Li Jingsheng felt as though he had slept for an exceptionally long time because he had dreamed a very long dream.
The content of that dream was bizarre, consisting entirely of fragmented, disjointed pieces.
The dream began with himself as a child, wearing a small cotton-padded jacket dotted with red flowers, following closely behind an adult dressed in a white cloak.
It was a snowy day, and the powdery snow had accumulated on the ground like a white blanket, feeling soft beneath his feet.
He held that person’s hand, leaving footprints step by step as they walked forward.
The boundless snowfield seemed to have no end, but he did not appear frightened; he simply gripped that person’s hand tightly.
Suddenly, he heard his own soft, childish voice call out: “Uncle, I’m tired.”
The cold wind carried his voice to that person’s ears.
Thus, that person crouched down in front of him, picked him up, and coaxed him gently: “Xiaoxing, once we leave Penglai Mountain, don’t call me uncle anymore. You must call me Master, do you remember?”
The self in the dream seemed to nod, whispering in agreement: “I understand.”
Then, he tugged at the person’s cloak and asked in a low voice: “Master, when can I see my father and mother again?”
That person remained silent for a moment before saying: “You will definitely see them again in the future.”
“Alright.”
The scene of the snowfield shifted, changing from a sky full of snow to a courtyard blooming with peach blossoms.
At this point, he was no longer that milk-dumpling-like child, but had blossomed into an unbridled and rebellious youth.
Plucking a flower with his fingers, a free and easy, unrestrained air painted his brows and eyes, and he stepped lightly across the flower branches to arrive in front of a youth clad in purple.
That youth was sitting on a stool in a pavilion with his head lowered, looking somewhat unhappy.
He watched himself crouch down slightly, smiling brilliantly at the youth: “Xiaoman, what is wrong? Why are you unhappy?”
Only then did the youth raise his head, his tone carrying a trace of grievance: “Why did Senior Brother accept Senior Sister Lin’s handkerchief yesterday?”
In the dream, Li Jingsheng could not clearly see the youth’s face; he only felt that it looked familiar.
Then he heard himself pause briefly, laughing as he ruffled the other’s hair: “I thought it was something major. Yesterday, I accidentally soiled my clothes, which is why I borrowed Junior Sister Qiongyao’s handkerchief for use. I washed and returned it early this morning.”
As if fearing the youth would not believe him, he stood openly right in front of him and said: “If you don’t believe me, you can search me. There is definitely no handkerchief.”
The youth raised his head, looking at him suspiciously for a moment before finally compromising: “I believe Senior Brother.”
Seeing that the youth still looked unhappy, he casually thrust the freshly picked peach blossom he was holding into the youth’s hand, coaxing him: “Stop being unhappy. I picked this flower for you to play with, alright?”
Looking at the vibrant, dripping-fresh peach blossom in his hand, the youth finally unfolded a trace of a smile. Instead of answering, he produced a white handkerchief and handed it to him, his gaze carrying a stubborn streak: “Senior Brother can only use this from now on.”
The self in the dream clearly froze for a fraction of a second, looking at the crookedly embroidered star on the handkerchief before bursting into a bright smile: “Xiaoman, did you embroider this?”
Only then did the youth feel somewhat embarrassed; he lowered his head, blushing as he denied it: “No.”
Knowing that the other person was shy, a teasing impulse seemed to seize him. He brought the handkerchief up to his eyes and said: “It is so wonderfully made, yet it turns out not to be embroidered by my Xiaoman? Who is this talented person, then?”
Rolling his eyes, he looked at the youth, his tone sour: “Could this be embroidered and sent to you by some young lady whom you didn’t want, so you passed it on to me?”
Upon hearing this, the youth sprang up in a rush of anxiety: “How could that be? I learned how to embroider it myself last night.”
Lifting his head to see the full bloom of amusement in the other’s eyes, the youth realized he had walked right into a trap, blushing as he reached to take back the handkerchief from Li Jingsheng: “If Senior Brother dislikes it, just return it to me.”
He watched his dream self smile slyly, tucking the handkerchief into his inner garments, and casually patting the other’s head: “Hey, how could I dislike it? As long as Xiaoman gave it to me, I love it all.”
Hearing him say that, the youth’s complexion improved slightly.
Stepping up the pressure, he continued: “I guarantee I will carry this handkerchief everywhere I go from now on. Even if I don’t use it, I will take it out just to look at it, since this was a gift from our Xiaoman after all.”
Prompted by these words, the youth’s anger dissipated completely.
The youth stared at him for a moment before suddenly stepping forward to embrace him, speaking in a slightly muffled voice: “Senior Brother is not allowed to accept other people’s things from now on. Whatever Senior Brother needs, tell me, and I will give it all to you.”
He felt the hands the youth placed against his back gradually tighten their grip, and he patted the youth’s back soothingly like a child: “Understood, understood. I will tell you everything.”
The scene shifted once more, the blooming spring landscape long since vanished.
Before his eyes, flames scorched the heavens, truly portraying a scene of human purgatory.
Day and night inverted, heaven and earth drained of color.
Mountains of corpses piled high, cities destroyed, blood flowing in torrents.
Before him, countless immortal sect members fought to the death, among whom were quite a few familiar faces.
He saw Elder Fang Xiuxian, Elder Li Yuqing, he saw Xi Feng, he saw Eldest Senior Brother, and he saw a youth shielding him from the front.
He wanted to see the other’s face clearly, but a shroud of black fog hung over it, making it impossible to discern.
Following that, he watched the people of the immortal realm die one by one before his eyes.
Xi Feng had his heart dug out by the members of the demon race, dying with his eyes wide open in grievance, his blue robes long since unrecognizable in shape. Eldest Senior Brother was pinned to the city wall by the demon race with demonic nails, his normally dazzling self now covered in blood and filth.
