One seagull soared high, tracing an elegant arc against the pale golden horizon; the other skimmed low over the tombstone, its wings nearly brushing the stone surface, as if whispering some wordless attachment. Just as it swept past, a single feather drifted down—snow-white, almost transparent—slowly spiraling in the wind.
I instinctively reached out to catch it, but just as my fingertips were about to touch it—
Thump!
A dull sound shattered the cemetery's peace.
The feather jolted violently, as if slashed open by a blade mid-air, splattering a shocking crimson. It spun slowly in my vision, its pure white instantly stained scarlet, like a drop of blood diffusing in clear water, swiftly devouring the last trace of purity.
In that instant, the graveyard, the tombstone, the sunset, the sound of the wind—everything shattered and collapsed.
I felt my heart lurch; a sudden, blunt pain stole my breath. The world twisted, blood rushed boiling to my head, and my whole being seemed torn into a void of darkness.
"...Where is this?"
I struggled to open my eyes. Blurry whiteness filled my vision. Harsh light poured down from the ceiling. Hazy outlines slowly sharpened, resolving into the clean shape of a white cap.
For a moment, I thought it was them. My wife. My daughter.
My heart clenched violently. Almost instinctively, I reached out, trying to grasp that figure. But my fingertips met only rough fabric. A white cloth sleeve, the faint smell of disinfectant.
"You… you… have I finally returned to you?"
My voice was hoarse, forced out from the depths of my throat.
The person, however, gently patted the back of my hand. Her voice was soft, yet carried a chilling unfamiliarity. "Aaron,take it easy. Don't move yet."
I was stunned. My eyes gradually focused, making out her face—a young nurse.
A needle seemed to pierce my chest. In that moment of shattered hope, emptiness and despair rose from deep within, flooding my entire body like a tide.
I turned my head with difficulty, trying to find the tombstone, the seaside, the warm illusions I once held. But what met my eyes was a cold hospital bed, deathly pale walls, the pungent smell of medicine.
No ocean, no wind, no them.
My lips trembled, my breath grew rapid, my voice nearly cracking: "What… what is going on?"
The nurse spoke soothingly, "You're in the hospital. There was an incident. Don't overthink it; just rest."
I wanted to press further, but my throat was blocked by tears, unable to make a sound.
Soon, I was carefully helped into a wheelchair. The nurse pushed me out of the room. At the end of the corridor, slanting sunlight streamed through the glass window, its warmth falling coldly on my heart.
"Let's get some fresh air," she said softly.
The wheelchair stopped before a park bench. She helped me sit down slowly, told me not to move around, then walked away.
I sat quietly, letting the wind tousle my hair. The park lawn was emerald green, dappled with sunlight. The wind rustled through the leaves. The air carried the fresh, bitter scent of grass, yet my chest felt increasingly hollow.
—Freedom.
The word surfaced in my mind. Was it the eternal sleep of death, or the agony of clinging to life? I could no longer tell.
Then, I saw them.
Kevin, Lucy, Minghao, Xiuluo… those figures from the "game"—comrades, adversaries, accusers. Now, they were like ordinary people, strolling casually on the grass. Some looked at their phones, others chatted, as if just off work.
My heart constricted violently. Trembling, I stood up and stumbled toward them: "You… why are you here? Do you… know me?"
They looked up one after another, smiling at me. Their smiles were stiff, hollow, as if veiled by a thin layer of ice.
The next second, they spoke in unison: "Sorry, we don't know you."
My mind exploded. My lips parted, but only a dry, breathy sound came out: "But… didn't you all die?"
They didn't answer. They just turned away indifferently, their figures receding into the deeper shadows of the trees.
I stood rooted, breath ragged, my chest feeling torn apart. The air seemed thin, the ground beneath my feet unsteady.
"Could it be… was it all just an illusion while I was alive?"
I stumbled back to the hospital room and drew the heavy curtains. Darkness enveloped me. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the dried bloodstains on my palm. They were like remnants of another life, reminding me of the pain and struggle I had endured.
My mind was a tangled mess; reality and delusion intertwined. I couldn't tell which was more cruel.
Suddenly, a gust of wind stirred the curtains. The lingering sunset glow outside slanted into the room, dyeing half of it red. I looked up—
The outline of the park remained. The sun was slowly setting. And there, bathed in that golden light, I saw them.
My wife gently held our daughter's shoulder, standing quietly in a corner of the park. Hand in hand, they watched me. My daughter smiled as brightly as ever, her young voice seeming to pierce the air: "Daddy—!"
Tears welled in my wife's eyes, yet they held tenderness, as if telling me it was all over now.
I stared blankly, tears rolling down silently. My heart felt struck heavily, but I could make no sound.
The wind brushed past, lifting a few leaves in spirals. Two seagulls soared over the distant sea, skimming through the sunset's afterglow, one high, one low, until they finally vanished into the sky.
In that moment, I suddenly understood, though I didn't speak it aloud.
Whether it was real or a delusion from my clinging to life, I believe—
In that moment, I truly held them again.
Perhaps that was the freedom I had longed for all along.