It all started when the sea was polluted and the organisms mutated.
Lin Wantong's dream broke the peace of her life, but gave her an unforgettable love and hatred.
Five years ago, in another time and space, I was in the emergency room, clutching a certificate that had been wrinkled by seawater. The metal card was so painful in my palm. The crowd made noisy noises, and the nurse frowned and repeated impatiently that this person was not on the list of people sent for treatment. The expression reflected from the side window was more suffocating than the storm outside the window at that time. All the proofs of existence point to nothingness, except for the dream diary scrawled in my leather notebook. The footer still has traces of blue ink spread by the sea water.
