With the official clearance, all three breathed a sigh of relief. At least, objectively speaking, Chu Lingyun had zero possibility of being the perpetrator.
But *not* being the killer didn't mean she wasn't connected to the case, nor did it guarantee every word she spoke was true. Her cooperation was still essential; the interrogation wasn't over.
Gao Muyang massaged his throbbing temples. "Alright," he said, his voice regaining its professional edge. "Now, tell me about this dream. From the very beginning. Every single detail. Don't leave anything out."
Chu Lingyun nodded, taking a deep breath before launching into her account.
"Yesterday," she began, "I worked late at the office, like usual. By the time I got home, completely exhausted, it was already 11 PM." She paused, adding, "And like we already confirmed, there's proof for all of that."
Gao Muyang gave the table a sharp rap with his knuckle, cutting her off. "Skip the verified parts. Start from when you got home. Save time." His impatience was palpable, a rough edge born of fatigue and lingering tension.
Chu Lingyun pursed her lips, irritation flashing in her eyes. *Typical. Takes his bad mood out on me.* But she swallowed the retort and continued, her voice steady.
"Fine. It was late, and I had work again the next morning. So I washed up quickly and went straight to bed. I fell asleep almost immediately... but it was the dream that jolted me awake, terrified."
"In the dream," she whispered, her gaze turning distant, "I was inside an enclosed space... like the cabin of a bus. I was sitting in a middle seat by the window, looking out at the cityscape blurring past..."
She described the dreamscape: it was the humid monsoon season. Outside, a fine, misty rain fell, spattering against the glass, condensing into tiny rivulets that traced paths down the cold pane. Inside, the collective breath of the passengers fogged the windows with a ghostly frost.
The driver navigated the rain-slicked city streets with calm efficiency. Every other seat was occupied by strangers – some dozing, others murmuring quietly – all faces unfamiliar to her.
The bus moved steadily through the rainy night... until it suddenly lurched to a violent, screeching halt right in front of *that* building – the one that would burn.
The abrupt stop sent a jolt through everyone. Passengers gasped, confused murmurs rising as they craned their necks to peer out the fogged windows.
Chu Lingyun, her curiosity piqued despite the dream's inherent dread, instinctively reached up to wipe away the condensation obscuring her view.
The moment her fingertip touched the icy glass, a violent shiver ripped through her body. It was unnaturally cold.
Then, she saw it.
The scene outside the window slammed into her consciousness. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. Her breath hitched, frozen mid-gasp. Every thought of warmth, of life itself, vanished, replaced by sheer, paralyzing horror...
"You saw the fire, correct?" Gao Muyang asked, his brow knitted tightly as he weighed the veracity of her words. She nodded emphatically. "Yes. I saw raging flames erupting outside the window."
Chu Lingyun didn't pause, her voice gaining momentum as she delved deeper into the nightmare.
"But my perspective in the dream was... bizarre," she continued. "I wasn't just seeing through my own eyes in that bus seat. It was like... my soul had slipped free. I could perceive everything from a god-like vantage point."
"It felt like I had split in two. One part was still inside the bus, watching the fire through the rain-streaked window. The other part... drifted *outside*. Floating in the cold, wet street, right up to the burning building itself. I was *there*."
"Oh?" Gao Muyang leaned forward, genuine interest sparking in his eyes despite his skepticism. This was new territory. "You're saying you could consciously switch perspectives? See everything with... omniscience?"
Chu Lingyun shrugged, the gesture ambiguous. "All I know is I could perceive everything with absolute clarity: It was the dead of night, raining. Almost no pedestrians, just the occasional car passing by."
"The building stood right at the intersection of two roads," she explained, gesturing vaguely towards the street outside the cafe. "Our bus was stopped dead center, directly facing it."
"Is it possible," Gao Muyang pressed, his tone laced with doubt, "that you'd been to this area before? That your subconscious remembered the scene? And... did the scene in your dream match the *actual* fire scene?"
"I'm *sure* I've never been here before today! You can check my location history further back if you want!" Chu Lingyun's voice was firm now, bolstered by her vindication. "But the dream... it matched reality *exactly*!"
Her certainty hit Gao Muyang like a physical blow. He'd never encountered anything this... uncanny.
In the dream, she described, everyone on the bus strained their necks, transfixed by the inferno. The fire grew with terrifying speed, an all-consuming tidal wave of heat and destruction. The light drizzle was utterly futile against its fury.
She heard the gasps and cries of the other passengers around her – "Oh god! Fire! Call for help!" – a cacophony of panic filling the bus cabin.
But Chu Lingyun focused, her dream-self hyper-aware. The fire had started on the *third floor*. In the dead of night, when everyone slept. The flames, once ignited, became unstoppable, sweeping relentlessly from east to west.
A phrase surfaced in her mind: *'火烧连营八百里'* – an unstoppable wildfire devouring everything in its path. It was happening right before her eyes, room after room igniting like dry grass in a chain reaction.
