The dream didn't end here; the scene shifted, and it began again, repeating the same dream several times.
In the first iteration, everything was blurry, and he felt as if he were a third-party observer watching a movie. He could only sense the occurrences without fully grasping the details. The people in the dream seemed so detestable, making him furious—why would anyone treat a child in such a cruel way?
By the second iteration, he became more attuned to the emotions involved. With every subsequent view, his discomfort grew, and a strong urge to strike out at the perpetrators surged within him, making his anger even more intense.
By the third round, everything became clearer, as if he himself had transformed into the child in the dream. The rage burning within him felt as though it might explode.
Eventually, he fully embodied the child in the dream, enduring the relentless torment, helpless to alter any of it. What truly left him speechless, however, was the child's inner thoughts—despite all the abuse, there was no overwhelming hatred. Instead, the child's focus was mostly on how to grow stronger.
Even with hatred, after a night's sleep, much of it would be forgotten, and in a few days, it would fade almost entirely.
At some point, he found himself back in the role of an observer.
One thing that truly impressed him was the resilience of the child. Despite being beaten repeatedly, there was no sign of fear. The child grew more determined, refusing to bow even when others came to threaten him. If not for his concern for Maria, he might have rebutted these people outright. Though he knew it wouldn't change anything, he would have still done it.
The most vivid memories from the dream were of his father, his mother, and later, Maria. His father was an imposing figure, and the admiration he felt for him was immense. His greatest wish was to become as strong as his father. He had often seen his father practicing martial arts in front of him, and whenever he wanted, he could recall every single one of his father's techniques.
Next, there was his mother. What he remembered most was her soothing presence, feeding him, smiling at him, but eventually her smile faded, replaced by exhaustion and melancholy. In the end, he watched her depart with a sorrowful back.
Maria, on the other hand, was like an angel, dispelling all of his anger.
Simultaneously, he was aware of his current location and the time.
The dream always ended at the moment he was struck by a stone.
Then, the scene shifted again, and he began a new dream—one that was not a repetition but an entirely different one.
This one was more familiar, and he recognized it immediately. From birth to growth, his memories unfolded, and these were longer and more detailed than those from the previous dream. Aside from the mundane aspects of daily life and a few significant events, there were few major disturbances. It was a memory of a life lived as an ordinary person in the lower strata of society. As he observed these, forgotten memories resurfaced, like dust being swept away, offering him a clear view of the past. Compared to the previous dream, these memories felt more relatable, engaging, and intimate.
He would feel joy with happy moments and sorrow with sad ones. Whether it was regret or disappointment, in the end, everything turned into memories. Of course, the memories from his adulthood left the most lasting impressions. They were filled with unhappiness, problems, and troubles that came one after another, making his life a complete mess. His life had become a chaotic jumble, like trying to divide a single coin into two halves.
The last moment was when he was in the midst of cooking at home, struggling with the usual difficulties. Then, out of nowhere, disaster struck. The house shook violently. Life was already so hard—why did it have to be disturbed by such a catastrophe? With lingering resentment, he was plunged into darkness.
These dreams were similar to the earlier ones, repeating multiple times, filling him with bitterness. Eventually, the last two dreams merged into one. One moment he was this person, the next moment he was that person, the transitions caused his mind to hurt. The endless pain consumed him, and he couldn't help but wake from the dream, only to faint from the pain, then wake again, caught in the cycle.
The agony left him with an insatiable bitterness, and when he awoke, he still felt disoriented.
"What's going on?"
The room was narrow, dark, and damp. The sound of rain fell relentlessly outside. Beside him was a little girl, unfamiliar yet familiar, resembling the one from his dream.
The girl's eyes were red and swollen, holding a broken bowl. She was smiling and crying at the same time. Was it tears of joy?
"Maria, what happened to you? Are you hurt? Let me see."
Seeing her in such a state, Zhao Lun couldn't help but feel a pang of pain. He instinctively reached for her to check for any injuries.
There was nothing amiss, and everything felt natural.
