Everyone dreams. Every night, countless different dreams unfold.

But upon waking, people often only recall the dream closest to their awakening. Some forget an entire night’s worth of dreams in an instant, convinced they hadn’t dreamed at all.

Dreams, they say, mirror reality—a testament to the subconscious at work.

You don’t always dream of what you ponder by day, yet everything you witness in waking life becomes fodder for the subconscious to reshape into dreams.

Even things that left little impression.

So dreams can resurrect forgotten details or memories long buried.

Of course, while dreaming, one rarely realizes it’s a dream—unless experiencing a lucid dream, which is rare.

Lucid dreams come in two kinds: those you can control, and those where you’re aware it’s a dream yet powerless to change it.

This dream unfolded on a desolate street.

Familiar dim streetlights. Neat rows of shuttered storefronts.

Undeniably a small city.

Autumn Ease felt like a spectator—no, like watching a first-person film.

He couldn’t control his body. Could only let it move.

All five senses worked. Only his will was trapped.

The frustration was stifling, even in a dream.

A cold breeze brushed Autumn Ease’s cheek. He felt driven by some hidden purpose.

Time blurred—deep night or near dawn? The pitch-black sky offered no clues.

He crossed the road. A sedan sped toward him, as if blind to his presence.

Even knowing it was a dream, a flicker of panic stirred in Autumn Ease.

Yet the car passed straight through his body.

He was a ghost.

No matter his shock, his body marched forward, steps unbroken.

Ahead lay a narrow alley—a shortcut unknown to outsiders, avoided even by locals.

Not for danger, but filth. Trash piled high, tossed from windows. Some sank into stinking gutters; some littered the ground. No one cleaned it. The stench festered.

Only the desperate took this path.

Autumn Ease’s body stopped at a shadowed corner.

*He* hadn’t chosen to stop. His body had.

A chilling familiarity washed over him. He sensed what came next.

Then—clattering bicycle wheels.

The bike was a wreck, rattling like it might collapse any second.

Riding it was Autumn Ease himself.

Or someone identical.

A surreal chill gripped him.

It was like reliving his own murder from another’s eyes.

*Shhk!* A blade slid into flesh—clean, sharp, final.

A trace of pleasure surged through Autumn Ease.

He recoiled, skin prickling.

*Why feel joy at killing myself?*

This emotion wasn’t his.

His gaze lingered on his blood-soaked double, then turned away. He left the scene.

His first kill. Himself.

The sensation felt terrifyingly real.

A cold dread seeped into his bones.

At the street’s edge, control suddenly returned to his body.

He spun back toward the alley—but the moment he entered, his limbs locked again. His body marched him back to the street, then released him.

No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t reach his fallen self.

He gave up.

*Just a dream. No need to dwell.*

The city lay unnaturally silent. Neon signs glowed. Apartment windows held hazy light.

People stayed awake at night.

Yet Autumn Ease felt utterly alone.

No pedestrians. No cars for half an hour.

Even suburbs shouldn’t be this empty.

Inside a 24-hour convenience store, his suspicion confirmed: the city was deserted.

No clerk behind the counter. The nearby bar blared music under flashing lights—but no dancers, no revelers.

The small town had become a ghost town.

*Drip…*

*Drip…*

Water? A clock? He didn’t know. Only that his chest tightened.

*If I don’t act now, I’ll miss something vital.*

*"La-la-la—la-la-la…"* A distant, haunting melody drifted on the air—sweet, sorrowful.

"Who’s singing?" Autumn Ease ran toward the sound, but it never grew clearer. As he chased, the singer seemed to retreat.

*Why can’t I find her?*

Dreams defy reason.

He closed his eyes, ignoring walls and buildings, sprinting straight toward the song.

The melody swelled.

He opened his eyes.

A girl sat sideways on the curb, dressed in white. A pipa rested in her lap as she plucked its strings.

Her face—*her face*—was the one he’d longed for day and night.

"You!"

"You came." Her song ceased. She looked up, smiling.

"You… you’re the girl from my dreams? Are you real? Is this all just a dream? I… you…" Words tumbled out. Even in a dream, seeing her again shook him. "Leaf Grace… Your name is Leaf Grace, right?"

"It is." Her smile deepened. That subtle grace in her brow was etched into his soul.

"Are you… the dream-me? Will you ever exist in reality?"

Leaf Grace only smiled, silent.

"Tell me… please! Where do I find you?"

"You will." She rose, stepping backward.

"But when? What must I do?"

"That depends… on your own *heart*."

He reached for her wrist—his fingers grasped empty air. She vanished into the alley’s darkness.

*"Do you remember now?"* An ethereal voice whispered behind him.

He whirled. The expressionless girl stood there—the petite but mature-faced one he’d met before.

"Remember what? What am I supposed to recall?!" he shouted.

"..."

"Tell me! What must I remember?!"

"Only… you… can… know." Her speech was stiff, halting—as if unused to words. The flat tone made it eerie.

"Figure it out? Or remember it?" He caught the distinction.

"Both."

Darkness swallowed the dream.

Footsteps pounded in the void. A girl’s desperate cry echoed—

*"Wenwen—!!"*

*Who is she?*

Autumn Ease didn’t know.

Was someone else searching for a female version of himself?

In the dark, questions swirled. But as dawn approached, dream-memories faded.

The alarm clock’s blare shattered his thoughts. Waking, he forgot most of it.

"So tired… wanna sleep more…" The dream’s weight dissolved under exhaustion.

Muttering, he rolled over but forced himself up.

Overtime didn’t excuse lateness.

Fines waited for the tardy.

Life dealt such unfairness. He was used to it.

"Crap—forgot to prep lunch again. Fine… grab a Xinjiang flatbread on the way. Microwave it later. Soup? Instant vegetable soup’ll do." Mornings were always frantic.

After packing lunch and dinner, he rushed out.

More overtime today.

"Damn capitalism. Treats people like machines!" He pedaled his bike furiously toward the office.

Below his apartment, a yellow-and-white stray watched him leave. The expressionless girl appeared behind it, gently stroking its fluffy head.

*"Mew~"* The cat nuzzled her soft palm, purring.

She lifted it and walked away from the building.

*So that stray wasn’t truly stray after all?*

Autumn Ease, already halfway to work, knew nothing of this.

The more he learned, the more unknowns tangled around him…