362: Two hundred and nineteen.
“Immortal” 362: Two hundred and nineteen.
“Immortal” “…I spent twenty-three years in my dream,” the man murmured softly, his head bowed in recollection.
This dream was almost as long as his life itself.
Lu Li did not disturb the man’s reminiscence.
He was not recalling the events from his dream, but rather what had happened when he first visited the Detective Agency twenty-three years ago.
It was indeed a very distant memory.
In some ways, the dream had become equivalent to another life for him, with only the occasional chaotic flashes reminding him: these are your dreams.
That sounds not too bad; the man’s dreams were merely prolonged, not multiplied by some factor.
But it was terrifying enough.
This meant that his next dream could last a hundred years—using only a few hours of sleep time.
The man emerged from his memories, not speaking of what he had experienced in the dream, but questioning like an ordinary person who might face such a situation, “Am I still myself…?”
Rest occupies one-third of a person’s life, though most people’s dreams are chaotic and difficult to remember.
Even if remembered, they fade with time.
The man was different; he remembered the events of his dream worlds as clearly as those of the real world.
What was more terrifying was that compared to his ever-expanding dreams, real time seemed like minuscule grains of sand.
“Of course, it’s you,” Lu Li answered, addressing the confused expression typical of middle-aged men: “It’s just you with an extra twenty-three years of mental age and those years of experiences.”
The man bowed his head, his body trembling slightly, not just because of the cold from his still-damp clothes, but also due to emotional turmoil: “But these are all fake…”
Lu Li didn’t think so.
Or rather, Lu Li believed there were other possibilities.
It appeared as though the man’s time was frozen after he fell asleep, and his consciousness was thrown into another world, experiencing a lengthy period before returning to his body.
Who could say that his dreams were just dreams?
Lu Li’s words somewhat soothed the man’s heart.
At least he knew that those long years might not be just fabrications of his mind.
He was not trapped in his own thoughts.
“It better be so…” the man managed a weak smile, then his smile was filled with bitterness, as he recalled a more desperate reality: “But my dreams are extending…days…months…years…decades…centuries…longer…until I can no longer wake up…”
“No, it will just continue to prolong, becoming a series of unattainable numbers, but it will never be endless,” Lu Li said bluntly, so much so that even the naive Anna wanted to remind him that his words were quite hurtful…
However, the man’s emotions did not intensify much, possibly because the twenty-three years he spent dreaming had indeed instilled in him a middle-aged mindset.
But Lu Li hadn’t finished speaking yet.
“You can consider it a gift,” Lu Li thrust another figurative dagger into the man’s heart.
“A gift?” the man questioned, lifting his head with bloodshot eyes no less intense than they had been in the morning, his emotions becoming unstable again.
“A gift,” Lu Li confirmed the man’s doubt, saying, “It has become another life for you, and your resistance only troubles yourself.”
The man fell silent, Lu Li continued, “Don’t view it as a burden, nor resist it.
You might as well understand that in your dreams you reach another world, assuming a novel identity to live there.
After all, you said that apart from chaotic dreams, at other times you live as if you were truly in another world, to the extent that you confuse reality with dreams.”
The man remained silent, perhaps pondering Lu Li’s words.
Everyone’s thinking is different, and this was something Lu Li was well aware of.
Just like an elderly person facing this situation might not feel it was a bad thing—at least not in the initial sleep episodes.
“Do you have family?” Lu Li asked.
The man, with his head hung low, shook his head: “No…”
“So, is there anything in this world you can’t let go of?”
The man fell silent for a long while.
A hoarse voice slowly rose within the Detective Agency, “I understand now…
His eyes carried sincerity, perhaps truly understanding Lu Li’s intent: if an unchangeable circumstance descends upon your life, try to accept it.
Resisting and anger will only trouble you more.
Just hoping he would still understand in a few days.
By then, the length of one of his dreams might span thousands of years.
“Death is useless, right?” the man asked.
He had asked the same question before, and now he was asking it again.
Perhaps he had forgotten, or perhaps…
“Perhaps, but death is your last resort—after which, you might find relief, you might sleep eternally.”
Eternal sleep was an ironically loaded term for the man.
“You don’t have a solution either?”
Lu Li recalled the presence he sensed accompanying the man into his dream after he had fallen asleep and slightly shook his head.
Perhaps there was one, but at a price far beyond Lu Li’s bearing.
The current talk therapy was relatively “inexpensive.”
“Maybe giving you a piece of news will make you feel better.” After a thought, Lu Li told him, “This world is almost over.”
The man looked at Lu Li perplexedly, thinking he hadn’t awakened fully and misheard.
Lu Li continued, “Perhaps it won’t be annihilated, but it will get worse.”
“But how can that be…” the man murmured in surprise.
“You have just gone through a similarly impossible ordeal,” Lu Li said.
After some reflection on the world’s impending demise, he informed Lu Li that his commission was fulfilled.
Lu Li handed him a piece of paper with the address of the investigator and watchman.
The man accepted it, but he seemed no longer intent on seeking solutions—Lu Li’s “talk therapy” had some effect.
At least it would be so until his next dreaming experience.
When the man’s dreams span millennia, he might again consider resolving his issue.
Before leaving, he promised to give everything he owned to Lu Li as a compensation.
Of course, his compensation would arrive before his next sleep.
“You’ve gotten good at comforting people…”
After the man left, Anna looked at Lu Li as if seeing him anew, carefully observing him.
“Just helping him solve the problem in another way,” Lu Li said, packing away his pen and the remaining pieces of paper.
“When a glass is only half full, the pessimist thinks it’s half empty, the optimist believes it’s still half full.”
“Which one are you?” Anna curiously asked.
Lu Li didn’t answer, he just picked up the kettle, poured water into the cup until it was half full, and then told Anna.
“Here is a half-full glass of water.”