Night had fallen. The city lights flickered across the skyline like distant stars, shimmering over a world that, on the surface, seemed unchanged. Walking alone toward his dorm, Xiaohuo felt the weight of the day's meeting pressing on his mind—the expanding crack network, the looming threshold of collective crisis, the quiet fissures of doubt and determination within his team. He sensed the real storm had yet to arrive, but the currents inside him were already surging.
As he entered the lobby, a television in the corner blared the evening news: a mass incident of commuters experiencing temporary amnesia on a metro line; dozens hospitalized, claiming they had "gotten lost in a dream." The anchor's voice tried to sound calm, but beneath the surface, the city's anxiety was almost palpable. Xiaohuo and his companions alone understood the true cause behind these headlines.
That night, the team gathered once more in Sophie's room. Their faces were drawn and tense; all conversation was clipped, their nerves strung taut. Ethan projected the latest crack surveillance map onto the wall: red, blue, and gray lines crisscrossed the city like a sprawling neural web.
Sophie broke the silence. "We're not dealing with isolated outbreaks anymore. The cracks are trying to connect—forming a collective illusion on an unprecedented scale."
David's voice was measured but grave. "The darkness in our societal unconscious is surfacing—not just loneliness and fear, but repressed anger, shame, hatred, helplessness. If these emotions breach reality, the consequences could be catastrophic."
Maya cradled her tea, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lately, I keep dreaming I'm running through endless rooms. No matter how hard I try, I can't find an exit. Even awake, I feel trapped."
Xiaohuo scanned the group, realizing this was no longer about individual struggles, but a reflection of the entire city, the entire era. He spoke quietly: "The cracks' evolution has pushed us to the boundary of collective unconscious. What does that really mean?"
Sophie flipped through Professor Lin's notes, reading aloud: "When the crack network forms, the city enters a period of collective unconscious chaos. The illusion will no longer be confined to individuals, but will seep into everyone's dreams and waking life. Only collective awakening and resonance can break through this boundary."
The words struck each of them like a flash of lightning.
By dawn, the city's strangeness was unmistakable. Social networks buzzed with posts about "recurring dreams"—people described near-identical scenarios: empty subways, endless staircases, silent crowds, missing loved ones. In stations, passengers stared blankly, lost at the border of dream and reality.
The team spread out. Sophie led seminars in neighborhoods, schools, and companies, telling stories and sharing cases to arouse public resonance. Many young people lingered after her talks, confiding their own nightmares and anxieties. Though the details varied, a common thread wove through them all: in their dreams, they were always trapped, unable to truly reach friends or family.
Sophie compiled these tales into a "Crack Diary," quickly noticing a stunning similarity. It was no coincidence, but evidence that the city's unconscious was starting to synchronize.
Meanwhile, Ethan and David, on the technical front, installed resonance sensors around key urban zones. They discovered the cracks' energy now rippled outward: whenever a collective anomaly occurred in one district, the surrounding areas' readings spiked in response. It was as if emotional earthquakes were pulsing through the city, foreshadowing a coming main shock.
"Our tech gives us early warnings," Ethan said grimly, "but the cracks are spreading faster than we can intervene."
David proposed, "Maybe we should search for the core node of this network. If we can create positive resonance at a key person or event, it could reverse the entire trend."
Xiaohuo thought carefully. "That node could be a high-level resonator or the city's deepest collective wound. We have to find out."
Maya and several volunteer counselors went into hospitals, welfare centers, and shelters, listening to the lives of those at the margins. She used resonance to record emotional echoes: the loneliness of elders, the despair of dropouts, the grief of mothers who had lost children. These emotions flowed together, tributaries feeding into the city's vast emotional sea.
In her journal, Maya wrote, "I'm starting to see: the cracks are the sum of our innermost scars. Not a foreign curse, but all the pain, neglect, and repression we share."
Late one night, the team regrouped. Sophie shared the Crack Diary. They sat around a dimly lit table, each moved by the rawness of these stories.
