Xu Xiangyang woke up in bed, roughly at about seven in the morning the next day.
He rubbed his sleepy eyes; his brain hadn't fully started working yet, and he blurredly stared at the clock hanging on the wall in front of the bed.
"...It's still early."
A faint light shone through the gap in the drawn curtains, quietly reflecting on the floor. The light was not dazzlingly bright but rather soft, not golden but the pale blue of gentle ripples.
Even without drawing the curtains, he could feel it was an ordinary serene morning; a tranquil and peaceful atmosphere enveloped the whole room.
"Last night..."
Xu Xiangyang felt as though he had had a nightmare, still feeling a sense of shock, his instincts ringing alarms deep inside, and his heart ached as if someone was clutching it. The dream probably occurred around two or three in the morning when he was tossing and turning in bed; but now, trying to recall it, he could remember nothing.
This was an all-too-common occurrence.
