You Xue took off running.
The nightmare-invaded dream was completely different from a normal dream.
Inside a dream controlled by another, everything the body felt was indistinguishable from reality.
She could even feel the wind whipping past as she ran, her chest growing tighter, her heartbeat pounding more fiercely.
She ran into the hospital corridor.
The ceiling lights flickered on and off.
You Xue didn’t dare look behind her.
All she could hear was the sticky, wet sound of a viscous liquid dragging across the floor, along with a clicking noise like bones breaking, following close behind.
‘Unlucky, unlucky, unlucky!’
The space of the dream seemed completely scrambled.
Just a moment ago she had been at the front desk on the first floor, but after running through the corridor, she ended up on an upper floor—with no stairs leading down.
The thing behind her was getting closer.
She could almost smell that rotten, sweet-sick stench mixed with the odor of disinfectant, nauseating.
Her muscles were slowly growing weak, and the dryness in her throat became more intense.
She couldn’t keep running.
She had also tried using the Dragon’s Eye’s ability, but it had no effect at all.
Even though this was a dream, she didn’t have infinite stamina.
You Xue clenched her teeth and, relying on her last shred of willpower, turned the final corner.
Before her was an open hospital room.
No time to care what was inside—she rushed in, slammed the door shut in an instant, and locked it.
The moment she finished, a dull, heavy crash came from the door.
But the door was sturdier than she had expected; it didn’t break open on the first hit.
Still not reassured, she pushed a couple of nightstands in front of the door, and finally braced it with the bed.
The pounding didn’t stop, but it still couldn’t break the door open.
After a while, the banging ceased, and there was silence outside.
That gave You Xue some relief.
She collapsed onto the hospital bed to catch her breath, finally taking the chance to look around the room.
Blue window curtains, the familiar view outside, and a blooming sunflower on the nightstand.
This was her previous life’s hospital room.
She hadn’t expected that, in the urgency of the moment, she would end up here.
Glancing around, she noticed the room’s furnishings were exactly the same as in her previous life.
So much time had passed—her memories of this room had grown blurry, yet now it was presented before her so clearly.
How strange…
You Xue’s gaze moved to the spot beside the pristine white pillow on the bed.
There was a dark-colored notebook, and next to it, a fountain pen.
Even if her past memories were a bit hazy, You Xue was certain these things had never been in the room during her previous life.
Even if they had been hidden somewhere in the room, there was no way they would appear on her hospital bed.
She picked up the notebook and opened it.
Inside, it was completely blank.
After thinking for a moment, a thought occurred to her.
In the original story, ordinary people trapped in a nightmare could also escape, after all, the dream itself was constructed by one’s own consciousness.
So, driven by a strong desire to survive, the dreamer would unconsciously create a way out within the dream.
That escape route could be a door, an object, or even a person.
So… could this be the escape route her subconscious had left for her?
You Xue decided to try.
She wrote in the notebook.
[I have gained the power to kill the nightmare.]
She held the pen and waited for a moment.
No feeling of power surging into her body, no light rising from the page, and the fountain pen in her hand didn’t turn into any weapon.
Nothing happened.
You Xue’s briefly hopeful mood instantly turned to disappointment.
Just then, a huge crash came from the door—the nightmare had returned.
The situation was more urgent than she had thought.
The entire door buckled inward for a moment under the immense force.
The makeshift barricade of nightstands and the bed groaned dully, as if it could collapse at any moment.
You Xue climbed onto the windowsill and looked down.
It was dizzying—this was the eleventh floor.
Below, she could see a stretch of gray-white concrete.
She wasn’t sure if dying from a fall in a dream would mean death in reality, so she kept jumping as a last resort.
She still had that strange notebook in her hand.
With a mindset of trying once more, You Xue began writing.
Meanwhile, the banging on the door behind her grew fiercer.
You Xue ignored it and wrote in the notebook.
[A staircase connecting the eleventh floor to the ground suddenly appears before me.]
The moment the pen left the page, countless golden particles appeared in the air, slowly converging to outline the shape of a staircase, and finally solidifying into reality.
It worked!
Behind her, the door let out a dull cracking sound.
The split tore open a gap wide enough for a dark red tentacle to squeeze through.
You Xue didn’t hesitate.
She climbed over the windowsill and stepped onto the staircase floating in the sky, her steps regular and quick.
In her mind, she replayed her failure and success.
A glimmer of understanding dawned on her.
Perhaps the reason was simple: her own subconscious power wasn’t strong enough to fully control the dream.
This power probably came from herself.
Even if she couldn’t directly fight the nightmare, she could fine-tune the details around her—adjust the scenery, create favorable conditions.
She glanced back with her peripheral vision and saw that lump of dark red, tumor-covered monster had squeezed out through the window frame.
Then it retracted its tentacles, contracting its body into a sphere.
And then it began to roll.
You Xue was already speechless.
She had thought she was about to escape, but now there was a second phase!
There was no way she could outrun something that rolled.
So You Xue wrote in the notebook.
[The staircase beneath me suddenly disappears.]
Then the stairs behind her began to dissolve into golden particles, and the step under her feet vanished as well.
So You Xue started to fall.
Midair, she twisted her body and instinctively hugged the notebook tightly to her chest.
The wind rushed into her collar and sleeves, her gray-white hair flying upward in the chaotic current.
Just before she was about to hit the ground, You Xue braced the notebook against her knee.
Her hand holding the pen faced immense resistance—every stroke was crooked—but she still managed to write, just one word.
[Slow]
Then she really did slow down a little, as if held back by an invisible hand.
But in the air, she had no strength to turn over.
She hoped that what awaited her on the ground wasn’t some upright branch or spikes or something.
But in the end, she fell into a somewhat familiar embrace.
One arm cradled her thighs, the other supported her neck—a perfectly standard princess carry.
Blinking her mismatched eyes, her puzzled gaze slowly traveled up from the chin, past slightly pressed lips and a straight nose bridge, finally landing on a pair of black eyes.
It was Su Li.
“What are you doing here?”
You Xue tilted her head and asked in confusion.
“I came by train,” Su Li replied.