Surprise

While the strategists at the Pentagon agonized over how to devise a method that would keep Wu Qingchen firmly restrained without causing him harm, ensuring he would not dream and, most importantly, making sure he would willingly accept all of this without ever seeking an opportunity for revenge, that distant, infuriating, damned troublemaker from Z Country—Wu Qingchen himself—had already been moved once again.

This transfer was executed with remarkable speed. In less than ten minutes, after passing several checkpoints set up right on the main street, the motorcade halted before a low, nondescript building.

A number of vehicles were already parked in front of the entrance, most having just arrived as well. Some trucks hadn’t even shut off their engines, their cabs still rumbling. Two trucks that arrived later were being stopped at the final checkpoint by the soldiers on duty.

A handful of officers and bureaucrats stood by the door. One among them stepped forward to open the car door for Wu Qingchen. “Mr. Wu, my name is Jiang Fengming. I am responsible for coordinating your emergency training tonight.”

Training?

Wu Qingchen barely had time to frown in suspicion before Jiang Fengming, already holding a few slim documents, pressed on, “First, let’s confirm your routine. Mr. Wu, is your usual rest period between 1:00 and 1:30 a.m.?”

“Yes,” Wu Qingchen replied.

“Confirmed.” Jiang Fengming marked the file with his pen and nodded to another bureaucrat, who immediately took the file and hurried inside.

“Mr. Wu…” Jiang Fengming checked his watch, his brow clouded with an anxious urgency as he looked up again. “It’s now 19:27. We have only five hours and thirty-seven minutes left. I’ll give you a brief overview of the training. Please don’t interrupt; there will be time for your questions afterward.”

As he spoke, Jiang Fengming moved briskly, forcing Wu Qingchen to quicken his pace just to keep up.

Glancing down at the papers in his hand, Jiang Fengming spoke rapidly, “The United States’ Fourth Department, Russian think tanks, and related agencies from major nations—China, Britain, France—have unanimously determined that your dreams, Mr. Wu, are directly linked to the two astronomical phenomena today. The precise reason remains unclear, but it is largely certain that the next event will coincide with your rest period.”

I understand that much myself…

Wu Qingchen nodded.

“In light of this, all parties believe that your current state, Mr. Wu, carries certain risks and uncertainties should you enter another such event. To further ensure your safety, it’s been recommended that we provide you with as much training as possible.”

Certain risks…

At this, Wu Qingchen grasped the true meaning behind “training,” and he couldn’t help but admire the tactful phrasing in Jiang Fengming’s documents. He knew nothing about the world in his dreams—his ignorance of its dangers was more profound than a three-year-old playing football at a busy intersection.

By now, Jiang Fengming had led Wu Qingchen inside the building. The interior was vast, about half the size of a football field, with a high ceiling hung with powerful lamps bathing every corner in light.

This space had probably once been a cafeteria. It was clearly a makeshift arrangement, thrown together in haste. Tables and chairs were stacked haphazardly in the corners. Hundreds of people clustered around what tables remained, forming groups that divided the hall into several distinct zones. Most were busy hauling in computers, projectors, timber, logs, even straw, thorns, and animal hides.

“This is Professor Zhang, whose research focuses on your current predicament.”

Jiang Fengming brought Wu Qingchen to a section near the left-hand door, where many monitors displayed images—some moving, some still—mostly depicting scenes from Wu Qingchen’s dreams. As they approached, Professor Zhang and more than a dozen assistants were intently studying a magnified plant on one of the screens.

“Mr. Wu, we must stress this from the outset, and you must remember it: our information about these events is extremely limited. Our analyses cannot be guaranteed correct. If you encounter anything in contradiction with our findings, you must think for yourself and proceed with caution.”

Professor Zhang beckoned Wu Qingchen to come closer. At a signal, his assistants swiftly changed the display. He pointed to the first monitor, which showed the thicket Wu Qingchen had glimpsed in his dream at noon. “Judging by the stalks, leaves, and grain heads, this is a cereal crop, similar to buckwheat from high-altitude regions. The variety isn’t great, and when you factor in the soil and cultivation level, yields can’t be high.”

Finishing this point, Professor Zhang indicated the next monitor, displaying the odd tool Wu Qingchen had held upon entering the dream. “This is a hand rake, used for leveling land and turning soil, with some weed-clearing function. The design is crude, made entirely of wood, lacking any metal reinforcement—so it’s quite inefficient.”

“Now, observe this road…”

Road? Wu Qingchen realized he hadn’t even noticed any road in his dream.

He stared at the third monitor, and finally discerned a narrow trail weaving through grass and shrubs—wide enough for, at most, two people to walk side by side.

“It’s a very narrow path, with rough, uneven cuts at the edges of the brush. There are two possibilities: either metal tools here are not sharp, or metal itself is rare and precious. Both point to a single cause—primitive metalworking technology.”

