Chapter 1: The Beginning of Everything

"Actually, I've been noticing you for a long time." The girl blushed shyly and continued: "We can try again together." "Sure~~" Before the words could leave her mouth, a piece of chalk hit that kid on the head.

"Feng Yan, this is your fourth time sleeping in my class this week—get out!" the teacher said angrily.

Hearing the teacher's words, he slowly rose and walked to the door outside the classroom. "Sleeping every other day—does your parents' money come easily?" the teacher scolded him again, then continued her lecture.

Until class ended, his close friend came to comfort him, saying: "Don't be too upset—teachers are all like that, right? Wearing all those brand-name clothes, it's inevitable people will see you as a nouveau riche." "I don't have the leisure to stoop to her level; if my grades are bad, they're bad—what's dragging family into it? In class there are plenty of poor performers sleeping, why doesn't she say anything?" Xiaohao, you say she's sick? Why did you suddenly stop talking?' Feng Yan felt strange, about to speak again, when Chen Hao's sentence shocked him: 'Feng Yan, the girl you like already has a boyfriend...' Upon hearing this, Feng Yan showed shock, then gave a wry smile and said: 'Really? That's good.' Just as Chen Hao was about to say something, the class bell rang and everyone returned to the classroom.

So everything was just a fantasy after all?" Feng Yan thought, "Not bad, at least it's a kind of fulfillment." "Feng Yan, what's wrong with you? Why won't you answer? School's over, go eat." "Oh," after Chen Hao called him several times, Feng Yan snapped out of it, stopped thinking, and went to eat with him. After the meal, everyone returned to the classroom, and several girls who liked gossip started chatting:

"Do you know? Wang Tingwan from the next class has a boyfriend!" "Yeah, I heard he's pretty good-looking." Hearing them, Feng Yan lowered his head and pondered: "Who is he?" But he didn't know, this answer

He absolutely didn't want to know; this would be his final meeting with that former friend. They would, over a girl, see the bridge of that once-thought-unbreakable friendship collapse instantly. "You say, do I still have a chance?" Feng Yan asked Chen Hao: "I always feel I have no chance left." "Don't say that; there should still be a chance." Chen Hao said. Actually Feng Yan didn't know why, but he felt something big was coming; to some people it would just be an extra joke, but to Feng Yan it was a heavy blow.

"By the way, there's a game lately that supposedly can connect to dreams and create a dream world—do you want to apply for one? I've already applied; I hear it has lots of novel settings." Chen Hao said happily. "A game? That kind of game isn't bad either." Feng Yan thought, it would also be a good way to relieve his gloom, so he told Chen Hao: "Just help me set one up directly—why make me fill another application form, it's a hassle." "So I went ahead and linked yours together with mine—how's that, enough sincerity?" He said, shaking his phone showing Feng Yan's application. "You've been trying to drag me into this all along, dangling these baits—Feng Yan said helplessly." "I'm doing this for you; others don't get this treatment!" Chen Hao laughed, saying, "The slots are limited—I snatched these two after staying up most of the night." "Close friend, exactly—this is how it is! I have two friends like this; am I not satisfied? Still, compared to him, I'm a bit lacking." Feng Yan thought, then said to him: "When will it arrive? Isn't this something you need a little gadget to play?" "Yeah, seems like it's a mask‑like gadget, but it's arriving this Saturday—perfect, we also have the day off," Chen Hao said.

At that moment, he suddenly recalled the game name on his phone screen: Dream Adventurers. What a game, the name is so rustic—but it's free, still a beta, so let's play, he thought. But he didn't know that this game world would later make him realize the world isn't that simple. "Will it arrive on Saturday? This thing—it's disappointing me," Feng Yan thought.

Friday afternoon's last class, everyone was basically excited; after two weeks of study, they could finally rest two days, finally relax properly. As the bell rang, everyone shot out of the classroom like flies, but Chen Hao noticed Feng Yan still slowly packing his things. "What are you doing, moving so slow?" "Hurry up or you'll get crushed in the crowd—do you want to be squeezed?" "Yeah, that's right," Chen Hao mused, then said, "Your stuff should arrive by tonight at the latest." "Really? Then I'm a bit excited," he said curiously, "I just don't know if this thing can be used for team play." "I don't know, but the new model looks decent." Chen Hao said, "I'm heading out first—they called me to take a car." "Go ahead, I won't see you off," Feng Yan said. "Then I'm leaving," his words faded as he vanished—all homesick people, Feng Yan muttered to himself, finally shouldering his backpack and walking out the school gate.

