"This is heaven," Yin Lan proclaimed, drawing in a deep breath as she twirled through the frigid vacuum of space. A self-satisfied smirk adorned her face, a rare expression in her tumultuous existence.
Her body felt weightless, suspended in the cosmic abyss, floating and sinking with ethereal grace. It was a sensation akin to soaring through the skies, an otherworldly experience that filled her with a peculiar joy. Yawning luxuriously, she murmured, "This is the best," descending slowly onto what felt like a plush cloud.
Mockingly, she mused, "I guess dying wasn't so bad after all," finding warmth and comfort enveloping her, offering an unusual sense of reassurance.
As she exhaled, easing into the celestial embrace, she declared with emphasis, "Now I understand why demons in ancient mythologies yearn to ascend to heaven."
She pressed her lips together, a bitter taste lingering as she scoffed, "Why would anyone not want to accent this place?"
"This comfort and feeling are exactly what I've been yearning for my entire life, but..."
All at once, a tidal wave of emotions surged through her, and a dejected mumble slipped past her lips, carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of disappointments, "But I didn't get it in the end." What could she expect from an ungrateful life filled with hardship and misery at every step? In her whole thirty-year lifespan, not a single moment offered solace. How ironic to face an early demise when others were just beginning their journeys.
A solitary tear lingered on the edge of her eye, but before it could fall, irritation surfaced. "Hah, why am I dwelling on the past? It's over. What's wrong with me? The time for suffering has ended. It's time for enjoyment. Let's cast aside those thoughts."
Her mood shifted, and she redirected her focus to the seemingly endless darkness around her.
Her eyes were closed from drowsiness, yet she mistakenly believed she was Her eyes, heavy with drowsiness, were closed, but she deluded herself into thinking she was viewing the inky blackness with them wide open.
A silent whisper left her mouth, "There is nothing in here," dry and colder than before, "like my life, it's all empty."
Attempting to regain control of her thoughts, Yinlan muttered, "But at least it's comfortable. No judgment, no condescension. Finally, a space where I am free."
Her contemplation wandered to the judgments she endured in her past life, leaving her feeling vulnerable. Smirking, she idly traced patterns on the cotton-like cloud, reveling in the perfect solitude she craved. It had been over a decade since genuine, carefree smiles graced her lips.
However, a sudden realization disrupted her tranquility. "Did I just shake my head earlier?"
A chilling wind encircled her, inducing an unfamiliar fear. Puzzlement crept in as she questioned her sudden ability to feel and move. "Didn't I lose all strength before dying?"
The memory of her last breath in that person's arms, though still vivid, is not far from being clear. She clearly remembered that, before dying, her body was becoming numb without any strength. So it was impossible for her to move her body as she pleased.
As her thoughts engulfed her, an intense heat suddenly surged through Yinlan's body, wrapping her in its searing embrace. The sensation, unique and exquisite, swept over her entire being, enticing her into a transient state of ecstasy. The weight of this overwhelming experience made her feel physically heavy, and a subtle dizziness began to dance in her head.
Moaning softly amidst the intense sensation, she couldn't help but exclaim, "My head, why does it hurt?" A sharp, pinching pain pierced through her skull, akin to a needle throbbing with the force of a hammer. Abruptly, the pain vanished, granting her a fleeting reprieve.
"Wait a second. Didn't I lose all my senses? How come I am feeling these again?" An unknown horror spread over her entire body, leaving her perplexed. Why was she feeling everything once more?
Unbeknownst to her, her hand moved autonomously, covering her face. In that moment, she realized not only could she move her hands, but they possessed an unexpected strength that shocked her to the core.
As her hand touched her face, her body responded to the touch. With her focus now on the pain, she realized the absence of any sensation from her wound.
"My wound!"
Situated on her stomach, the gunshot-inflicted wound was not something that could miraculously heal. It was a profound wound, the very cause of her demise, prompting her to reach instinctively for her stomach to confirm her theory.
"Why. It's. Not. There?"
The void, where the gunshot wound had once been, sent her breathing into erratic turmoil.
Swiftly diverting her attention to her burns, a severe scorch marred her face, extending mercilessly down her left side from her face to her stomach. The burn, still fresh and agonizing, intensified the suffocating pain of her existence.
An exclamation involuntarily escaped her mouth, "No way!"
To her disbelief, there was nothing at all—no wound, no scar, no burn.
"This is... How can this be?" Yinlan was left speechless, her mind racing with a multitude of questions.
Had she somehow recovered? Or had she not died at all? Could the shock of her pain be inducing hallucinations, and in reality, was she dying? This possibility lingered in her thoughts, alongside the notion of a dream. How could someone dream if they were dead? After death, shouldn't they cease to exist? Or were there different rules after death that remained unknown?
Her elated emotions, which had been making her anxious, suddenly took a pause as she contemplated, "Are all perceptions about death merely stories crafted by others? Perhaps that's why the details remain unknown." Breaking into a teary smile, Yinlan recalled the stories her grandpa used to tell her when she was little. She couldn't blame herself for believing those tales; after all, he was the only person who loved her unconditionally.
She sighed, saying, "My poor grandpa died without knowing the truth about death, misled all his life with false stories. But wait, not only Grandpa, but most people know only false facts about death."
"Maybe I should correct their perceptions and knowledge about death so they have a clear view and won't be misled by false stories."
"That's a really nice idea." A soft chuckle escaped her mouth, resonating in her ears. She found herself unconsciously holding the cotton-cloud-like pillow near her chest.
"But wait! How am I going to do that? Didn't they say the soul can't touch anything because it is basically air? And also, they can't feel anything because they are nothing."
As she rolled on the metaphorical cloud, a warm sensation from a firm hand brushed against her skin, eliciting a deep quiver of surprise and jolting her away.
Despite her closed eyes, they rolled in fright. "Do I have strength back in my eyes too?"
Abruptly opening her eyes in panic, Yinlan realized the darkness she experienced with closed eyes was due to the absence of light in her surroundings.
"What is happening here?" She sat up at once, discovering that the thing she clutched near her chest was not a cloud but a pillow. The warmth she mistook for a cloud was nothing but a bed, a king-sized bed loaded with comfortable mattresses.
"Where is this place?" Fear surged in her heart, making her feel suffocated. She was certain she had died. How could she be alive and able to touch everything? What's going on?
In a sudden response, she crouched her legs quickly in a baby position and asked with her voice laden with uncertainty and disbelief, "Did I have a nightmare of dying?"