After Transmigrating, I Died of Depression Without My Phone - Chapter 97.1

Long Xiang had no interest in such thoughts, neither mentally nor physically.

But it was happening, whether she liked it or not.

She had dreamt of Beiting Xue and saw that familiar, heart-wrenching face.

The whole scene felt awkward, as if the most she missed about him was his body.

Long Xiang questioned herself. Was she really that shallow?

Okay, let’s not overthink it. To be fair, Beiting Xue did have an incredible physique. In the past few days since returning home, whenever she surfed the web, she saw pictures of handsome, well-built men, but none could compare to him.

Not to mention, his face was even more perfect than his body. Shrouded in that gauzy mist, his appearance was even more alluring, making her unconsciously move closer.

“Beiting Xue?” she whispered.

He appeared to be asleep, lying there motionless.

Long Xiang was afraid that if she got too close, the dream would vanish, and she’d wake up to find it all a fleeting illusion.

Humans are greedy. When she hadn’t yet returned home, her heart had been entirely set on going back. But now that she was home, she couldn’t stop missing the people she had left behind.

She called out softly, almost like a breath, barely making a sound, terrified of breaking the dream.

Fortunately, the sheer curtain remained, and the man was still there, lying in the shadows. The only change was that her quiet whisper seemed to rouse him from his sleep.

Long Xiang froze in place, her hand gripping the thin fabric as she hesitated, then carefully peeled it back, finally revealing his face and body.

As expected, he was barely dressed, wearing only a thin white robe that hung loosely, exposing his beautiful collarbones and toned chest.

Her blood rushed in reverse, her face turning crimson. She gripped the sheer curtain harder and, in her fluster, accidentally ripped it down.

Beiting Xue, still disoriented from waking up, barely propped himself up before the falling curtain draped over him.

The pale, snow-like fabric covered him, and through it, Beiting Xue caught a glimpse of a vague female figure.

No matter how he looked at it, that figure could only belong to Long Xiang.

Her eyebrows, her posture, even the sound of her breathing—it was unmistakably Long Xiang.

Beiting Xue’s health was poor, and his voice was hoarse, full of weariness. “Is this a dream?”

Hearing that long-lost voice, warmth surged through Long Xiang’s heart.

She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, afraid that if she spoke, the dream would dissolve.

She answered cautiously, in an even softer voice than before, “It must be a dream.”

There was no other explanation for what she was seeing.

If it wasn’t a dream, how could she possibly see him?

It wasn’t just that they were worlds apart—it was that no one had figured out how to bridge the gap between them. So, how could they meet?

A sudden sadness welled up within her. She didn’t want to be timid anymore. This was her first time dreaming of him since returning home, and it seemed like she could control the dream. All her suppressed emotions and longings exploded at once.

She lunged forward, pushing him down. The moment she heard him grunt softly, that familiar, trembling sound sent a shiver down her spine, filling her with dread.

Long Xiang shook her head, battling with her emotions. Despite her inner struggle, her actions didn’t slow.

She tore away the thin veil separating them, and the anxious tension in her lips immediately dissipated the moment they touched his warmth.

Instantly, she calmed down. Her once-clouded mind cleared, and her vacant eyes regained their focus, staring intently at the man in her dream.

It really was Beiting Xue.

At this distance, she could feel it—observe him more closely—and confirm that it was indeed him. This wasn’t some demon haunting her dreams.

Then again, this was the modern world. Where would demons even come from? She was the only monster here.

Long Xiang’s heart ached. Even in the dream, Beiting Xue’s eyes were wet, tinged with red, as if he had cried for a long time, overwhelmed by longing and despair, realizing he could no longer reach her.

That sense of utter hopelessness was the same as the expression she had seen on her own face in the mirror.

They were so similar that Long Xiang almost thought this was a projection of herself. Perhaps she had missed him so much that she had conjured him in her dream.

Even if he was just a figment of her imagination, it didn’t matter. It was comforting enough.

She had missed Beiting Xue so much. When awake, she couldn’t show any sign of it in front of her family, afraid they would worry.

But now, while dreaming, she could let herself do whatever she wanted.

So, even though she was now calm and collected, Long Xiang didn’t stop her invasive actions.

In fact, she bit his lips harder, hoping he would retaliate—maybe even bite her back—so she could feel no pain and confirm that this was truly a dream.

But he didn’t. His eyes reflected surprise, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Long Xiang kissed him fiercely, her bites growing more aggressive, and he let out a pained moan, which only spurred her on.

From start to finish, he didn’t resist. He didn’t make any move to hurt her, either.

Beiting Xue’s condition wasn’t great. Judging by his appearance, he looked like someone better suited to being held than to holding others.

But when everything really began, Long Xiang realized she had overthought things.

So, it was all a dream after all.

Because it was a dream, even though he appeared weak and frail, as if raising a hand was exhausting, everything still felt wonderful to her.

It was so good.

The dream felt incredibly real.

It was so vivid that flashes of white light flickered through her mind, making everything seem as if it were truly happening.

Was it because she was controlling the dream that it felt so real?

If she could, she wished she could dream of him every day, living like this every single day.

Perhaps then, she wouldn’t miss Beiting Xue so much?

But a dream was still a dream. It was fake. She knew she couldn’t lose herself in such an illusion—she had to return to reality.

If she immersed herself in this kind of dream, wouldn’t it be an insult to the real Beiting Xue?

So, just this once.

She would indulge herself just this once, and when she woke up, she would never allow herself to do this again.

Because she knew this was the last time, Long Xiang, with a determination never to see him again, acted without restraint. Every touch, every contact was filled with an all-consuming intensity, as if she were ready to die in this moment of passion.

In another world, a man barely clinging to life inside the Divine Pillar suddenly frowned. Though still unconscious, his body trembled violently.

The Golden Crow in the heavens was carefully watching his reactions, terrified that if he opened his eyes and woke up again, both it and the Heavenly Dao would be utterly destroyed.

Fortunately, he merely struggled in his sleep and did not awaken.

Was he having a nightmare?