Professor Zhang moved to a set of projection screens—six in all—capturing the stranger who’d helped Wu Qingchen to his feet from different angles and moments.

“So far, this individual is our richest source of information. Professional software analysis shows he works with great skill and focus. He is, without doubt, a laborer.”

“His clothing confirms it. The short jacket suggests frequent movement through dense vegetation, which means his family gathers fuel and often ventures into the forest. Predatory animals are no longer a major threat.”

“Notice the shoulders, especially the right one—heavily patched and reinforced, indicating he often carries heavy loads. The family must have a storage space and the ability to build shelters.”

“The robe-like garment, open at the chest, implies the need to carry many tools. The division of labor here is still basic; a worker must master several skills.”

Standing by the screens, Professor Zhang spoke without pause—analyzing every blade of grass, piece of wood, branch, scrap of fabric, and pouch—drawing conclusion after conclusion from these minute details.

His logic was sound, his deductions persuasive, and Wu Qingchen found himself gradually absorbed. Before this, his mysterious dream had been a shapeless fog—a world with sky, clouds, crops, hills, strangers, and farm implements. Now, thanks to Professor Zhang’s thorough exposition, Wu Qingchen could envision specifics: labor, diet, roads, livestock, tools, and economics.

Professor Zhang concluded, “Mr. Wu, your dream world most closely resembles Europe between the 9th and 13th centuries—a medieval era. We’ll call it the ‘Medieval World’ for now. Most people farm, growing crops and raising livestock. There are social classes, little cooperation, and families are the basic economic units.”

“That’s the general analysis. We lack details for now…”

As he spoke, Professor Zhang gestured to a middle-aged man who had appeared nearby. “This is General He—a psychologist, behavioral scientist, and professor. He will speak to the more personal aspects.”

“Good evening, Mr. Wu,” said Professor He, who wore a military uniform and greeted Wu Qingchen with the first genuine smile he’d seen all day—a smile that, perhaps simply by virtue of coming from a psychologist, instantly eased his mood.

“Let’s first clarify the relationships among the three individuals present in the Medieval World,” Professor He said, tapping a few keys to bring up an image: a man with a hood, a rough robe, and wooden shoes, looking rather lost.

“This is you.”

So that’s me?

From the young man’s clothing and position, Wu Qingchen guessed this was himself, but only now did he truly see his dream-self—so he leaned in for a closer look.

The figure in the image was young, with dark hair, large eyes, a slightly rounded face, and a well-proportioned if slightly thin physique, with dull skin.

“Analyzing bones and muscles, your age in the dream is about fourteen to sixteen. You’re generally healthy, just a bit malnourished.”

So young?

The next image appeared: “This is the older individual, the main source for Professor Zhang’s analysis. His apparent age is about thirty-five to forty…”

“Thirty-five to forty?” Wu Qingchen was surprised. The man in the image had gray hair peeking from his hood, his forehead and arms deeply lined.

“Years of hard labor age a man quickly,” Professor He explained simply, switching to other images showing the older man bending or moving. “His body shows many problems—leg deformities from stooping, severe knee joint inflammation, habitual squinting from poor eyesight, and frequent coughing. The prognosis isn’t good—he is simply overworked.”

“The last individual is about twenty to twenty-two—strong, healthy, with only minor issues.”

What’s the point of analyzing their health?

Wu Qingchen was still pondering this when Professor He’s next words startled him. “According to our analysis, these two individuals are likely your elder brother and father in the dream.”

“Of course, we can’t be absolutely certain yet…”

Perhaps anticipating Wu Qingchen’s surprise, Professor He pressed another key, and the screens showed comparative close-ups of the three dream figures’ bones, muscles, eyes, ears, and lips.

“Based on repeated analysis by dozens of domestic and international medical institutions, the three of you in the dream share significant genetic similarities—indicative of close kinship. The skin tone, similar clothing patches, and other small details all suggest you live together and almost certainly belong to the same family.”

“But…”

“Mr. Wu, this is the consensus of thousands of experts,” Professor He interrupted, waving aside Wu Qingchen’s doubts. “And right now, the key point isn’t whether you’re direct relatives—it’s that you are all members of the same household.”

His expression grew grave. “Mr. Wu, as Professor Zhang explained, the crop yields in the Medieval World are very low. The land we’ve seen couldn’t possibly keep three people in even marginal health. In other words, this field is not your primary living area—you face a more complex environment.”

So what does that mean?

Wu Qingchen felt a bit lost. Professor Zhang’s explanation had given him some understanding of the Medieval World; he knew his surroundings weren’t limited to a few kilometers.

“In detail…” Professor He paused, as if choosing his words. “The place where the three of you work is newly cleared land. The fact that it’s desolate, far from any paths, and away from other people suggests you did not choose this spot freely. All this points to one thing…”

“Mr. Wu… In the Medieval World, your situation isn’t desperate, but your family’s class and status are… quite low. Moreover… you likely have a lord. You must be prepared for that.”