting.”

This was exactly what Ran Yi wanted. His goal was clear: to uncover the truth, he had to follow Hu Chuan into the laboratory. Thus, like Tang Hui, he needed to become a volunteer for the experiment.

Tang Hui, as before, stood up without being called on, and Ran Yi waited contentedly for her to concur.

“小 Yi, what nonsense are you talking? And Professor Hu, your research is pure fantasy. Isn’t this just a blatant escape from reality? You don’t even have the courage to face reality, yet you claim to have found a remedy for regret, a way out in life? Sorry, I don’t believe in any afterlife or regrets, nor do I see the need for them.”

Tang Hui’s change of attitude was completely unexpected by Ran Yi. The same person who had agreed earlier now openly contradicted Hu Chuan.

Only then did Ran Yi realize that the Tang Hui in this moment in time was fundamentally different. In the real world, Tang Hui had seemed off since the meeting began. At first, Ran Yi thought she was just maintaining her usual facade, but now the composed Tang Hui before him was the truly vivid version.

Sure enough, in the following introductions, Tang Hui repeatedly challenged Hu Chuan’s views.

---

“Professor, your hypothesis exists only in theory. Has it been tested in practice?”

“Volunteers, don’t joke around. Professor Hu, you just want to use students as guinea pigs.”

“To put it bluntly, isn’t this just dreaming? It won’t change anything, so what’s the point of daydreaming?”

Every word struck a chord in Ran Yi’s heart. This was indeed Tang Hui’s true opinion.

Unlike the real experience, Hu Chuan didn’t even bring up Song Qi’s testimony. Amidst laughter, he abruptly ended the lecture.

Afterward, Ran Yi could only explain his own speech as a test.

“No wonder, I said Xiao Yi wouldn’t have such a foolish idea,” Tang Hui said thoughtfully.

They left the auditorium side by side and parted at the school gate. Ran Yi watched Tang Hui walk away.

Though not exactly as planned, it was a relief that Tang Hui did not volunteer on her own accord. Secretly, he slipped a note to Song Qi, hinting at his desire to participate in the experiment.

Now all that remained was to enter the laboratory smoothly with them and find the clues left by the real culprit.

Professor Hu Chuan’s car pulled up. He rolled down the window and smiled.

“You’re different from those restless kids—you can stick to your convictions.”

“Your research is more appealing,” Ran Yi agreed.

“Time is short. Get in quickly. You two are among the few with real insight.”

“Alright...”

Wait—why two? Wasn’t I the only one who agreed?

The moment the door opened, Ran Yi gasped, a chill running down his spine.

Tang Hui—the very figure he had just seen walk away minutes ago—was now sitting in the back seat, expressionless, gazing out the window.