Lost in the Otherworld

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes, you’ve been distracted all day,” Li Weiwei remarked, a hint of displeasure in her tone.

Indeed, Gaoyang had been somewhat absent-minded today. He had hoped that their "date" might serve as a distraction, but the more he tried to divert his thoughts, the more he couldn’t help but dwell on them.

After much hesitation, Gaoyang finally asked, “Li Weiwei, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Back in our third year of middle school, your grandmother passed away from a cerebral hemorrhage, right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see her one last time?”

Li Weiwei blinked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you see her body after she died?”

“I was at school when it happened. By the time I got home, my parents had already sent her to be cremated.”

“I see,” Gaoyang thought to himself, So it’s true.

“Why? Is there something strange about that?” Li Weiwei asked, confused.

“It’s nothing…” Gaoyang hesitated.

Though he was only six years old before the crossing, Gaoyang had already attended the funeral of the orphanage director. He had long sensed that this parallel world was slightly different from his original one.

For instance, in this world, many people are cremated immediately after death, without any “body farewell ceremonies” or similar customs.

The rush seems almost like they’re trying to destroy evidence, like his grandfather, like Li Weiwei’s grandmother.

The thought sent a chill down Gaoyang’s spine.

“You look pale… are you alright?” Li Weiwei noticed.

Gaoyang considered for a moment, then said, “Li Weiwei, have you ever thought that the world we live in is actually filled with danger?”

Li Weiwei instantly grew nervous. “What are you trying to say? Don’t scare me like that…”

“You know that last night, I was grabbed by a lunatic, right?”

“I heard. Thankfully, the police shot him before he could hurt you. I was so worried about you,” Li Weiwei blushed as she spoke, “In fact, it was because of this that I decided to accept your confession.”

Gaoyang shook his head. “That’s not it. Actually, he had no intention of hurting me. He was warning me.”

“Warning you?” Li Weiwei was baffled. “Warning you about what?”

Gaoyang briefly recounted the events and mentioned the incident when his grandfather died when he was five.

Li Weiwei grew increasingly frightened, unconsciously moving closer, clinging to Gaoyang’s arm.

“Could it have been a dream? After all, you were so young…”

“No, it wasn’t a dream!” Gaoyang asserted.

“Do you think… your grandfather was…?” Li Weiwei trailed off, unable to finish.

Gaoyang shook his head. “Not necessarily, I just feel like something isn’t right.”

“You once secretly peeked into the room, didn’t you?” Li Weiwei said, “What did you see?”

Gaoyang remained silent. In his memories, he did see something, but he wasn’t even sure if it was real, let alone explain it to Li Weiwei.

“Well…”

“Ah! Never mind, don’t say it…” Li Weiwei lowered her head, “Let’s go home.”

“Li Weiwei, don’t you believe me?” Gaoyang grabbed her hand.

Li Weiwei was stunned at first, then, after a moment of overcoming her fear, she nodded vigorously. “I believe you.”

“I also believe in you. I don’t know who else I can tell about this,” Gaoyang took a deep breath, mustering his courage to speak, “Actually, I saw a hand.”

“A hand?”

“Yes, to be precise, an arm, as thick as a normal person’s thigh, covered in grayish-green scales. Those scales were like tiny insects, squirming and writhing—utterly disgusting…”

“Oh my god…”

“I don’t know what it was, but it definitely wasn’t a human hand,” Gaoyang frowned.

“Gaoyang,” Li Weiwei looked up at him, “Is this the hand you were talking about?”

Gaoyang was startled!

—Agony surged through his wrist!

He looked down to see Li Weiwei’s small, delicate arm suddenly split open, grayish-green scaly flesh bursting forth.

Under the moonlight, the scales glistened with a ghastly, sinister light. They grew longer and longer, burrowing into Gaoyang’s skin like leeches, greedily sucking his blood.

“Li Weiwei… you…”

Li Weiwei swiftly extended her other hand, clamping it around Gaoyang’s throat, lifting him effortlessly. The scales on her arm morphed into soft, sticky tendrils, forcing their way into Gaoyang’s mouth, nostrils, ears, even his eyes.

Gaoyang’s head felt as though it would explode from the unimaginable pressure. He was certain that within seconds, his skull would burst like a watermelon in a microwave.

“Gaoyang, thank you,” Li Weiwei’s voice hadn’t changed; in fact, it was even gentler than before.

She smiled, “You’re the first Awakened I’ve ever met.”

“…”

“I’ll never, ever forget you.”