Chapter Three: Not Everything Is Within Reach

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At ten o’clock at night, for this city, it seemed as if people had just begun to close their eyes, yet none were truly asleep.

“You love me~ I love you~ Sweet as ice and snow~”

The red signboard and the sweet melody filled the air. The milk tea shop at the entrance of Chunhua Residential Complex was still open for business.

Inside the shop, one side boasted a white counter, where a man was on duty.

He was He Ping, an employee of the shop.

At this hour, he was responsible both for taking orders and preparing milk tea.

Fortunately, at ten at night, there were not many customers.

So most of his attention was focused on one peculiar patron.

This person was strange.

On an August evening, he was dressed in a gray turtleneck trench coat, wearing a round-brimmed hat and sunglasses.

His face square-shaped, with stubble.

As for his age? He looked to be in his forties or fifties, but He Ping wasn’t sure. It was rare to see older people drinking milk tea.

The odd man had been sitting there since nine, continuously drinking milk tea.

From fresh orange juice to taro ball boba, he had already downed more than a dozen cups.

One after another, even the most bitter coffee was swallowed without hesitation.

After more than an hour, he hadn’t gone to the restroom, which amazed He Ping.

Wasn’t he afraid of overeating? Or of diabetes?

At that moment, another person entered through the door.

This newcomer was dressed in a suit, carrying a briefcase.

Though a bit stout, he was handsome but young, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, with slightly thinning hair.

He Ping asked, “What would you like to drink?”

The man replied, “Nothing. I’m here to find someone.”

With that, he approached the trench-coated stranger sitting opposite.

“I’m here!” he declared.

“You shouldn’t have come!” the trench-coated man responded.

“I had to come!”

“You’re late!”

“I couldn’t help being late!”

“Why couldn’t you help it? What could be more important than meeting us?”

“Because of overtime!”

“...”

“That’s actually a good excuse!”

Listening to their exchange, He Ping felt these two must have something wrong with them.

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Just then, two young girls entered the shop and ordered two cups of milk tea. He Ping busied himself with their order, tuning out the strange conversation.

The man in the trench coat was named Chen Shizi—not “Stone” and “Chen,” but “Stone” and “Zichen” as a single name.

He was a senior investigator with the Bureau of Investigation.

As the title suggests, an investigator probes into special matters.

Like the one at hand.

In a low voice, Chen Shizi asked, “Did you bring it?”

The balding young man opposite him was his colleague, Lu Nanxing.

Lu Nanxing also spoke quietly, “Why do I talk like this?”

Chen Shizi said, “You know why.”

Lu Nanxing fell silent.

Of course he knew. Something about “this place” had changed, altering the way they spoke.

The two had come precisely to investigate “this place.”

“This place” was known to shift frequently, causing people’s speech patterns to change involuntarily.

Sometimes, they spoke with a lisp; other times, their tone became refined, even poetic; occasionally, their speech turned downright odd, as now.

“When did it start?” Lu Nanxing touched his thinning hair.

“Just now, after I drank my fourth milk tea,” Chen Shizi replied.

Hearing this, Lu Nanxing said no more, instead handing his briefcase to Chen Shizi.

“Everything you asked for is inside.”

“All of it?” Chen Shizi asked.

“Of course. Data on all 4,500 enterprises in the city is there!” Lu Nanxing said.

“All are cases of serious overtime,” he added.

“You did well!” Chen Shizi praised. His capable colleague saved him much trouble.

“This place” was a dreamscape, a legendary realm of dreams.

Some called it “the Other Shore,” others “the Vacuum Homeland,” “Bodhisattva Pure Land,” “Spirit Sky Immortal Realm,” or “R’lyeh” or even “the Silver City”...

To different people, “this place” bore various names.

Within the Bureau of Investigation, it was simply called “Dream City.”

Entry to “Dream City” was only possible through dreams.

It did not exist in reality, only within the dream realm, accessible to only a few by chance.

The Bureau had tried many methods before discovering how to enter “this place.”

Chen Shizi and Lu Nanxing were among the current batch of investigators sent into “Dream City.”

Before them, many predecessors had ventured here. They combined past experiences to conduct their inquiries.

When their time was up, they would leave “Dream City” and pass their findings to the next team.

Batch after batch, generation after generation, someday the Bureau would unravel all the mysteries of “Dream City.”

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They aimed to uncover the secrets of “Dream City,” so it would no longer interfere with the real world.

“Dream City” operated under many strange rules, the most important being: to live comfortably here, one must work overtime.

The more severe the overtime, the happier you were.

If you didn’t work overtime, misery would befall you.

Falling objects from the sky, out-of-control cars, inexplicable criminals—these would strike you with unforeseeable misfortune within the dream.

Dying in the dream did not mean death in reality; it only meant leaving the dream.

For those who accidentally stumbled into “Dream City,” leaving wasn’t bad.

But for investigators, they had to remain in the dream.

Hence, they had no choice but to work overtime.

Lu Nanxing’s once thick hair had thinned to baldness, giving him the aura of a seasoned programmer, a symbol of strength.

“Why am I the only one working overtime? The only one losing hair?” he muttered, harboring some resentment.

He was not even thirty!

How could one lose hair even in a dream? No wonder some regarded “Dream City” as a real world.

Chen Shizi said nothing, merely removing his hat.

Beneath it was a receding hairline—a clear Mediterranean bald spot.

Working late, losing hair was inevitable.

Wasn’t he working overtime too?

“All for the job, it’s worth it!” Chen Shizi said solemnly, putting his hat back on.

They bore the mission of the Bureau; even hair loss was a price they were willing to pay.

“What will you have to drink?” Chen Shizi opened the briefcase, revealing a stack of documents.

Lu Nanxing, younger, usually drank mid-priced “Overlord Tea” or the like. He seldom drank “Ice King” milk tea.

“Anything is fine!” he said.

Chen Shizi called out to the counter, “Ten cups of Grape Taro Boba, extra sugar!”

How does one know they are dreaming?

Some say, spin a top—in a dream, the top never stops spinning.

Others suggest solving a complex math problem, like Fourier transforms—impossible to calculate in a dream.

Still others advise walking straight with eyes closed—in dreams, you end up somewhere strange.

But in “Dream City,” predecessors distilled their own method:

Drink milk tea.

Drink “Ice King” milk tea.

Drink over a dozen cups, never feeling full or bored.

Such is the absurdity of dreams.

Drink “Ice King” milk tea, become a dreamer.