“There’s no saving him.”
The security guard on the inflatable raft shook his head and shouted at the security guard standing on the bridge.
The security guard on the bridge held a walkie-talkie and asked, “Have the police arrived? Did the surveillance footage show anything?”
A middle-aged woman standing nearby suddenly recognized him, “Isn’t that the kid from Building 5? I think he just started his senior year in high school. Such a tragedy!”
“How did he fall in?”
“Who’s going to notify his parents?”
“Does anyone have his parents’ phone number?”
“I don’t know them.”
“I’m from Building 5. I know which floor he lives on!”
“Go! Hurry and call his parents! Quickly!”
The originally quiet crowd of onlookers began to clamor.
“We’re going home.” Zhou’s mother frowned deeply and even reached out to cover Zhou Huaixia’s eyes. “Kids shouldn’t watch this; it’ll give you nightmares.”
“Mom, I’m an adult.”
Zhou Huaixia blocked her mother’s hand, staring at the boy in the lake.
Just last night, she had entered his dream and seen his breakdown in the exam hall.
Now, in the morning, she was seeing his body in the lake.
Zhou’s mother pulled Zhou Huaixia away, determined not to let her linger in the park.
“Xia, if you ever feel stressed, you must talk to us,” her mother said anxiously. She kept glancing at Zhou Huaixia, and seeing her silent, she asked, “Are you scared?”
“No.” Zhou Huaixia snapped back to reality, unsure if she was reassuring her mother or herself. “Maybe he just lost his footing and fell.”
But dreams are tied to the dreamer’s emotions.
Given the boy’s state of collapse last night, Zhou Huaixia couldn’t help but overthink.
“You have to be careful outside too,” her mother warned, frowning. “Don’t go out alone at night if you don’t have to, and always watch your step.”
Zhou Huaixia nodded. “Okay.”
As soon as they got home, they ran into Zhou’s father, who was about to leave. Seeing them, he immediately asked, “I was just about to look for you.
The kid from Building 5, Unit 1701, jumped into the lake at around 4 a.m. Did you see it?”
Zhou Huaixia: “…Dad, how do you know?”
In one sentence, he revealed the boy’s residence, time of death, and cause.
Zhou’s father raised his phone. “Someone in the group chat shared the surveillance footage.”
Zhou’s mother tried to stop him, but Zhou Huaixia reached out first and took his phone. “Let me see.”
There were several community group chats, all buzzing with messages.
She scrolled up for a while before finding a phone-recorded clip of the surveillance video.
In the park, a round-faced boy in a dark blue long-sleeved pajama top walked quickly down a path.
One hand took off his glasses, while the other slapped his own face hard.
Even through the dim footage, it was clear that his face was swelling rapidly, and he seemed to be muttering something frantically.
Zhou Huaixia focused on the boy’s mouth and could almost immediately recall the words he muttered in his dream, things like “damn it” and “useless.”
The boy didn’t notice a raised stone brick beneath his feet and suddenly tripped, sending his glasses flying into the nearby bushes.
He pushed himself up with his hands but didn’t bother looking for the glasses.
Instead, he stood still for a long time, like his soul had been sucked away.
Only the tight clenching of his jaw showed his emotional turmoil.
Moments later, the boy moved—not to find his glasses but to sprint toward the stone bridge.
He grabbed the railing, climbed over, and jumped straight down.
The lake’s surface rippled with a moderate splash, and the footage ended there.
Zhou Huaixia replayed the video and rewound to check the timestamp.
4:18 a.m.
At that time, she had been sitting on the living room sofa, drinking water.
In other words, the moment the boy woke from his nightmare, he left his home, walked into the community park, and finally jumped into the lake.
Zhou Huaixia returned the phone to her father, pressing the back of her hand against her lips to suppress the nausea rising from her stomach.
This had nothing to do with her, but…
“The group chat says his parents were strict, so he was always a bit dazed,” Zhou’s father said as he continued reading the chat.
“Maybe he didn’t do well on this month’s exams and couldn’t take the pressure.”
He played the latest video in the group, and the phone immediately echoed with the piercing cries of a middle-aged couple who had just arrived at the park, wailing, “Son! How could this happen!”
“Such a pity.” Zhou’s father shook his head.
“If they had just eased up on the pressure, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Turn off the video. Stop standing there.” Zhou’s mother pushed him.
“This is someone else’s family matter. Say less.”
“I’m sleepy,” Zhou Huaixia suddenly said.
“Mom, Dad, I’m going to take a nap.”
Zhou’s mother hesitated, then finally said, “Alright, I’ll wake you when lunch is ready.”
Zhou Huaixia closed her bedroom door, muffling the voices in the living room.
She lay straight on her bed, staring at the ceiling, exhausted.
So what if she could enter dreams?
All she could do was feel the dreamer’s emotions, nothing more.
She was just a bystander.
As long as she kept entering other people’s dreams, things like today would keep happening.
…No, maybe there was something she could do.
Zhou Huaixia pulled out her phone and started a video call on WeChat.
Seconds later, Lü Jin appeared on the screen, surprised.
“Zhou Huaixia? What’s up?”
“I left something in the dormitory,” Zhou Huaixia said, lying on her bed while scanning Lü Jin’s background.
“You’re not at school?”
“Nope.” Lü Jin was sitting in front of a computer, one hand holding the phone, the other near a black keyboard.
Behind her was a gray metal cabinet.
She was only half paying attention to Zhou Huaixia, still focused on her screen.
“I’m at my mom’s hospital.
What did you leave in the dorm?”
Zhou Huaixia didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she asked, “When are you going back to school?”
Lü Jin scrolled on her mouse.
“Probably in the afternoon.”