Chapter 36: Sleepless Nights
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
In the dimly lit apartment, Li Lin sat by the window, surrounded by his equipment. Outside, the quiet night in the Borderland seemed as if it could swallow anyone who dared to listen too closely. Li Lin busied himself with the surveillance monitors, checking and re-checking every reading. He knew, deep down, that he couldn’t let his guard down. Not here, not in the Borderland.
From the next room came a heavy, confident stride. Xu Jiali stepped into the small living space with a grin that seemed too broad for the cramped quarters. He was tall and strong, always dressed in well-fitted gear that could handle rough missions. Li Lin glanced over at him and sighed. If nothing else, he had to admit that Xu Jiali was the best deep diver he had ever met. Having a powerhouse like him around meant that the bureau still cared enough to send reliable backup for its newer agents. It was a small comfort.
Yet there was one problem: Xu Jiali loved to talk. He boasted about every mission, never leaving out a single detail—no matter how unbelievable. He bragged loudly whenever he came back from a job, telling all sorts of outrageous stories. Tonight seemed to be no different.
“I’m telling you, this mission was downright spooky,” Xu Jiali began, snatching a water bottle from the low coffee table and twisting off the cap with a dramatic flourish. He leaned against the wall, smirking. “I caught that rogue angel cultist hiding out in Ameyn. Cornered him in the wasteland, all by myself. Just when I was about to finish the job, I looked up—and guess what?”
Li Lin rolled his eyes and tried to keep his voice calm. “Can you even talk about that out here?”
“Sure, I can. The bureau’s cleared this part of the story for you.” Xu Jiali waved a hand dismissively, clearly determined to share no matter what. “So, there I was, ready to take him down. I glance up and—whoa! There’s this fellow just standing there! A plain shirt, ordinary pants, and he’s right in the middle of the toxic winds of Ameyn-IX. That’s not all—there’s a door frame standing next to him, out in the open! I was so shocked I almost let the cultist slip away. Good thing I’m a cut above the rest.” He took a proud sip of his water.
Li Lin sighed, moving his attention back to his equipment. He clicked a few buttons, pretending to be too busy to care. “Yes, yes, you’re always better than everyone else. Don’t you have a fresher twist for once?”
Xu Jiali’s eyes went wide, like Li Lin had just insulted his entire family. “But I am better than them,” he insisted. “Aren’t you even a bit surprised? A guy standing in toxic winds without a suit! Not even the Captain could pull that off.”
Without looking up, Li Lin said, “Last time, you claimed you saw someone walking in the acid rain of Tata-V without protective gear. Turned out that was just some professor from the Academy who had a fancy device. There are all sorts of strange folks in the galaxy. After enough deep dives, you’ll see every kind of weirdo. I’ve heard too many of your creepy tales to believe any of them now. Let me know when you see someone floating outside your shuttle window while taking off. At least that would be new.”
“Oh, I’ve seen that too!” Xu Jiali said with a triumphant grin as he strolled over to Li Lin’s narrow bed and sat down heavily. “There was a Taoist priest from Qianfeng Spiritual Mountain once. Right as I was about to accelerate my shuttle, he’s out there, waving a mirror at me. He said he’d overtake me! Tch, let’s see him try warp speed on foot.”
Li Lin paused in his work and turned to stare at Xu Jiali for a long moment. The image was so absurd that he had no idea how to respond. Finally, he just sighed and shook his head. “Your life doing special fieldwork is certainly… colorful.”
Xu Jiali stretched his arms behind his head, looking pleased. “You know, you could get certified for deep diving too. Then maybe you could join me out there. What’s so great about staying here in the Borderland? It’s dangerous, always a headache, and the weight of responsibility here is enormous. Special missions might be tough, but at least you get to travel.”
Li Lin considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “The Borderland is important. Someone has to watch over the biggest hub we’ve got. Honestly, wearing power armor and hunting cultists in a wasteland doesn’t sound any safer than holding this place together. Besides, even if you’re off on special missions, you still face the Otherworld, don’t you?”
Xu Jiali made a face. “It’s different out there. The Otherworld isn’t as packed together as it is here. The Borderland has it like nowhere else. Take a bus for twenty stops, and seven of them might lead you right into the Otherworld,” he grumbled.
Li Lin gave him a quick sidelong glance. He thought about reminding Xu Jiali that, for most normal people, all thirteen stops would seem perfectly normal. But then he remembered Xu Jiali’s file—how he’d wandered into an Otherworld station as a child, survived alone for six years, and had only been rescued and trained afterward. That memory cooled Li Lin’s tongue. It was best not to show off knowledge or mock someone’s past pain. No need to open old wounds, even if Xu Jiali acted like nothing bothered him.
Instead, Li Lin lowered his head again, focusing on his screens. Xu Jiali, meanwhile, looked bored. He was a combat type through and through, sent here mainly for muscle. Watching Li Lin fiddle with instruments and monitors clearly wasn’t exciting to him.
