Translator: SumTLMan
“Jon, you’ve returned quite early this time. Little Mu hasn’t come back from school yet.” The speaker was an old man, seated within a gazebo glazed on all sides, extending a greeting towards the newcomer.
“I’ve made some significant progress in my research. Finally, I’m on vacation, and hurried back to spend time with the family,” responded a youthful, magnetic voice.
Angel was at this moment closely tethered to the owner of this voice. His heart was filled with excitement. Although the voice was young, the cadence and the accent when speaking Chinese were all too familiar to him.
It was Jon!
As soon as he entered Jon’s dream, he found himself moving along a long street. Red maple trees were planted on both sides. As he moved, maple leaves occasionally fluttered down, painting a picturesque autumn scene.
However, beyond the red maples, everything was engulfed in darkness, as if swallowed by chaos.
Only this long street, in the pitch-black world, exuded a faint light.
At first, Angel was somewhat puzzled. Was this Jon’s dream? Why would it occur on a long street?
It took a while, as the person he was attached to kept moving, Angel was unable to confirm if it was Jon, or even if this dream was in the Wizarding World or the Earth of another universe.
Not until they came across a gazebo.
As the old man in the gazebo spoke, the surroundings became even brighter. Angel noticed what seemed like a residential district behind the gazebo. Judging from the architectural style, Angel roughly determined that the place shown in this dream should be Earth.
In particular, when the man walking spoke, Angel almost immediately confirmed that it was Jon’s voice.
Jon and the old man conversed in a language that was both familiar and alien to Angel. Listening to their dialogue, Angel was filled with overwhelming emotions. He hadn’t heard Jon’s voice in years, and hearing it resonate in his ears once again brought back a wave of irresistible nostalgia.
After a brief exchange with the old man, Jon headed towards the residential district.
As Jon moved on, the road behind him was blanketed in darkness. Even the old man, previously inside the gazebo, gradually faded away.
This peculiar situation pulled Angel back from his remembrance and excitement.
“Could this be… an incomplete manifestation of the dream realm?” Angel mused silently. If anyone were present in the Ice Chamber at this moment, they would see Angel’s brow furrowed in deep thought.
An incomplete manifestation of the dream realm usually refers to the dream realm being unable to fully project the dreamer’s dream.
In essence, when you dream, your attention is largely centered on the immediate events unfolding within the dream. For instance, in a pleasant dream, you might wonder about the aspects that render it “pleasant,” while in a nightmare, your focus would likely be drawn to the elements causing you “fear.” However, beyond these primary details, there are numerous other subtleties that occur within the dream—such as the details of the world and environment you’re in, nuances of light and shadow, and so forth—that you might not consciously register. Still, your brain automatically fills in these details, ultimately reflecting them within the dream realm.
While these aspects might seem insignificant to the dreamer, they constitute a fundamental part of the dream realm’s underlying structure.
However, when a dream appears incomplete, it signifies that aside from the central theme currently unfolding in the dream, the other aspects have not been properly filled in.
This kind of situation is extremely rare. Even dreams that are profoundly chaotic—where one moment you’re in the ocean, and the next you’re in the sky, with no logical continuity—can still entirely represent the ecosystem of a dream.
There are currently three known causes for an incomplete manifestation of the dream realm. The first is the dream being consumed by a creature of the dream realm. But Angel can essentially rule this out. According to Freud, the dream realm is vast, but native creatures are scarce. Personal dreams have a passive defense mechanism and are generally not attacked by creatures of the dream realm.
The second cause is the intervention of a dream-oriented wizard. Whether it’s self-control or control over someone else’s dream, dream wizards are capable of this. However, dream wizards, like gourmet wizards, are quite rare. If one were to appear near Pat Manor, Eureka would certainly be aware immediately. Therefore, this possibility can also be ruled out.
That leaves the third cause: the dreamer’s brain has been damaged, their mental strength weakened to an extreme point. Under these circumstances, the brain cannot adequately fill in a dream’s setting, only managing to present the core elements of the dream.
Angel had been aware of Jon’s physical injuries but hadn’t realized the extent of Jon’s damage. With his mental strength so depleted that he could not even sustain a complete dream, it was truly heartbreaking.
The excitement Angel had initially felt at hearing Jon’s voice had, in this moment, once again plunged into sorrow.
However, Angel’s grief did not affect Jon’s spirits within the dream.
He cheerfully entered the villa area, surrounded by chaotic darkness. Yet Jon seemed oblivious to this, cheerfully greeting the chaos every few steps.
With each greeting, the dark chaos solidified slowly into a villa, and the owner of the villa joyfully exchanged greetings with Jon.
“Look who’s back! If it isn’t our Dr. Botanist Jon!”
“Aunt Shen, don’t tease me. I’m just an ordinary researcher now, far from being a botany professor!” Jon replied, looking somewhat embarrassed.
This shy version of Jon was something Angel had never seen before.
