Chapter 22

At dusk, Xiaoya Xian waited for a bus during the rush hour after work. It was only as she boarded that she realized she had forgotten to recharge her card—there wasn’t enough money left. People behind her urged her to hurry and let them get on, so she was forced to step off and walk home. On the way, she felt utterly dejected, having trudged four whole bus stops. When she finally arrived, she was both hungry and exhausted. She recalled that this scene had played out before in her dreams.

The perspective shifted to Apartment 302 in Jintan Huayuan.

Upon returning home, Xiaoya Xian was greeted by the smell of burnt food. She rushed to the kitchen and found her brother, Xiao Hao, holding a pot of charred contents.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I wanted to cook something for you to eat when you got back, but it got burnt,” he replied.

“Haven’t I taught you? You need to watch the stove while cooking. Why can’t you get anything right?” Xiaoya’s tone was impatient and irritable.

“I just forgot this time. I cooked well before...” Xiao Hao tried to defend himself, crestfallen.

“When did you ever do well? Name one time. You can’t do anything right. You can’t do anything! What can you ever do?”

“No, Dad said I could. He said I could learn, he said I could do it...”

“Dad’s not here anymore. No one will tell you that you can do it. You can’t do anything, you never could, you’re a burden!” she continued to complain. Why was her life such a mess?

After saying this, she turned and left, leaving her brother alone in silence.

At that moment, Xiaoya Xian felt the pain of having to bear everything herself. She recalled that her mother had died from excessive blood loss during her brother’s birth. Her brother, as he grew, was diagnosed with congenital intellectual disability. Their father had always carefully guided him, but now their father was gone.

Xiaoya Xian had little money left, owed tens of thousands on her credit card, three months of unpaid rent, utility bills, and living expenses unsettled. Her meager salary could barely support both of them. With such a long road ahead, what could she do? Many nights she hadn’t slept. Two months ago in the hospital, the doctor prescribed her some sleep aids, but only in small amounts. Now, she felt she needed more. She knew the doses weren’t enough and had to get more every week. She kept saving them, not using any, until she had accumulated two hundred pills. That should be enough, she thought.

The time shifted to October 21, 2020, in Apartment 302 at Jintan Huayuan.

Xiaoya Xian brought out a pot of porridge and placed it on the table, its aroma drawing her brother over.

“Wow! It’s my favorite millet sweet porridge,” Xiao Hao exclaimed.

“There’s only this tonight. Eat as much as you like,” Xiaoya said.

Xiao Hao nodded eagerly.

Unaware of everything, her brother ate heartily, and soon he collapsed into sleep...

The scene showed Xiao Hao lying unconscious on the floor. Xiaoya Xian, sobbing, ate spoonful after spoonful of the sweet porridge. Tears streamed down her face, and in the next moment, she too collapsed. Her body weakened, but she managed to crawl to her bedside. As she closed her eyes, she saw a photo hanging on the wall—a picture of herself holding a certificate, standing with her parents; her brother was not in it.

At this point, visions of memory blurred before her eyes—a hallucination recalling the prologue.

She began to see hazy images: her parents, beaming, stroked her hair. She held the certificate for second prize in an arithmetic competition. She was eight years old then; their family was warm and happy. Tears streaming, Xiaoya Xian lost consciousness.

As dawn approached, a neighbor peered through the window, saw someone collapsed inside, and noticed the lights were on, making everything clearly visible. The neighbor immediately called an ambulance. The police got involved soon after.

Both Xiaoya Xian and her brother were rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. Despite eating so much porridge, Xiao Hao survived after gastric lavage. Xiaoya Xian, however, fared worse; she never regained consciousness. Even the police couldn’t question her.

However, Xiaoya Xian’s beautiful dream began shortly after her coma... until Loren found her. Loren had searched for three years, collecting countless cases of failed suicide attempts due to medication, but could never find a suitable subject for his experiment. It was rare to find Xiaoya Xian, whose circumstances were perfect for him—she resembled Aiwen in age and appearance. Most importantly, Xiaoya Xian’s family background was simple: only her and her brother, who was intellectually disabled and easy to manage. As long as they could revive her, that was all that mattered. Whether the person waking up was truly his sister was irrelevant.

Having witnessed all these true memories, Xiaoya Xian gradually recovered recollections she desperately wanted to escape. She felt both guilt and anger—why did Aiwen insist on waking her? Wouldn’t it be better to let her die peacefully in her dream? She still couldn’t accept the truth.

“Later, Loren found you,” Aiwen said to her. They conversed in the code space, a place Loren couldn’t detect.

“You keep mentioning this person—who exactly is Loren?” Xiaoya Xian asked. Why did he seek her out? Why not let her end it all?

“He was my father’s student. He studied human consciousness with my father for years. After my father passed away, Loren continued his research. He ultimately wanted to achieve breakthroughs in this field—such as... consciousness transfer...”

As she spoke of these things, Aiwen couldn’t help recalling her father’s death and her many disagreements with Loren.

The time shifted to October 22, 2020.

At a university’s public lecture hall—

Loren spoke passionately about his academic research from the podium. A student stood up to ask a question.

“Professor, according to your theories, is consciousness really replaceable?”

“In principle, it is,” Loren replied with unwavering conviction, yet the audience was abuzz with disbelief.

Loren knew that discussing these ideas would invite public scrutiny, but privately he never stopped researching this field. Controversy or not, he pressed on. Soon, his experimental results would be recognized. Soon.

“Well, time’s up for today. Let’s adjourn,” he said, stepping down from the podium.

Outside in the university’s garden, Loren hurried toward his laboratory.

A girl, seemingly a student, followed him and called softly, “Professor Loren, please wait.”

Loren stopped and turned around.

“Professor Loren, sorry to disturb you—I’m a reporter from NewTech. I attended your lecture and would like to interview you about consciousness transfer.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t accept interviews,” Loren replied, already aware that she wasn’t a university student. He saw no need to engage further and turned to leave.

The reporter persisted, “Professor, don’t you think this research violates human ethics?”

Loren paused again.

“If your theories are correct, consciousness transfer is possible, but you would need experimental evidence. That means using real people in your experiments. Would the subjects consent? What kind of people would they be? Are they unconscious or still aware? How is the experiment conducted? Is it simply a transfer of consciousness? I don’t believe you’d pursue such an abstract academic proposition without actual research,” she pressed, perhaps hoping to provoke Loren and extract more details.

But Loren remained unruffled. “We currently have no plans for human trials. That’s all I can say, nothing further.” With that, he ignored the reporter and walked away briskly.

The time shifted to October 23, 2020.

SNS Research Center—

In the early hours, a lab assistant in a white coat received a call. After listening for a few seconds, he turned toward Loren, who was busy testing the system.

“West District Hospital has found a target subject,” the assistant said.

“Are the conditions met?” Loren asked.

“Yes.”

“Good, let’s go immediately.” The two hurried out.

West District Hospital, inside a medical room at dawn—

There were no others present, only Loren and his assistant. The assistant handed Loren a file.

“This contains information on the subject’s brother. We can start with him, become their guardians.”

“That’s feasible. How is her brother now?” Loren asked.

“He’s fine, awake. He’s a mentally challenged youth; establishing this relationship shouldn’t be difficult, as long as we gain his trust.”

“Excellent. Time is tight—handle it quickly,” Loren instructed.

The assistant nodded and left. Loren looked up at the glass wall; through it, he could see Xiaoya Xian’s hospital room. She remained unconscious.