Chapter 5: Gray Realm

"Gray Realm intersection?"

The term definitely existed somewhere in Chen Ling's memories. The original host must have seen it before.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten even the Gray Realm." Dr. Lin rose to his feet, poured the blood from his mug down the drain, and spoke slowly.

"Before the Great Catastrophe, someone proposed a hypothesis: countless parallel spacetimes exist within this universe. They were all formed at the birth of the earliest universe, like light released when a candle is lit, spreading in every direction. But because light is infinite, they extend endlessly toward all possibilities and never intersect."

"Then the red meteor streaked across the sky, and everything fell into chaos."

"Every spacetime was thrown into fluctuation. An unknown, eerie gray world began to overlap with reality."

Dr. Lin washed out his mug but didn't dump the water inside. Instead, he set it on the table. He'd used some force in the washing, and the water's surface was still rippling.

He tore off a piece of paper and laid it over the water. The waves soaked into the paper, spreading from scattered, uneven stains until the entire sheet was damp.

"At first, only a small portion intersected. But as time passed, more and more areas overlapped. Matter and creatures from that world began appearing in ours. Even now, most of the habitats that once belonged to humanity have been claimed by that world. Only nine 'Domains' remain to shelter mankind and keep the flame alive."

"Because the sky in that world is gray, we call it the 'Gray Realm.'"

"When the Gray Realm intersects with reality, it produces a series of supernatural events beyond all comprehension. Monsters from the Gray Realm may even descend—what we call 'Calamities.'"

"Generally speaking, among survivors who've encountered a Gray Realm intersection or been attacked by a Calamity, eighty percent suffer from mental disorders. Most never recover..."

"I suspect your current condition is connected to the 'Gray Realm.'"

"Think carefully. Have you ever encountered a Gray Realm intersection and been caught in it?"

At Dr. Lin's question, Chen Ling searched the original host's memories as hard as he could, but came up with nothing... No matter how he tried, he couldn't recall anything else from last night.

"I don't know," he said bitterly.

Dr. Lin thought for a moment, then pulled a sheet of letter paper from a drawer and began writing quickly.

"Your condition is beyond simple mental illness... I'm just an ordinary man. I can't cure you.

But I know someone. When it comes to treating the aftereffects of Gray Realm contamination, he might be able to help.

After all, he is a true [Doctor]."

At that, a faint light kindled in Chen Ling's eyes. "Where can I find him?"

"He lives in Aurora City, but he likes to wander, giving free consultations. Word of a difficult case reaches him, and off he goes. It's their path to godhood...

Anyway, give this letter to the Enforcers at the gate of Aurora City. Leave your name and address, and they'll pass it along.

Within three days at most, that [Doctor] will come to your door himself."

"Thank you!"

Chen Ling took the envelope and thanked him sincerely.

Truthfully, when he'd seen the salt grains melting on the road, Chen Ling had already sensed something was wrong. What was happening to him couldn't be explained by illness alone. He'd come to this little clinic partly because he was already halfway there, and partly because he genuinely had no idea where else might help.

From Dr. Lin's tone, this [Doctor] seemed to be someone special—and he'd mentioned a path to godhood...

Could this world have its own unique system of human cultivation? Otherwise, by Dr. Lin's account, humanity should have died out entirely during the so-called Great Catastrophe and the Gray Realm intersections.

Chen Ling even suspected that this world's warped level of science might be connected to the Great Catastrophe as well.

"You're welcome. Give my regards to your brother." Dr. Lin smiled faintly.

"He's still hospitalized in District Two... Next time I visit, I'll pass it along."

Chen Ling stood, said his goodbyes, and pushed the door open.

As that figure gradually vanished beneath the aurora-washed sky, Dr. Lin's eyes narrowed slightly.

"A performer, is he..."

...

"The first time I saw the screen in my dream, the Audience Expectation was 29%."

"When I tried to run for my life, it jumped to 30%."

"On the way here, it dropped back to 27%..."

"Just now, when Dr. Lin got pranked, it climbed to 29% again."

"Assuming the 'Audience' really is in my head, and these numbers aren't hallucinations—then what exactly makes the Expectation rise and fall?"

The cold wind bit sharply. Chen Ling wrapped his thick cotton robe tighter and walked home, turning the question over in his mind.

Stage, Audience, Expectation... Every rise seemed to accompany some event. Could those events be the "plot" unfolding onstage?

The more interesting the events around him, the more the "plot" drew the Audience in—and the higher the Expectation climbed?

The screen had said that if the Audience Expectation fell below 20%, the actor's personal safety could not be guaranteed...

What that danger actually was, Chen Ling didn't know. But given that the "Audience" could interfere with reality to some degree, there was a real chance he'd become their outlet for frustration—pranked to death by their tricks!

His reasoning felt sound, but proving it would take action.

"Maybe I should try designing the 'plot' myself."

Chen Ling murmured to himself.

"Ling, had breakfast yet?"

Chen Ling turned. At a street-side breakfast stall, an uncle with a towel wrapped around his head was fanning the stove, calling out warmly.

The instant he saw him, an idea flashed through Chen Ling's mind.

"Not yet, Uncle Zhao." A slight smile tugged at the corner of Chen Ling's mouth as he walked toward the stall.

"Come, come. Let me get you some soy milk and fried dough sticks. Heavy rain last night—damp air. You need something warm in your belly." Uncle Zhao ladled out a steaming bowl of soy milk.

"Thanks, Uncle Zhao."

Chen Ling fished in his pocket, pulled out three copper coins, and handed them over—only for Uncle Zhao to push them back.

"Uncle's treating you to breakfast. You think I'd let you pay?"

"Come on, Uncle Zhao. We've been neighbors for over ten years, but a debt's a debt."

"You stubborn kid. Uncle doesn't want your money. Just help our Xiao Yi with his studies when you've got time, and I'll bring you breakfast every day." Uncle Zhao grinned, baring a set of big yellow teeth.

"Hasn't he already graduated? He still needs tutoring?"

"With those grades of his, he won't get a job assignment. I'm thinking of having him repeat a year. Can't have him doing odd jobs forever, can he?"

"Oh..."

"Ling's the good one—smart and filial. If Xiao Yi could pass the Enforcer exam like you someday, I'd wake up laughing from my dreams."

Uncle Zhao heaved a long sigh. "Shame. The boy's got no drive."

Chen Ling's chopsticks paused mid-air. He hesitated, then finally spoke.

"Uncle Zhao... do you know why Xiao Yi's grades are so bad?"

"Huh? Why?"

Chen Ling opened his mouth, then fell silent for a long moment. At last he shook his head. "Never mind, Uncle Zhao. Pretend I didn't ask... I promised him I'd keep it secret."

"Don't do that!"

Uncle Zhao's heart rate spiked. He slipped a braised egg into Chen Ling's bowl and scratched his head in agitation.

"Ling, I know you're Xiao Yi's good friend, but some things... I'm his father. I deserve to know a little, don't I? I raised that boy alone, up before dawn and working past dark to put him through school, all so he could have a better life...

If you know something, you have to tell me! We both want what's best for him..."

Seeing Uncle Zhao so desperate, Chen Ling's expression softened. He wrestled with himself for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision.

"You're right, Uncle Zhao. As his friend, I really can't bear to watch Zhao Yi keep going down this path..."

"Down—down what path? What's happened to him?"

"He's in a relationship."

"Huh?" Uncle Zhao blinked. "The kid's got that kind of charm?"

Chen Ling bit into his fried dough stick, expression unchanged, and calmly said three words:

"With a guy."