Doomsday Wonderland Vol. 13: Sleepwalking in Dreamland [Complete]

1626: Short Film

Is this a trap? Or is she being sincere?

After all, the other party was an imperial citizen. Being captured as a suspected threat versus being captured as a posthuman could lead to entirely different fates... She should escape now, before Dong Luorong came out of the bedroom, right?

The thought was clear, but Xie Feng still remained seated on the couch, motionless. Curiosity was part of it, but the other reason was simple: she was too exhausted—this day had stretched far too long.

"Oh, you didn't run?"

Dong Luorong emerged from the bedroom, carrying an armful of items. She seemed slightly surprised to see Xie Feng still there.

Xie Feng gave an awkward smile.

"Change into this," Dong Luorong said, tossing her a set of pajamas. "Wearing damp clothes must feel miserable. Take a shower while you're at it."

It was miserable.

"And since we're going to watch a movie, it's better to be comfortable."

A movie? Weren't they just talking about investing in posthumans? Xie Feng grumbled to herself as she went into the bathroom, rinsed off, and put on the pajamas. Strangely, because this was a hotel rather than a home, she didn't feel like she was invading someone's personal space. The sleeves and pant legs were a bit too long, and the fabric felt slick and cold against her skin, making her sneeze.

It was freezing—Dong Luorong seemed to prefer keeping the room at a temperature few humans would find comfortable.

Shivering, Xie Feng returned to the living room. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the gray sheets of rain draped over the city like a giant curtain. In the soft sound of rainfall, it felt as if only she and Dong Luorong existed in the world.

It was already five or six in the evening, but the dimness outside made it seem like a dream hovering between sleep and wakefulness. Dong Luorong sat on the sofa, her face etched with the subtle play of dim twilight, which picked out the contours of her bones in a way that made her features look like the pale surface of plaster—like the tombstone of a dying sun.

It was hard to believe that she and the fat man on the train were both human.

In front of Dong Luorong was an open laptop. It looked barely used, with a spotless interface that still displayed the original welcome message from the day it was purchased. Aside from that, it contained nothing.

Xie Feng sat down beside her, feeling herself drawn into that strange, almost-fermented scent that seemed to cling to Dong Luorong—as if she were a flower on the verge of withering, needing the cold air to slow her decay and hold onto her time in this world just a little longer.

"What are we watching?" Xie Feng asked, unable to hold back her curiosity. "And I still don't understand what you meant earlier about investing in posthumans..."

Dong Luorong didn't answer. She clicked open a video, one that Xie Feng recognized immediately. Everyone in the world, she was afraid, knew it by heart.

It was the warning broadcast from their neighboring star—a short film just under ten minutes long, an unusually lengthy transmission by interstellar standards.

"Eight minutes and forty seconds in total," Dong Luorong said as she pressed play. "The first six minutes and fifteen seconds are spent introducing the situation and stressing its authenticity."

Xie Feng hugged a throw pillow, leaning in to watch the screen, still dazed. 'What is even happening right now? Just a few hours ago, wasn't I looking for a smuggler to arrange an illegal crossing?' The world was so unpredictable.