Outside the window, trees swayed gently in the breeze, punctuated now and then by the chirping of birds.
Sunlight filtered through the half-drawn white curtains, spilling across a tidy single bed.
The air carried a faint scent of disinfectant, though it was not pungent.
The room was not large, but its furnishings were simple and practical. A tranquil landscape painting hung upon the wall. On a small bedside cabinet sat a cup of water, a stainless steel insulated lunchbox, and a basket of fruit, looking as though someone had hurried up to deliver them before heading back downstairs.
"Ah!!"
On the white hospital bed, the young man woke with a sudden start, gasping for breath.
"I'm... finally back..."
He mumbled dazedly to himself.
Soon, what drew his attention was not the sparse furniture of the ward, but a caring face on a stool not far away, whose emerald-green eyes could not conceal deep concern.
"Du'aduo, how are you feeling? What did you dream of this time?"
The doctor, clad in a white lab coat, sat beside him and inquired with immense gentleness.
Seeing that the youth did not respond, the doctor added, "You need to wake up. Your body is already in critical condition, and according to my diagnosis, the medication's effectiveness has been waning lately."
"..."
The youth stared blankly at the black-haired, green-eyed doctor before him.
He remembered his name was Du'aduo.
He was an eighth-grader at No. 71 Middle School, currently on medical leave due to illness.
Countless distorted symbols and strange concepts rushed back to mind as he woke, sending a sharp, stabbing ache through his brain. He clutched his head in agony.
How did permutations and combinations work again? What was the law of momentum?
He felt as though he had learned them, yet at the same time hadn't.
Still, that feeling was normal. That was just how studying went.
"To pay for your treatment, your parents even sold the house. The savings they set aside for retirement are nearly gone. If you keep tormenting them like this, I'm afraid they'll end up sleeping on the streets every day," the doctor said, glancing toward the metallic insulated lunchbox on the bedside table.
"What... what are you talking about? I am the Fourth Progenitor of the Blood Clan. I... am Eduardo. I'm Du'aduo?"
The youth stiffly turned his head, staring blankly at his own reflection on the lunchbox and clutching his cheeks.
He had just awakened from a dream, and the faint traces of memory left behind only told him that the dream had been terrifyingly real and cruel.
For a moment, he could hardly tell which was a dream and which was reality.
Yet for some reason, all he wanted now was to fall back asleep, fleeing from this reality that filled him with inexplicable panic.
"To be honest, your parents are pushed to their absolute limits. Right after bringing your lunch, they rushed downstairs to pay the medical fees. You didn't see the embarrassed, helpless look on their faces," the black-haired, green-eyed doctor added, tapping his finger against a tablet. "I didn't want to tell you this, but I think it's time you came to your senses."
The doctor's voice remained calm.
"No... I belong to the Blood Clan..."
The youth's mutter was rife with uncertainty. A suffocating tightness gripped his chest. He would rather believe that the reality he was in now was false, and that the dream was real.
"A'duo, seeing you struggle in your sleep yesterday worried me deeply."
The doctor finally set down the tablet, furrowing his brow and looking into his eyes.
"Aah! No!"
Cold sweat broke out all over the youth. Just briefly recalling the lingering fragments of terror from the dream made him want to beg the doctor for sedatives.
"All right, it's okay. If it hurts, don't think about it anymore."
The black-haired, green-eyed doctor stood and gently patted the youth's back, soothing his ragged breathing.
Once Du'aduo's emotions slowly stabilized, the doctor finally sat back down on the chair and looked at him kindly.
"Stop clinging to that dream and fantasy world, and your condition will improve right away. Everything really depends on what's in your heart," the doctor said.
"I understand... Dr. Lan."
Like a wild horse that had just been tamed, Du'aduo hung his head and answered raspy-voiced.
Inside this quiet hospital room, the intermittent sound of footsteps outside the door gave him a sense of safety. His attending physician, Professor Lan, was a citywide authority in neurology and psychiatry. His parents had pleaded with countless people before they finally got him admitted and persuaded Professor Lan to take on his case.
