Bai Youwei asked: “You’re saying that… the dreamscape of Maze No. 1 simulated your previous life? And it was exactly the same?”

Chen Hui closed her eyes. The scenes from the dream were vivid and clear, so real they made her shudder.

“More real than reality… After one class ended, the between-period bell would ring, then came Chinese class, math class, physics… Every person was completely alive. They talked, they laughed. Someone fell asleep in class, and the teacher lost their temper over it… After class, Zhang Tianyang came over to ask what was wrong with me, whether I was in a bad mood because I’d scored lower than him on the exam. He asked in that smug tone of his whether I needed him to tutor me… And then there was my deskmate, endlessly complaining about bombing the test, saying she’d get an earful when she got home.”

Chen Hui took a deep breath, as though she couldn’t go on.

She looked down at her hands, tried to close them into a fist, and found herself wondering whether the place she was in right now was also a dream.

“Weiwei-jie, at the time I… I genuinely believed that the Doll Game was a nightmare I’d been having. That I’d been too exhausted and fallen asleep in class, and now I’d woken up — everyone was still alive, and everything was just as it had always been.”

Bai Youwei looked at her, then turned and poured a cup of hot water, handing it to Chen Hui.

“So how did you eventually realize you were dreaming?”

Chen Hui took the cup, cradled it in both hands, took a sip, and used the warmth to steady her emotions.

“…Normally, after four periods there should be a lunch break. But when the fourth period ended, Teacher Tu appeared again — saying the exact same things, teaching the exact same lesson. Everything I’d just lived through started all over again!

“I immediately knew something was wrong! But I couldn’t put my finger on what. It was hard to describe… It was like I knew in my heart that I’d already sat through this class, but my brain just naturally accepted it as fact… Like — like this was simply the life I was supposed to be living!”

Chen Hui felt a wave of dread. She looked up at Bai Youwei in alarm: “Am I still dreaming right now?! Is this place a dream?!”

“No! Chen Hui, you’re back!” Bai Youwei directed her gaze to Leonid standing by the hospital bed. “If this were a dream, how would you be seeing Leonid? Right? Don’t be afraid. You’re already back…”

Leonid’s brow was deeply furrowed as he watched Chen Hui with concern.

Chen Hui slowly nodded. “Right… I’m back… I’m awake.”

In the hospital room, the doctor had been monitoring Chen Hui’s condition closely and gently suggested: “You should rest a little longer — it’ll help you recover more quickly—”

The doctor hadn’t finished speaking before Chen Hui cut him off with fierce urgency: “I don’t want to sleep anymore!”

Her cup tipped and splashed hot water across her hand and the bedcovers.

The room went very still.

Leonid frowned, reached over and took the cup from her hand, then patted her on the head and said something in Russian. Whether or not Chen Hui understood it, her agitation gradually settled.

Chen Hui took a slow, deep breath, murmuring: “I’m not tired… I want to stay awake…”

Bai Youwei looked at her. “Don’t be afraid. You’re already out of the maze. You won’t have that kind of nightmare again. The dream was all repeating scenes, and every location was somewhere you knew well — isn’t that right? You can wander around the headquarters for a bit, or we can go outside with you… Actually, it’s snowing outside. There are so many places you’ve never seen. Even if the maze tried to create a dream, it couldn’t possibly recreate those places.”

Chen Hui listened, and slowly nodded. “That’s right… Every scene in the dream was somewhere familiar to me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get away from the school. And whenever the bell rang for the fourth period, I’d be pulled right back to the classroom to start class again…”

Bai Youwei asked: “Did you try to find a way to break the loop?”

—