Chapter 110: The Nightmare Ends, Then a New Nightmare

Liu Jianjun doesn't know how he walked back home.

He moves like a walking corpse whose bones and soul have been stripped away, drifting in the sea of neon lights of the city.

Cars stream like water, horses like dragons, and the human voices boil.

Yet none of it has anything to do with him.

Those sounds, those lights and shadows are separated by a thick, cold glass, blurry and distant.

In his world only a buzzing tinnitus remains.

Power?

Connections?

The authority of the Deputy Detachment Chief?

In front of the Federal Weird Investigation Bureau bearing the Weird emblem, everything he has pursued all his life becomes a colossal joke.

A single phone call stripped him of the right to avenge his daughter.

He doesn't even have the power to know the truth.

What is he?

A dispensable Clown.

A self‑righteous but pitiful worm being toyed with by higher‑dimensional forces.

Powerlessness.

An unprecedented sense of powerlessness, like a heavy tsunami, completely drowning him, making even breathing feel like a luxury.

He even begins to have absurd thoughts.

Could all this be just a dream?

A dream born from his overwhelming work stress, extremely realistic and extremely cruel?

Ka‑da.

The key is inserted into the lock and turned.

The familiar mechanical sound pulls him a little out of the chaos.

He pushes the door open, and the foyer's sensor light lights up, warm yellow light spilling onto his paper‑pale face.

"Honey, you're back?"

From the kitchen comes his wife's light voice, accompanied by the crisp clatter of spatula and iron pan, and the exhaust fan's "whoosh" sound.

"I made your favorite sweet‑and‑sour spare ribs, and also simmered soup; go wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon!"

The wife hums an off‑key little tune, her tone full of everyday warmth and satisfaction.

Liu Jianjun freezes at the doorway, his whole being nailed in place by this sudden, out‑of‑place domestic atmosphere.

His body trembles violently.

Each word of his wife's voice is like a red‑hot branding iron, scorching his nerves.

Sweet‑and‑sour spare ribs?

Simmered soup?

Their daughter, their only daughter, her corpse still remains in the cold morgue!

How could she?

How could she?

How can she be so calm, so... happy?

"Oh dear, honey, what's wrong? Your complexion looks so bad?"

The wife quickly notices Liu Jianjun's abnormality, her face pure, unmasked concern.

"Are you exhausted from work? I've told you so many times, don't push yourself so hard, health comes first..."

Her hand, bearing a hint of worry, is about to touch Liu Jianjun's forehead.

Snap!

Liu Jianjun grabs her wrist, his strength so great that the wife cries out in pain.

"You..."

"Why are you like this?" Liu Jianjun's voice is hoarse like sandpaper rubbing, each word forced from deep in his throat.

"Why are you so indifferent?"

"Our daughter! Ya Ya! She clearly has already... already..."

"Dead" that word he cannot utter no matter what.

The wife's face is filled with incomprehension; she struggles hard to break free, but is held tighter.

"Liu Jianjun! What are you doing!"

She frowns, her eyes full of bewildered confusion as if looking at a lunatic.

"What do you mean Ya Ya is what? What's wrong with Ya Ya? Isn't Ya Ya just writing homework in her room?"

"You two are fighting again? Stop talking about her, the child has grown, it's normal to have rebellious feelings..."

Boom!

Liu Jianjun's mind goes blank.

What did he say?

Ya Ya... writing homework in the room?

Before the words finish.

Squeak—

The bedroom door is pushed open.

A girl with slightly disheveled hair walked out, her face full of impatience.

"Dad, Mom, can you keep it down?"

"You're so loud I'm trying to do my homework!"

The girl complained, her face showing the typical teenage irritability.

It was Liu Ya.

It was the Liu Ya who should have been lying in the morgue, face twisted, having been scared to death... Liu Ya!

She stood there, alive.

Alive.

Liu Jianjun's pupils suddenly contracted to a point.

He let go of his wife's hand and, as if under a petrification spell, stared motionlessly at that fresh, lively daughter.

Time stopped at that moment.

The air solidified at that moment.

He saw.

He saw his daughter walk over, her tone full of complaint.

"Dad, why are you looking at me? Is there something on my face?"

Liu Jianjun slowly raised his trembling, unsteady hand.

He extended his hand cautiously, as if touching a priceless treasure, gently caressing his daughter's cheek.

Warm.

Hot.

With the delicate softness and suppleness unique to a girl.

It was real.

