Today marks the twelfth year since Gao Yang transmigrated.
Before it happened, Gao Yang was an orphan who had just celebrated his sixth birthday at the orphanage. That night, he happily ate a store-bought cupcake from the dorm supervisor and went to bed satisfied. Before falling asleep, he made a wish—to find his parents. Then he drifted off into what he thought was just a dream.
When he woke up, Gao Yang found himself sitting at a dining table with a steaming bowl of noodles in front of him. A mouthful of noodles hung halfway out of his mouth, swaying gently.
In the hall of an old house, the early morning light was soft. Sitting across the table was a pair of unfamiliar middle-aged adults. At the head of the table near the door sat a kind-looking old woman, and next to him was a little girl with big eyes, about four or five years old.
"Don't just sit there. Hurry up and eat or you'll be late for school," the woman said, urging him. She looked to be in her thirties—dressed in simple pajamas with no makeup, yet very beautiful.
"Son, do you want Dad to drive you?" the man asked with a smile, a toothpick in his mouth. He was tall and strong, with a slight paunch, a receding hairline, and a hint of his youthful handsomeness.
"No! Daddy's taking me to preschool!" the little girl pouted, shoving down her bowl of millet porridge.
"Haha, then I'll drop your brother off first and take you after, okay?" the grandma chuckled warmly, reaching out to pat the girl's head.
Gao Yang's mouth gaped open, and the noodles fell onto the table with a soft splat.
He was only six then. He didn't understand what "transmigration" meant, nor did he know what a "parallel world" was.
He thought he was just dreaming—yet that dream lasted twelve years.
...
Now, Gao Yang had long since adapted to this new world and fully merged with his host. He was Gao Yang—eighteen years old, a senior in high school, living in a warm family of five: a kind grandma, loving but occasionally bickering parents, and a mischievous little sister.
He lived a good life, just like most kids his age. He buried himself in books for the college entrance exams, occasionally fantasizing about what university he'd go to, what job he'd land, whom he'd marry, and how many kids he'd have…
In short, Gao Yang's wish at six had come true—he "found" his parents, and even gained a grandma and a sister as bonuses.
He was happy and content.
Until everything changed—on his eighteenth birthday.
That night, after evening study hall, Gao Yang was riding his bike home along a dark street when a shadow suddenly leapt out from an alley, slamming into him and knocking him and his bike to the ground.
Though bruised, Gao Yang stood up quickly and looked at the person who had crashed into him.
Under the dim streetlamp stood a short, frail-looking middle-aged man with a pale face, bloodstains all over his tattered hospital gown. He looked terrified.
"Are you okay, sir—"
"Run!" The man grabbed Gao Yang's shoulders with terrifying strength. "Monsters! They're everywhere! Run! Get out of here!"
His voice was filled with despair and the stench of blood. "Don't trust anyone…"
Bang!
Before he could finish, a bullet tore through his temple, shattering his skull and exiting the other side—bursting into a gruesome red bloom.
Shhhck— The thick blood mist and sharp stench filled the air.
The man's hands slowly loosened from Gao Yang's shoulders. His terror-stricken expression froze forever, his bulging eyes etched with despair, confusion, and unwillingness.
Two seconds later, the body collapsed with a heavy thud.
Gao Yang stood frozen, his shoes quickly soaked in a spreading pool of blood. His ears rang from the gunshot, then the sound of his pounding heart took over—thump, thump, thump-thump-thump…
"You okay, kid?"
"Don't be scared. You're safe now."
"Close your eyes—don't look down."
Several police officers rushed over. One of them pulled Gao Yang into an embrace, shielding his eyes with a hand.
...
The next day, Gao Yang made the local news headlines:
"Mentally Ill Patient Kills Two Nurses, Escapes Hospital, Shot Dead After Attempting to Take Student Hostage"
Gao Yang took a day off to recover at home.
He was shaken—witnessing a man's life being violently ended right in front of him. Any normal person would be traumatized. And the story about the mental patient? Something didn't sit right. He couldn't explain what felt off—just that something did.
That night, Gao Yang took a sleeping pill.
As he drifted off, he started dreaming.
All of the host's memories before the age of six had already been absorbed, but some vague pieces seemed to have been forgotten.
In the dream, Gao Yang was four years old again, on a hot summer night.
He had eaten too much watermelon and woke up needing to pee. On the way to the bathroom, he passed by his grandparents' room and heard strange rustling noises.
Curious, he pressed his ear to the cold wooden door. The sounds became clearer—and weirder.
He had never heard anything like it: like a beast whimpering, like a deep-sea whale wailing—painful and twisted, laced with a frenzied ecstasy. Beneath it, he could make out something gnawing and tearing.
Chills ran down his spine.
Just days earlier, his kindergarten teacher had told him the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Could a big bad wolf have snuck into his home… and eaten his grandparents?
Terrified, Gao Yang still mustered the courage to gently push open the door.
Through the crack—he saw something.
He was so scared, he bolted back to bed, dove under the covers, and forgot all about needing to pee.
The next morning, he had wet the bed. He thought it was just a nightmare. Then, his mother came in crying and hugged him tight.
"Gao Yang… Grandpa is gone."
When she took him out of the room, his grandfather's body was being wheeled away under a white sheet. By the time of the funeral, he was already reduced to an urn.
From start to finish, neither Gao Yang nor his sister saw Grandpa one last time.
Now, thinking back, there were too many odd details.
Grandpa had loved Gao Yang and his sister the most. They were blood relatives. Why weren't they allowed to see him?
If his memory was correct, the outline of Grandpa's body under the sheet looked strange—like one arm was missing.
Didn't he die of a heart attack? Why would he be missing a hand?
In the dream, Gao Yang stood staring at the stretcher, puzzled.
Suddenly—the corpse sat up!
The sheet slipped off—revealing that same "mentally ill" man. His eyes had been gouged out, leaving only deep, bloody holes. Black blood poured from every orifice. He stretched out his blood-soaked hands and gripped Gao Yang's shoulders again.
—Monsters! They're everywhere! Run! Get out of here!
—Don't trust anyone!
...
"AHH!"
Gao Yang jolted awake.
It was 10 a.m. The sun was shining, April's breeze fluttered the curtains, and the street outside buzzed with city life.
"Bad dream, bro?" his little sister asked, tilting her head at him with a blink of her big eyes, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Gao Yang blinked. "Why are you in my room?"
She rolled her eyes. "Mom told me to wake you. The sun's already up!"
"Oh. Got it."
She walked out.
Still dazed, Gao Yang sat up and gulped down a large glass of water.
Ding! His phone buzzed.
He opened ChatApp casually—
PFFFT! He sprayed water all over the floor.