Qi Xia slowly opened his eyes to the bustling city before him.
Pedestrians streamed past on either side, noisy and chaotic, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the silent despair of the “Land of the End.”
A fragrant breeze swept under the azure sky, rustling Qi Xia’s hair.
**”Beep beep beep!”**
A sharp honk blared behind him. He turned slowly to find himself standing in the middle of the road, blocking a taxi.
“Hey, kid!” The driver leaned out the window. “Quit spacing out! Move!”
Qi Xia stepped aside onto the sidewalk, and the taxi sped off with a grumble, the driver cursing under his breath.
Was this… the feeling of **life**?
Qi Xia walked forward, his mind sinking into confusion.
He couldn’t remember why he was here or what he was supposed to do.
Maybe just standing by the road, watching the crowd pass, would be enough for today.
How long had it been since he’d seen such a lively scene?
He blinked. He remembered walking this street every day, yet today felt strangely disorienting.
With heavy steps, Qi Xia made his way to a small river cutting through the city and stopped on a bridge.
He took three deep breaths, then glanced at the fish darting beneath the water. Why was everything here so… beautiful?
“Uncle!”
A childish voice rang beside him. He turned to see a little girl selling flowers.
“Want to buy one?” She held up a bouquet of white blossoms, her smile so sweet it made Qi Xia’s mind waver again.
“Flowers…?” He hesitated, his gaze growing sluggish. “I’ve lived here for years… I don’t remember anyone selling flowers.”
“I just started today!” the girl chirped. “Uncle, these flowers are only here for a little while. Once autumn comes, they’ll be gone. Want one?”
She handed him a flawless white bloom—its stem lined with hooked thorns, its leaves feathery, with five or six small white flowers on a single branch.
“End-of-summer flowers…”
Qi Xia stared at it, then jolted as if struck by lightning.
He looked down at his clothes—a cartoon lamb embroidered on his chest.
His dazed eyes turned icy, his dark pupils fading to a deathly gray.
“Ha…” His lips twisted into a ghastly smile.
The flower in his hand withered, crumbling into embers that floated into the sky.
The little girl’s body jerked unnaturally, her features slowly melting away until her face was blank.
She raised her hands—the bouquet now a cluster of severed fingers.
“Uncle… want to buy some?” Her voice echoed from the void, followed by eerie giggles.
She was happy. So was Qi Xia.
At this point, who in this place could suppress their joy?
He laughed with her, his pupils elongating into those of a goat.
So what if it was just a dream?
In this place riddled with “anchors,” even the smallest flaw was enough to wake him.
He patted the girl’s head gently. “Enough playing. Let’s welcome our guest.”
“Okay!” she shrieked, scattering the fingers like confetti.
The blue sky peeled away like wet paint, revealing a blood-red abyss.
Bricks and tiles on the city’s buildings flipped inside out, transforming into pulsing flesh.
The ground beneath him, the river—the vibrant world collapsed, draped in a stench of rot.
Pedestrians halted, their faces smoothing into blank masks before turning toward Qi Xia.
Cars dropped to the ground, morphing into fleshy husks.
The world rebuilt itself around Qi Xia—blood and viscera painting the city in madness.
The once-fresh air thickened with rot. The lively streets fell silent.
The little girl froze like a statue, her featureless face tracking Qi Xia’s movements.
All across the street, people stood motionless, their necks craning to follow him—like a field of crimson sunflowers.
“Today, we have a guest,” Qi Xia announced, arms raised. “Let’s show him our hospitality—welcome to the most beautiful dream in the world.”
Thousands of faceless faces tilted toward the sky.
The cloudless expanse twisted—and a figure in red appeared midair, hovering before slowly lowering its head.
It had no face, only a deep crimson mark on its forehead.
Qi Xia smirked and walked on as if nothing had happened.
The figure descended, drifting closer.
Crossing the bridge, Qi Xia stopped at an apartment building, then turned and waved.
Across the plaza, bones erupted from the ground, swiftly cloaked in muscle and flesh. With a thought, Qi Xia willed a monstrous structure into existence.
Two towering pillars of flesh formed, then a crossbeam—creating a grotesque archway.
Veins pulsed along its surface, alive and throbbing.
A colossal yellow-white mass took shape—a bell made of bone.
Flesh spread further, birthing a crimson screen that sprouted eyes and ears.
The sight was horrifying, yet the city’s inhabitants watched without reaction, their gaze fixed on the figure in the sky—**Tianlong**.
After finishing the bell and screen, Qi Xia entered the apartment building, climbing the squishy stairs toward **home**.
If a guest had come from afar, it was only right to invite him in.
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