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Emerging from the hospital in broad daylight, Song Bunan found himself back in a familiar place after just one turbulent night. By his bedside stood Aunt Jiang, clutching the medical records with a face that showed nothing but anger. It seemed that if it weren't for her professional demeanor holding her emotions in check, she would have slammed the plastic folder down on his brother's head in the next moment.
Unable to sleep due to the stinging pain from the medication, Song Bunan cautiously reached out to grab the edge of Aunt Jiang's white coat, hoping to distract her so that his brother could come home. However, his brother, oblivious to the tension in the air, recounted the entire incident truthfully. Faced with Aunt Jiang's rising fury, Song Bunan quietly withdrew his hand and lay still on the hospital bed, observing with his nose and eyes while deciding to remain silent.
The hospital room was perpetually quiet at night. Apart from the sound of wind outside, only the distant footsteps in the corridor broke the silence. Lying on the bed, Song Bunan couldn't quite make out what his brother and Aunt Jiang were discussing in the office; he felt a bit dazed as pain and fatigue intertwined. Tilting his head towards the window, he saw trees illuminated by moonlight swaying in the wind, occasionally shedding a leaf that twirled gracefully before falling.
Perhaps due to some components of the medication or simply because it was late at night, fatigue gradually overpowered his pain, making him long to pull up the covers and sleep. However, after taking medication, he was left with only bandages on his body; his blankets and clothes were on the bed beside him. Stretching his arm to reach for them proved futile after several attempts, leading him to abandon that thought.
The hospital was quite warm. Song Bunan reassured himself as he curled up in bed to find a comfortable position. He tucked his hands under his pillow for support and soon fell into a deep sleep. In this darkness, his consciousness quickly drifted into another world. He found himself once again in Long's Old House, but this time he stood at the staircase leading from the second floor to the third. An elderly figure slowly ascended the stairs ahead of him, their back resembling that of someone who had once helped him through a dark time.
He wanted to chase after them for answers but suddenly felt something tugging at him from behind. Turning around, he saw an iron chain as thick as an arm tightly wrapped around his waist.
Faced with an angry yet restrained Aunt Jiang, Song Buxian chose not to speak much and sat silently on a chair in the office. The doctor at the desk flipped through his brother's medical records with a stern expression, their gaze fixed on the thin booklet of papers. The deep breaths escaping them indicated that this aunt he had known for over ten years was trying hard to manage her emotions.
"Not dangerous," she finally spoke after more than ten minutes of silence. Her tone revealed no emotion, and her voice was low. "Auntie has known your family for twenty years now; I’ve watched your brother grow up. Your mother has always held progressive views on parenting. She believes that it’s better for your brother to manage you than for them to interfere in your relationship with each other. Therefore, since Bunan was young, they would only intervene in major matters while leaving small details up to you. And you’ve been a good child; you've raised Bunan quite well compared to your peers. But why do you always have to be so domineering when communicating with him?"
Song Buxian had heard this accusation many times since he was fifteen; it always came up when there was an issue with Bunan. Although accustomed to such accusations, he sensed something different in Aunt Jiang’s words this time. Unlike others who questioned him, she stated it as a fact—a resigned conclusion.
He wanted to defend himself as usual but found himself at a loss for words. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand it was wrong; rather, it was the first time he felt that defending himself would mean admitting he had been domineering over Bunan.
He had never intended to control Bunan harshly; he simply believed that there were significant issues needing correction.
"Aunt Jiang, why... do you say I'm domineering?" he asked softly.
The doctor closed the medical records and faced Song Buxian with a furrowed brow before sitting beside him. "Because you’ve always thought of Bunan as still being young and needing your decisions for many issues," she explained. "You’ve forgotten that your brother is now twenty-three years old—a grown man who doesn’t have any intellectual disabilities requiring your strict control over him. You’ve kept him mentally categorized as a rebellious teenager who is difficult to manage; thus when he reacts against you this time, your response is anger."
