RPS – Extra – Dream Back

“Li Feng, what did you dream about?” Li held Li Feng tightly in his arms, asking softly as he gazed at him, still frail after just waking up.

“Hehe… it was a perfect ending.” Leaning against Li’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, Li Feng felt an unusual sense of comfort and peace.

“What was it? Tell me.” Li kept pressing kisses along Li Feng’s hair and temples.

“But I’m really hungry right now. How about I tell you after I’ve eaten?” Li Feng, unusually docile, leaned against Li as though acting spoiled.

“Ah, how could I be so stupid! I’ll get you something to eat right now!” Li smacked his own forehead, calling himself an idiot. Li Feng had just woken up, his body still weak, and he hadn’t eaten properly for days. Of course he must be starving. Yet instead of taking care of him, he had pestered him to recount his dream—how inconsiderate of him!

“Hehe, good. Then hurry, I’m about to starve to death.” Li Feng smiled as he watched Li scramble up in a rush.

“I know, I know. Lie down and rest a little longer. Food will be ready soon—no, wait, you can’t eat roasted meat yet. Let Ruo do it, I’ll call him. I’ll be back to keep you company right away.” Li still felt an undercurrent of fear. Li Feng had only just woken up, and he didn’t dare leave his side, terrified that if he looked away, Li Feng might slip back into unconsciousness, like a dream that would vanish if he let go.

“Alright, whatever makes you happy. But bring me the baby too.” Li Feng wasn’t at ease either. He feared Li was just trying to comfort him with words—he needed to see with his own eyes that their child was safe. But lying weak in bed, after six days of unconsciousness following childbirth, he had no strength at all. Even a perfectly healthy person would be feeble after not taking in a single grain of food for six whole days.

Li ran out in a rush, calling for Ruo, shouting that Li Feng had woken up, and telling him to quickly prepare some food. Since Li’s specialty was roasting meat, which Li Feng couldn’t eat right now, the cooking naturally fell to Ruo. Poor Ruo—he had been acting as both father and mother, washing clothes, cooking meals, handling every household chore. He was constantly run off his feet, secretly wishing Li Feng would wake up soon. All these endless little chores were even more exhausting than weaving or hunting. Though simple on their own, put together they left him bone-tired every single day. Worrying over Li Feng only wore him down even further, body and mind alike.

Li Feng knew nothing of this. Lying in the warmth of the soft blankets, he let his thoughts drift over the strange events of the past days. Everything that had happened seemed even more incredible now.

The moment he had heard that the baby wasn’t breathing, it was as if a thunderclap exploded over his head. His heart felt like it was shattering, the pain ripping through his nerves until his whole body went numb. His mind went blank, and in that shock he had fainted.

But instead of sinking into darkness, Li Feng found himself as though in a dream. His mind was completely clear. He wanted to get up to check on his poor child, but the moment he stood, he realized something was terribly wrong. He had just given birth—his body should’ve been filthy and utterly exhausted, aching and powerless. Yet now he felt light as a feather, clean and refreshed, without a trace of weakness. The shock nearly floored him. Looking down, he saw his body spotless, and then the greatest shock of all—he was floating in midair, his feet not touching the ground. His clothes, too, had turned into modern-day attire. Another thunderclap roared in his ears. Was he dead again? Had giving birth truly cost him his life?

He was wearing the exact outfit he’d had on the day he was struck by lightning: a green T-shirt, faded denim jeans, and fresh sneakers. He looked every bit a modern youth! He touched his hair—short and cropped, not the long, primitive locks he’d worn before. His appearance was nearly the same as it had been in the tribe, except thinner, less healthy. As he looked at the familiar road beneath him, confusion swelled—had he returned to the modern world?

Mist veiled everything around him. He couldn’t see clearly, and no path stretched before his feet. He had no idea where he was. But he couldn’t just sit there doing nothing, so he drifted aimlessly, hoping to find a way out. Time seemed meaningless—he didn’t tire, he just floated on and on. Having already died once, he wasn’t too surprised that he might now be in spirit form. In fact, the floating felt almost fun. But he had no heart to play—what mattered was figuring out where he was, and whether he could ever go back. He didn’t dare think too deeply about where he would return—to the modern world, or the primitive past.

Through the fog, buildings suddenly rose in the distance, glittering with lights. It was night. The streets bustled with traffic, red tail lights glowing and headlights beaming yellow across the road. Had he really returned to modern society? But in this ghostly form, what could Heaven possibly want him to do here? He reached out to grasp a nearby tree, but his hand passed straight through. Everything before his eyes was just an illusion—visible, but untouchable. And of course, no one could see him. Cars drove straight through his body, not even disturbing the air around him.

Closing his eyes, he decided not to dwell on it. At least he didn’t need to pay for a taxi—he might as well drift home. But… what time was it now? Had more than a year passed already? Had the bank repossessed his apartment, the one he had worked so hard to buy with a down payment?

He realized he had appeared on the very street where lightning had killed him in his past life. Everything looked unchanged. His home wasn’t far, so he floated there quickly. Standing at his own front door, he hesitated. He could simply pass through the walls, but a sudden fear stopped him. Had the bank taken back the place and sold it to someone else? Were his things still inside? He pressed his ear to listen, but the soundproofing was too good—he heard nothing.

After a moment’s hesitation, he reassured himself. No one can see me anyway—what’s there to be afraid of? Bracing himself, he floated through the door. To his surprise, the interior looked almost unchanged. All the furniture he had painstakingly chosen was still in place. The only difference lay on the sofa and the coffee table: huge plush teddy bears piled on the couch, and children’s picture books scattered across the table. Had his home been sold to a family with kids?

Just as he was puzzled, he saw someone walk out of the bedroom.
In that instant, Li Feng was utterly dumbfounded.

