— This was not a farewell, but a guiding light
December 17, 1960—the day the thermometers shattered across the commune.
No smoke had risen for a long time.
The earthen stove, built from sun-dried bricks, was nothing but an empty hole now. The hearth was as cold as a tomb, the pot missing, only a few charred ashes curled up in the corner—like scraps of memory desiccated by time.
The communal canteen of the People's Commune stood hollow and silent, as if even echoes had abandoned the dead quiet.
On the wall, a faded slogan read, "Eat Freely!" The two vermilion characters had cracked and begun to peel; one had even been eaten through by insects, as if the era itself was beginning to collapse.
Eliya sat on an old wooden bench by the window, holding a porcelain bowl in his hands—Lin Xue's bowl.
A new, hairline crack traced the rim of the bowl, as though time was quietly tearing apart a past that could never be reversed.
He had been waiting there for three whole days.
Lin Xue still hadn't returned.
Outside the window, the cold wind pushed in through the broken door frame, scattering the furnace ash.
Not far away, a few children huddled around a dirt-made firepit, roasting wild vegetable roots they'd gathered from the field ridges. The fire flickered weakly. Their thin arms cast long, fragile shadows on the wall—like paper figures, ready to be blown away by the wind.
The older children glanced occasionally toward the kitchen—
There was no one there.
And no pot of porridge would ever be cooked again.
---
Footsteps approached.
Eliya looked up abruptly.
It wasn't Lin Xue.
It was Secretary Liang, wearing a washed-out navy Zhongshan suit—with frayed cuffs where the red thread of revolution had unraveled.He holding a notebook stuffed with a red-headed document.
"Comrade Eliya, you're still here?"
Eliya didn't respond, just rose silently.
Secretary Liang smiled faintly. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were like ink lines, frozen mid-flow.
"Lin Xue isn't coming back," he said lightly, as if merely delivering a delayed notice. "She's been taken to the county seat. The authorities are investigating her for 'rightist rhetoric.' You'd best distance yourself."
"What did she do wrong?"
"It's not what she did, it's what she said."
Eliya stared at him for a few seconds. Then he smiled.
In that smile was the crumbling of a young man's faith—and a silent resolve leaking through the cracks in a mirror.
"Secretary Liang, you've been hungry before, haven't you?"
Liang frowned.
"You've stood in line… eaten bitter shepherd's purse roots, haven't you?"
Liang paused, then said quietly, "But I survived by following the Party."
Eliya nodded. "I understand now."
With that, he turned and walked into the kitchen.
It was completely empty.
He opened the small box where Lin Xue used to hide grain, and found a yellowed slip of paper.
On it was a childhood rhyme:
"When the sun goes down, there's nothing to eat,
The river runs cold, no warmth, no heat.
Don't look back, don't make a sound—
Speak too soon, and food won't be found."
He stared at the lines until his tears blurred the words.
---
Temporary Detention Facility, Southeast Corner of the County
Lin Xue leaned against the wall. Her lips were cracked, but her gaze remained defiant.
She had lost count of how many days she'd been held.
Outside, voices shouted:
"Lin Xue is a rightist! A spy!"
A stone hit the window.
She didn't flinch.
She only slipped the pen and paper in her hands under the tattered cotton quilt.
She had scavenged them that morning from outside the latrine.
She had written a "confession"—but not for the authorities.
It was a letter to Eliya.
"…If you're reading this, it means I couldn't wait for you. I didn't betray you. I didn't give up. But I can't let you destroy yourself for me. You're still the one inside the mirror. And I… I've already been cast out by the world outside it."
"What scares me most isn't that they might kill us.
It's that they want us to live like we're already dead."
"Don't come back. Don't try to save me."
"Go see the wider world. Go find a truer answer."
She finished writing, and hid the letter between two loose bricks in the wall.
Then she closed her eyes.
---
Nightfall.
Wind and dust lashed against the window of the old Administration Zone.
Shawn sat beside a long-abandoned desk, coated in dust.
Les was adjusting the neural interface, sweat beading on his forehead.
"He still hasn't emerged from the vision."
Shawn stared at the neuro-sync display. Eliya's consciousness was unnaturally calm—too calm. Not a ripple.
"He doesn't want to wake up."
"What do we do?"
Shawn whispered, "I have to go in—deeper."
He knew: one moment too late, and that boy would be lost forever in the mirror dream.
Les frowned. "Going one level deeper violates Deep Dive Protocol, Article 3. Your own memories could be rewritten."
"He believes that era was real," Shawn said, eyes shut. "We have to bring him something impossible."
---
Deep Dive Layer.
The canteen reappeared.
But this time, there was fire.
And by the stove stood a figure—Lin Xue.
She wore a pale blue work shirt and crouched beside the fire, cooking porridge.
The air was rich with the scent of rice.
Eliya's eyes widened. He stumbled forward, overwhelmed.
"Lin Xue?!"
She stood up and smiled at him.
"You're here."
Tears welled in his eyes.
"How are you here?"
"You waited for me. How could I not be?"
He reached out, trying to grasp her fingers—but her image trembled slightly.
Shawn stepped in through the door.
He took in the scene and said softly,
"Eliya… this isn't real."
Eliya turned slowly, eyes dazed.
"She's waiting for me."
"She's not her," Shawn said, walking closer.
"You created this Lin Xue—to make up for the one you couldn't save."
"Is she… really gone?"
Shawn didn't answer. He simply handed him a letter.
Lin Xue's letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable, each stroke burned into the paper like relics from another time.
Eliya read it, and tears fell.
There were dark, rusty stains on the paper's edge—blood or mud, he couldn't tell.
He looked at the image of Lin Xue and whispered, "I'm sorry."
She smiled gently.
"I never blamed you."
Her form began to fade in the light. Before disappearing completely, she spoke once more:
"Remember me… not because I left—but because you once believed in something true."
---
The conscious space cracked open.
Eliya slowly opened his eyes.
He was in the silence pod.
Shawn and Les stood beside him.
"You've awakened at last," Shawn said softly.
Eliya looked at them. His voice was hoarse:
"…She saved me once. I can't forget her a second time."
Shawn nodded. "She wanted you to keep going."
The pod hatch slowly opened.
In the distance, morning light pierced through the pollution layer, casting the day's first beam across the tower top.
Eliya stood, his fingertips pressing against the pod's cold rim as if testing reality, then voice hoarse but firm:
"Let's go."
"Go where?" Les asked.
Eliya looked ahead. There were no mirror shards in his eyes now—only a clear reflection of the present:
"To wake Rin. With you."
At that moment, the signal module in Shawn's hand shook violently.
A countdown blared across the neural feed—
"Lockdown time remaining: 010:00, 09:59, 09:58…"
Les whipped around:
"The Redline node's been exposed! Landsay is calling us—"