Lin Xia woke up with a start, her body drenched in cold sweat. She sat up in bed, clutching the blanket tightly, her breathing ragged and uneven. The room was pitch dark, save for a sliver of moonlight seeping through the curtains, casting a faint glow on the floor.
She had had that dream again.
In the dream, she stood in a thick fog, surrounded by a blinding whiteness that obscured everything. She could feel the damp ground beneath her feet, the air heavy with the scent of wet soil. Her vision was low, as if she were crouching or kneeling. In her hand, she held a knife, its tip dripping with blood.
Then, she saw him.
It was a man, dressed in a black suit, lying on the ground with a gaping wound in his chest. His eyes were wide open, pupils dilated—clearly dead. Lin Xia wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Her gaze, uncontrollable, shifted and finally settled on the man's face.
It was a face she had never seen before.
Yet, for some reason, it felt eerily familiar, as if she had encountered him somewhere before, or perhaps crossed paths with him at some point. Her heart raced, and the knife in her hand felt heavier, its handle slick with her sweat.
Suddenly, her vision blurred, and the fog rolled in again, swallowing everything. She felt a dizzying pull, as if an invisible force were dragging her into an endless abyss.
Then, she woke up.
Lin Xia took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She reached for the bedside table and turned on the lamp. The soft light filled the room, dispelling some of the fear. She picked up her phone and checked the time—3:15 a.m.
She opened a news app, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through the headlines. For the past few days, she had been having this dream, and every time she woke up, she would find the name of the deceased from her dream in the news.
Sure enough, today's headline made her heart sink.
"Prominent Entrepreneur Chen Zhiyuan Found Dead at Home; Police Investigating."
Lin Xia's finger froze on the screen, her eyes locked on the accompanying photo. The man in the picture, dressed in a black suit with a stern expression, was the same man she had seen in her dream.
Her stomach churned, and she felt as if something were twisting inside her. She leapt out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, leaning over the sink as she dry-heaved. The images from the dream kept replaying in her mind—the knife, the man, those wide, lifeless eyes.
"What is happening to me?" she whispered, her voice echoing in the empty bathroom.
She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, trying to snap herself out of it. In the mirror, her reflection looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She hadn't slept well for days, and every time she closed her eyes, the dream would haunt her.
Back in her room, she sat on the edge of the bed and picked up her phone again, scrolling through the news. Chen Zhiyuan had died from a stab wound to the heart. No weapon had been found at the scene, and there were no witnesses. The police were working hard to track down the killer.
Lin Xia's finger absentmindedly scrolled further, and suddenly, her eyes landed on a line: "Chen Zhiyuan had been in contact with several young women prior to his death. The police are investigating their backgrounds."
Her heart sank.
She remembered running into Chen Zhiyuan a few days ago at her university's library. He had returned to campus as an alumnus to give a lecture, and she had been volunteering at the library that day. They hadn't spoken, merely passing each other by. But that night, she had the dream for the first time.
"Is it… because I saw him?" Lin Xia murmured, her voice trembling.
She didn't dare to think further, but a terrifying thought crept into her mind—what if her dreams weren't just dreams, but some kind of premonition, or… reality?
She shook her head, trying to push the thought away. It was absurd. How could she be connected to these crimes? She was just an ordinary college student, living a mundane life of classes, part-time jobs, and homework. She wouldn't even step on an ant, let alone kill someone.
But the dream felt so real. Every time, she could vividly feel the coldness of the knife handle, the stickiness of the blood, and the uncontrollable fear.
She picked up her phone again and opened a browser, typing in "serial killings." The screen immediately flooded with related news. She clicked on one article and discovered that, over the past few months, there had been three similar cases in the city. The victims were all middle-aged men, each killed by a stab wound to the heart. No weapons or clues had been left at the scenes.
Lin Xia's hands trembled even more. She suddenly realized that if her dreams were indeed connected to these cases, then… she might be the only one who knew the killer's perspective.
But who would believe her? She didn't even believe herself.
She put down her phone and lay back in bed, closing her eyes. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
The moonlight outside still cast its cold glow on the floor, as if watching her every move. Lin Xia felt a chill rise from her feet, spreading through her entire body. She curled up under the blanket, trying to warm herself, but the coldness lingered.
"What is happening to me…" she whispered, her voice tinged with despair.
Just then, her phone buzzed. She picked it up and saw a message from an unknown number:
"You know too much."
Lin Xia's heart stopped. The phone slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.