From everything he had seen, Dr. Lan was a truly kind person, even helping his parents cover expenses out of pocket and cutting whatever costs he could.
A moment later, in the ward.
"A'duo."
The physician began his consultation in a calm, deep tone, unhurried, without the slightest hint of haste. "Please don't be afraid. Think back slowly. Was this dream the same as before? Has its worldbuilding become even more complete?"
Dr. Lan's gaze seemed to pierce through the psychological defenses ordinary people could never penetrate, locking onto Du'aduo as he asked.
"Huh?!"
Du'aduo instantly grew terrified again, instinctively clenching his fists.
"A'duo, it's okay. This is reality. I'm right here beside you."
The doctor continued to soothe Du'aduo in that patient, steady cadence. "No matter what happens in the dream, none of it will cross over into reality. Even if you accidentally fall asleep again and have another nightmare, I'll wake you up immediately. Pinky promise, okay?"
His voice carried the tenderness of a loving father. He extended his hand, leaving Du'aduo wide-eyed and too intimidated to reply.
"..."
Gradually, Du'aduo felt a subtle sense of reliance, like finding an anchor in a safe harbor.
He reached out and touched Dr. Lan's warm hand.
Sure enough, Dr. Lan would not hurt him.
"In fact, your condition is not uncommon in the wider world, just rarely encountered in our country. According to the data my mentor sent me, the recovery rate is very high," Dr. Lan continued.
"...Am I really on the verge of getting better? Is there any point in my struggling? Wouldn't it be better to just spare my parents the burden?" Du'aduo whispered through gritted teeth.
"You have to consider that you've fought this disease up to this point. Most of the time, those who hold out this far recover without exception... You are brave, resilient, and I'm certain your parents are proud of you," Dr. Lan answered leisurely.
"..."
Du'aduo looked up at the male doctor. The eyes beneath his messy bangs could not be hidden—like a despairing beast, the very last flicker of light was kindled within them.
"With this condition, reaching the moment of greatest agony in your delusions actually means you are close to recovery. As the saying goes, extremes breed reversals. When you have grown sick of the dream and begun to reject it, that means you have hope of breaking free and returning to reality."
Dr. Lan spoke again. Though his expression remained calm, a smile could still be caught in his eyes—a joyful warmth celebrating his patient's progress.
"..."
Du'aduo remained silent.
Dr. Lan waited quietly.
"Doctor, what should I do?" Du'aduo finally asked.
"It's very simple. The next dream might be your very last. As long as you are willing to let go of everything with ease, sever the illusions, and turn your back, you can put an end to that dream once and for all."
"..."
For a moment, Du'aduo had no words for the black-haired, green-eyed doctor.
Just as he dared not jump out the window right now to verify whether he would die, could he in the dream truly let go so decisively?
No matter how he racked his brain, he could find no answer.
Yet he was beginning to yearn for that answer now, refusing to remain a pitiful patient deceiving himself.
Seated on the edge of the bed with his back to the cold headboard, he completely laid bare the wounds of his heart.
"Listen to me, A'duo. Relax even more than you were a moment ago."
As Du'aduo was lost in thought, Dr. Lan suddenly spoke in a soft murmur. "You are the bravest. Hold your head high, express your gratitude to your parents; they are still waiting for you. Go home, back to the place full of happiness."
"Doctor..."
Du'aduo took a deep breath. He did not understand why his eyes grew moist at this moment, or why a warm current welled in his chest. All he knew was that he wanted to keep talking with this doctor, to have him untangle his confusion, to listen to his gentle guidance, to be treated with such tenderness.
"Let go of every burden, every single one."
"What lies at the end of obsession?"
"Please, spare yourself, and let yourself forget everything first."
"All you need to consider is: from now on, what kind of life do you wish to lead?"
The doctor's voice flowed like a gentle stream, bringing Du'aduo to tears.
...
Watching Lanqi successfully cause Eduardo to plummet completely into this fabricated world of tender illusions, Caliera's eyelids twitched madly.
She now had serious doubts about whether something was wrong with the way Lord Nameless's brain was wired!
Chapter 595