A Summer Night—Peaceful, If You Ignored the Chorus of Frogs and Cicadas

Wind blew through the wide-open window, making the water in the glass on the desk ripple slightly.

Though strong, the breeze brought little relief. The boy tossed and turned on his bamboo mat, unable to sleep.

Summer heat was unbearable.

This coastal city shouldn’t have been this sweltering.

The old electric fan whirred desperately, groaning *creak-creak-creak* as if it might seize up any second from overwork.

A few pesky mosquitoes buzzed overhead, drawn to the boy but hesitating near his Floral Water-scented skin. Even without biting, their drone alone grated on his nerves.

The harder he tried to sleep, the more awake he felt. He sat up abruptly, memories flooding in—school couples strolling hand-in-hand, clinging together, chattering endlessly every day.

“How I envy them…” He slammed his pillow onto the floor, muttering to himself. “Waking up beside a girlfriend every day. Having someone to care when you’re down. A soft hug when you’re sad… So good. So enviable…”

He sighed, placing the pillow back and lying down again. “If only I had a girlfriend…”

Teenage boys always nursed impossible dreams.

For him, the word *girlfriend* held a strange magic.

Not about keeping up with others. Just… loneliness.

Guy friends eased it somewhat, but it wasn’t the same.

He turned his head. Moonlight spilled over a large poster on the wall—a cute, mischievous anime girl. Every time he looked at her, it felt like she was gazing back.

It calmed him.

“At least I still have you,” he whispered again.

The house loomed empty, holding only a few cold pieces of furniture—like sarcophagi holding mummies.

His name was Yue Feather. Raised by an adoptive mother, he’d left home after middle school graduation. This seaside city held his mother’s old house.

Nearly a year had passed. Instead of freedom, loneliness deepened.

Living alone wasn’t easy.

A one-person home wasn’t the paradise he’d imagined.

Still, he preferred this coldness. It felt warmer than the icy rejection back at his adoptive home.

“Sleep now. Class tomorrow.” Yue Feather grabbed his headphones, shoved a cassette into the player. *Click-whirr.* Gentle music filled the room.

The moon, pale and luminous, seemed to smile down as he drifted off.

Dreams were always beautiful. The anime girl from the poster held his hand, darting through flower fields. She’d glance back, offering a soft smile that made his bones melt.

*So beautiful. So perfect. Don’t want to wake up.*

But the alarm clock shattered dawn. He groaned, cursing the world’s cruelty—why did time fly when he slept? Couldn’t he stay in that dream just a little longer?

Then doubt froze him.

Beside him lay a girl with long, ink-black hair.

Their wide eyes locked. Both stunned.

…

My name is Yue Feather. I’m 116 years old. Even in this high-tech era, I’m at death’s door.

My life held few regrets. Only one: never marrying, never having children.

I loved once, long ago.

All ended in failure.

I sealed my heart, choosing solitude.

Old friends passed one by one.

So I poured my life into building this untested time machine.

Theoretically possible. Practically? Unknown.

Maybe I’d only observe the past, unable to interfere. Or maybe I’d quantum-disintegrate, merging with the cosmos.

No matter. Returning to the past was my only wish.

I wanted to rewrite my life’s path. Perhaps it had been wrong from the start.

The taste of a second chance—I’d soon know it.

I longed to see old friends again. Memories of those lost too soon had already blurred.

All my happiest moments lived in the past. I wanted to relive them. Maybe that was greedy.

I caressed the massive machine. This was just a fragment. The full device spanned three underground parking levels—a labyrinth of circuits, far more complex than it seemed.

I had one shot. Government funding was tight. I’d diverted most of it to bribe officials for province-wide power access today. Failure meant no second chances. Blacking out an entire province—even for thirty minutes—was no small ask.

“Destination: one hundred years ago.” My fingers trembled over the clunky keyboard, typing into the flickering monitor. I pressed the button.

Budget cuts meant every component was salvaged junk.

Electricity surged through me the moment the button clicked. An invisible force tore me apart.

Sight vanished. Consciousness remained.

I didn’t know my state. Only hoped the machine worked. *Take me back.*

Light finally seeped in. I opened my eyes—and saw the face of my young self.

*Curious. Is my consciousness separated from my body?* I felt physical weight, not the floatiness of a spirit.

I reached out. My hand touched that young face.

…

Yue Feather watched the girl stare at him for three silent seconds. Then her pale, slender fingers brushed his cheek. Her touch sent electric jolts through his body.

Joy and reluctance crashed over him.

*Let this dream last. Just a little longer.* A dream this real was rare.

Reality? He hadn’t considered it. After similar dreams, he knew better than to hope.

How could a girl just appear beside him in bed? Too absurd for reality.

Her eyes held wonder. She cupped his face with her other hand.

He felt like the luckiest person alive. This dream was painfully vivid—her cool fingertips, the soft pressure, all crystal clear.

He gripped her hand but didn’t dare kiss her. Didn’t even dare meet her eyes.

This was enough. Just holding her hand was enough…

He memorized every sensation. To savor it after waking.

In some ways, Yue Feather was easily satisfied.

He waited for the dream to end.

But it didn’t.

The girl holding his face slowly smiled.

Her smile outshone the dawn. Even the frogs and insects fell silent.

“Yue Feather.” Her voice was crisp as water droplets on stone—a lark’s song held gentle.

“Y-you… hello…” He stammered, eyes darting downward. Saw her bare body lying uncovered on the mat.

Blindingly pale.

He snapped his gaze away, throat dry. Swallowed hard.

“I’m back.” She smiled, though her brow furrowed slightly as she glanced at herself. “Though… with complications.”

*Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up…*

Yue Feather chanted silently, oblivious to her words. He looked adorably foolish.

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Really? Impossible… It must be… I wish it weren’t…” He wrestled with himself. “But I’ll wake up soon anyway…”

To avoid deeper pain later, he chose quick agony—he pinched his thigh hard.

His gaze remained locked on the girl's delicate features, as if burning her image into his memory forever, never to fade.

"I hope... in the next dream, I can still meet you..." the boy murmured with a bitter, regretful smile, his voice heavy with parting sorrow.

"It hurts... but... why haven't I woken up yet?"