The abandoned cinema was called Starlight Galaxy Pictures.
A poetic name.
A tragic reality.
Half the neon sign was dead. The character for "Star" had lost its core stroke, "Galaxy" was missing pieces, leaving a lonely, flickering fragment swaying in the night wind like a broken promise.
Paint peeled from the walls in diseased patches.The poster display glass was shattered.Inside, yellowed trailers from a decade ago curled at the edges.
Dreams fossilized in dust.
Chen Lin's coordinates led them not to the main entrance, but to a rust-choked fire exit door along the building's side.
It stood slightly ajar.
From within leaked a dim amber glow—
and a dense smell:
Dust.Mildew.Rotting fabric.…and the faint, tragic ghost of spoiled popcorn.
Lin Wan inhaled shallowly, gripping the leash.
Er'gou walked in first.
Unfazed by decay.
But—
his blue eyes lingered on the darkness ahead.
The corridor was narrow, clogged with discarded seats and forgotten debris.
At the end hung a heavy crimson velvet curtain, moth-eaten, punctured by time.
Lin Wan pushed through.
A small screening hall opened before them.
Twenty, maybe thirty seats.
All crooked.
Some stripped to bare springs.
At the rear—
a solitary projector stood like a relic of war.
Its lens aimed at a wrinkled, nicotine-stained screen.
Chen Lin stood beside it.
Silent.
Methodically polishing the projector lens with a soft cloth.
He didn't greet them.
Didn't smile.
Only gestured toward the front row.
"Sit."
Er'gou padded forward.
Slow.
Measured.
Unlike Lin Wan, who nervously brushed dust from the chair before lowering herself down.
Er'gou leapt onto the adjacent seat—
back straight—
posture immaculate.
Like a board member awaiting a hostile acquisition meeting.
Chen Lin spoke without preamble.
"The amusement park compound has been analyzed."
He set the cloth aside.
"New-generation interference marker agent."
"High volatility. Long residual cycle."
Lin Wan's throat tightened.
"It aggressively stimulates olfactory nerves," Chen Lin continued flatly, as if discussing weather patterns.
"Causes severe discomfort."
"Induces short-term spatial disorientation."
"Most critically…"
He looked at Er'gou.
"It bonds to skin and respiratory pathways."
"Releasing a tracking signature."
"One humans can barely detect."
"But trained canines—or specialized instruments—can follow effortlessly."
Lin Wan's fingers curled.
Chen Lin's gaze sharpened.
"Your reaction was extreme because your olfactory system is no longer purely canine."
"It's closer to your original human sensitivity."
"Possibly even enhanced by mutation."
"They weren't just tracking you."
"They were trying to cripple your nose."
Er'gou let out a low, irritated huff.
Translation unnecessary.
"The Ferris wheel operator?" Lin Wan asked.
"Gone," Chen Lin replied.
"Professional."
"Micro-aerosol dispersal device."
"Minimal dose."
"Designed to coordinate with ground deployment."
"Containment net… or contingency trigger."
He paused.
Then added:
"They exploited the recording schedule."
"There may be an internal breach, but not high-level."
"Otherwise, you wouldn't have escaped that cleanly."
Silence pooled thickly in the theater.
Chen Lin crouched in front of Er'gou.
Meeting those piercing sapphire eyes head-on.
"Your Highness."
A title both mocking and reverent.
"How are you feeling lately?"
"Beyond smell."
"Any abnormalities?"
Er'gou stared.
Still.
Then—
the slightest flick of his tail tip.
Yes.
Chen Lin nodded.
"Examples?"
Er'gou raised a paw.
Pointed toward Lin Wan's backpack.
Inside—
his dog bowl.
Then to his mouth.
Chewing gesture.
Pause.
A dramatic, unmistakable eye roll.
Head turn.
"…Peh."
A disgusted, canine-spat sound.
Lin Wan froze.
"…Did he just—"
"He did," Chen Lin confirmed calmly.
Lin Wan's face twitched.
"He's complaining about the dog food?!"
"Before, he just went on hunger strike!"
"Now he spits commentary?!"
Er'gou didn't even dignify that with a glance.
Chen Lin continued, voice lower.
"Anything else?"
"Urges."
"Impulses that don't belong to a dog."
A beat.
Er'gou's gaze shifted—
toward the screen.
Then away.
Too fast.
But not fast enough.
His ears betrayed him.
A tiny twitch.
Chen Lin saw everything.
Without a word, he rose and activated the projector.
The ancient machine groaned awake.
Click. Clack. Whirr.
A beam of trembling light cut through airborne dust—
striking the screen.
No image.
Only flickering emptiness.
Then—
quietly:
"Do you want to watch a movie?"
Er'gou's body locked.
Every muscle taut.
Lin Wan's breath caught.
Realization dawning.
"…Last night," she whispered.
"I woke up for water."
"He was sitting in the living room."
"Staring at the black TV screen."
"He even tried pressing the remote…"
She hesitated.
"…And before that—he shoved away a magazine with his rival's face on it."
Chen Lin nodded once.
Confirmation complete.
From his worn canvas bag, he retrieved several sealed plastic sleeves.
Inside:
Old ticket stubs.
Frayed edges.
Faded ink.
And—
Magazine clippings.
Silas Moore.
Human.
Actor.
Superstar.
Chen Lin placed them gently on the seat before Er'gou.
"Do you recognize them?"
Er'gou lowered his head.
The air changed.
His breathing slowed.
Eyes fixed.
Paw lifting unconsciously—
touching—
a photograph.
His own human face.
Sharp.
Commanding.
Alive.
A tremor rippled through his frame.
For a moment—
there was no dog.
Only a soul staring at the ruins of himself.
Er'gou looked up.
At Chen Lin.
At Lin Wan.
And there—
for the first time—
raw, unguarded emotion:
Confusion.
Fragility.
Yearning.
He wanted back.
Back to that body.
That voice.
That world.
Chen Lin exhaled slowly.
Tone turning grave.
"This is the instability I feared."
"The disguise serum's suppression effects are weakening."
"Or your consciousness is fighting to reclaim dominance."
"Either way…"
"Your identities are colliding."
Lin Wan whispered, "Colliding…?"
"Canine instinct."
"Human memory."
"Celebrity ego."
"Survival trauma."
"All coexisting."
"All conflicting."
Chen Lin's eyes hardened.
"You need anchors."
"Triggers."
"Something that reminds you who you are."
He turned toward the projector.
"…Or something that forces you to become him again."
From the bag—
a metal film reel case.
Old.
Scratched.
Precious.
"I managed to obtain this."
He loaded the reel with reverence.
"Your debut film."
Silent River.
"Quality is terrible."
"But it has sound."
Er'gou shot upright.
Blue eyes blazing.
Locked onto the screen.
The projector roared louder.
The reel began to spin.
Light intensified.
Dust swirled like galaxies reborn.
And on the trembling, yellowed screen—
history prepared to awaken.