Human dreams were usually fragmented, their contents chaotic, disorganized, and as wild as a soaring Heavenly Horse. Very few people could clearly remember what they dreamed about, who they met, what they said, or what they did.
Ying Ping, however, felt that today's dream was somewhat special.
He clearly remembered walking down a long, seemingly endless corridor that looked exactly like the one in the hospital where his grandfather worked. It was completely silent all around him, so quiet that only the sounds of his own breathing and footsteps remained. Ying Ping was not a brave teenager; normally, he wouldn't even dare to read or listen to ghost stories. Yet today, he felt exceptionally bold. It was as if he knew deep down that this would be a good dream, free from any monsters or demons.
"Almost there, almost there—" a clear, unfamiliar voice told him in his mind.