That person was wearing his favorite cotton slippers, his favorite pajamas, and holding his favorite pillow — the very things Li Feng had once stayed up late, eyes bloodshot, scrolling Taobao to buy. Now, they were all on this person. But that wasn’t the most shocking part. What really made his mind spin was — this person looked exactly like him.

No, not just him — exactly like his body before his rebirth. Even the tiny red mole on the left earlobe was there, in the exact same place.

“This… what on earth is going on? Could it be… my soul has crossed over and possessed my own body? Or… is this some wandering ghost?”

Wanting to get to the bottom of it, Li Feng followed closely behind. He watched as the man poured himself a cup of hot water in the kitchen, then sat on the sofa, hugging the pillow, watching TV with childlike seriousness. Even though it was just the 7 o’clock news, he was watching it with great relish.

Li Feng sat beside him, staring. The body was completely his. Everything matched. His heart sank — so his body had been taken over! He studied the man’s eyes carefully. Although the body was identical, the expression was entirely different. That gaze was focused, attentive, as though studying something. He didn’t even blink.

Just as Li Feng was deep in observation, the doorbell rang. The man immediately jumped up, startling Li Feng into instinctively stepping back, even though he knew he wouldn’t be touched. The man tossed the pillow onto the sofa and ran to open the door, face glowing with anticipation.

Li Feng’s skin crawled seeing his own body wear that expression. It was so… strange.

The man opened the door, beaming. Li Feng wondered — who could make him so happy? He didn’t really have acquaintances in this house… so who was it?

Before the visitor even entered, a voice floated in: “Feng, I’m back.”

“Qian, you’re back! You’re so late today!”

Li Feng watched, aghast, as the man who looked like him was kissed lightly on the cheek several times by this person called Qian. Instantly, the complaints turned into laughter, and he eagerly pulled Qian to the sofa, carrying ice cream along.

When Li Feng saw who this “Qian” was, he almost fainted. He knew this man — a giant in the media industry, rumored to have power in other fields too. Extremely low-profile, Li Feng had only glimpsed his file once by accident from his balding boss, and even that was the barest details. How on earth was he here… and with his body?!

Li Feng was on the verge of exploding. What kind of twisted mess was this?!

He wanted to question, but no one could see or hear him. All he could do was listen in, hoping to pick up useful clues.

“I want to eat ice cream, the sweet, cold kind. I like it,” “Feng” said to Qian.

“No. You’ve already eaten several today. If you keep going, you’ll get sick. You can have more tomorrow.”

“Really? But… I want one.” His voice grew softer and smaller, timid and pitiful.

“You’re acting like a child again.” Qian ruffled his hair. “Fine. Just one more. But the rest are for tomorrow. Otherwise, I won’t buy you any next time!”

“Mm, okay! Got it!”

Delighted, “Feng” kissed Qian several times on the lips and cheek, then dashed off to the fridge for ice cream, leaving Qian smiling indulgently after him.

…

For the next few days, Li Feng followed them, watching as they acted all lovey-dovey — and occasionally rolled around in his bed. Watching his own body with another man in bed was a torment beyond words, leaving him suffocated with frustration and disgust.

Yet, he couldn’t leave, and at least he learned something. From their conversations, he pieced together about 70–80% of the truth: The soul inhabiting his old body wasn’t his — someone else had taken over, just like him once, reviving inside the corpse. And this someone was childlike, naive, uneducated — Qian was even teaching him to read using picture books on the coffee table.

Perhaps… this person was also “Feng.”

Li Feng guessed that their souls had swapped, each reborn into the other’s era and body — because of that bolt of lightning.

…

In the days that followed, Li Feng grew increasingly restless. He wanted to go back. Now just a soul, his body already occupied, staying here was meaningless. He longed for Li, for their children, for Nuo and the others.

Modern life was prosperous, yes, but cold, fast-paced, and lonely. No relatives, no friends. He had once struggled here, forcing himself to earn money, buy a house, secure some stability — yet all around him was indifference. Compared to that, even a bitter life with his family was sweet, a warmth he craved.

But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find a way back. Frustration gnawed at him. Four days had passed. How were Li and the children now? The thought of the kids made his heart ache. He wanted to hold them, kiss them… He didn’t want to stay in this cold, solitary world. He wanted to go home!

Still, reality refused him. He could only drift around. He visited his old orphanage — unchanged, though there were more children now. He saw the aunties who raised him, still caring for kids, cooking, playing with them. His eyes grew wet. Would they still remember him? Would they cry thinking of him?

But he forgot — his body wasn’t dead. How could they mourn him?

It didn’t matter. None of it did. His heart only yearned for one place: back home, with Li and the children.

…

On the sixth day, while drifting aimlessly, he suddenly felt heavy, exhausted. Just as he thought of resting, his body plunged downward, violently. Darkness swallowed him. He fell and fell, until with a shattering impact, pain ripped through him as though his body had been split apart.

Then he heard it — Li’s voice. Hoarse, sorrowful, calling him, burrowing into his soul. Desperately, he forced his eyes open. And there he was — the man he loved, disheveled, haggard, holding him tightly, whispering the most heart-wrenching yet sweetest words into his ear.

Looking at him, Li Feng smiled weakly, returning the embrace.
“I had a dream… a very good dream. Do you want to hear it? Didn’t you ask where I went? Let me tell you, okay?”

All the guilt he once held toward Feng was gone. Now he knew — Feng was well, they were all well. He finally understood: this wasn’t an ending. This was only the beginning.

Li was sharp — he could sense the change in him. He simply chose not to say it, perhaps unwilling to break the fragile peace. One day, they would speak openly. But no matter what, it would not be the end.