DIM Chapter 3

The place he was staying didn’t have a computer, so Ruan Zhou spent the day at an internet cafe.

After scouring various sources, he finally confirmed it: he had traveled to another parallel universe.

This world was strikingly similar in his world’s culture and historical trajectory, but its technological level was about a decade behind his original world.

There was no Xia Country, no Dongxing City, and certainly no Happy Residential Complex.

Holding onto a sliver of hope, he searched online for Xia Country Bank.

The result… was, of course, nonexistent.

In other words, the only things that had crossed over with Ruan Zhou were the items on his person.

It took him a while to come to terms with the harsh reality: after years of hard work, he was back to square one, penniless.

The glow of the computer screen made his face look as pale as paper.

The person next to him handed over a bottle of water and asked, “Sir, are you okay?”

The boy looked like a high school student, with sharp phoenix eyes and a pointed chin. He was quite good-looking, though his bangs were a bit long, and the dark circles under his eyes gave him a somewhat frail, introverted appearance.

Ruan Zhou couldn’t ignore the kind gesture, though his smile was strained. “I’m fine.”

He took the water bottle. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Song Jiayang turned away, his heart pounding, palms sweaty.

He couldn’t help but sneak another glance, lingering on the water droplets clinging to the young man’s lips before quickly looking away.

The young man wore a white T-shirt and jeans, looking to be in his early twenties. Whatever bad news he had received had left him looking so pale, so it was hard not to feel concerned.

“What’s wrong?” Song Jiayang asked.

Though deeply shaken, Ruan Zhou didn’t want to trouble others. He simply said, “It’s nothing,” and began packing up to leave.

The message notification bar in the bottom right corner of the computer screen flashed wildly, as if someone was trying to contact the owner.

Distracted, Ruan Zhou shut down the computer without a second glance. Naturally, he didn’t notice the boy’s disappointed expression after he left.

Before returning to the motel, Ruan Zhou revisited the spot from last night, hoping to find his watch.

But the ground looked as if it had been thoroughly plowed, leaving nothing behind.

Following his memory, Ruan Zhou searched the area, but not only was his watch gone, even the trash had disappeared.

As the sky darkened, Ruan Zhou had no choice but to head back.

Once in his room, he took stock of his current assets.

The good news was that, for reasons unknown, the currency from both worlds seemed to be the same.

The bad news was that his current cash amounted to a single hundred-yuan bill tucked behind his phone case.

Another piece of good news: he still had some vegetables, snacks, and dry rations from the supermarket, as well as…

Splash—

The carp in the basin sprayed a jet of water, then flicked its tail.

Well, there was also this guy, whose tenacity was surprisingly impressive.

Ruan Zhou sighed. He’d have to ration these supplies carefully.

He pulled out his phone, only to remember it couldn’t connect to this world’s network.

He’d have to hit the streets and find a job as soon as possible.

Despite his worries, his sleep quality remained unaffected.

Late at night, the carp in the plastic basin stared out the window, its eyes glowing eerily, its mouth gasping for air.

Downstairs, the front desk receptionist was playing a game on his phone.

Ding—

His phone chimed.

It was a message notification from a chat app.

The game he was playing was at a critical moment, so the receptionist ignored it, but the messages kept coming, one after another.

Annoyed, the receptionist cursed under his breath, closed the game, and opened the chat app.

[Are you there?]

[Are you there?]

…

Over a dozen messages, all from the same person. The profile picture was of a very pretty girl.

The receptionist was stunned, then ecstatic. He quickly typed back, [What’s wrong? Did something happen?]

[Didn’t we settle things between us?]

[Why did you break up with me back then?]

He sent a flurry of messages, but there was no response.

“What’s going on?”

The receptionist muttered, disappointment creeping in.

[Do you have time now?] the other person continued.

[Of course I have time for you!]

After a long pause, the other person sent a video.

[Take a look at this video.]

The receptionist immediately sat up straight, glanced around to make sure no guests were nearby, and then nervously opened the video.

The footage was shaky, shot from a high angle, focusing on a crowd.

Laughter could be heard.

The receptionist zoomed in on the screen.

A group of people had gathered by the roadside, tightly encircling something.

