C112 — The Moon in the Dream

Just as Mu Sichen had said, it was only the short distance from the residential building to the swimming hall, yet along the way He Fei encountered plenty of “accidents.”

When they passed the community cafeteria, a kitchen knife suddenly flew out from the window, heading straight for He Fei’s face.

Luckily, Mu Sichen had already activated the “Eye of Truth,” expanding his field of vision. He had noticed the danger the moment the knife took off and yanked He Fei out of the way.

A middle-aged woman in a chef’s uniform ran out, apologizing repeatedly, starting with: “Are you okay? As long as you’re okay, that’s a relief.”

Then, as they passed the art gallery, a potted plant fell from the third floor, dropping directly toward He Fei’s head. As usual, Mu Sichen pulled him aside.

Right after that, a young man holding a utility knife came running down, apologizing as he ran. In his rush, he stepped on a banana peel and fell forward with the knife in hand—right toward He Fei’s throat.

Mu Sichen grabbed the man’s wrist in time, and the blade stopped just five centimeters from He Fei’s neck.

The young man’s face was full of guilt, and he was just about to say that all-too-familiar phrase. But He Fei cut him off:

“Don’t bother saying it—I’m fine, that’s all that matters. I’ll say it for you!”

With that, he kicked the young man without holding back, snapping:

“Oops, sorry, I slipped. You okay? As long as you’re okay, that’s a relief!”

The young man clutched his side, doubling over in pain, but he still answered: “I’m fine.”

“Great! That’s a load off my mind!” He Fei parroted back the line all the neighbors had been feeding him.

After giving the guy a good kick, He Fei rolled up his sleeves and turned to Mu Sichen:

“Do they really think your Brother Fei is some sick cat just because I’ve been keeping quiet? I’ve had enough! From now on, whoever dares to ‘accidentally’ hurt me, I’ll hit back the same way—and then I’ll say that line: ‘As long as you’re okay!’”

Surprisingly, after He Fei said this, all the “accidental” attacks stopped.

He and Mu Sichen made it to the swimming hall without any further trouble.

“Huh? Where’s the danger? I was waiting to fight back fair and square!” He Fei lowered his sleeves in disappointment.

Mu Sichen suppressed a laugh. “After the way you kicked that guy at the art gallery, I don’t think anyone’s in a hurry to mess with you again.”

He Fei really was a strange one—by venting his anger so directly, he had actually broken the pattern of “accidents.”

But Mu Sichen recognized something important from this: these accidents truly weren’t accidents at all.

They were the new residents in the Repentance Complex, completely ignorant of its nature. All the other residents had been watching them closely, hoping to gain some sense of release through them. That was why He Fei had suffered so many “incidents.”

But the moment He Fei started fighting back, those petty tricks ceased.

It seemed the Repentance Complex had a pretty efficient grapevine. Word must have already spread in some sort of group chat about He Fei kicking that man.

He Fei soon realized as well: these bastards had just been picking on the easy target.

He frowned. “If the accidents aren’t accidents, and we’re both new here, walking side by side, why did they only pick on me? Do I really look that much like someone begging for a beating?”

“Probably because you look kinder than me,” Mu Sichen replied.

Unless he was doing sales work, Mu Sichen usually carried a “strangers keep out” air. With his cold expressions and quiet demeanor, he had the aura of an aloof, iceberg-type handsome guy. Few people ever approached him.

He Fei, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

He laughed easily, talked to everyone, radiated sunshine-boy energy. One glance, and you knew he wasn’t the type to get angry.

Such people were the perfect targets for “accidents”—the residents of the Repentance Complex certainly knew how to pick.

When they reached the swimming hall, the two decided to work together: He Fei would accompany Mu Sichen while he cleaned the locker room, and Mu Sichen would accompany He Fei when he took out the trash.

The swimming hall’s changing room was quite large. The lockers for storing belongings were assigned according to room numbers, with the numbers marked clearly on each door.

Next to the changing room was a janitor’s room stocked with all sorts of cleaning tools. Mu Sichen put on gloves and a mask, picked up a rag and some disinfectant, and began cleaning the lockers one by one.

The lockers used combination locks, but at 5 p.m. each evening—when the swimming hall closed—all of them would automatically unlock.

Mu Sichen figured this setup was designed so that the person cleaning the changing room could conveniently pick up whatever items had been left behind.

Inside the lockers, Mu Sichen found two mobile phones, a hat, a wallet, a diary, and two cards.

He took some document bags, sorted the items neatly inside, and wrote the corresponding room numbers on each bag.

His next task was to return each item to its rightful owner.

He Fei had been watching for a while, confused.

“Why is our task so simple?” he asked.

Mu Sichen: “What kind of task did you think we were assigned?”

