# 3
**Chapter 3: The Knock**
Back in his room, Lin Qiye shut the door.
He didn’t turn on the light.
It was late at night; starlight trickled through the window and pooled on the floor. In the dark room Lin Qiye sat at his desk and slowly untied the black ribbon covering his eyes.
The mirror on the desk reflected a handsome young face.
Lin Qiye was good-looking. If he removed the blindfold and tidied up a bit, that cool, unfathomable aura would easily place him in the “school heart-throb” category.
Pity the black ribbon and the label of “disabled” had hidden all that brilliance.
In the mirror Lin Qiye’s eyes were shut.
His brows knit slightly; the lids over his eyes trembled as he struggled to open them, fists clenched.
One second, two, three…
His body shook for a long while until, unable to bear it any longer, he slackened suddenly, gasping for breath.
A few drops of sweat slid down his cheeks; anger flashed across his face.
Almost… just a little more!
Why was it always “just a little more”?
When would he finally open his eyes and see the world for himself?
He’d told them he could see—he’d lied.
His eyes couldn’t open at all, not even a crack.
Yet he hadn’t really lied, because even with them closed he could “see” everything around him clearly.
It was a strange sensation, as though countless eyes covered his body, giving him a full-range, dead-angle-free view—clearer and farther than normal sight.
At first he hadn’t been able to. During the first five years of blindness he was no different from any other blind person, relying on sound and his Guide Cane.
But five years ago his eyes began to change, letting him faintly sense his surroundings.
A few centimeters at first; then, year by year, farther and sharper. Now, after five years, his range had reached ten meters.
For a normal person ten meters would mean near-blindness, but for a boy who had lost all light, those ten meters were everything.
More importantly, his ten meters ignored obstacles.
In crude terms he could see through walls; in loftier terms he could observe every mote of dust in the air, every gear inside a machine, every sleight of hand beneath a magician’s table…
The source of this near-supernatural power seemed to be the eyes that had stayed sealed beneath the black ribbon for ten years.
Yet despite such ability Lin Qiye remained unsatisfied. Ten meters of absolute vision was wonderful, but he wanted to see the world with his own eyes—that was a teenager’s stubborn wish.
Tonight’s attempt had failed, yet he could clearly feel…
True sight was not far away.
After washing up he went to bed early, as usual. Years of blindness had at least given him the good habit of sleeping early.
But lying there, the image surfaced again in his mind:
Under a dark cosmic vault, on the dead surface of the Moon, ashen dust reflected pale starlight. In the largest lunar crater stood a statue-like figure.
It had stood there since time immemorial, sacred golden light radiating, its majesty enough to make every living thing prostrate.
Six vast wings spread behind it, blocking the sun and casting a huge shadow across the silver-gray ground.
What seared itself into Lin Qiye’s mind were its eyes—
eyes of molten gold, blazing like the sun seen up close.
One glimpse of those eyes, and his world had turned to endless night.
Ten years ago he had spoken the truth—and been diagnosed as insane.
But he knew what was real and what was delusion.
Ever since meeting the Seraph on the Moon, he understood: this world… was far from simple.
Gradually Lin Qiye drifted off.
He didn’t notice the instant sleep took him—two thin beams of golden light flashed from the slits of his eyes and vanished in the dark room.
…
Tap, tap, tap…
In a world of fog Lin Qiye walked alone.
Mist rolled around him endlessly. Each footstep rang out crisply, as though an invisible floor lay beneath him.
He glanced at himself and sighed.
“This dream again… knocking every night—tiring, you know?” Shaking his head, he stepped forward.
The fog swirled back, revealing a bizarre modern building.
It looked modern, yet its details brimmed with mystery:
a great iron gate carved with gods across the sky; lamps like burning suns; floating, patterned tiles beneath his feet…
A mash-up of contemporary architecture and ancient temple elements—neither fish nor fowl, yet possessing an indescribable beauty.
Lin Qiye recognized it; it was eerily familiar.
It closely resembled the Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital where he had stayed for a year. The strongest proof: where “Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital” should have been, new words glinted—
—Asylum of the Gods.
“Weird place,” he muttered, walking up to the iron gate.
Five years ago, along with his body, his dreams had begun to change.
Every night the same dream, and every dream starred this mysterious Asylum of the Gods.
Yet the gate had always been shut; nothing could open it.
He had circled the building countless times—only this front gate existed. The walls weren’t high, but every time he jumped they stretched higher.
As for brute force—he could smash himself to pieces and the gate wouldn’t budge.
There seemed only one way: knock.
Lin Qiye grasped the ring on the gate, drew a deep breath, and struck hard.
Clang—!
A bell-like boom rolled through the asylum; the gate quivered but stayed shut.
Clang—!
Another blow—still closed.
Unsurprised and un-annoyed, he kept knocking patiently.
Five years had taught him the rule of this dream: only knocking worked; any other method failed. In the dream he could do nothing else—fortunately he never tired, or his body would have collapsed long ago.
And so Lin Qiye, like a diligent laborer, spent another whole night… simply knocking.