Having missed rush hour, there weren't many people; Feng Yan walked with his head down, thinking why he'd come to this school—was it his pitiful self‑esteem? Perhaps, but this question is destined to have no standard answer. Feng Yan! Someone called me, the voice so familiar; I turned, saw the corners of his mouth turn up, a smile appearing, and thought: "This kid is still the same—slightly shorter than peers, with skin so fair it makes girls jealous, slim, eyes deep with scheming, perfectly matching his strategist's face." "You're still the same, liking to think with your head down," Yang Xin said. "I thought you wouldn't make it to high school—yet you did." "How come you can and I can't?" Feng Yan feigned anger, saying, "What nonsense—if others heard you say that they'd be furious. All right, let's go; if we're late we'll miss the last bus." Feng Yan and Yang Xin walked together, just missing the last bus.

"I mean, you don't like school, so why are you still coming to class to study?" Yang Xin said to Feng Yan, his tone somewhat frivolous.

Feng Yan gazed out the car window at the scenery—patch after patch of rice fields glowing golden, heralding a good harvest this year. He looked at the outside view and slowly said: "I'm here; let them say what they will." "Could it be those rumors from old classmates before high school? Impossible—could there really be such a person?" "I don't know, but I want to be that presence." After Feng Yan finished speaking, Yang Xin fell silent, his eyes fixed on the scenery outside, as if hiding a secret he couldn't tell Feng Yan, which might doom their seemingly unbreakable friendship, he thought. His heart pounded heavily, but eventually he asked: "Is it her?" "Is it her?" Yang Xin knew this was an affirmative answer, and his heart grew more uneasy. The two said nothing more after that; upon getting off, Yang Xin said to Feng Yan: "We~~ are good friends, right?" "We are good friends," Feng Yan replied while walking and waving, saying, "See you later!" They both probably wished to be each other's best friend, maybe. Feng Yan slowly walked home, gazing at the scenery along the way—here, trees? Why are they all gone? Feng Yan felt puzzled; whenever he worried before, he'd go sit under a tree, its branches and leaves shading the sun, and all his worries would vanish. Now there were no trees, his heart held an indescribable bitterness. He wouldn't forget that in summer he used to eat ice cream under that tree, nap in its branches when tired—the tree was tall, cool up top, a breeze brushing his cheeks made him sleep soundly, though sometimes caterpillars crawled over his skin leaving days of pain—gone, he also left me, Feng Yan felt some heartache, Feng Yan gently stroked its rings with his hand, one after another, fifty rings in all—so it was fifty years old, he was a grandfather tree. At this moment, Feng Yan's heart felt a pang of sorrow. Leaving the stump behind, he headed home. Along the way, seeing the once‑dense forest now reduced to a lone stump and its rings, he thought: perhaps these are proof of their existence. All things must one day vanish—but what proves they once existed? Perhaps this is an unanswerable question, and Feng Yan finally stopped pondering; home lay right before him.

Feng Yan stepped toward the creaky wooden door of his home; his grandmother leaned against the door, asleep on a stool. "Grandma," Feng Yan forced out a few words from his throat, uneasy, saying: "Grandson's back from vacation." Hearing her grandson's voice, the grandmother slowly opened her eyes, saw her grandson standing before her, and slowly said: "The child's grown taller again—now he should be taller than your dad, right? No, last year you were already taller than your dad. People get older, their memory gets worse……" Hearing this, Feng Yan felt a pang of distress; he forced a smile uglier than a cry and said: "Grandma, you're not old—you look about fifty‑something." "Good grandson, you're getting better at speaking," the grandmother laughed happily, then pulled a parcel from behind her: "This arrived this afternoon; the postman delivered it, said it's some game device, said it's a beta product from some company, addressee is your name." Feng Yan took the parcel from her hands, tore it open quickly—just a black eye mask and a charging cable. Feng Yan wondered, could you really start a game with these? Are you messing with me? Grandma asked him: "Little Feng, what's in that package?" "Looks like an eye mask," Feng Yan told her, never mind, let's first make dinner; they'll be home soon, right?" "Yeah, sure, your uncle's kids are coming over today too." The grandmother said while walking to the kitchen to cook.