He Fei replied:

“I thought ‘cleaning the locker room’ meant cleaning up bloodstains or something. Like maybe there was a dismemberment case here, we’d stumble onto the crime scene, then have a life-or-death struggle with some serial killer.”

“We have to complete one task every day, right? If we don’t, our confinement time gets extended by a day. Since the Repentance Complex is a ‘pillar,’ it obviously wants to keep people trapped here. They’re not going to let anyone finish fifteen days and just stroll away easily.”

“So the tasks must be brutal—impossible to complete. That would be the only way to trap people in the complex.”

Mu Sichen said calmly:

“You’ve got quite the imagination. The tasks are indeed difficult—but not in the way you think.”

“How so?” He Fei pressed.

Mu Sichen handed him two of the document bags. “Take a look at what’s inside these.”

They were items left behind by residents of rooms 4017 and 6003. He Fei opened them and found two cards.

On the cards were written: Anyone who holds this card may reduce their sentence by seven days.

He Fei sucked in a sharp breath.

“Well? Tempted?” Mu Sichen asked.

“Of course I’m tempted!” He Fei nodded furiously. “If I were trapped in the Repentance Complex, that’s two sentence-reduction cards—14 days! Even if I didn’t finish today’s task, so what? I could hand these in and leave the day after tomorrow!”

“Exactly. But my task is to return all the items to their owners. If I secretly kept these cards, don’t you think I’d be consumed by guilt?” Mu Sichen asked.

“Yes, you would!” He Fei admitted.

“If I kept them for myself, even if I walked out of the Confession Complex, I’d still be chained by guilt. The chain of cause and effect would bind me tightly, pushing me to seek release.” Mu Sichen’s voice was calm. “From both the Shouwang Complex and the Repentance Complex, it’s clear—the ‘pillar’ doesn’t reside in one particular complex. So leaving the complex doesn’t mean escaping the pillar.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to find it?” He Fei groaned.

But Mu Sichen looked confident. “I have a guess. I just need to test it.”

He Fei handed the two cards back to Mu Sichen. “So the only items too tempting to give back were those two?”

“Yes. Only those two are hard to part with. But they’re not the only items that can spark guilt.”

Mu Sichen took out the diary and said:

“When I first found this diary, it was open. I didn’t dare read a single word—I shut it right away. I’m certain it records something I would be forced to intervene in. If I read it, I’d fall into that chain of cause and effect, so I won’t look at it.”

As he spoke, the phone in one of the document bags began ringing again.

Mu Sichen asked:

“Should I answer this call or not?”

He Fei asked:

“You’re not planning on keeping the phone for yourself, so why wouldn’t you? What if it’s the original owner calling?”

Mu Sichen replied:

“I think there are two possibilities. The first is that the phone’s owner is conspiring with someone to harm others. Their accomplice might be calling, letting me overhear their plans—forcing me to stop them. Otherwise, guilt will take root. The second possibility is that it’s a cry for help. If I don’t answer, someone might die for lack of rescue. That death would weigh on me, and I’d still be trapped in the chain of cause and effect. So, tell me—answer, or not?”

He Fei:

“Then better answer. If you don’t and someone really dies, even if the chain dissolves and the pillar becomes yours, you’d still be wracked with guilt, right?”

“You’re right,” Mu Sichen said.

He Fei knew him well—Mu Sichen would rather risk danger than cause someone’s death by inaction. And He Fei was the same.

Mu Sichen took the phone from the bag. The moment he pressed the answer button, a wave of relief washed over him.

What a terrifying “pillar.” No matter how cautious he was, no matter how he tried to guard himself, he still ended up feeling that subtle release.

“Hello, you’re only answering now?” came a gentle, refined voice over the line. “Don’t forget—tonight at 10, we’re going to 3016. Bring the knife.”

And then the call ended.

He Fei was stunned.

“Exactly like you guessed—it really was a plan to hurt someone! So after we return these items, are we going to save whoever’s in 3016?”

Mu Sichen didn’t answer right away. He gripped the phone, his heart uneasy.

For some reason, he felt the voice was familiar. Too familiar.

That refined, unhurried, always-pleasant voice—he remembered it with an almost chilling clarity.

So clear that just recalling it made cold seep into his bones.

“The caller… it sounded like Him,” Mu Sichen said.

“Him? Her? Which ‘him’? Who are you talking about?” He Fei asked.

“Someone I only dare think about in my heart, but don’t dare speak aloud,” Mu Sichen replied.

It was Shen Jiyue’s voice.

A monster of godlike level—saying His name was akin to summoning Him, or risking His gaze.

If an ordinary person thought of Him too much, they might also attract His attention. But Mu Sichen, being half-divine, was safe to think about Him—though not to speak His name aloud.

Still, he couldn’t understand why he would hear Shen Jiyue’s voice here.

