A few minutes later, Zhao Yan woke up and saw that the others were preparing to leave. His mother stepped out to see them off. After all, they came under the pretense of checking on him, and she couldn't let them feel unwelcome. Even if their intentions weren't sincere, appearances had to be kept up. Thinking about this, Zhao Yan closed his eyes again. Suddenly, a series of images flashed in his mind, playing like a movie. He couldn't help but chuckle bitterly, realizing that it was all just a dream. He hadn't traveled to another world or become his younger self, let alone encountered some absurd little demon king or adventurers. It was all just figments of people's imagination. With this realization, a sense of loss washed over him, though he couldn't quite articulate why. Perhaps he also had dreams of traveling to another world.
Before long, his mother returned and sat beside him, her face full of tenderness. "Is it worth it?" The three words caught Zhao Yan off guard; he thought he must have misheard. He opened his eyes and looked at her, wondering if he was imagining things. "What?" he asked, puzzled. His mother's expression remained unchanged as she continued, "I said, is it worth it?" Her tone suddenly took on an eerie quality. Zhao Yan had heard those words before, echoing through the endless darkness, and now they were coming from his mother's mouth. He felt a chill run down his spine, a primal fear creeping in. At that moment, a thought dominated his mind: the person in front of him wasn't really his mother. Although she looked the same, the abruptness of her words made him suspect something was off. "Who are you?"
His mother smiled at his question and replied slowly, "Who am I? You tell me, who am I?" Zhao Yan was taken aback. He hadn't expected her to answer with a question. He tried hard to think, racking his brain, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't figure out who this person was. "Stop playing games. What are you trying to do by pretending to be my mother?" She continued to smile, not responding, but simply pointed at her abdomen. Zhao Yan remembered his injury and quickly lifted his shirt, only to discover that the stitches on his stomach had burst open, and blood was slowly seeping from the wound. He instinctively pressed his hand against it, but his mother's hand stopped him. "Is it worth it?" she asked again.
Frustrated, Zhao Yan yelled, "What's worth it? What do you want?"
Suddenly, his mother released her grip, and her appearance began to shift. Gradually, she transformed into a stranger—a woman with flowing silver hair and delicate features, her skin flawless, and her figure seemed to embody every human ideal. For a moment, Zhao Yan was captivated by her beauty. But just as quickly, he realized he must be dreaming. After all, how could he have returned to his own world, seeing his mother and colleagues? Everything he encountered was just a projection of his understanding. But this woman was different; he had never seen her before. So he said, "Are you someone who creates dreams? Why do you appear in my dream? And am I alive or dead? Have I been reincarnated into another world?"
The woman smiled and replied, "You're not dead, but you are. In the world you know, you have already died, but in another world, you're just dreaming. So, I ask you, is it worth it?"
Hearing this, Zhao Yan calmed down. It struck him that he had indeed died that night while working overtime. A wave of sorrow washed over him. Had all those years led to nothing but grief for his family and his own suffering? Why was he even alive? Was it just to endure all this hardship? To be tested? What good was the struggle if he was already dead? He felt his mental state fraying. Although he had prepared himself, hearing the woman say this, even if it was false, something within him shattered. Zhao Yan clutched his head, pulling at his hair and screaming, venting his pent-up emotions. The woman simply watched as he let it all out. "Is it worth it?" "Not worth it," Zhao Yan said almost instinctively. As soon as he uttered those words, he stared blankly ahead.
At that moment, the surroundings shifted. The hospital room vanished in an instant, replaced by an endless darkness. The only thing he could see in this void was the mysterious woman, whose figure loomed larger and larger, like the vastness of the cosmos.
Morning sunlight streamed through a small window, warming Zhao Yan's face. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. He found himself in a small room, about ten square meters. Turning to the other bed, he noticed the man he had seen before was gone. A sense of loss washed over him. The dream felt significant, perhaps a reflection of his struggles that had pushed him to his breaking point, making him constantly question the purpose of his existence. He recalled his short life and realized he had never experienced even a moment of luck, merely going through the motions day after day. The only surprise was that he had worked overtime right before he died—how ironic. He couldn't help but let out a self-deprecating smile.