It was hard to see what was happening, but the person in the middle seemed to be laughing.

What was this?

The receptionist tried to exit it, but the button of his phone didn’t respond.

By the eighth second of the video, the laughter grew louder, a sharp, piercing sound emanating from the screen.

“Hahahahahaha…”

The receptionist shuddered, frantically pressing the volume buttons, but nothing worked.

The camera moved closer to the center, and a woman’s laughing face filled the screen!

Through the phone, he could see her throat, her mouth a bloody red, a fleshy ball dangling from her uvula, trembling with each breath.

Her expression was twisted, her skin cracking from the exaggerated smile, spiderweb-like blood streaks spreading across her face like fissures in the earth filled with red springs.

She stared at the screen, at him, as if inviting him to join in.

It was his ex-girlfriend.

The receptionist immediately threw his phone, covering his ears, trembling all over.

If that was her in the video, then who was the person messaging him?!

“Hahahahaha—”

So loud!!!

The sharp, ear-piercing laughter grew louder and louder, drilling into his skull from all directions.

The receptionist’s eyes turned red, and he wanted to smash his phone to pieces!

But gradually, the laughter seemed to infect him.

Unconsciously, his lips curled into a smile.

“HahahAHAHAHA—”

The more his mind crumbled, the wider his smile grew.

Countless thoughts swirled, collided, and tangled in his mind, until one thought emerged victorious.

It became clearer and clearer, flashing in his brain like a neon sign.

“Laugh!”

“Laugh!”

“Laugh!”

The empty motel echoed with his unrestrained laughter, as if his life force was being burned away through the act of laughing.

When he realized the air in his lungs was running out, a sliver of clarity returned.

A suffocating sensation enveloped him, his vision darkening.

He was going to die.

He was only 20, and he was going to die!

As the air in his lungs ran out, his consciousness began to fade.

In his delirium, he saw the figure of his great-grandfather.

His great-grandfather stood before him, tall and upright.

His great-grandfather slapped him twice.

It hurt.

The feeling of injustice exploded from his heart, and the receptionist suddenly took a deep breath, then cried out, “Grandpa, why did you hit me?!”

He wailed a couple of times.

Huh?

The suffocating feeling was gone.

The receptionist blinked, his sobbing stopping as he saw the young man standing before him, his expression a mix of pity and concern.

The young man’s clothes were disheveled, a tuft of his hair sticking up, clearly having just rolled out of bed.

Right now, he was looking at the receptionist like he was a lunatic.

No, please let me explain.

The receptionist opened his mouth but couldn’t say anything.

The feeling of surviving a near-death experience made him laugh uncontrollably.

He was alive! That was all that mattered.

Tears and snot streaked his face as he scrambled to his feet, kowtowing to Ruan Zhou several times.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Ruan Zhou quietly stepped aside. “I’m not your grandpa.”

The commotion had drawn other guests out of their rooms, asking what had happened.

They learned that the front desk receptionist had had a hysterical episode, nearly suffocating himself, and Ruan Zhou had happened to be there to save him.

Though the receptionist was still a bit out of it, his life was no longer in danger.

“If it weren’t for this young man, we’d be sending you to the morgue right now.”

“What a hero!”

“Truly remarkable!”

The guests showered Ruan Zhou with praise, giving him a thumbs-up.

Ruan Zhou advised, “You should keep some medicine on hand. If no one finds you next time, it could be dangerous.”

“Bro, you’re like a brother to me! Thank you so much. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead!”

The receptionist broke free from the guests supporting him and kowtowed a few more times.

The kid was sincere.

Ruan Zhou quickly helped him up.

That evening, the receptionist paid Ruan Zhou a visit, and Ruan Zhou couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

After all, as a grown man who had only eaten two bags of bread all day, it was hard to resist the sight of grilled meat.

The receptionist brought over food and a large box of fruit, immediately spotting the familiar basin.

A carp swam lazily inside.

“Bro, you’re a real man, inside and out! You’re so compassionate. People like you are rare these days. Are you planning to release this fish? Let me know when you do. I’ll buy a few too, and we can do it together.”

He set down the box, looking at Ruan Zhou with admiration.

That look made Ruan Zhou unconsciously rub his nose, not saying that he was actually planning to kill the fish and eat it fresh.