"Brother!—"
"Wuwu!—"
Maria collapsed into his chest, unable to hold back her tears, her voice hoarse from crying. Previously, she had felt like the world had lost its color, sinking into despair. Now, she felt as if the colors had returned, and the world had become more vibrant. Her joy was overwhelming, and she could no longer suppress it. But at the same time, she also felt aggrieved and just wanted to cry her heart out.
Zhao Lun was at a loss, unsure of how to comfort her. Words seemed useless. Finally, he extended his arms and gently patted her back, letting her cry it out. After a while, her crying subsided, transforming into quiet sobs, before eventually she fell asleep, breathing softly.
At this moment, Zhao Lun's condition was far from ideal. His head still throbbed with pain, but he gritted his teeth and carefully picked her up, laying her on a wooden plank bed and covering her with a tattered blanket.
It was the only thing available to cover her.
The rain continued outside. The house was a humble hut, less than five feet in height, with constant water leaking in. The room was dark and damp, making Zhao Lun uncomfortable. Nearby, there was a broken bowl, its edge chipped, and a porcelain spoon, snapped in half and useless. These items had frequently appeared in his dreams, and Maria treated them with great care.
Maria slept soundly, her small form clutching his arm tightly, even in her sleep, as though fearing she might lose him.
Zhao Lun gazed at her with affection, feeling an intense desire to protect her and care for her.
He lay down on the plank bed, enduring the pain, trying to calm his chaotic thoughts while examining his surroundings.
First, he was certain that he was no longer in his original world. Second, he had arrived in an unfamiliar land, Great Britain.
The year was 1987. His father was Chinese, and his mother was British. His father seemed to be a martial arts master, and his mother loved him deeply. They had always been in a happy, loving relationship. But when Zhao Lun was barely five years old, his father disappeared. Nearly a year later, his mother disappeared too. By then, Zhao Lun was almost six. Not long after, he found and took in a little girl named Maria, and the two became dependent on each other.
He had an English name, Alan, which, when translated into Chinese, became Ai Lun, which is the origin of his Chinese name, Zhao Lun.
Before his parents disappeared, life had been comfortable. After they vanished, his life became miserable—no food to eat, constant disdain from others, and frequent beatings. After adopting Maria, his life grew even worse. In the end, he was beaten to death by a stone thrown at his head, marking the end of his life—this was when Zhao Lun, now in a different world, emerged.
Compared to the Zhao Lun here, the one from his previous world had lived in mediocrity, preparing a meager lunch when disaster struck. He had only seen a stone coming toward him, followed by an explosion that destroyed his home.
But now, his situation was still grim, and trouble never seemed to leave his side.
...
Zhao Lun's original world.
Evening news...
"Next, a report from Xinghe Community, Building 4. At noon, a violent explosion occurred on the fourth floor, causing a fire. Fortunately, the firefighters arrived in time, controlled the blaze, and rescued nearby residents. It has been confirmed that one person has died. The deceased was a resident of the affected floor. Experts speculate that the explosion was caused by improper handling of gas. The exact cause is still under investigation, and more details will be provided in our upcoming reports..."
...
The pain still hadn't subsided, and after some vague recollections, sleepiness overtook him once again. He couldn't resist and fell back into a deep slumber.
That night, Zhao Lun slept soundly, without any further dreams, sleeping through until morning.
His nostrils itched, and he couldn't help but sneeze a few times, finally waking up, only to find a pair of bright, sparkling eyes staring back at him. Clear as violet crystals, they were mesmerizing.
"Giggle~" The little flower-faced girl smiled, her expression one of mischievous triumph.
"Hehe," Zhao Lun chuckled, then, in a familiar gesture, gently pinched her small nose. Seeing her little flower face, he couldn't resist wiping it as well.
Maria giggled, dodging his hand.
Her laughter was infectious, and seeing her smile, Zhao Lun couldn't help but feel his mood lighten.
The rain outside had lessened during the night, but there was still some mist. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds at times and then hid again. It was already autumn, and the morning air was cool and crisp. Both of them were wearing thin clothing, and the cold air made them shiver.
The only food they had left was some half-rotten bread, not enough for even one person. They hadn't eaten well for the past few days, and now, with the cold and hunger, things were even worse.
He still had many problems to resolve, but the most urgent matter now was to fill their stomachs.
"Sigh, trouble..."