The recurring cycle of bad dreams
Taipei is 1,696 kilometers away from Beijing.
This is a stormy love story between three men. It starts confusingly and unfolds in a complicated way. It begins with thunder and lightning in Beijing and ends with the spring flowers in Taipei.
Because of a movie called "Lan Yu" 20 years ago, in Beijing, a big city suitable for wandering, every man who uses men as a harbor will subconsciously never give up looking for his own "Lan Yu".
He never imagined that an encounter while lost in Beijing would lead him to find his final spiritual peace in the sky of Taipei.
A Cang, a strange boy named Sky, is destined to be reborn from the ashes like Nezha.
However, due to some fateful reasons, please allow me to start this detailed story from the very beginning, with a dream, a dream towards the sun.
Xiangyang in the dream was seventeen years old. He had been repeating and rewinding the same dream countless times.
Xiangyang looked at the self in the dream with an almost compassionate look, staring straight at him, not wanting to look away. Gradually, he couldn't recognize which me it was. Was he dreaming of another me?
Or maybe, that wasn't actually me, but my twin brother Xiang Hai, who had the exact same face as me?
Xiangyang asked himself, he always indulged himself in this luxurious state of half-sleep and half-wakefulness...
What kind of dream was that?
It was a windless afternoon, and the sunlight danced and spun like a ballerina on the treetops, leaves, and all the limbs of the young men who had nowhere to vent their energy...
It is a sunny March day with warm sunshine and chirping birds on the campus of a middle school in Beijing. The world is dazzlingly bright.
The bell for the end of get out of class has long faded away, and noisy students are pouring out of the classroom like a tide, chasing and playing in the corridor. The breath of youth is steaming in the air, so strong that it runs irregularly.
Xiangyang, a 17-year-old boy in a white school uniform, with a schoolbag hanging on his shoulder, was dialing the number on his mobile phone screen quickly with his brows slightly furrowed.
There was a busy tone of "beep...beep..." from the phone receiver, but no one answered.
"Play ball, Xiangyang!" Two tall figures caught up from behind, one of them was hitting a basketball in his hand, making a wanton and crazy banging sound.
Xiang Yang didn't even turn around, his voice filled with impatience: "No, I have an appointment with my brother."
"Come with Xiang Hai! The more people the better..." another classmate said.
Xiangyang didn't say anything, but kept walking. He just put the phone to his ear again, and the confusion in his tone had escalated into anxiety: "Why didn't you answer the phone?"
He stared at the phone screen, hung up, and reluctantly redialed. On the other end of the line, there was still an endless waiting tone.
At the same time, the rooftop of the campus teaching building was empty.
The wind was so whistling that it hurt people's eardrums, forming a strange contrast with the warm sunshine in the campus just now.
The view slowly moved closer and stopped at a half-person-high wall on the edge of the rooftop.
On the wall, a mobile phone lay quietly, pressed down by a torn piece of note paper.
The pale paper, like the white snake suppressed under the Lei Feng Pagoda, struggled desperately but was ruthlessly imprisoned and could not be released.
It was Xiang Hai's phone. The screen was dimly lit, displaying the words "my brother" and the caller ID, over and over again.
The wind grew stronger, blowing the white note paper up and down, making it look extremely messy.
On the paper, three shocking black words were written: "Return it to you."
Who is this "you"? Is it the father who has forced him to the point where he can no longer look towards the future?
Or is it a fate that is rooted in his blood and is like a curse that he cannot escape no matter what?
In short, he gave up everything.
Xiangyang searched all the way for his brother who was as bright as the sun with his white teeth when he smiled, but he was never able to catch up with him and say "goodbye" to him.
Xiangyang was still listening to the phone without giving up. He strode down the stairwell, through the empty hallway, and headed straight for the door of the building.
At the same moment when Xiangyang was about to step out of the door, a black shadow, accompanied by a dull sound of breaking wind, suddenly fell from the sky!
"Bang!" A deafening sound exploded beside Xiangyang's ears.
He was terrified by the scene and the loud noise. His legs went weak and he fell back to the ground in panic.
The passage of time vaguely turned into a slow-motion shot in a movie, crawling and climbing forward frame by frame with difficulty.
Xiangyang's eyes widened, and his pupils contracted rapidly due to extreme fear.
The man who fell from the building looked so familiar, and that white school uniform that was quickly stained with blood...was actually his twin brother, Xiang Hai, whom he was anxiously looking for!
The world suddenly froze.
Xiang Hai, lying in a pool of blood, slowly opened his eyes. His bloodstained face looked at the panicked Xiang Yang with the corners of his lips moving in a broken and sad smile. Crystal clear tears rolled down from the corners of his eyes, mixed with blood.
“Aa ...
Thirty-one-year-old Xiangyang, sweating profusely, suddenly sat up screaming from a nightmare.
It is early morning in Beijing fourteen years later.
The sunny bedroom is extremely spacious, and its elegant decoration exudes a low-key luxury in the morning light, showing the owner's taste and wealth.
Outside the large floor-to-ceiling windows, one can see the bustling scene of awakening Beijing, with its bustling traffic and endless life.
He was still in the panic and trance left by the nightmare, gasping for breath.
His face was covered in tears, and his sweat-soaked hair stuck miserably to his forehead.
Xiangyang's eyes were fixed on the framed photo on the bookshelf beside the bed.
In the photo, two equally handsome young men stood side by side, smiling brightly and innocently. It was a photo of him and Xiang Hai when they were seventeen years old and invincible in their youth, a scene that could never be replicated.
It was this evil dream that followed Xiangyang like a shadow and haunted him for fourteen years.
He could still clearly feel the gentle March breeze that afternoon, caressing his pores, and the biting coldness of the bright red blood flowers that had bloomed out of season, splashing in the wind...
He threw back the quilt and walked into the bathroom barefoot. The cold water poured over his head, trying to extinguish the blazing fire that was burning in his bones.
Walking out of the bathroom, he opened the refrigerator, took out a box of iced orange juice, tilted his head back and took a big sip, but frowned and put it back, unable to taste anything in his throat.
He mechanically selected clothes in the cloakroom, finally settling on a dark suit that was tailored enough to make him look sharp.
Before leaving the house, passing by the entrance of the living room, his hand subconsciously stroked another larger photo on the wall. In the photo, he and Xiang Hai were hugging each other so tightly. They were still seventeen years old, with fearless smiles that were enough to illuminate their entire lives.
It is hard to count how many times this has happened. Every day begins like this, repeating itself over and over again. Xiangyang wakes up from his dream again and hurriedly plunges into the recovery he promised to the deceased.
That day, he somehow thought of Nezha in the myth, who cut off his flesh to return to his mother, and cut off his bones to return to his father. The umbilical cord that could not be severed, the father's sperm and the mother's blood that were still not clean...
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