The people inside were trapped, bound by invisible ropes, writhing in agony within the fiery hellscape. Everything was bathed in an apocalyptic, hellish red glow – a scene ripped straight from a disaster movie.
Her voice thickened as she reached this point, catching on the memory. Merely describing it made her lips tremble with residual terror.
Gao Muyang observed silently, noting every micro-expression, every tremor. His phone lay face-down on the table, its recording app diligently capturing every word.
"I don't know how," Chu Lingyun whispered, her eyes wide with remembered horror, "but even though the bus was still some distance away, I could *feel* them. Their desperate screams for help. The agony of being roasted alive. Their frantic, weakening struggles as their lives slipped away..."
"Until... until they had no strength left. They just... slumped back, letting the flames... consume them..." A tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. "It was unbearable. Seeing the disaster unfold, knowing what was happening, and being utterly powerless to stop it."
"The blistering heat from the flames washed over my face – *both* faces, the one in the bus and the one outside. I felt it, truly *felt* the ruthless indifference of elemental forces. The fire was beyond control. We humans... we're so small against such devastation."
"I saw... in the east room... a young man. The heat woke him. He leaped from his bed, fighting desperately... uselessly. Moments later, he just... slumped back into the inferno..."
Chu Lingyun paused, her throat dry and tight from recounting the horror. She gulped down a large mouthful of coffee, the liquid doing little to soothe the genuine terror etched onto her face.
She described the sensation as watching a macabre shadow play or a gruesome flipbook. The hellish red glow cast the victims' final moments as stark, horrifying silhouettes against the windows.
She perceived everything with excruciating detail: *how* they screamed for help, *how* they fought the flames, even the chaotic state of their rooms. It was a brutal, immersive experience, as if she were standing right beside them.
She saw the young man in the east apartment was handsome, with features reminiscent of a youthful Edison Chen in his prime… His room was cluttered with art supplies; he seemed to run a small studio.
At this mention, Gao Muyang felt an unexpected, sharp pang of something akin to jealousy. He blurted out, "You like Edison Chen?"
Chu Lingyun blinked, startled. "Huh? What does that have to do with the case?"Gao Muyang snapped his mouth shut, looking distinctly sheepish.
Chu Lingyun continued, pushing the strange interruption aside. The young man had been passed out drunk when the fire erupted *in his own room*. He jolted awake, fighting the flames with desperate frenzy, but it was futile. The fire claimed him.
"And as I said before," her voice grew heavier, "the middle apartment held a young couple with two children. The older child slept in their own room, only the infant stayed with the parents."
"When the fire reached them, the room instantly became a furnace of death. The older child, terrified and half-asleep, ran towards their parents' room, clutching the ear of a stuffed rabbit."
"He screamed hysterically for his mother and father, pounding on their door with all his small might. He didn't see Death's shadow falling over him, the scythe poised to cut short his young life."
"The intense heat had weakened the door. Under one final, desperate push from the child, it collapsed inward, pinning him beneath the scorching wood. The frantic movements… ceased."
"In the west apartment," her voice dropped to a near whisper, "lived an elderly couple with silver hair. Frail and slow to react, they slept peacefully through the encroaching disaster, nestled in their blankets."
"Only when the flames licked at him did the old man wake. Remarkably calm, he gathered his wife into his arms, holding her close, whispering comfort as they awaited the inevitable end together."
"Companions since youth, they should have celebrated their golden years. Instead, they embarked on their final journey to the underworld together… hoping to reunite in their next life."
"So tragic…" Lingyun murmured. Tears finally broke free, tracing paths down her cheeks – whether from the imagined smoke or pure despair, she felt the very sky had collapsed.
It was an apocalypse, consuming four generations: the young, the vibrant, the established, and the elderly – all flesh turned to ash.
Back on the spectral bus, chaos reigned. Passengers shouted "Fire! Help!" in panicked waves. Lingyun *wanted* to help, to rush out, but an unbreakable rule held her fast.
It felt like they were passengers on a *sightseeing bus for souls*, permitted only the briefest pause. The driver couldn't open the doors; they were forbidden from interfering with the natural consequences unfolding below.
Trapped, she and the others could only witness the extinguishing of innocent lives.
After a moment suspended in horror, the driver engaged the engine. As the bus began to pull away, the sheer, overwhelming trauma finally shattered the dream. Chu Lingyun's eyes snapped open.
The nightmare had nearly stopped her heart, scaring away most of her soul. Awake, her heart hammered against her ribs. Her back and sheets were soaked with cold sweat – a testament to the profound terror.
Relief washed over her: *Just a dream. It wasn't real.*Then, disaster struck.
Reaching for her phone to check the time, she merely glanced at the screen. Her heart seized. The device flew from her grasp, clattering a meter away.
The first notification blazing on her lock screen screamed:
**"DEVASTATING FIRE IN SHUANGHU DISTRICT OVERNIGHT! MULTIPLE CASUALTIES REPORTED!"**