Chapter Thirty-Two: New Companions

Wu Que and Zhang Deshuai exchanged a glance and walked side by side into a door marked 0/2. As they entered, the number on the frame shifted to 2/2, and the door clicked shut.

Once through, they were plunged into darkness. When their vision cleared, they found themselves standing before an apartment building. Wu Que scanned his surroundings and realized that, besides Zhang Deshuai, two others—a man and a woman—had appeared alongside them.

It was Zhang Deshuai’s first time bringing in newcomers. Perhaps to avoid causing panic, or simply to maintain a shred of dignity, he uncharacteristically refrained from doing anything bizarre.

The girl was remarkably sweet-looking, with soft, raven-black hair cascading down to her waist. Her makeup was clean, and she wore a simple black princess-style skirt paired with over-the-knee black socks, radiating a youthful charm. She seemed dazed, unable to process the sudden shift in reality, her body rigid as the soft skin of her inner arms trembled slightly.

Beside her, a man in a bespoke suit and gold-rimmed glasses appeared far more composed. He adjusted his frames and spoke slowly, "Excuse me... may I ask?"

"New here?" Wu Que cut him off.

A flicker of irritation crossed the man’s face, but he quickly reined in his emotions, mindful of the situation. "Yes, what exactly is this—"

"No time to explain. The dream entrance is about to open. Follow me."

With that, Zhang Deshuai and Wu Que headed straight toward the floor emitting a strange, ethereal light, never looking back. The two newcomers exchanged a worried look but grit their teeth and followed.

On the way, Wu Que gave them a detailed explanation of Dream Menders and the process of entering a dream, while taking the opportunity to learn a bit about them. The girl, Wang Shuhan, was a high school student and a professional military chess player. The man, Chen Tianyu, worked in the finance industry. Neither said a word about the cause or circumstances of their own deaths.

In truth, Wu Que recognized them both. Or rather, he had seen them on television and online. Wang Shuhan had skyrocketed to fame as a goddess in the military chess world, thanks to her brilliant strategy and striking appearance. Chen Tianyu was a household name; a self-made man who had risen through the ranks thanks to his sharp intuition for financial trends, he was a frequent guest at success-oriented lectures and business events, earning him the nickname "The Golden Finger."

Yet, they remained tight-lipped regarding their demise. As the group of four reached the apartment door, Chen Tianyu suddenly spoke up. "Don't you find this strange?"

"Oh? How so? Let's hear it," Zhang Deshuai asked lightly, turning toward him.

"If this Dream-Entry Space is so powerful, why not teleport the Dream Menders directly into the dream itself?"

"I agree," Wang Shuhan chimed in. "Is it to give us a buffer, or because there are clues in the real world?"

"Both, probably," Zhang Deshuai replied. "Dreams are always influenced by reality and, in turn, reflect it. Often, you can find clues related to the nightmare in the real world."

Wu Que stood there, feeling rather out of place, as if he were the one entering a dream for the first time. He gave an awkward cough. "Well, let's just go in and see. The dream world is full of peril; an extra clue is an extra measure of safety."

Wang Shuhan clenched her fists, then instinctively brought them to her chest and gave them a little shake. "Everyone here is so calm and intelligent. It will be a pleasure working with you all."

Seeing her playful expression, everyone chuckled, and the room filled with a lighthearted atmosphere.

"Alright, we're going in."

Stepping through the security door, they were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged man sitting on a sofa, smoking. He looked as though he desperately needed sleep; dark circles hung heavy under his eyes, and they were red and swollen, suggesting he had recently been weeping. He snubbed out his cigarette and walked into the bedroom, the Dream Mender team trailing behind him.

*Why is there no "creak-creak" sound this time?* Wu Que wondered as he entered the room.

Stepping inside, he found his answer. On the bed lay a young boy, his face horribly contorted, an oxygen mask strapped over it. Beside the bed sat two people: a mother weeping bitterly, and... another boy who looked exactly like the one in the bed.

"Twins?"

The bedside table was cluttered with medicine boxes: Salbutamol, Terbutaline, Ambroxol, and Aminophylline.

"Those are respiratory treatments. The 'Living Dead' must have asthma," Zhang Deshuai analyzed.

But right now, the boy faced a crisis far graver than his asthma. Behind the boy stood a familiar, pitch-black hole. After processing the scene, Wu Que walked straight toward the void, tossing one final instruction over his shoulder.

"Once we pass through, we are in the dream. Remember: the first thing you do when you wake up is find me."

After a moment of dimness, Wu Que slowly opened his eyes. He found himself inside a greyish warehouse. The walls were constructed entirely of human bodies, packed so tightly there was not a single gap. Arms, legs, lips, eyeballs, and fingernails caked with dirt and blood were compressed together, forming a seamless surface.

Despite the howling wind and rain audible outside, the room maintained a comfortable temperature. The only things that didn't belong to human anatomy were the door and the window. The door was a standard iron farm-style door, bolted shut, and the window was glass, though it was obscured by something that gave it an eerie, crimson hue.

"Are those cherry blossoms blooming outside?"

Wu Que stood up and squinted upward. As if in response, a ray of sunlight refracted through the sky, allowing him to see what was on the window.

Handprints. Dense, blood-red handprints.

Having survived the horrors of the previous dream, Wu Que had become somewhat desensitized to such imagery. He stretched his body and prepared to move, but a sound from behind caused his nerves to snap tight. He drew his black blade and aimed it into the darkness.

"Who's there?"

"Shh..."

A figure emerged slowly from the shadows. It was the young boy who had been wearing the oxygen mask.

"Does the 'Living Dead' appear this way?"

Before he could ponder further, the boy approached him. He looked as if he had just been crying; his mouth twitched involuntarily, and tears welled in his eyes.

"He... he is coming."

"Who?"

"The one who built this house."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a rapid knocking sounded at the door, accompanied by a muffled, guttural voice: "Kangkang, open up! I've brought you some food!"

"Don't... don't open the door for him!"

Hearing the voice outside, the boy grew visibly terrified. He tugged gently on Wu Que’s sleeve, whispering in an incredibly faint voice:

"If you open the door, you'll end up just like the people in the walls."