CHAPTER 147: NIGHTMARES

"Sister, wake up! Didn’t you say we’re going out today?" A sharp voice rang in Qi Jianyi’s ears, pulling her from the depths of unconsciousness.

She tried to open her eyes, but they remained tightly shut, as if resisting her will. The world around her felt distant, muffled by an eerie buzzing sound that blurred her senses.

A voice called out to her, but it was fragmented, slipping through her grasp like water. Qi Jianyi wanted to respond, to move, to do something—but her body refused to obey.

Panic crept in as she realized she was trapped, fully aware yet completely paralyzed.

It felt like a nightmare.

She saw nothing. Heard nothing. Felt nothing. Yet an overwhelming fear took hold of her, sinking deep into her bones.

No—this fear wasn’t new. It was something she had felt before but forgotten, buried in the depths of her memory.

Hadn’t she just returned to her real world? Wasn’t she supposed to see her family? But instead of relief, a suffocating dread took its place.

The sensation of being awake yet unable to move shattered any sense of comfort, sending her mind spiraling into panic.

Meanwhile, outside Qi Jianyi’s room, a teenage girl stood with her arms crossed, knocking impatiently against the door.

Her voice was laced with frustration as she tried again to wake Qi Jianyi. But no matter how much she called out, no response came.

After a few more failed attempts, she let out an annoyed huff and pushed the door open. To her surprise, it wasn’t even locked. A fleeting sense of unease passed through her, but she quickly brushed it aside—until her gaze landed on Qi Jianyi.

Qi Jianyi lay on the bed, head twisting from side to side as if trapped in a nightmare. But what shook the girl the most was the sight of tears slipping down her sister’s cheeks.

"Sister?" Her voice softened, uncertainty creeping in as she stepped closer. Her playful frustration faded, replaced by growing worry as she watched Qi Jianyi struggle against an unseen force.

She stared at Qi Jianyi for a moment, her breath hitching as a sudden realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. Without wasting another second, she spun around and dashed out of the room, her voice echoing through the house.

"Mom! Dad! Quick, my sister is having a nightmare!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, panic clear in her trembling voice.

In the living room, Mother Qi and Father Qi were seated at the dining table, waiting for their children to join them.

The urgent cries of their youngest daughter made them jolt upright, exchanging a glance filled with unspoken concern.

"Nightmare? But Xiaoyi hasn’t had one in years," Father Qi murmured, his brows furrowing deeply.

Mother Qi, however, wasted no time in conversation. Her face paled with worry as she rushed toward her eldest daughter’s room, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Father Qi followed closely behind, only for them to nearly collide with their youngest daughter, Qi Jianning, who stood anxiously at the bedroom door.

Gripping Qi Jianning’s shoulders, Mother Qi’s voice came out frantic. "What happened to your sister?!"

Qi Jianning shook her head, her own panic rising. "I don’t know, Mom! I came to wake her up, but she wouldn’t respond. When I went inside, she was tossing and turning—crying in her sleep." Her voice wavered, reflecting her growing distress.

Seeing how her wife’s anxious state was affecting their daughter, Father Qi stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Mother Qi’s arm. His silent nudge was enough to remind her to stay calm and assess the situation first.

Realizing she had lost control of her emotions, Mother Qi took a deep breath and hurried into the room, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. Meanwhile, outside the door,

Father Qi turned his attention to Qi Jianning, gently patting her head in comfort. His tone softened as he spoke.

"Your mother wasn’t blaming you, sweetheart. She’s just worried. It’s been years since your sister had nightmares this bad." Though Father Qi’s concern for Qi Jianyi was evident, he made sure to console his youngest first.

And Qi Jianning, despite her usual spoiled nature, shook her head and managed a small, understanding smile.

"I know, Dad. But I’m really worried about my sister," she admitted, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt.

Father Qi sighed, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes at how much his daughter had matured. Without another word, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her inside the room.

Inside Qi Jianyi’s bedroom, Mother Qi’s heart twisted painfully as she gazed at her daughter. Worry clouded her expression as she stepped forward, approaching the bedside with slow, careful movements.

She reached out, her trembling fingers brushing against Qi Jianyi’s tear-streaked cheeks. A lump formed in her throat as she whispered softly, "Jianyi..."

"Mom is here. You’re safe, sweetheart. Wake up," she continued, her voice barely above a murmur. She gently caressed Qi Jianyi’s face, her touch moving to the strands of her daughter’s hair, stroking it with the tenderness only a mother could give.