This isn't a dream!

Liu Jianjun jerked his hand back, then, with all his strength, violently squeezed his own thigh!

Excruciating pain!

A heart‑rending, gut‑wrenching pain surged instantly!

It hurts!

It hurt so much he almost shouted!

Not a dream!

All of this is not a dream!

His daughter... is still alive!

His wife, worried, walked over and touched his forehead, then hers.

"No fever... Jianjun, what's wrong with you?"

She looked at him anxiously, her tone full of confusion.

"What nonsense did you just say? Ya Ya is fine, right?"

"Look at you, your eye circles are all dark—must be too much stress lately, you're exhausted, had a nightmare, right?"

Nightmare...

Yes!

It was a nightmare!

It must have been a nightmare!

Because of overwhelming stress and extreme fatigue, he had an incredibly realistic nightmare!

In the dream, his daughter died.

In the dream, a damn Investigation Bureau stripped him of his power.

In the dream, he knelt on the ground like a dog.

Right! That's exactly it!

That thought, like a lifeline, was seized instantly by his frantic mind.

The painful, desperate, cold memories of the past few days began to blur, fade, and warp rapidly...

Indeed.

How could that be possible?

He is the Deputy Detachment Chief of Criminal Investigation!

Who dares to take his authority?

His daughter, lively and cute, couldn't possibly have just died like that.

It must be a nightmare!

A massive, indescribable euphoria, like a flash flood, instantly overwhelmed all his reason and defenses.

A soul that a second ago was tormented in hell was suddenly yanked back to heaven!

"Hey! Dad? Why are you crying?"

Liu Ya looked at her suddenly tear‑filled father, a little at a loss.

Liu Jianjun could no longer control himself.

He grabbed his wife and daughter, hugging them tightly, fiercely, into his arms!

This reclaimed embrace drained all his strength.

He could smell the familiar scent of his wife's cooking, feel his daughter's warm body and her reluctant struggle.

Everything is so real, so beautiful.

Great......

Great......

He sobbed uncontrollably, like a lost child who finally found home, burying his face deep in his wife's shoulder, wailing loudly.

You're all here...... How wonderful......

His wife and daughter were bewildered by his sudden action, but they still reached out, gently patting his broad back, over and over.

All right, all right, it's fine, you're a grown man, still crying.

Exactly, Dad, aren't you ashamed?

Under the warm lighting of the living room, the three of them clung tightly together.

Heartwarming.

Happiness.

Liu Jianjun felt he had never been this happy before.

He swore that from now on he would cherish the present happiness doubly, be better to his wife, and have more patience with his daughter.

Work, power, to hell with them!

Nothing is more important than family!

The view slowly pulls back.

Past the warmly embracing family, it finally settles on an inconspicuous home surveillance camera in the corner of the living room.

Beside the camera's lens, a faint red light persists in flashing.

It faithfully records this 'touching' scene.

Switch to the monitoring electronic screen.

On the screen, noise and snowflakes jump silently.

The living room scene remains clear.

Liu Jianjun's figure is also clear and normal.

On his face hangs a smile of extreme happiness and extreme madness, tears and snot smearing his face.

And where his arms embrace......

There, two human-shaped silhouettes stand, composed of countless chaotic noise points and distorted garbled code.

Those two outlines flicker and deform violently, like ghosts under severe signal interference.

The warm living room.

The touching reunion.

In the cold world of electronic eyes, it is merely a madman tightly embracing two indescribable monsters, alone performing a happy one-man show.

In the lower right corner of the image, a black numeric timestamp jumps precisely.

18:14:01.

18:14:02.

18:14:03.

ps:

Please, all you esteemed viewers, use your urging little hands of fortune to click for likes and gifts, thank you very much orz

This book has actually received little positive or negative feedback all along; the traffic isn't enough for daily meals, and the rating has even been bombed by people.

I mainly wrote it out of interest.

But life rushes everyone along; recently some work matters have taken up too much of my mind, also draining my creative enthusiasm.

My original intention has gathered dust. Without sufficient feedback, it's hard to persist like this.

Therefore, I hope everyone here will give more support to the author.

Maybe one more casual like could give me the courage to open the document again late at night after work.

Maybe one more appreciative tip could let me buy a cup of life‑sustaining coffee to continue cultivating this patch of pure land beyond life.

Thank you all~

(There's still another chapter to be uploaded later, because the manuscript has already been sent, and I'm working overtime today.)