Her words struck home; Song Buxian nodded in agreement because he had indeed considered this issue during his nighttime reflections. He genuinely wanted to change but often found himself thinking things like "he may be an adult but hasn’t matured much"—thoughts that pulled him back from letting go.
Aunt Jiang had always been gentle with both of them; although she would get angry sometimes—mostly when Song Bunan lay on the hospital bed complaining about pain—she generally approached them with kindness. Song Buxian promised he would pay attention to these issues and casually asked about Bunan's current condition, which made Aunt Jiang serious:
" Bunan ’s back has developed signs of re-infection where those healed scars are concerned. I just applied medication to one of those torn wounds and noticed that all surrounding skin has thinned out significantly; this time even a slight bump caused a large wound."
Song Buxian vividly recalled how badly injured his brother had been when first hurt—his small body lying lifelessly on an ambulance stretcher with exposed vertebrae amidst bloody flesh—the doctor clearly overwhelmed by what they saw and unsure how to stop the bleeding while Song Buxian comforted their sobbing mother nearby as they were told to prepare for bad news.
He bit down on dry skin from his lips and gently took Aunt Jiang's hand seriously saying, "Aunt Jiang, please don’t tell our parents yet."
In his dream state wearing a hospital gown and bound by an iron chain whose length restricted him to standing at the second-floor staircase entrance, he watched as the elderly figure disappeared into the third floor above him. The chain felt like it had just come out of a freezer—frosty and painfully cold—as its chill seeped through his thin hospital gown into his skin as if trying to freeze him solid. He cautiously approached where the chain ended; instead of meeting a wall as expected, he easily passed through it and began descending slowly into boundless darkness.
Turning back revealed no path behind him; even the staircase entrance vanished into obscurity—all around was darkness except for a faint glow emanating from himself and from this chain wrapped around his waist which emitted a dim blue light. This flickering blue light extended further into the darkness until it too faded away into nothingness.
This was new! Having only experienced Long's Old House in dreams before, Song Bunan felt no fear—instead excitement mixed with nervousness filled him as if embarking on an adventurous exploration of uncharted territory. Forcing himself to forget about being cold or what might happen next, he gathered all his strength and rushed toward that blue light.
The only sound around him was the clinking of iron chains due to his movements, but as he chased the blue light, a rustling noise began to emerge. It sounded like countless people whispering from a great distance, yet it also resembled someone crumpling a plastic bag in a room. The more he ran, the louder the sound became, shifting from far away to close at hand. Moreover, the noise intensified his perception of the cold; although he had almost forgotten that sensation, it surged back as the sounds grew louder.
He slowed his pace, trying to analyze the main content of these sounds while still running. However, as his speed decreased, the sounds seemed to recede, and the rustling diminished significantly. Song Bunan came to a complete stop, attempting to find something useful in his surroundings to help him assess the situation, but apart from the darkness, there was nothing around him. At the same time, he realized that when he stopped moving, the sounds vanished entirely.
It seemed that only by running could he uncover what was happening. A mix of excitement and anxiety surged within him, causing his hands and feet to tremble. Taking a deep breath, he sprinted again toward the blue light's end, and sure enough, he heard the sounds approaching once more.
As the volume changed, the iron chains around his waist transformed as well. The white frost covering them thickened significantly, and even Ice Crystal appeared; blue specks of light turned into stars that seemed to fall onto Ice Crystal, as if they would extinguish in the next moment.
Finally, when the specks disappeared as the chains were completely encased in ice, he found himself standing in darkness, unable to determine whether he was still at the end of the chain. Simultaneously, the voices returned clearly to his ears. It was as if countless people were speaking—men and women mingling together—articulating words distinctly but leaving him unable to grasp their meaning. Song Bunan felt as if he were completely frozen; even his breath came out in white puffs.
Just as he began to feel an inexplicable annoyance and a hint of fear from the incomprehensible voices, another sound approached from afar. This time, however, he could understand what was being said.
It was a man calling out his name—Song Bunan.
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