Returning to his room, Lin Qiye gently shut the door behind him.
He did not turn on the light.
It was already deep into the night. Faint starlight spilled through the window, casting scattered gleams upon the floor. In the darkness, Lin Qiye sat at his desk and slowly removed the black silk ribbon covering his eyes.
The mirror on the desk reflected the face of a strikingly handsome youth.
Lin Qiye possessed a rare, almost ethereal beauty. Were he to remove the blindfold and tidy himself up a little, his cold and distant aura would only add to his allure—undoubtedly placing him among the most captivating boys in school.
Unfortunately, the long-term presence of the black silk and his status as a disabled person completely veiled that brilliance.
In the mirror, Lin Qiye's eyes remained closed.
His brows were furrowed ever so slightly, his eyelids quivering as though he were struggling to force them open. Even his fists clenched tight with effort.
One second, two seconds, three…
His body trembled under the strain, until at last he could bear it no more. His muscles slackened abruptly, and he gasped heavily for breath.
Beads of sweat traced down his cheeks as a flicker of fury surfaced between his brows.
So close… Just a little more…!
Why is it that every time—every single time—it's just out of reach?
When would he finally be able to open his eyes once more, to see the world with his own gaze?
He claimed he could see now.
But he had lied.
His eyes remained sealed shut—not even a sliver of light could penetrate.
And yet, he hadn't lied.
For even with his eyes closed, he could clearly see the world around him.
It was a peculiar sensation, as though eyes had sprouted all across his body, granting him an omnidirectional perception of his surroundings—clearer and farther than ordinary vision ever allowed.
At first, this was beyond his reach.
In the five years immediately following his blindness, he had been no different from any other blind person—relying solely on sound and his cane to navigate the world.
But then, five years ago, something began to change.
His eyes… transformed.
And he himself began to perceive things in a different way.
At the beginning, his range was only a few centimeters ahead. But as time passed, the clarity and distance grew. Now, five years on, he could "see" up to ten meters.
For an ordinary person, such vision would be barely adequate.
But for a boy who once lost the light entirely, ten meters meant everything.
Most astonishing of all:
The vision he possessed ignored obstacles.
In other words, within a ten-meter radius, Lin Qiye enjoyed absolute sight.
To put it crudely—he had X-ray vision.
But to speak more loftily, he could perceive every mote of dust drifting in the air, every cog within a machine, every subtle sleight-of-hand beneath a magician's table.
And the source of this ability seemed to lie within those eyes that had remained sealed beneath the black silk for the past ten years.
Yet, despite this nearly supernatural gift, Lin Qiye remained unsatisfied.
Absolute perception within ten meters was extraordinary—but what he yearned for more… was to open his eyes and see the world for himself.
It was the unwavering resolve of a young man.
Although he had failed again today, he could feel it—
The moment when he would truly open his eyes was no longer far away.
After washing up, Lin Qiye went to bed as he always did.
Blindness had not been entirely a curse—for one, it had cultivated in him the habit of sleeping early.
But the moment his body touched the mattress, a familiar image once again surfaced in his mind.
A dark and endless cosmos, a lifeless lunar surface, pale-grey earth glimmering under the bleak starlight…
And in the heart of the largest crater, stood a solitary figure—like a statue chiseled from eternity.
The figure stood motionless, as if it had existed since time immemorial.
Holy golden radiance poured from its form, a divine majesty that would drive all beings to prostrate in reverence.
Behind it, six vast wings unfurled, blotting out the rays of the sun and casting a tremendous shadow upon the silver-gray ground.
But what had been forever seared into Lin Qiye's mind—what he could never forget—was that being's eyes.
Eyes that burned like molten gold, eyes that brimmed with divine power—eyes like twin suns viewed up close, too blinding to endure.
He had seen those eyes.
And in that instant, his world was plunged into darkness.
Ten years ago, he had spoken the truth—
Yet was diagnosed as insane.
But deep within, he knew.
He knew what was real, and what was delusion.
Ever since that day he beheld the Seraph on the moon, he had understood—
This world was far from what it appeared to be.
Gradually, Lin Qiye drifted into slumber.
He did not know that, at the very moment his consciousness slipped away, two brilliant golden rays briefly burst from the cracks of his closed eyes, then vanished without a trace.
——
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Within a world shrouded in mist, Lin Qiye walked alone.
The fog roiled endlessly around him, thick and infinite. Though he stepped through apparent emptiness, each of his footsteps echoed with a crisp, tangible sound—as though beneath him lay an invisible floor.
He looked down at himself and sighed softly.
"This dream again… Knocking on doors every night—it's exhausting, you know?" he muttered, shaking his head before taking a step forward.
The moment he did, the surrounding mist drew back, and a strange, modern structure emerged before him.
It was a modern building—but with a surreal, enigmatic twist.
Massive iron doors carved with divine figures, electric lights that burned like living fireballs, floating porcelain tiles beneath his feet etched with ancient glyphs…
It was a fusion of sleek modern architecture and the sacred motifs of mythic temples—an unnatural blend, yet eerily beautiful in its own way.
Lin Qiye recognized the building at once.
It was hauntingly familiar.
Nearly identical to the Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital where he once spent a year—
Except the sign at the entrance no longer bore those words.
It had changed.
—The Asylum of the Gods.
"What a ridiculous place," Lin Qiye muttered, stepping forward until he stood directly before the massive iron gate.
Five years ago, it wasn't just his body that began to change.
His dreams had, too.
Every night since then, he had found himself in this same dream, and its central stage was always this strange and foreboding institution—the Asylum of the Gods.
Yet the gate had never once opened.
No matter what he tried.
He had circled the asylum countless times.
There was no other entrance.
The outer walls were not even high—
But every time he tried to leap over, the walls would stretch higher with him.
As for brute force… even if he threw himself at the gate with all his strength, it wouldn't budge an inch.
There seemed to be only one method of entry.
Knock.
Gripping the ring handle on the iron gate, Lin Qiye took a deep breath and struck it firmly against the door.
Clang—!
A resonant chime, like a great ancient bell, echoed through the asylum. The iron door quivered faintly—but did not open.
Clang—!
Again he knocked, yet the door remained shut.
But Lin Qiye showed no sign of surprise, nor any frustration. With patience born of long habit, he continued to knock.
Over five years, he had learned the unyielding rules of this dream.
Only by knocking could he hope to enter—nothing else worked.
And within the dream, aside from knocking… he could do nothing at all.
Fortunately, dreams did not tire him.
Otherwise, his body would have long since collapsed.
And so, like a tireless laborer, Lin Qiye resumed his nightly routine—
Knocking and knocking again, beneath the endless sky.