Zhang Chenyang was awakened by his father. He had no idea why he fell asleep at his desk. In his memory, just a moment ago, he was still diligently working on his homework, and falling asleep seemed to happen in an instant—he didn't even feel the usual signs of drowsiness.
"What's wrong? Were you too tired from yesterday's activities?" his father asked, handing him a glass of water.
Zhang Chenyang raised his hand to take it, smiling sheepishly and nodding in agreement.
He could guarantee that if Xie Han had seen this scene, her reaction would have been far less forgiving. She would have said something like, "The moment you start studying, every possible excuse comes to mind—suddenly your stomach hurts, you need to go to the bathroom, you feel sleepy—everything except actually wanting to study."
The reason he could repeat these words verbatim was because he had heard them countless times before.
Xie Han always had just a few phrases to say, repeated over and over, with little variation, but they hit the mark every time. It was very different from how his father handled things. Most of the time, his father was gentle and patient. Perhaps it was due to the guilt of not being able to be with the family all the time, but in Zhang Chenyang's memory, his father had never lost his temper at him, not even a harsh scolding.
"Feeling better? Do you want to take a nap?" his father asked, glancing at his son's homework. "Writing an essay, huh? The Chinese workbook looks pretty thick, and you probably won't finish it quickly. If you're really tired, you can finish it after some rest."
For some reason, when his father looked at the notebook, Zhang Chenyang instinctively moved to cover it. Logically, it was just homework, so there was no need to act this way, but his body reacted faster than his mind, leaving him a bit confused.
His father, of course, noticed this odd behavior. He smiled but didn't insist on seeing the notebook. Instead, he joked, "Looks like it's a diary or something, huh? Boys grow up and start having little secrets. Just remember, though we won't read it, it'll still end up in your teacher's hands eventually."
Feeling embarrassed, Zhang Chenyang scratched his head and changed the subject, "Dad, did you come to wake me up? Or is there something you wanted to talk about?"
"No, I came to discuss something with you," his father said, shaking his head. "I just happened to see you asleep at your desk."
"Discuss something with me?" Zhang Chenyang was surprised.
As Xie Han often said, "You're still a kid; just focus on your studies and don't worry about anything else."
But now his father was saying he wanted to discuss something? Zhang Chenyang felt an unusual sense of being taken seriously, and he immediately sat up straight, ready to listen attentively.
"Does this have something to do with me?" Zhang Chenyang asked curiously. "Is it about my studies? You're not thinking of getting me a tutor, are you? The school doesn't encourage that."
"Of course not. I think your grades are pretty good," his father laughed. "You're smart, and though you love to play, you still manage to rank in the top five of your class. I'm not like your mom, who thinks only the first place counts. I'm already very satisfied with your performance. As for working harder, that's up to you. I don't want to treat you like a child—I believe that boys your age should start taking responsibility and forming their own ideas. I trust you to handle it well."
Zhang Chenyang couldn't help but feel moved by his father's words.
Xie Han loved him, no doubt about it. Her love showed in every meal she cooked, every reminder, and every bit of nagging—expressions of deep motherly love. But his father was different; talking with him felt easier and freer. He found he could discuss things with his father that he couldn't with Xie Han.
Maybe that's just how communication works between men, Zhang Chenyang thought to himself.
"So what is it you wanted to discuss?" Zhang Chenyang asked, still puzzled.
"It's about you, but it might not be closely related to your studies," his father teased before revealing the surprise. "There's a chance I can transfer back to work here, in this city. Although the pay would be lower, I'd be closer to home. What do you think?"
"What?!" Zhang Chenyang nearly jumped with joy upon hearing the news. He had never expected his father to discuss this with him!
Was this even something to discuss? He was all for it, no question!
"Yes, there's only one position available, and I got it. They called me today to confirm," his father said with a smile. "I didn't mention it before because I wasn't sure if I'd get it. I didn't want to get your hopes up and then disappoint you."
"So, is it finalized?" Zhang Chenyang asked nervously, fearing any unexpected setbacks.
"Yes, but the reason I wanted to discuss it is that the salary would be quite a bit lower. If I transfer back, our family's living standards might have to adjust a bit," his father said with a smile. "Actually, if I stay where I am and work for another seven or eight years, I can retire then, and I'd still come back to be with you. The salary would be much higher—considerably higher."
"Of course, you should come back!" Zhang Chenyang said without hesitation. "What could be more important than the three of us being together? I fully support you coming back!"
"You don't realize how much groceries and daily necessities cost because you're not the one buying them," his father said, patting Zhang Chenyang's shoulder. "Just look at all the stuff in your room—action figures, basketballs… How many pairs of shoes have you bought?"
"I won't buy anymore. I'll only get what's necessary, and I'll always choose cost-effective options," Zhang Chenyang promised immediately.
What he said wasn't just a performance—it was exactly how he felt. To him, nothing was more important than being together as a family. Whether it was action figures, basketballs, clothes, or shoes, none of it mattered as much as being together.
As long as the three of them were together, that was the best, the happiest thing.
"Alright, since you agree, I'll go ahead and reply to the headquarters," his father said, finally making the decision.
As his father was about to leave, Zhang Chenyang suddenly asked, "Before I said anything, what did you think my answer would be?"