Feng Yan repeatedly looked at the thing in his hand, wondering: "How do you play this thing?" Finally unable to resist, he dialed Chen Hao's number; hearing the familiar "Hello" on the other end, he began: "What junk did you apply for, how do you use it?" "Didn't you read the manual? It says so." "Never mind telling you now—they've called me to play a game, click……" "The manual?" Feng Yan then remembered there was such a thing; he unfolded the paper, which read: "This game is a beta version; the game is currently in open beta; content pending update. To enter the game, just wear the equipment." That's it? Just that simple? Feng Yan found it strange—what technology lets you enter a game with just a tiny eye mask? Half‑believing, he placed the eye mask before his eyes, slowly put it on, and at the moment of donning it he felt as if he'd entered another world, then a few characters appeared: "Dream Adventurers." This game relates to dreams, Feng Yan thought—sounds decent—then instantly a line popped up: "The game hasn't reached launch time yet; please wait; we'll notify you of the opening via SMS." "This official sure knows how to tease—alright, I'll wait," Feng Yan laughed: "Fine, let's wait and see what nonsense this can produce." "Little Feng, it's time to eat." "Coming," Feng Yan said, then sprinted to the kitchen to grab his bowl and chopsticks and eat.

"Hey! Right, weren't Uncle and cousin supposed to come too? Where are they?" Feng Yan asked. "According to the time, they should be about here." "Yeah, the sound started

"Grandma said, 'It's time—why aren't they here yet?' Then the phone rang; Grandma picked up the receiver, and the voice said: 'Mom, I have something tonight, so I'm going home to eat.' 'All right, go attend to your business,' Grandma hung up, then gently told Feng Yan: 'Eat first—Grandpa's out delivering gifts, so eat first.' Feng Yan stopped speaking, shoveling food into his mouth, eating the vegetables haphazardly, not knowing what he was eating. He just felt upset, thinking: 'Is it that people become lonely when they get old?' 'Grandson, eat slowly—I'm going to sleep first; if you don't want to wash the bowl, just put it in the pot with some water, I'll wash it tomorrow,' Grandma said, then went to fetch water for a bath. Feng Yan ate a lot, not knowing why; he kept eating until he was stuffed, could take no more rice and veg, then stopped. He cleared the table, gathered the bowls and plates, placed them slowly into the pot, scrubbed them clean, then put them back on the rack. 'Maybe this will prompt me to make some changes,' Feng Yan thought, and thus his excited heart finally began to calm down gradually."

Thus Feng Yan stopped thinking, fetched his change of clothes, prepared to soak in a hot bath to relax, when a text arrived on his phone: "10 minutes until the game starts." "Ah, not even time for a bath—really…" Feng Yan said, "Looks like the bath plan is postponed; I'll just wash up quickly." So he hastily finished washing, waited for the moment the service would go live, they anticipated: "What kind of game is this exactly?" Feng Yan checked the time—still three minutes, not long but not short either; since everyone awaited what the game would be, they restrained their heartbeats, letting time tick by second by second—however, in the final minute, Feng Yan inexplicably put on the eye mask, lay down, and fell asleep!

In the dream, Feng Yan felt something guiding him, walking toward a place—unknown how long, maybe about a minute. He arrived at a new world, a dream world. He stepped onto this land, came to an open clearing, and thought: "Am I actually asleep?" Feng Yan, Feng Yan, over here! He followed the voice, step by step, until Chen Hao on the other side waved at him and punched his chest. "Huh? Doesn't hurt? Seems this is definitely a game," Feng Yan muttered to himself. "Of course it doesn't hurt—how's that, not bad?" Chen Hao asked Feng Yan. "Give it a try?" Feng Yan said.

Suddenly, a voice came from the sky: "Welcome, adventurers, to the Dream Continent!"