There was no one left on this continent for him to care about. Everyone had their own destiny, and Lin Yuhui had no regrets about his life choices. He understood that he couldn't have done better in that situation. In the arduous journey, simply holding onto his principles was already a victory. As for those minor imperfections and regrets, they were all scenery on life's journey, imperfect yet perfect experiences. There was really no need to correct them and start over, just like repeatedly taking the same exam to get a higher score—meaningless. Leaving this place of sorrow, he headed towards the other side of the ocean again, for reasons unknown.
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But this time, he didn't want to create trouble for himself by going to the military base in the desert. He wanted to fulfill what he hadn't been able to do while he was alive: see the world.
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Raising his position to broaden his field of vision, he discovered a brightly lit metropolis in the night. American metropolises were different from Chinese ones. Although American cities covered a large area, residential areas, especially the suburbs, consisted of low-rise buildings, detached houses, or row houses, clustered together, giving them a monotonous and barren appearance.
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Yes, the suburban housing area does look somewhat dilapidated; perhaps it's a place where the poor live. But even in its old state, the faint light filtering through the windows in the deep night still evokes a sense of home.
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For Lin Yuhui, physical objects are no longer physical; walls, doors, bodies—he can see through them, and he can pass through them. Below, in a cozy little family, the mother is preparing dinner, and the little boy is listening to the radio. In 2063, not many people still listen to the radio. Lin Yuhui listened carefully; it was just typical guitar playing and singing, and the performers seemed to be teenagers.
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Following his heart, his body followed. Just as he was wondering who was performing, his gaze shifted to another family. It turned out to be several children running their own podcast in their basement; they were practically community stars. The band had a keyboardist, a drummer, and the lead singer was a guitarist. The music was cheerful but slightly immature; clearly, they hadn't found a bassist yet.
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Leaving the somewhat noisy group of children, Lin Yuhui wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood. Different families led similar lives, nothing particularly special, all quite ordinary. A sense of loneliness and sadness washed over him. Looking down, he saw an elderly woman alone at home; only her bedroom was dimly lit. Approaching closer, he saw she was leaning against the headboard, flipping through a family photo album she'd taken from the bedside table. Looking at the people in the photos, he couldn't quite make out who they were, but he sensed that the old woman was looking at pictures of herself and her parents from her childhood. She was reminiscing about happy times—sunny beaches, palm trees swaying in the wind. Perhaps she came from the Los Angeles coast. Alas, the ocean had swallowed the West Coast, and it had also swallowed her childhood. It seemed her parents were gone. Did she not have any children?
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Thinking this, he teleported again. Why did every thought he had to immediately act on now? Lin Yuhui was somewhat puzzled. He wasn't quite sure what his current situation was like either. After all, he had never died before, and he didn't remember what it was like after he died. It seemed he really needed time to adjust, at least not to act on every little thought that came to mind. Could he perhaps install a switch on himself? So he wouldn't move if he didn't want to? Alas, that switch was gone; his body was gone.
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He found himself in another home, with the same architectural style and somewhat dilapidated appearance. It didn't seem far away. He saw a middle-aged woman arguing with her rebellious son. Her son slammed the door and left, leaving her alone in the room crying.
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Lin Yuhui approached, feeling as if she were the old woman's daughter, and the image of her sitting on the bed looking at photo albums flashed through his mind. Actually, he wasn't thinking straight anymore; the so-called "thinking" seemed to be just his mind conjuring up that past scene in his present.
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The middle-aged woman seemed to remember something as well. She calmly stood up, walked to the living room, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. Surprisingly, they were still using a landline dial-up phone, and the number was only four digits long—it seemed it could only be used in this neighborhood. “Mom, it’s Ami,” she said, leaning wearily against the wall. She swallowed the tears she had just shed and sniffled.
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“Ah, Ami, what’s wrong? Did you fight with your son again?” The old woman noticed something was amiss.
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“Yes, he won’t listen to anything I say, and just now…”
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“Oh, Samuel is a good boy. Let him come and talk to me,” the person on the other end of the line said earnestly.
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“Ha, yes, I was just thinking of coming to see you,” her daughter said, her tears turning into a smile.
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They were alright, but this only stirred up Lin Yuhui’s sadness. He ignored their conversation and drifted alone into the sky. Amidst the desolate starry sky and the myriad lights of homes, it seemed there was no place for him.
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Feeling the wind in the city night sky, gently brushing against his weary body, he felt as if he had merged with its softness and coolness. Simple and pure acceptance, requiring no love and rejecting no one, so simple that Lin Yuhui felt an unprecedented ease, able to relax his body and mind, stretching out to experience the world, to experience this world free from emotional turmoil.
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Lying sprawled on the city lights, gazing at the starry sky, he could feel the sparse traffic on the road, like ants crawling across his back, but he no longer cared what the people inside were thinking. He could feel the warm light from the apartment buildings filtering through his arms, but he didn't want to ask how their lives were.
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In the silence, he felt as if he could transcend time, walking the same street in different seasons, watching the fallen leaves in the wind, the lights in the rain, witnessing the changes in the buildings along the street over the years. If there were a moment he could linger in, why wouldn't he hold his breath, staying in that time, watching the sunrise illuminate the green trees, and the sunset paint the sky with rosy hues? There was the scorching midday sun, baking the earth, and the cool evening breeze, the faint glow of lights from apartments illuminating the street outside.
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He gazed unintentionally into the depths of the starry sky again, inevitably thinking of her once more. She had said she wouldn't leave anytime soon, and yes, she hadn't. Yet, even after losing his body, he hadn't been able to wait for her. Although he knew deep down that he might not be right for her, might not be able to bring her happiness, and might not be able to truly help her, he still held onto that unwavering desire to silently stay by her side, forever.
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And now, was it time to let go, to quietly depart? Why must the wish for eternity be so difficult to fulfill?
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