Looking at this overturned purgatory on earth, he found himself unable to breathe.
Suddenly, a member of the demon race charged straight toward the youth standing before him. The youth’s back was unguarded, and in his anxious panic, he shouted at the top of his lungs: “Xiao Yu!”
Immediately afterward, he watched his dream self throw himself forward, taking that fatal blow in the youth’s place.
＊
“Xiao Yu!”
Li Jingsheng jolted awake from the dream, the force of it shaking the gauze canopy on the bed.
He cast a lingering, frightened glance around his surroundings.
It was the familiar scenery.
He let out a light sigh of relief.
He was back. He had finally returned.
Reaching up to touch his forehead, he came away with a hand full of sweat.
Well now, it seems I really was scared out of my wits.
Just at that moment, Mo Yu entered from the doorway. The youth was wearing the cyan long robe he had picked out for him, his shoulders and back straight, looking like a noble and well-mannered young master.
Catching his gaze, Mo Yu walked over carrying a bowl of porridge that he had reheated several times, asking: “Senior Brother, were you calling for me?”
Slightly awkward, Li Jingsheng fabricated an excuse: “No, I just had a nightmare.”
Mostly because I had no idea who I was actually calling for.
Mo Yu did not seem to care much about this question, nor did he press further or dwell on it. He sat down beside Li Jingsheng’s bed carrying the porridge.
Scooping a spoonful of porridge, he brought it to his lips to blow on it lightly before naturally extending his hand: “Open.”
Li Jingsheng’s mind was still in a fog, so when the command came, he obeyed instinctively.
By the time the porridge was already in his mouth, it finally registered.
Wait! What is this playing at? Why is he feeding me directly?
Although having someone feed you is quite wonderful, you have to consider who is sitting across from you!
Lowering his gaze to inspect the golden, delicious millet and pumpkin porridge, he thought: He didn’t poison it, did he?
Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind when he saw Mo Yu take a sip himself, lowering his gaze to stir the porridge in the bowl as a hint of grievance crept into his tone: “Senior Brother, it isn’t poisoned.”
Li Jingsheng looked at him in surprise.
No way, how on earth did this kid know what I was thinking?
Having said that, Mo Yu raised his hand to feed him another spoonful. Li Jingsheng was forced to swallow the porridge before speaking: “No, that’s not what I meant.”
Before he could finish, Mo Yu fed him another mouthful of food.
“Senior Brother, I know. Just drink your porridge.”
The other person fed you a mouthful of food and interrupted your explanation.
Looking at those slightly drooping outer corners of the youth’s eyes, Li Jingsheng roared internally: Baby, I really didn’t mean to suspect you!
After feeding him the porridge and applying the medicine, Mo Yu stepped back out.
Li Jingsheng did not detain him to ask anything because his mind felt entirely chaotic at the moment.
The content of that dream was utterly bizarre, and Mo Yu’s current attitude toward him remained highly ambiguous.
He was no fool; he could certainly perceive the shift in how others treated him.
When he had first arrived, he could clearly sense the other’s hatred. After all, a boy of fourteen or fifteen could hardly hide anything.
Yet now, Mo Yu’s attitude toward him seemed to have undergone a massive transformation, something palpable in the meticulous care and attention to detail the boy showed him.
He raked his hands through his hair in frustration.
Shouldn’t the protagonist hate the villain? How did the plot break down like this the moment it reached him?
＊
After taking care of Li Jingsheng and making sure he finished his porridge, Mo Yu prepared his talismans and elixirs once more to go find Chu Wen.
Chu Wen had not returned all night, meaning he must have encountered something.
However, just as he reached the phoenix tree, he spotted the other figure returning with an exhausted expression.
He hurried over to support Chu Wen.
Chu Wen’s complexion was deathly pale, his light-colored robes were rumpled and stained, and his hands were smeared with blood of unknown origin.
Supporting Chu Wen toward the side room, he asked anxiously: “What happened? What went wrong last night?”
Looking extremely weak, Chu Wen spoke in a raspy voice: “Last night, after I came down from Qize Mountain, I encountered a man in black. I couldn’t see his appearance, but his magic power was formidable. I only managed to escape back here by taking advantage of a moment when he lowered his guard.”
Having said that, he cast a deliberate, sidelong glance at Mo Yu.
The youth wore an expression of intense anxiety.
It seemed he bought the story.
Upon entering the side room, Mo Yu first fetched a basin of clear water to wash Chu Wen down.
Then he produced the medicine Li Jingsheng had forcefully shoved upon him earlier, pouring it indiscriminately all over Chu Wen’s hands.
The wound on his hand was actually quite minor, but handled in this rough manner, it suddenly looked rather severe.
Gazing at that scratch, Chu Wen’s gaze darkened.
To avoid it being recognized as a bite mark, he had deliberately sliced it open with a blade himself.
At present, however, the hand drenched in medicinal liquid was throbbing with agonizing pain.
Because of the hasty entry, the door to the side room had been left unlatched, and the late-spring wind drifted inside as Mo Yu bowed his head to bandage him.
The silent side room felt awkward with stillness.
Just as Mo Yu finished wrapping the bandage, he finally spoke: “I’s sorry, I lost my composure last night.”
Following the events of the previous night, Chu Wen’s state of mind had already shifted, and he no longer cared at all about these petty squabbles between children.
Even so, he cooperated with the other’s sentiment and replied: “It’s fine. I was also at fault; I shouldn’t have tried to drive a wedge between you and Eldest Senior Brother.”
“Harmony among fellow apprentices is a good thing. How could I go about sowing discord?”
At that exact moment, Mo Yu finished securing the bandage. Looking down at the bound hand, the corners of his lips twitched into a smile: “You really should treat Senior Brother better.”