Crossing Over‌

Today marked Gao Yang's twelfth year in this new world.

Back before the "crossing," he'd been an orphan celebrating his sixth birthday at the group home. That night, after finishing the cupcake his dorm supervisor had given him, he'd drifted off to sleep with a simple wish: to find his parents. When he woke up, he was slurping noodles at a breakfast table in an old house, sunlight filtering through the windows. Across from him sat a middle-aged couple he'd never met. An elderly woman with kind eyes smiled from the head of the table, and beside him, a wide-eyed girl no older than five shoveled porridge into her mouth.

"Quit daydreaming—eat!" The woman in pajamas nudged him. She was beautiful even without makeup.

"Need a ride to school, kiddo?" The man—tall, slightly paunchy, with a receding hairline—grinned around a toothpick.

"No! Daddy has to take me to kindergarten!" the little girl protested, slamming her spoon down.

The old woman chuckled. "How about we drop off your brother first, then you?"

Gao Yang's noodles slipped from his mouth and splattered on the table.

At six years old, he didn't understand terms like "parallel universe" or "transmigration." He thought this was all a dream. But that "dream" lasted twelve years.

Now 18 and a high school senior, Gao Yang had fully embraced his new life. He had a loving family: a wise grandma, bickering-but-devoted parents, and a spunky little sister. He studied for college entrance exams like any normal teen, pondering futures involving careers, marriage, kids… His childhood wish had come true—he'd found parents, and so much more.

Then his eighteenth birthday arrived.

On his way home from night classes, a gaunt man in bloodstained hospital scrubs lunged from an alleyway, tackling Gao Yang off his bike. The stranger's bony fingers dug into his shoulders.

"Run!" the man rasped, eyes bulging with terror. "Monsters—they're everywhere! Don't trust anyone!"

A gunshot cracked the air.

The man's skull exploded in a spray of crimson, his body collapsing into the spreading pool of blood at Gao Yang's feet. Police swarmed in, shielding the teen's eyes as they hustled him away.

The next day's headline read: Escaped Mental Patient Kills Two Nurses, Takes High Schooler Hostage Before Being Shot Dead. Gao Yang stayed home, shaken. Something felt off about the official story, but he couldn't pin it down.

That night, sleep brought a buried memory to life: four-year-old Gao Yang, sneaking past his grandparents' door on a summer night. Unearthly growls and wet, crunching sounds seeped through the wood. Heart pounding, he'd peeked inside—then fled to wet his bed in terror. The next morning, his mother tearfully announced Grandpa's death from "heart failure." But the shape under the body bag's sheet… Had an arm been missing?

In the nightmare's climax, the corpse sat up—the dead mental patient now, bleeding black ooze from hollow eye sockets. His rotting hands seized Gao Yang:

"MONSTERS! RUN! DON'T TRUST—"

Gao Yang jolted awake to sunlight and his sister's face inches from his.

"Bad dream?" She smirked, pigtails bobbing. "Mom says get up already!"

As she left, Gao Yang checked his phone—and spat out his water.