On Anxi Street outside Taiping Clinic, Yunyang and Jiaotu, dressed in black, squatted before Dream Rooster, chins propped up: “He looks like he’s in pain… Is this normal for dream-weaving?”
Yunyang shook his head: “No idea. Maybe because I paid more this time, he’s putting in extra effort?”
Across from them, Dream Rooster’s face twisted grotesquely, his body convulsing like a possessed shaman.
Yunyang frowned: “He looks like I stabbed him with a needle. No wonder his dream-weaving costs so much—the toll’s heavy.”
Jiaotu nodded quickly, fully agreeing: “Mm-hm, worth the price. He earns it!”
In the dream, Dream Rooster, disguised as Zhou Chengyi, was being pinned and stabbed by the dream versions of Jiaotu and Yunyang I, Chen Ji, conjured, switching spots every three seconds, nearly covering his body.
I stood at a distance, pondering. I knew this was a dream, but how was it created?
Yunyang!
I recalled him inexplicably cutting a strand of my hair outside Liu Shiyu’s house!
That odd act explained my bizarre predicament!
Realizing this, I decided to escape the dream.
Instantly, the Zhou residence courtyard turned transparent, revealing a faint image of the clinic’s main hall behind it.
The two scenes overlapped. I tried returning to reality but felt caught in a giant spiderweb, unable to break through.
Dream Rooster sneered: “Trying to leave? Come play in the Endless Hell!”
His words fell, and the Zhou residence collapsed into an abyss, the sky changing color. Yunyang and Jiaotu dissolved into smoke. The dream, once a small courtyard, now stretched vast.
In a daze, I struggled to distinguish reality from dream, sinking into confusion.
Dream Rooster reverted to his true form, standing in the abyss, shaking out his double-breasted robe and smoothing his disheveled hair, speaking shrilly: “Almost tripped up by a lowly apprentice—how infuriating… Didn’t expect you to have the makings of an Enforcer, forcing me to weave a Grade-A dream!”
With his words, I felt split, unable to tell left from right, up from down, as if the world inverted.
Suddenly, the abyss’s ground collapsed. My body plunged into darkness, landing in molten lava, surrounded by thousands writhing in agony.
The lava world vanished, and I fell into a frigid pool, crushed by suffocation and cold.
I tried to stay rational, but each attempt dropped me into a new world.
Each descent stripped away my grasp of reality, the clinic’s faint image fading.
Then, molten flow surged from my four furnaces, flooding my body. My hands could move!
The flow lifted me from the icy pool to the lava world, then the abyss, and back to the Zhou residence!
But it stopped there.
What use was moving my hands if I was one step from escaping the dream?
No, it was useful!
I reached for the counter, finding
The Compendium of Medicine, flipping it noisily.
Moments later.
“Chen Ji?” Liu Quxing’s voice tore through the dream, yanking me back to reality.
The dream broke!
Panting lightly behind the counter, I turned to Liu Quxing: “Brother Liu, why’re you here?”
Liu Quxing, in a padded jacket, stood by the counter, eyeing the scattered
Compendium, pained: “Your page-flipping’s deafening. I can’t sleep… Brother Chen, no more midnight studying, please. I’m scared…”
I smiled: “Alright, I’ll stop.”
Liu Quxing grinned: “That’s right. Master says sleep at Hai hour nurtures the body!”
I said sincerely: “Thanks for the reminder, Brother.”
I truly meant it—if not for him, I’d still be trapped.
Liu Quxing tugged my arm: “Rest early. Brothers share blessings and burdens—when Master beats us, we take it together!”
Elsewhere, Dream Rooster awoke from his cross-legged trance, pupils rolling back.
He glared at Yunyang and Jiaotu, trembling, then roared: “You said he’s ordinary? Next time you need me to weave a dream for someone with Enforcer potential, say so—it’s a different price!”
Yunyang and Jiaotu exchanged looks, puzzled: “We didn’t know. He has Enforcer potential?”