"I see a pattern," Sophie said, pointing to a mind map on the wall. "All these dreams and anomalies revolve around two themes: disconnection and waiting. Disconnection is the most common urban condition; waiting is the root of all pain."
Ethan added, "Our sensors show that on nights when these emotions peak, crack energy concentrates at certain landmarks—the old train station, the abandoned amusement park, the old docks, the city square. These places carry the imprint of the city's collective memory."
David dug up an old news article: "The train station disappearance ten years ago. The police never solved it, but dozens of witnesses said they 'saw their loved ones leaving in a dream.' That might be one of the network's origin points."
They decided to split: one group would investigate the old train station, digging into the city's wounds for clues to healing; the other would continue gathering stories and data, searching for new resonators and high-risk nodes.
The next afternoon, Xiaohuo, Sophie, and David arrived at the old train station. Long abandoned, the platform was overgrown, the walls still bore faded departure timetables. The air seemed thick with old sorrow and longing, every step echoing with the city's ghosts.
Sophie combed through old newspapers and missing persons lists, finding that most of the vanished had suffered trauma—broken families, unemployment, personal crises. Xiaohuo, using a resonance sensor, detected faint blue and red glimmers near the platform's edge. Closing his eyes, he entered resonance: his mind flooded with images—travelers hurrying away, someone sobbing on the platform, a woman lingering, unable to leave.
Suddenly, a boy in an old school uniform appeared before him—pale, hollow-eyed, lips trembling. "I can't wait anymore… She said she'd come back, but the train never stopped…"
Xiaohuo gently asked, "Who are you waiting for? Do you remember your name?"
The boy hung his head. "My mother… She disappeared into a red crack. I've stayed here, afraid to leave."
Sophie and David approached, sharing their emotional presence with the boy. Sophie murmured, "You're not the only one waiting. We're all waiting—waiting for hope, for answers, for each other."
The vision expanded. More waiting souls appeared: elders, children, young mothers. Their faces were marked by the same yearning—a need for connection that defied time and space.
Suddenly, a familiar cold laugh echoed—the Masked Man appeared, drifting along the tracks, eyes glinting behind his mask.
"Do you really think you can heal years of wounds so easily?" he sneered. "The cracks in this city were born from all your waiting, your disconnection, your unforgiveness. The harder you try to fix it, the deeper the illusion becomes."
Xiaohuo faced him, voice steady. "Maybe we can't heal everyone at once. But as long as one person is willing to wait for hope, the crack will not remain closed forever."
The Masked Man smiled strangely. "Then keep waiting. I'll be here every night, reminding you what loneliness truly means."
The waiting souls around them, influenced by his words, grew agitated. The crack's light burst forth, and the vision threatened to swallow reality.
Sophie quickly placed her hand on the boy's shoulder, guiding him to recall his mother's warmth, the laughter at home, the promises made at parting. David whispered beside him, "You haven't been forgotten. Your waiting has been seen."
With the team's resonance, the boy finally looked up, a glimmer in his eyes. "I remember her voice. She said she would come back, no matter how long it took."
The crack's light receded, the vision faded. The souls turned to points of light and vanished, leaving only the Masked Man staring at Xiaohuo.
"You won this time," he murmured, "but the real threshold is still waiting for you."
When the illusion ended, the three felt utterly drained. They knew they had only briefly illuminated the boundary of the collective unconscious. The true darkness still churned deeper in the city.
Back at headquarters, the team shared their new insights and discoveries. Sophie wrote, "We can't save everyone, but each resonance, each shared story, carves a new path in the city's psyche."
Maya silently wished, "Let this city feel each other's warmth, if only for a moment."
As midnight deepened, Xiaohuo gazed at the city's faint stars, wondering about their next move. He understood: the boundary of the collective unconscious was blurry, but as long as someone dared to cross the gap between dream and reality, there would always be hope for healing.
That night, the city's whispers continued—yet now, there was a thread of light running through the darkness.