Over dinner, Ruan Zhou learned that the receptionist’s name was Zhong Renbao, and the motel belonged to his uncle.

Ruan Zhou took a bite of grilled meat and advised, “If you have a chronic condition, you need to take care of yourself. Don’t stay up late, or it could trigger an episode.”

Zhong Renbao sighed. “It’s so weird. I never knew I had this condition until you saved me.If you hadn’t saved me, I don’t know what would’ve happened this time—”

He sighed again. “I was impulsive!”

Zhong Renbao reopened the video.

But to his surprise, it displayed: File has been deleted.

What was going on? He hadn’t touched his phone!

Zhong Renbao’s eyes widened.

Song Jiayang, carrying his bag, walked back to the dorm, regretting not getting the contact information of the internet cafe guy.

He kicked a small stone on the road, watching it roll into a dark alley.

“Song Jiayang!”

A familiar voice made his hair stand on end, and he turned to leave.

“You kicked someone and now you’re running away?”

Two thuggish-looking boys emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing.

Song Jiayang quickened his pace but was yanked back.

“Playing dumb?” The taller boy blocked his path. “Just came back from the internet cafe, huh?”

“A good student like you, going to an internet cafe?” The other thug, also larger than Song Jiayang, slung an arm over his shoulder.

Song Jiayang resisted the urge to shove the hand away. “I’ve already finished the quests.”

It wasn’t that Song Jiayang wanted to go to the internet cafe, but the thugs had forced him to play games and complete quests for them, wasting four hours of his time after school.

Chen Long chuckled. “Not bad. You sacrificed your study time for me, huh? Sorry about that. I heard you didn’t sleep well recently, and you’re outside the top 100 in the second mock exam, right?”

The other thug chimed in, “Wow! The top student falling so far? Must be all that gaming. Isn’t the college entrance exam coming up? Can you handle it with grades like that?”

Song Jiayang kept his head down. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”

He adjusted his backpack and prepared to leave.

Chen Long grabbed his backpack, causing Song Jiayang to stumble.

“You played my game and now I have no game to play. Shouldn’t you compensate me for that?”

Song Jiayang glanced at him, suppressing his anger, and handed over some money.

If he didn’t pay the protection fee, he’d end up paying for his medical bills instead, which would cost more and waste even more time.

“This isn’t enough! Let’s see what else you’ve got!” Chen Long’s eyes narrowed as he reached for Song Jiayang’s pants pocket, only to be kicked away.

Song Jiayang’s face flushed with shame and anger. “Don’t go too far!”

Chen Long sneered. “Too far? Let me show you what too far really looks like!”

A few minutes later, the two left, leaving Song Jiayang curled up on the ground.

He struggled to his feet, limping back to the dorm.

The school gates closed at 10 PM, and Song Jiayang barely made it in time.

His roommate was already preparing for bed, but Song Jiayang pulled out a stack of papers and started working.

“Song Jiayang! Can you not do homework when people are trying to sleep? How many times do I have to tell you?!”

“Sorry, I’ll go outside.” Song Jiayang paused, then grabbed a small desk lamp and headed to the hallway.

After he left, the same voice spoke up again. “Damn, he’s falling behind and still ruining our sleep. Must be jealous of me!”

“Shut up!” another voice retorted. “You’re ranked 500-something, and you think he’s jealous of you? Take a look in the mirror!”

“Stop arguing and go to sleep!”

The dorm fell silent again.

By the time Song Jiayang finished his homework, it was almost midnight. After a quick wash, he climbed into bed and checked his phone. There was a friend request.

“I was the person sitting next to you at the internet cafe this afternoon.” The profile picture was a solid gray image.

Song Jiayang’s heart raced again.

After accepting the request, he sent a message.

[Hello.]

[Hi, I was the person sitting next to you at the internet cafe this afternoon.]

[How did you get my contact information?]

Song Jiayang asked cautiously.

But the other person didn’t reply immediately.

Feeling awkward, Song Jiayang was about to retract the message when the other person sent a video.

The video was short, only ten seconds, with a solid gray thumbnail.

The message accompanying it read: [Watch the video, and I’ll tell you the answer.]