The way she soothed Qi Jianyi was effortless, instinctive—an action ingrained into her over the years. As if this wasn’t the first time she had to do this.

As if she had done it a thousand times before.

And just like before, her presence worked like magic. The distress written across Qi Jianyi’s face gradually faded. The deep crease between her brows eased. Her erratic breathing slowed, falling into a steady rhythm.

Father Qi entered the room with Qi Jianning, only to halt in his steps. His wife’s familiar, practiced movements sent a wave of emotions crashing into him, memories from years ago rushing back like a tide.

A scene from the past overlapped with the one before him. His daughter—his sweet, delicate little girl—had grown up in the blink of an eye. No longer the child who used to run into his arms and act coquettishly.

Yet some things never changed.

Like the nightmares that had haunted her since she was six.

Qi Jianyi’s cries—those piercing, gut-wrenching screams—had once filled their home, reducing him and his wife to helpless tears.

He remembered how they had rushed her to the hospital, desperate to find answers, to understand what tormented their daughter so cruelly in her sleep.

But no matter how many specialists they sought, the answer was always the same.

"Your daughter must have suffered some form of psychological trauma. Perhaps abuse at a young age, leading to recurring nightmares."

It had struck them like lightning. Abuse? Trauma?

Yes, they were far from perfect parents, but never—not once—had they ever harmed their child. How could they? She was their firstborn, the very embodiment of their love. The mere thought of hurting her was unfathomable.

And yet, the nightmares continued.

And the most unsettling part was that Qi Jianyi never remembered any of her nightmares.

She would wake up with swollen, tear-streaked cheeks, her voice hoarse from crying, but the moment they asked what was wrong, she would blink at them in confusion.

"I had a nightmare?" she would ask, completely oblivious to her own suffering.

Doctor after doctor tried to uncover the reason behind it, but Qi Jianyi never recalled anything. No matter how much they pressed her, she would only tilt her head, looking at them as if they were the strange ones.

Eventually, both Father Qi and Mother Qi gave up seeking medical help and instead devoted themselves to watching over her. Night after night, they took turns checking on her.

Some nights, she slept peacefully. Other nights, she screamed and sobbed, breaking their hearts all over again.

And these situations lasted until that night when she was ten.

Father Qi could still hear it—the frantic, choked sobs, the sheer desperation in her trembling voice.

"Please... please don’t leave me... Please don’t abandon me..." The way she clung to them, her tiny hands gripping their clothes as if she were afraid they would disappear, had shattered something inside him.

He had never let his daughter suffer, had never deprived her of love. And yet, at that moment, she had begged for it as if she feared it would be taken away from her.

Both he and Mother Qi had held her that night, whispering reassurances, their own tears falling freely.

And then...

The nightmares stopped.

Just like that.

From that night forward, Qi Jianyi slept soundly. No more screaming. No more fear.

She would wake up refreshed, bright-eyed, even sharing her dreams with them—something she had never done before.

Seeing Qi Jianyi’s good condition, neither he nor Mother Qi ever dared to ask why.

They had made an unspoken agreement. Whatever had haunted their daughter was gone. And that was all that mattered.

And after that night, Qi Jianyi never mentioned her nightmares again. Not even once.

It was as if those years of torment had never happened.

As if all the sleepless nights, the endless screams, and the countless reassurances from Mother Qi and Father Qi had been nothing more than a figment of their imagination.

Their daughter had always been fine. Or so they had convinced themselves.

But now— After nearly a decade of peace— The nightmares have returned.

Without warning. Without reason.

The sight of Qi Jianyi trembling in her sleep, tears slipping down her cheeks, shattered the illusion they had so desperately clung to. Panic surged through them like a tidal wave. Mother Qi’s hands trembled as she gently stroked her daughter’s hair, her voice soft yet laced with barely restrained fear.

Father Qi stood frozen at the doorway, his mind racing, his chest tightening. Beside him, Qi Jianning watched her sister in distress, her youthful face marred with concern.

And yet, Qi Jianyi—trapped in the depths of her unconscious mind—remained oblivious. She was unaware of the fear flashing in her parents’ eyes. Unaware of the way her little sister clutched at their father’s sleeve, seeking reassurance.

Unaware that her desperate struggle to wake up was mistaken for a nightmare she could not escape when she was young.