The next morning, Zhou Qiming woke up earlier than his alarm.
Not startled awake.
Not naturally awake.
It was more like his body prematurely ended some state.
The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the ceiling.
White, no cracks, a slightly darker shadow in the corner.
Very familiar.
Then came the sounds in the room.
Distant car sounds, someone dragging something downstairs.
Everything matched.
Only his body hadn't fully recovered.
The feeling was indescribable.
Not light, not heavy.
Like just out of water; his clothes were dry, but his skin still remembered the water's temperature.
He lay there for a while, not getting up immediately.
His breathing was steady.
His heartbeat was normal.
Just something very small, a beat late.
He got up to wash.
The water from the tap was rather loud.
The bottom of the sink was a bit yellowish, and no matter how much he scrubbed, it wouldn't get clean.
As he brushed his toothbrush in his mouth, he suddenly realized something.
He had truly fallen asleep last night.
Not in a half-awake state.
Not a drowsy sleep caused by fatigue.
But rather, a complete, uninterrupted state.
When this thought popped into his head, he paused.
The toothbrush was still in his mouth.
Foam was dripping down his chin.
He didn't dwell on it.
Not deliberately avoiding it.
It was more like his body automatically pushed the thought aside.
When he left, he locked the door as usual.
The key felt a little stiff turning in the lock.
Probably because he hadn't used toothpaste in a while.
Someone passed by in the hallway, their footsteps quick.
He didn't look up.
The subway entrance was the same as always.
Crowded, people walking hurriedly.
The announcements repeated themselves over and over.
His tone was calm, devoid of emotion.
He stood on the platform, waiting for the train.
As the train pulled into the station, a gust of wind rushed out from the tunnel.
For a fleeting moment, his body instinctively relaxed.
The movement was slight.
But very noticeable.
He himself was startled for a second.
This wasn't the first time it had happened.
But this was the first time he was aware of it while fully conscious.
The doors opened, and the crowd surged in.
He was pushed onto the train.
Once he was steady, he realized he wasn't wearing headphones.
Not that he'd forgotten.
He simply hadn't remembered.
The sounds of the carriage suddenly flooded in.
Chatting, coughing, scrolling through short videos.
Very real.
And very chaotic.
He thought he would feel uncomfortable.
But he didn't.
There was just a strange feeling—
These sounds seemed to be outside of him.
Not isolated.
More like there was no need to deal with them.
He simply stood there, gripping the handrail.
The train started moving.
A swaying sensation came.
His body didn't tense up.
The event itself wasn't worth noting.
But he noticed it anyway.
When he got off at his stop, he glanced around at the people.
Everyone was walking quickly.
As if being pulled along by something.
He was just being pushed along.
He clocked in at the company.
The machine beeped.
The sound was the same as always.
But at that moment, he suddenly had a strange feeling—
The notification sound came a little late.
It wasn't a machine delay.
It was because he had been standing there for a while.
This feeling quickly disappeared.
He didn't dwell on it.
He sat back down at his workstation, and a system window automatically popped up.
The workload was less than in the past few days.
It wasn't an anomaly.
It was an adjustment that had already been communicated.
He put on his headphones and started working.
Mouse moves.
Checks the box.
Submit.
The actions are as usual.
But there are a few very short pauses in between.
So short that he's not even sure if they happened.
It's like the screen has switched, but his hand hasn't caught up.
He didn't make a mistake.
The system didn't give any error messages.
He was just a little slower than usual.
At lunchtime, he found he had no appetite.
Not that he wasn't hungry.
It's just that everything tasted pretty much the same.
He finished his meal.
His movements were mechanical.
His colleagues were gossiping nearby.
Who's leaving, who's being transferred to another project.
He heard them.
He understood them.
But that information didn't linger.
It was as if it had been sifted through a sieve.
At three in the afternoon, he went to the restroom.
Standing in front of the mirror, he stared at himself for a while.
His face didn't change.
His eyes were a little dark, but not too bad.
His expression was just empty.
Not tired.
More like he was temporarily useless.
He suddenly reached out and touched the mirror.
It was cold.
It couldn't be more real.
But in that instant, a very faint thought popped into his mind.
What if I closed my eyes now?
The thought didn't continue.
Not interrupted.
It simply disappeared.
As if it shouldn't have existed in the first place.
Back at his workstation, he noticed the system had refreshed automatically again.
The taskbar flashed.
The number of tasks hadn't changed.
But the order was different.
He looked at the list of tasks and suddenly felt a little unfamiliar.
Not that he couldn't understand them.
But he had a feeling that "this shouldn't be so important."
When he left work, it wasn't completely dark yet.
He walked out of the office building and stood at the door for a moment.
A breeze blew by. It wasn't cold.
It just made him more alert.
He didn't immediately head for the subway station.
Instead, he stood there, watching the crowd pass by.
Everyone knew where they were going.
Their steps were measured.
But he was a little disoriented.
Not lost.
It was that the thing he "had to go" was suddenly less clear.
His phone vibrated.
It was a message in the work group.
Someone was asking about system precedents.
He glanced at it but didn't reply.
Not that he didn't want to reply.
He just felt he didn't need to right now.
On his way home, he deliberately slowed his pace.
Not a stroll.
More like confirming something.
The convenience store downstairs had a new owner.
The shelves had been rearranged.
He stood at the door, glanced at it, but didn't go in.
These changes were all normal.
But in his eyes, they all seemed a little too late.
Back in his rented room.
The door closed, and that familiar silence returned.
The refrigerator's low hum continued.
He stood in the room, not immediately turning on the light.
This time, he didn't sit.
Instead, he lay down directly on the bed.
The movement was natural.
Unprepared.
Not deliberate.
It wasn't completely dark yet.
The light from the window filtered in thinly.
He closed his eyes.
His body quickly relaxed.
Even faster than last night.
That feeling of being lifted didn't appear immediately.
But he wasn't in a hurry.
Because he already knew—
He didn't need to exert any effort.
Just before his consciousness began to fade, he suddenly realized something.
Reality hadn't become unreal.
It was just that that place was starting to feel closer.
And he was slowly standing between the two.