Just then, the door swung open, and a man walked in, tossing Zhao Yan a set of clothes. "Put these on; you can't stay bare like that." He set some food on the nearby cabinet—some bread and a bowl of unfamiliar hot soup. Zhao Yan got dressed, and the man continued, "I'm also an adventurer. I can't do much for you, but once you're done eating, come downstairs. I'll take you to the orphanage." With that, he turned to leave.
Dressed, Zhao Yan picked up the bread and sniffed it. It didn't smell strange, so he tore off a small piece and chewed it. The taste was bland, reminiscent of coarse grain. He placed the bread back on the plate, not because it was hard to swallow, but because he didn't feel hungry. Yet, he realized it had been at least fifteen hours since he had eaten. Strangely, he didn't feel any hunger pangs. Maybe not eating was better; it saved him the trouble.
Zhao Yan made his way downstairs and found the man waiting. Together, they left the inn. They walked through several streets until they reached a somewhat rundown building surrounded by various fruits and vegetables. Though they looked different from those on Earth, they still bore some resemblance. Given Zhao Yan's knowledge, he could easily identify some edible ones.
The man strode into the yard and soon returned with a middle-aged woman. Compared to the women Zhao Yan had seen in town, this woman was much fuller. If he had to describe her in Earth terms, she looked like someone you wouldn't want to mess with. Despite her intimidating appearance, she wore a broad smile, which made Zhao Yan's skin crawl.
After chatting briefly with the woman, the man turned to Zhao Yan and said, "This orphan is now your responsibility." He pulled some coins from his pocket and handed them to the woman. Then he bent down to Zhao Yan and said, "You'll live here from now on. Help the nun with chores, and when you're older, if you want, you can join the army or become an adventurer like me. That way, you won't have to rely on anyone to survive." He then looked at the nun and added, "I'll leave him in your care."
Just as he was about to leave, Zhao Yan quickly grabbed the man's arm. "Thank you." The man ruffled Zhao Yan's hair and replied, "It's nothing. Just make sure to live well." "What's your name? Maybe I can repay you one day," Zhao Yan asked. The man hesitated for a moment but eventually shared, "My name is Da Shi. Goodbye, little one." And with that, he left.
Zhao Yan stood there, watching Da Shi's retreating figure, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for this stranger who had helped him. Reflecting on his experiences, he realized that his first encounter with someone willing to help had occurred in this strange new world.
After Da Shi left, the nun took Zhao Yan inside. The house was quite spacious, with three levels: the first floor served as a dining area where everyone gathered for meals, the second was for the nuns, and the third was Zhao Yan's room. The nun guided him to the third floor and opened the door. Inside, eight children were already lined up in two rows—five boys and three girls, all around Zhao Yan's age, though they appeared much healthier.
The nun briefly introduced Zhao Yan before leaving. The kids scrutinized him, and two of the older boys suddenly began to tear at Zhao Yan's clothes. Alarmed, Zhao Yan instinctively covered himself. Noticing this, the boys pulled harder, and with a rip, the fabric tore under their grip. One of the boys, unfazed, punched Zhao Yan in the face. Reflexively, Zhao Yan shielded his face, but before he could react, he was shoved to the ground. Before he knew it, he was on the receiving end of a flurry of punches and kicks.
A few minutes later, Zhao Yan was left in only his underwear; the other clothes had already been taken by the two older boys. They looked quite pleased with themselves, each selecting their favorite items. Once they finished choosing, they tossed the old clothes they had discarded beside Zhao Yan and happily pushed the door open to leave.
The other children stood frozen in place, their faces filled with concern for him. Zhao Yan could tell that they must have suffered at the hands of the two boys as well. Yet, confronted with their own weakness, they could only endure. After all, they relied on this so-called home for survival.