According to the knowledge he’d gained, the Butterfly was a force of the ocean, not the sky. If Shen Jiyue devoured the Butterfly’s power, He wouldn’t grow stronger. The sky’s power and the ocean’s power would clash inside Him, weakening Him instead, leaving His mind unstable.

At first, before he learned this, Mu Sichen had been wary of Shen Jiyue in Dream-Butterfly Town.

But once he understood the difference between the three powers, he stopped worrying about encountering Shen Jiyue here.

Ever since they entered the Repentance Community, Shen Jiyue’s power seemed to be everywhere — Mu Sichen even heard Shen Jiyue’s voice on the phone.

It was too eerie.

“Who is it, who is it?” He Fei asked curiously.

Mu Sichen glanced at him. Maybe because Shen Jiyue had once possessed He Fei, any time Shen Jiyue–related information popped up he couldn’t bring himself to trust He Fei; he worried the He Fei in front of him might be an impostor. Even though the contamination had been purified, the fear that the god-level monster left in his heart couldn’t be erased.

This was the PTSD people talked about, he supposed.

“Don’t worry about the call for now — it’s almost seven. Let’s hurry and do your task. After you finish cleaning up the trash, we’ll go back to the residence together and return the items.” Mu Sichen said.

Seeing Mu Sichen refuse to say whose voice he’d heard, He Fei muttered, “More unsayable stuff,” and turned toward the pool.

After residents used the pool they left behind some trash — sometimes even in the water. He Fei’s job was to clean up that trash. He was supposed to use a net to scoop debris out of the water; after he finished someone would add disinfectant to the pool so people could swim there the next day. The Repentance Community’s public facilities were actually very good — there was more than one pool.

He Fei fished paper, water bottles, snack wrappers, sunflower seed shells and the like out of the first pool, grumbling under his breath, “What a lack of public decency. Even if someone cleans up afterward, you shouldn’t throw this stuff in the pool in the first place.”

Mu Sichen held the garbage bag and helped him collect the trash.

He Fei soon finished with the first pool. The second pool was in another room — it was the ladies’ pool. He Fei opened the door and Mu Sichen followed closely behind, but He Fei froze at the threshold and Mu Sichen bumped into his back.

“Why aren’t you going in?” Mu Sichen asked.

He Fei turned back with a wry smile. “How do you think we should scoop that ‘trash’ up? How are we supposed to deal with it?”

Mu Sichen looked at the pool and saw a leg floating on the surface — hairy, like a man’s.

Mu Sichen: “……”

He Fei’s imagined dismemberment case had appeared.

“Your task is to clean the pool trash. Whatever you find, you toss it into the incinerator at the dump, right?” Mu Sichen asked.

“Yeah. According to the task, I should just ignore this leg and burn it, and then no one would ever know about it — but I’d feel guilty.” He Fei said. “According to your theory, if I take responsibility for this leg and hand it to the community administrator, then even if I don’t complete my task today my sentence will be extended by one day.”

He thought a moment and said, “We’re not actually serving a sentence here — we won’t be stuck for the full fifteen days. The length of the sentence doesn’t matter to me. I’ll just pull it out and hand it to the administrator.”

But when He Fei used the net to scoop the leg up, he saw words carved into it with a knife: “This is a woman-abuser. Let him die without a burial.”

“What… what should we do?” He Fei fell into a dilemma.

Mu Sichen gave a cold smile. “Do as you suggested. I’m starting to understand: in this community it’s impossible not to bear guilt. Every choice is a damned choice; whichever you choose will create guilt and require you to seek release. We can’t avoid getting trapped in the causal chain anyway, so we might as well let go — maybe we’ll find a way to break the chain.”

“All right then, I’ll hand it over to the administrator,” He Fei said. “Whether what’s carved on it is true or not, someone is dead, and they died butchered. They’ve paid a price — at least let people know they’re dead.”

 

He Fei stuffed the leg into a black garbage bag. After cleaning all the pools, the two burned the rest of the trash, then returned to their residence with the items in hand.

He Fei handed the black garbage bag to the administrator on the first floor. As expected, he hadn’t completed the day’s task, and his sentence was extended by one day.

Mu Sichen, on the other hand, returned all the items from the file bags one by one. Amusingly, one of the sentence-reduction cards turned out to belong to the man who had fought at He Fei’s door. He had fought with a woman to seize it, and after grabbing it, he hadn’t immediately turned it in but had “forgotten” it in the locker room. When Mu Sichen returned the card, the man’s expression wasn’t one of joy — his smile was stiff and forced.

Clearly, there was an untold story behind that reduction card. It wasn’t something simple to use.

After making his rounds, Mu Sichen finally went to deliver the phone that had rung.

The owner lived in Room 7015. Mu Sichen gently knocked on the door.

The door opened, and a familiar face appeared before him.

It was Shen Jiyue.

 

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