Dream Rooster snapped: “Think it’s fake? A Grade-C dream held him for one incense stick. A Grade-B held him half an hour.”
But he wondered: How did Chen Ji escape the dream?
Yunyang waved: “Forget that. Is he a Jing Dynasty spy?”
Dream Rooster huffed: “Definitely not.”
He stood, dusting himself: “My payment? Double it, and only Buddhist treasure coins.”
Yunyang hesitated, then removed a string of black-purple Buddhist beads, each engraved with strange patterns and tiny numbers.
He winced: “Five hundred taels of silver, redeemable at any temple.”
Dream Rooster, satisfied, dusted himself: “Deal. Call me for the next interrogation.”
Jiaotu said: “That’s enough for so many dresses and jade bangles. Treasure Monkey’s cheaper—next time, we’ll hire him.”
Dream Rooster smoothed his hair: “Go ahead. He’s got a big mouth, can’t keep secrets.”
Jiaotu scoffed: “Colleagues, yet all you care about is money.”
Dream Rooster sneered: “Kill Wu Xiu for me for free, then.”
Jiaotu rolled her eyes: “Not doing it.”
Dream Rooster slipped the beads onto his wrist, waving: “I’m off. Kaifeng’s job’s done—heading to Jinling tomorrow.”
Watching him leave, Yunyang whispered: “Chen Ji has Enforcer potential? We can’t let the Inner Minister know he exists… or he’ll climb over us.”
…
…
Late at night, I lay on the shared bed, unable to sleep, my mind churning with recent events.
Rustling came from the next bed. I peeked, seeing Liu Quxing, in his jacket, clutching a book, sneaking out.
Through the door crack, I saw him enter the kitchen, lighting an oil-slag lamp…
You son of a…
I sat up, checked the five silver ingots hidden in the bed’s wood seams, then pulled out a book: Recent Reflections.
Dark Cloud had taken it from Liu Shiyu’s residence.
Everyone’s focus was on
The Four Books Annotated, leaving no time to check other books.
But I’d glanced at it and knew it hid a cipher: the phonetic segmentation method.
In this method, a word’s initial consonant pairs with the next word’s vowel to form a new word. For example, “shi zhang,” “xiao da,” “zong luo,” “yi jiu” correspond to “up,” “down,” “left,” “right.”
By the window’s faint light, I sat on the bed, scanning
Recent Reflections, listing every possible new word combination.
Halfway through, I pieced together: “The Jing Dynasty doubts my relaying messages for the Prince’s Mansion. Need your personal confirmation.”
My pupils shrank. This book’s message was more explosive than
The Four Books, directly implicating Prince Jing’s Mansion.
Zhou Chengyi, a Jing Dynasty spy, passed messages to Liu Shiyu.
This book in Liu Shiyu’s house was meant for a key figure in the mansion. Liu Shiyu was the intelligence hub between the Jing Dynasty and someone in the mansion!
When Yunyang had me implicate the mansion, I thought it was a frame-up. But he was right—the mansion and Jing Dynasty were linked!
My eyes gleamed. The Ning and Jing Dynasties meant nothing to me. What mattered was seizing the advantage.
I kept decoding the book’s latter half until dawn, finding:
A spy in the mansion will find a chance to meet you.
I was stunned.
A Military Intelligence spy in the mansion—who?!
Could it be someone in Taiping Clinic?
Master’s Six Lines divination called the house call a great misfortune, yet he left with the Liu family that morning…
Was Master not treating a patient but exchanging intelligence?
Could Master be the Jing Dynasty spy?!
Wait—Liu Quxing, not washing his dirty clothes and taking them to his mother, might be hiding intelligence in them…
I laughed at my own theories. These days, my nerves were so taut, everyone seemed a spy.
I leaned out, peering through the door crack at the kitchen.
Liu Quxing, holding his book, peeked from the kitchen, checking if anyone noticed him studying…
Our eyes met.
Liu Quxing: “…”
I: “…”
We silently retreated, only She Dakang sleeping soundly, carefree.