Returning to a familiar place is not always a pleasant experience. Take this current situation, for instance; instead of feeling refreshed, it only dredges up bitter memories and a cascade of unanswered questions.

“We took a two-hour bus ride here that day, so why did the police say this place didn't exist, and yet here it is, perfectly visible right in front of me?” I asked, unable to conceal my confusion as the long-suppressed suspicions began to stir again.

“This is another world, suspended between the realms of Yin and Yang. Everything you see, touch, and feel truly existed in reality once. Time has relegated them outside of history, which is why you can stand here, yet find no trace of it anywhere else.” As he spoke, he plucked a leaf, blew gently, and the tender green instantly turned ash-gray, shattering into fine particles on the breeze, drifting toward the center of the lake.

I barely grasped the profound, esoteric concepts Hou Dayong was describing. Whether we were in the living world or the underworld now, all I cared about was whether my older sister was present; other matters seemed utterly meaningless to me. Just as I was about to ask, he spoke again. “You want to know if your sister is here, don’t you?”

I managed a faint smile, and he continued, “This place seems small, but it’s actually vast. I can confirm they are here, but I cannot pinpoint their exact location. That’s why I need your help, as you are her only living blood relative.”

I still didn’t fully comprehend his words, but knowing my sister was indeed here brought a small measure of relief; at least I wouldn’t make the mistake of heading in the wrong direction again.

We stopped at the lakeside. Hou Dayong turned and closed the door. Wang Jue and I spun around curiously, eager to see what this miraculous door looked like. But behind us, there was nothing but a thicket of dense bushes.

Both pairs of eyes stared at him in astonishment. He understood immediately. “Don’t worry. I will get you out once our business is concluded.”

So, we followed him, beginning our trek around the lake shore.

The small villa in the center of the lake remained unchanged, save for a slight disturbance above its roof—a faint vortex of air spinning rapidly above the structure. If this scene were witnessed in the real world, people would assume it was a tornado. A genuine tornado would have shredded that villa to pieces in seconds, yet it stood there, perfectly stable.

It was the same long, serpentine path as that other day—winding, turning, and looping endlessly. After what felt like an eternity, with my legs aching, we finally reached the villa. Hou Dayong hadn't exaggerated; though it looked compact, the space felt immense.

It was the same door, and the one who opened it was still Uncle Ou, wearing the same spectacles. The entryway was identical; nothing had changed from the last time, as if Hou Dayong and I had only just stepped out a moment ago. I almost expected that if I walked down the picture-lined hallway to the study, I would find Bai Huaqian sitting serenely in the courtyard, sipping tea, just as before. The talk of asylums, curses, zombies, and lingering spirits seemed utterly baseless. If I left this villa, I would return to school, attend classes, and nod off during lectures just the same. Hou Dayong and Bai Huaqian would still be the two friends I met on the very first day of school. Such is the illusion time and place can weave; if everything remained static, you could reside here for a hundred years and feel no sense of displacement.