I also suspected that the dream I just had had something to do with these two talismans. But I didn't know the activation method—there was no hand seal, no incantation—so how did they trigger on their own?
I voiced my confusion, and Liu Banxian from Qingcheng Mountain explained: the "Mother-Child Talismans" don't require any specific invocation. If you're deeply fixated on something—if you constantly think about it, dream about it, if your soul is already linked to it—then the talismans will naturally activate.
Ever since I got them, my mind had been stuck on that Route 14 bus incident. As the saying goes, "What you think of by day, you'll dream of by night." I had unintentionally triggered the Child Talisman's soul-binding effect, and then, guided by the Mother Talisman's dream-weaving ability, I lived through that nightmare.
"Streamer, you really are blessed. If not for those talismans pulling you into a dream first, everything you just experienced might have happened in reality."
"Yeah…" I felt a chill just thinking back. "No wonder time kept speeding up and slowing down, and even counting my heartbeat didn't help. So it really was just a nightmare."
Across the road, the old woman was still crying loudly. Remembering what I saw in the dream, I walked over.
"Ma'am, my condolences. The dead can't come back."
The grieving old woman glanced at me. "Get out of the way! Don't block the firelight. My husband can't see well. If the light's not bright enough, he won't know where to get off."
"Get off? Ma'am, could you explain what you mean?"
"Go away!" she cried, throwing handfuls of spirit money into the fire. Her mourning echoed through the dark night.
I quietly stepped aside. From her cries, I gathered she was burning paper offerings for her late husband. They'd been married for over fifty years—through thick and thin—and the love between them was beyond what I could comprehend.
But no matter how fiercely the flames burned, they would eventually die down. Once a whole bag of spirit money had turned to ash, the old woman wiped her tears, hunched her back, and slowly walked toward the distant village.
After she left, I squatted by the iron basin and sifted through the thick ashes.
Just like in the dream, hidden beneath the burnt offerings was a glass photo frame. Inside was a black-and-white portrait of an unsmiling elderly man. Judging by his winter coat and scarf, the photo must have been taken during a cold season.
I placed the photo back gently and bowed to it three times. A couple who walked together from youth to old age—they deserved respect.
Returning to the Route 14 bus stop, I checked my watch again: 12:00 midnight.
"Uncle, can I ask—is this the stop for Route 14?" A voice sounded behind me.
I didn't turn around immediately. That familiar tone—I'd already heard it once.
"Yes, this is the Route 14 bus stop."
"Oh, thank you." She smiled sweetly and stood beside me, clearly curious about this strange "uncle" who loitered at the station. Her big eyes kept sneaking glances at me.
Everything was playing out just like the dream. In the dream, I'd died at Chrysanthemum Hill, and the older woman and the girl from the couple turned out to be ghosts.
"Why are you here so late at night? Shouldn't you be home?" I asked her the same question I had in the dream. Liu Yiyi reacted the exact same way.
She didn't answer directly. Instead, she kicked a pebble by the roadside and asked back, "Then why are you out here at night, waiting for a bus?"
I took a drag of my cigarette and gave her a sideways glance. "Actually, someone's mother asked me to come pick up her daughter. But I've never seen what the girl looks like, so I can only wait here and hope."
"A mother?" Liu Yiyi seemed to have let something slip. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a photo. "Is it this woman?"
In the photo, a woman in a pale yellow dress sat on a park bench. Next to her was a younger Yiyi, crying over a melting ice cream cone.
"That's her," I said, returning the photo and pretending to be surprised. "You're not Liu Yiyi, are you? The girl her mother asked me to pick up is named Liu Yiyi."
"That's me! I'm Liu Yiyi!" she said excitedly.
I didn't know why she looked so happy, but her innocence made me feel a bit guilty about the lie. Still, I knew this was the only way to protect her.
"Alright then. If you're Liu Yiyi, stick with me. It's dangerous out here at night. If you want to see your mom again, you need to follow my instructions."
"Okay." She nodded firmly, looking adorable.
"The Route 14 bus arrives at 1 a.m. Onboard there will be a woman with a perm glued to her phone, a long-haired woman in red, a middle-aged auntie, a little girl about your age, a couple, and a man in a hospital gown. Yiyi, remember—once you're on the bus, don't move, don't speak. Leave everything to me."
"Mm. I'll listen to you."
She mistakenly thought I was her mom's friend. Compared to the dream, she was clearly more obedient now.
"Alright then. Tonight's real nightmare begins now. Who's human and who's ghost—I'm going to find out."
Time flew. Soon, it was 1 a.m.
In the distance, the green-yellow headlights pierced the darkness as the dilapidated Route 14 bus slowly pulled in.
Ding-dong. Next stop: Miyun Mansion.
The doors opened, and an elderly man bundled in winter clothing got off through the rear door. He wore a scarf, thick coat, and gave me a kind smile as he passed.
I'd seen that face twice before—in black-and-white photos.
I bowed slightly, then led Liu Yiyi aboard through the front door.
The driver, younger than me, gripped the wheel tightly, staring straight ahead without a word.
I had Yiyi sit behind the driver, then looked around the bus.
"Middle-aged auntie, young couple, hospital gown guy, little girl, perm woman—wait!" My heart jumped. "One person's missing!"
"The long-haired woman in red who sat beside the woman with the perm—where is she?!"
In the dream, no one else could see the red-clothed woman. Only I could.
I sat down, nerves on edge. The bus looked like it had only nine people, but I knew there were ten. The red-dressed woman was still in the last row, right now most likely leaning against the woman with the perm!
"The bus is departing. Please hold on."
Smack! The rear door slammed open. Three drunk workers got on, their behavior identical to the dream—same expressions, same pauses, same lines.
"The bus is departing. Please hold on. Welcome aboard Route 14, an unmanned fare-free bus. Passengers, please prepare exact change. Fare is one yuan. Move toward the rear. Next stop: En Village."
As the bus jolted forward, I turned slightly to glance back. The construction foreman, Wang Chunfu, lay sprawled in the back row.
To the untrained eye, it looked like just him and the woman with the perm. But I knew the truth—Wang Chunfu's head was resting in the lap of that red-dressed woman, her hair covering his entire face.
"Why was there an extra person in the dream? That red-clothed woman can't be human—but even ghosts couldn't see her. Why?"
Everything was unfolding as it had before. The perm woman got harassed and moved to the front to call someone, while Wang Chunfu kept pestering her. Liu Yiyi stepped in to help.
Ding-dong! Next stop: En Village. Please gather your belongings and exit through the rear door.
I sat quietly. "That's the second stop."
Five people dressed in mourning clothes boarded. The temperature in the bus plummeted. Only the man in the hospital gown still muttered nonsense.
Route 14 rumbled back into motion. My palms began to sweat. The next stop would be Chrysanthemum Hill. I couldn't let myself get off this time.
I glanced at the couple by the rear door. The woman was drawing circles on the man's chest playfully, but his eyes were sharp—like he was planning something sinister.
"Every person I save earns me a point. Should I intervene?" The man didn't seem like a good person, but in the dream, he was the one who got killed.
"For the points, I guess I'll save him."
Ding-dong! Next stop: Chrysanthemum Hill. Please gather your belongings and exit through the rear door.
The moment the announcement played, I stood and walked to the back.
The couple got up too. They were about to disembark.
Everything was unfolding just like the dream—at least at the beginning.