Drowning in Illusory Dreams

Yun Jingheng sat down on the sofa, holding a teacup.

The leather seat cushion was slightly cool, but it was quickly warmed up by body heat, and its indented curve perfectly supported the lower back.

He placed the teacup on the armrest, tilted his head back, and leaned into the cushion. The dark leather enveloped the back of his neck and shoulder blades, and he felt his bones softening one by one.

Ye Xinglan didn't leave. She sat diagonally on the armrest of the sofa next to him, one leg bent and crossed, the dark red skirt bunched up at her knees, creating a small fold.

She didn't speak, tilting her head to look at him, her fingertips tapping absently on her knee.

The hall was perfectly quiet, with the occasional soft clinking of porcelain coming from somewhere, probably from those familiar girls tidying up something.

The sunlight streaming in through the French windows was slanting westward, casting long, slanted beams of light across the floor. Fine dust motes floated within these beams of light, creating a stillness as if time itself had been stretched into threads.

Yun Jingheng closed his eyes.

The instant his eyelids closed, he saw a fleeting image of white light surging from the center of the stone wall, so fast it was like an illusion.

But before he could think about it, something warm touched the back of his head.

He opened his eyes.

Gu Yue had somehow gotten behind the sofa and was bending over to stuff a cushion into the gap between his neck and the sofa back.

As her fingers brushed past his ear, her sleeve brushed against the stray hairs at his temple, carrying with it a sweet, delicate fragrance.

"Young master, it's more comfortable leaning against this," she said, her voice low and close to his ear.

Yun Jingheng tilted his head, the back of his head sinking into the soft cushion.

He turned his head to look at her. When Gu Yue straightened up, her eyes were downcast. A small pearl adorned the edge of the small bow tied with a dark blue ribbon below her neck, which shimmered with a soft white light.

"Gu Yue," he began.

"I am here."

Why are your hands so cold?

Gu Yue paused for a moment, then the faint smile on her lips widened slightly, as if she had been amused by something.

"Young Master, you only need to worry about yourself."

She put her hands behind her back. "I'll go check if Yuan En's water is ready."

She turned and left.

Her skirt swayed just above her knees, the ends of her low ponytail brushed against the back of her neck, and she disappeared into the doorway on the side of the hall in a few steps.

Yun Jingheng stared at the door for a while.

Then his gaze fell back to the teacup in his hand. The tea was no longer steaming, but he still picked it up and took another sip.

He couldn't quite place what kind of tea it was. It was slightly bitter at first, but after swallowing, a hint of sweetness rose to the back of his tongue, followed by a very faint floral fragrance. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he found it delicious.

"Young Master"

Ye Xinglan slid down from the armrest, squatted down beside his knees, and looked up at him.

She was Xu Xiaoyan. When she squatted down, the dark red skirt spread out on the ground, with lace trim scattered on the solid wood floor.

She reached out and took the teacup he was holding, placed it on the low table, and then put both her hands on his knees.

"Your brow is furrowed."

She said, pressing her thumb lightly on the fabric of his knee, the pressure seeping through his trousers, "Still not recovered after sleeping all day?"

Yun Jingheng remained silent.

He himself didn't realize he had just frowned.

Ye Xinglan looked at him, and there was something unfamiliar in his eyes. It wasn't a scrutiny or an examination; it was just a simple look, as if he were looking at something that needed to be carefully looked after.

She suddenly stood up, leaned closer to him, raised her hands and placed them on either side of his forehead, her thumbs pressing against his temples, and gently rubbed them twice.

"Young master, please close your eyes," she said.

Yun Jingheng closed his eyes following her guidance.

The temperature of her fingertips was neither too hot nor too cold, and the pressure was neither too strong nor too weak. The sensation of her pressing on his temples made him unconsciously breathe deeper.

She could smell a faint, clean fragrance on Ye Xinglan's sleeve, different from the scent on Gu Yue.

After massaging for a while, Ye Xinglan withdrew her hand.

Are you feeling better?

He opened his eyes and saw her looking down at him, a half-smile playing on her lips.

He wanted to say something, opened his mouth, but in the end only said "Hmm".

Ye Xinglan smiled, turned and took two steps toward the kitchen, then turned back. "Xiao Yan, that bowl of soup will get really cold if you don't drink it soon."

She had barely finished speaking when hurried, light footsteps sounded from the side door.

Xu Xiaoyan hurried out carrying a white porcelain soup bowl, steam rising from its rim. A spoon dangled from her mouth as she mumbled, "Coming—coming—coming—"

She walked up to him, shoved the soup bowl into his hands, then took the spoon from her mouth—it was glistening with a little water—and wiped it with her apron before handing it to him. "Young Master, drink up, drink up. I tasted it, and it's just right."

Yun Jingheng looked down at the bowl of soup in his hand. The soup was clear, with a few goji berries and a small piece of angelica floating on it. The aroma of mushrooms wafted up, and a feeling of emptiness and hunger rose from the bottom of his stomach.