"I know my son. I figured you'd say this. In fact, what you said is exactly what I expected," his father replied confidently, even raising an eyebrow humorously as if to tease Zhang Chenyang.
Zhang Chenyang couldn't help but laugh, "Then why bother asking me?"
"Of course, I had to ask! You're part of this family—a very important part. How could I not consider your opinion?" his father said, waving as he left the room. "Alright, you can either keep working on your homework or take a nap. I'll go inform the headquarters and finalize this."
"Got it!" Zhang Chenyang said excitedly. "I'm so pumped right now—I feel like I could write fifty more pages!"
With those bold words, he immediately picked up his pen, ready to dive back into his work, while his father left the room.
However, as soon as Zhang Chenyang saw what he had written earlier, he froze.
"Fake. Everything here might be fake."
"There's someone else inside your body—someone who can talk to you through the voice in your mind and may even tell you the truth."
"You saw a madman at the Aerospace Museum. He died behind a door, right next to you, and you have no memory of it. Your memories may have been tampered with."
"Fanglong—remember this name. It might be the creator of all this falsehood."
"I am you. I am the you from before your memory was wiped. There's a good chance your memory will be reset again, so it's crucial to record everything!"
"If you don't believe me, try recalling your teachers, classmates, the principal—those you should know but haven't seen. Can you remember their names and faces?"
"Do you really want to live in a false world?"
When the last sentence was written, it was as if the writer had run out of strength; the handwriting became faint and shaky. Zhang Chenyang had to scrutinize it carefully before deciphering it. Luckily, it was his own handwriting—otherwise, he might not have been able to read this scrawl.
Indeed, it was his own handwriting.
As he stared at the words, Zhang Chenyang's mind plunged into chaos. He struggled to stay calm, trying not to let the overwhelming information overwhelm him, instead focusing on unraveling the key points.
The situation seemed to be that his pre-sleep self had left these messages for his post-sleep self, attempting to inform him that the world he was in was fake. The pre-sleep self had known this because someone in his mind had told him, possibly engaging in a conversation with this internal voice. In the end, he had believed it, though with some skepticism.
The madman at the Aerospace Museum? Zhang Chenyang indeed had no memory of such an event. He didn't even remember seeing the person, let alone any frightening incident.
As for the teachers, classmates, and principal… When Zhang Chenyang tried to recall them as suggested, he realized that while he had vague memories of their existence, he couldn't clearly remember their faces, nor could he recall their names.
Was this how his pre-sleep self had verified the truth? Was it because of this verification that he believed the voice in his mind?
Fanglong was the mastermind, and it might tamper with his memory again. Although Zhang Chenyang didn't fully understand what Fanglong was or why it would do this, the situation indeed seemed suspicious.
As he considered all this, Zhang Chenyang carefully recorded his thoughts, in a much more organized manner than before. The hurried notes his pre-sleep self had left behind seemed to have been written in a rush, as if he knew what was about to happen.
Staring at the notes, Zhang Chenyang fell into deep thought.
Should he believe his pre-sleep self?
And then there was that final question—Do you really want to live in a false world?
If it were before, Zhang Chenyang might not have been so conflicted; he would have approached the situation rationally.
But just a moment ago, his father had come to talk to him, to ask for his opinion, to share the good news… Everything he had long hoped for, everything he had dreamed of, was now within his grasp.
Now, he had it.
But someone was telling him it was all fake?
If all of this was fake, then what about his parents? Were they fake too?
And what about all the care and love? Even if it was fake, it was still something he cherished.
Zhang Chenyang stared blankly at his notebook. He could pretend nothing had happened and continue living this life. His father had brought good news, and soon the three of them would be living together. His father would be there to watch him grow, to listen to him…
After a brief mental storm, Zhang Chenyang calmed down. As absurd as everything seemed, he tried to approach it logically and make a choice.
"Can I come in?" his father asked, knocking on the door. Although Zhang Chenyang hadn't closed the door, his father still respectfully knocked to let him know he was entering.
"Of course," Zhang Chenyang said, closing his notebook with a smile.
As his father walked over, he said, "It's all set. I don't even need to go back to handle the paperwork; a colleague will take care of everything."
"We should have a nice dinner tonight to celebrate," Zhang Chenyang said with a smile. "Even though we'll need to tighten our belts from now on, today's big news deserves a good meal."
"Great minds think alike—your mom had the same idea," his father said, patting Zhang Chenyang on the shoulder. "Don't worry; she's already preparing. And I'll do the dishes tonight."
That last part was music to Zhang Chenyang's ears.
However, he tried to appear mature: "Let me do the dishes tonight to show my appreciation for you coming home! You deserve to relax—let me take care of you!"
Seeing how determined Zhang Chenyang was, his father could only smile and say, "My son is growing up! This old dad is very proud!"
After exchanging a few more light-hearted words, Zhang Chenyang's father turned and left. As soon as he was out of sight, Zhang Chenyang's smile faded, replaced by a look of deep contemplation.
Even he didn't know how he managed to switch between these emotions so easily. Logically, someone his age shouldn't be this mature. Yet he did it effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Zhang Chenyang quietly stared at his notebook. After a moment, he seemed to make a decision, tearing out the page and copying it word for word onto another sheet. He then placed the two sheets in different locations.
Making a choice was crucial.
Finding a way to break through was just as important.