After a stretch of silence, Xu Jiali tried again to stir up conversation. “The bureau’s in chaos tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “All the squad captains are pulling overtime. Even the director’s involved.”
“I know,” Li Lin said, eyes still on his readouts. “But this is the Borderland. We deal with these sorts of things.”
Xu Jiali frowned. “Does stuff like this happen a lot here? ‘Anomalies’ and whatnot? I’m usually off on assignments, so I’m not too familiar.”
Li Lin paused and turned slightly toward him. “If you mean tonight’s spatial dislocation, no, this is the first time. But if you’re asking about strange occurrences in general, then yes. The Borderland is never short on anomalies. That’s just the nature of this place.”
Xu Jiali sniffed and flopped fully onto the bed, making it creak under his weight. “Great, I’m just thrilled to be here. Everyone who wants to blow up the universe or save it comes straight to the Borderland,” he said sarcastically. “I’m just glad I don’t have to pull shifts like the others. I heard the captains are working overtime every single day.”
Li Lin didn’t reply. He was reviewing the readings one more time when, suddenly, a sharp ring cut through the room. Li Lin’s phone. He snapped it off the desk and answered quickly.
“This is Li Lin… Yes, I see… Understood,” he said quietly, his expression turning puzzled as he listened. He hung up and looked out the window into the still, dark sky.
Xu Jiali, who had sat up the moment the phone rang, asked, “What’s going on?”
Li Lin didn’t turn away from the glass. “The bureau just called. The rift anomaly… it’s stopped.”
Xu Jiali blinked. “Stopped? Just like that? No second wave, no cultist attacks, no Otherworld activity?”
Li Lin shook his head. “Nope. Nothing. All the monitoring nodes have gone quiet.”
“So I stayed up all night, ready for some big battle, and got nothing,” Xu Jiali grumbled.
“Not a waste,” Li Lin said calmly, waving his phone. “We still have to stay alert in case something else happens. The bureau wants everyone to keep watch. For now, go sleep in the other room. I’ll wake you in six hours so we can switch off.”
Xu Jiali didn’t argue. He got up and brushed himself off. “If anything happens, let me know,” he said, then left the room, his heavy boots thumping softly as he walked away.
Left alone, Li Lin turned his gaze back to the night outside. It was quiet now, but that stillness felt fragile. He sighed softly. “Another sleepless night…” he murmured under his breath.
…
Meanwhile, far away, Yu Sheng slept soundly through the night’s second half. Earlier, he’d succeeded in forming a doorway to another time and space. He’d managed to memorize the feeling of it—how to guide the energy just right, how to give the “door” a certain frequency so that it led exactly where he wanted it to go.
For Yu Sheng, most things were tough the first time, but got easier the second. He’d practiced opening doors again and again until he felt drained of all strength. When he finally fell asleep, he slept more deeply than he had in years. It felt wonderful.
And yet, when he woke up late in the morning, he felt a pinch of disappointment. Throughout the entire night, he hadn’t dreamed of the fox, not even once. In fact, he hadn’t dreamt at all. The gentle fox he’d met in that strange place seemed far away now.
It worried him. The dream with Foxy, as he liked to call her, wasn’t something he could summon at will. He couldn’t shake a quiet anxiety that maybe he was wasting precious time.
Over a simple breakfast, Yu Sheng told Irene about it. The doll, sitting across from him, seemed surprisingly understanding.
“Don’t worry so much,” Irene said, her voice calm and sincere. “The fox has survived in the Otherworld for years. She’ll be just fine for a day or two without you. Dreams are slippery things. Maybe you’ll see her next time.” Her eyes—painted on, yet oddly expressive—seemed to soften.
“I hope so,” Yu Sheng said, picking up a piece of meat with his chopsticks and putting it into his bowl. The meal was still made from that local specialty he’d bought days before. He’d eaten it for three meals straight and still wasn’t tired of it. It tasted rich and savory, though the strengthening effects it had once provided seemed to have reached their limit. He felt no new power from it now, but that didn’t matter. It was still delicious.
Irene watched him eat and then asked, “Do you have plans after this? More practice with the doors? Are you going to try rebuilding that path to the valley?”
Yu Sheng nodded thoughtfully. “I need to go out and buy a few things first. After that, yes, I’ll try to reconstruct the path to the valley. It might take time. I can’t remember the exact feeling perfectly.”
He noticed something hesitant about Irene’s gaze. Her painted face looked unusually serious. She opened her mouth, closed it, then took a deep, steady breath—odd, since she didn’t actually need air.
Finally, she spoke quietly but firmly. “Give me half a day… to make me a body.”
Yu Sheng blinked. He’d never seen her this solemn. “Half a day for what?”
“Make me a body,” Irene repeated, her tone unchanging, calm yet determined. “I want half a day, and I need you to help me.”