He picked up the bowl and took a sip.

fresh.

hot.

The heat flowed from his throat all the way into his stomach, warming him from his chest to his lower abdomen.

He couldn't help but take another sip, then a third, then a fourth, until the bowl was empty, and he chewed and swallowed all the soup residue.

Xu Xiaoyan took the empty bowl and smiled, "Is it delicious? I stewed it all afternoon."

"Did you make this?" Yun Jingheng asked instinctively.

Of course!

Xu Xiaoyan hugged the empty bowl to her chest, tilted her head back, her cheeks puffed out and then deflated, "Young Master, did you think someone cooked this?"

Yun Jingheng looked at her.

The face in front of me was round and full, with a thin layer of color showing through the skin. The lips were moist, and when I smiled, the corners of my eyes curved down. The whole person looked like a plump fruit that had been thoroughly sun-dried.

The Xu Xiaoyan he remembered, huddled in a corner of the cave, trembling, with pale lips and tears streaming down her face, was a different person.

Where is Xu Xiaoyan?

The thought slipped through his mind like a leaf drifting across the water, only to be swallowed up by another thought before it could sink.

"... Is your hand alright?" he heard himself ask.

Xu Xiaoyan looked down at her hands, turning them over and over to examine them. "Hands? They're fine. Why do you ask, young master?"

Yun Jingheng himself couldn't explain why he asked that question.

A vague image floated into his mind: Xu Xiaoyan's hand, her white, slender wrist, and something seemed to be on it, but when he focused on it, the image vanished.

Only Xu Xiaoyan's hands remained standing in front of him, clean, with neatly trimmed nails and healthy pink fingertips.

"It's nothing," he said.

Xu Xiaoyan tilted her head, her light blue ribbon swaying slightly in her hair. Then she smiled, leaned over, and patted his knee. "Young Master is acting strange today! You're always spacing out! I'll go wash the dishes. You wait for Sister Yuan En to come and call you for a bath."

She turned and ran, her light blue skirt swirling and then closing at the knees, the clatter of her little leather shoes on the floor fading into the distance.

The hall fell silent again.

Yun Jingheng leaned back on the sofa, his head resting on the cushion that Gu Yue had placed there, and the warm touch of Xu Xiaoyan's hand still lingered on his knees.

His gaze unconsciously swept across the hall. The sky outside the French windows was already sinking into twilight, and the fragmented shadows of the crystal chandelier were reflected in the windowpane. Dark gold curtains hung motionless on both sides.

He suddenly felt a little tired.

The weariness came naturally, like finally falling into a soft bed after a whole day without sleep, with eyelids drooping heavily.

He heard Xu Xiaoyan humming a song coming from the kitchen in the distance. The tune was light and cheerful, mixed with the sound of running water.

I could hear something deeper up, probably upstairs? The floorboards creaked softly as someone moved around.

This house is very big.

He suddenly realized that he had never seen the whole house before.

He woke up in the hall, with the courtyard visible through the French windows, but he didn't know what lay beyond the courtyard.

He didn't know what rooms were upstairs or where the corridor led.

But strangely, he didn't feel the need to know.

He's right here.

He had drunk tea and soup. Ye Xinglan massaged his temples, Gu Yue tucked him in with a pillow, and Xu Xiaoyan stewed some soup for him.

What more could you want?

Yun Jingheng's breathing slowed down.

His head was tilted to the right side of the sofa back, his chin pressed into the edge of the cushion, and his eyelids were mostly closed.

He saw the last ray of light in his field of vision: the setting sun shining obliquely through the French windows, casting a long strip of golden-red light on the solid wood floor, with dust floating silently, slowly, and quietly.

Then he closed his eyes completely.

Consciousness sank downwards.

After a few breaths, he suddenly heard a voice.

Very far. Very thin.

It felt like it was coming up through a very, very thick layer of water.

Someone is calling his name.

Not "Young Master".

It is "Yun Jingheng".

He couldn't immediately recognize the voice, but there was something urgent and tense in the tone, which clashed with the warm and comfortable atmosphere of the hall.

The sound came from a very, very far place, striking the very edge of his consciousness, like a grain of sand pricking his teeth.

Yun Jingheng frowned slightly.

Have I forgotten something?

He kept his eyes closed.

"Young Master?"

This time it's up close.

Gu Yue's voice came from beside him, gentle and soft, with a hint of questioning concern. "Young Master, why did you fall asleep here? Wake up, the water is ready."

He felt a gentle push on his shoulder.

Then that very distant sound rang out again, even farther and fainter, like a thread hanging above Abyss, about to snap in the wind.

He couldn't tell who was shouting or what they were saying, but for a moment when the sound entered his consciousness, he felt the light in the hall in front of him dim.

It only lasted for a moment.