“Little Xia has been waiting for you for over half a month. You’re not going to do like last time, are you? Come back for a day and then get dragged back to the research institute in the middle of the night by a phone call?”
Jon shook his head: “No, this time I can at least rest for a whole month! And, maybe after that, I can bring Haowei to the research institute with me.”
“That’s good!”
Upon bidding farewell to the villa’s owner, Jon, Angel witnessed the gradual vanishing of the estate, eventually dissolving into a nebulous realm of obscurity and chaos.
During his journey, Jon encountered many such scenarios. Even amidst the disarray of darkness and disorder, his uncanny awareness seemed to accurately anchor him to the location of his friends and neighbors, patiently waiting for the villa to materialize before exchanging pleasantries.
From start to end, Jon’s emotions remained high-spirited and joyous.
This ironically cast a gloom over Angel, who was privy to all these events. Despite having traversed to Pat Manor for over twenty years, Jon rarely spoke about his friends and acquaintances back on Earth. But as evident from the current circumstances, it was clear that Jon never forgot about them. Even after all these years, his memory of friends and even mere neighbors remained as vivid as ever.
Previously, Angel perceived Jon’s occasional introspective demeanor as a cue to playfully cause mischief, forcing Jon into the role of a clean-up crew. But Angel had never pondered the emotions underlying Jon’s quietude.
For Jon, the greatest distance wasn’t between life and death, but rather between him in this universe and the relationships of his past life confined to another cosmos.
Witnessing such a jovial, and even somewhat naïve Jon, Angel found it difficult to calm his stirred emotions.
Eventually, under the affectionate watch of his neighbors, Jon returned home.
Much to Angel’s surprise, while the architecture of this mansion bore resemblance to the surrounding buildings, a bamboo stilt house was constructed where a swimming pool should have been, on the side of the garden.
The stilt house bore an uncanny resemblance to the one at Pat Manor.
At that moment, lounging on the second-floor balcony of the stilt house was a woman, draped in a bamboo sun hat, soaking up the sun while lost in the world of dreams.
Jon stood at the entrance, not knocking but rather gazing up at the woman.
Even though Angel couldn’t see Jon’s expression at this moment, he had a strong hunch that Jon’s gaze was brimming with tenderness and deep affection.
Could this woman be Jon’s wife? Angel was almost certain of this speculation, given the unmistakable aura of admiration emanating from Jon.
Back in Pat Manor, when Jon was physically healthy, he had attracted the attention of many women. Angel had heard from his brother Leon that even Mana, the head maid, had cast longing glances at Jon.
But Jon had never expressed romantic interest towards any woman, maintaining a respectful distance and drawing a clear line.
When Jon’s health began to decline, Angel had once asked Jon why he didn’t marry and have a child here. After all, having a descendant would mean continuity.
In response, Jon recited an ancient Chinese poem. While Angel could not remember the exact words, the beautiful imagery of love it evoked had left a deep impression on him.
Jon cherished his wife, a love that endured even the breadth of an entire universe, that braved the torrential currents of time and space. This love, once etched in his heart, never faded nor was it ever forgotten, even in the face of insurmountable distances.
Jon rarely spoke of his wife and daughter. Angel didn’t even know their names. Yet, the memory of Jon’s radiant countenance as he recited love poems lingered in Angel’s mind, his expression aglow with a light that refused to dim.
Now, as Jon silently watched the woman on the loft, that same luminous aura seemed to envelop him once again, a beacon of emotion that Angel could not help but perceive.
Jon stood at the doorway for what seemed like an eternity, long enough for the wind-blown red maple leaves to bury his shoes in a cascade of fiery hues.
After an indeterminate amount of time, a gust of wind swept through, rustling leaves from their branches and even dislodging the sunhat perched atop the woman’s head.
The hat spun in the air, carried by the capricious wind, before finally landing in Jon’s outstretched hand.
The woman awoke at this moment, stretching languidly before noticing her missing hat. When she turned to search for it, her eyes fell on Jon standing below.
Almost instantly, she rushed to the edge of the balcony, waving cheerfully at Jon. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Jon lifted the hat in his hand, giving it a slight wave. “I just got back. I saw the wind blow your hat off.”
The woman squinted, a smile playing on her lips, as she shared a silent moment with Jon.
Only now did Angel get a good look at the woman’s face. She belonged to the same race as Jon, and through Angel’s eyes, she wasn’t traditionally beautiful. However, she exuded a classical, gentle charm that perfectly complemented Jon.
As their eyes conveyed volumes of unspoken affection, Angel noticed a trace of sorrow veiled beneath the tender affection in Jon’s gaze.
At first, he thought he must be mistaken, but then a tear slid down Jon’s face, seemingly confirming that his happiness was not unadulterated.
Watching that single tear drop fall onto his shoe, Angel was taken aback.
Was Jon moved to tears by this reunion after such a long separation? But even so, why was there a hint of sorrow?
Could it be that Jon knew, deep down, that all of this was but a dream?