Then Gu Yue placed her hand on his shoulder, her body heat seeping through, bringing a comforting and relaxing warmth.

"Young Master?"

Yun Jingheng opened his eyes.

The light in the hall had dimmed considerably, and outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was a deep orange twilight sky. The lights had been turned on at some point, and the millions of crystal chandelier fragments refracted warm yellow light, casting dappled rainbows on the floor.

Gu Yue stood before him, slightly bent over, a folded white bath towel draped over her hand. The lace trim around the neckline of her dark blue maid outfit opened slightly as she bent over, and the small pearl bow above her collarbone gleamed under the light.

"The water's ready," she said. "Yuan En is waiting for you upstairs."

Yun Jingheng sat there for about two breaths without moving.

Something tugged at the string in his mind again, this time even more gently than before, almost a tremor before settling down.

He remembered the distant voice, but when he tried to recall what it said, he found he couldn't.

never mind.

He stood up, supporting himself on the sofa armrest. His legs were weak, and his knees ached, as if he had really slept for a long time.

Gu Yue reached out and helped him up; her fingertips were still cold, leaving a chilly mark on his forearm.

"What's wrong with the young master?"

When she looked up at him, the lamplight shimmered into tiny specks in her pupils. "You don't look well."

"... fine."

He said, his voice hoarse from just waking up, "I had a dream."

Gu Yue smiled faintly, a very slight smile, but the curve of her lips was genuine.

She draped the towel she was holding over his arm, turned and took two steps toward the stairs, then looked back at him.

"Dreams are always the opposite of reality," she said. "Let's go, young master, the water's getting cold."

Yun Jingheng lifted his foot and followed.

As he walked through the center of the hall, he caught a glimpse of the porcelain pieces on the shelf in the corner of the wall, their glazes shimmering softly under the lamplight.

As he walked past the French windows, he saw dusk settling in outside, and the silhouettes of several trees standing indistinctly in the courtyard, their leaves swaying gently in the evening breeze.

As he stepped onto the first step, the solid wood treads made a deep, pleasant sound under his feet.

He stepped onto the second level.

He stepped onto the third level.

That distant, faint voice echoed again somewhere deep in the back of his head, this time only half a syllable, as if it had been cut off, and then it disappeared completely.

Yun Jingheng did not turn around.

He followed Gu Yue up to the second floor. The corridor was lit by wall lamps, their warm yellow light illuminating every fold of her dark blue skirt.

At the end of the corridor was a half-open door, from which steam wafted out, carrying the scent of some kind of bath oil, mixed with the hot, humid atmosphere.

Yuanen Yehui peeked halfway out of the door, wearing a light gray bathrobe, her hair loosely tied in a bun on top of her head, with a few wet strands clinging to her neck.

She smiled when she saw Yun Jingheng, a relaxed and natural smile, and pushed the door open a little wider. "Greetings, young master. The water temperature is just right."

When Yun Jingheng reached the door, Yuanen Yehui stepped aside to let him pass.

Inside the doorway, a misty, warm, white fog carrying the scent of essential oils wafted towards me.

He saw the large white bathtub in the bathroom, with a layer of fine foam floating on the surface of the water, and a candle lit on the windowsill, its flame burning quietly.

As he stepped inside, the moment his heel touched the ground, he suddenly stopped.

Gu Yue stood in the corridor, leaning against the opposite wall with her head down, her dark blue skirt gleaming softly under the wall lamp.

She seemed to be looking at the tips of her shoes, yet she also seemed to be looking at nothing at all.

"Gu Yue," he called out.

She looked up.

"Your hands are so cold," he said, his voice echoing in the hallway before settling down, "... Take a hot bath."

Gu Yue looked at him.

Something flashed deep in her pupils, so fast it was almost imperceptible.

Then she lowered her head, a gentle, obedient smile curving her lips with just the right amount of shyness, "Thank you for your concern, young master. I'll wait for you downstairs."

She pulled the bath towel closer to her chest, then turned and left.

Yun Jingheng stood at the bathroom door, watching her figure disappear around the corner of the corridor.

He stood there for a couple of breaths, then Yuanen Yehui's voice came from behind him, tinged with laughter. "Young Master, if you don't come in soon, the water will really get cold."

He turned around.

A wave of moisture hit my face.

He stepped into the bathroom, and Yuanen Yehui casually closed the door behind him with a soft, appropriate "click."

The corridor was empty.

The light from the wall lamp shone quietly, and the dark patterns on the dark gold tablecloth flowed slowly in the light.

From the distant stairwell came the sound of Xu Xiaoyan humming a song downstairs, the tune light and cheerful, mixed with the occasional clinking of pots and pans from the kitchen.

This house is very big.

It's full of people.

It's very warm.

Yun Jingheng took off his bathrobe in the bathroom and hung it on a rack. He stepped barefoot onto the warm tile floor, the moisture enveloping his exposed skin, every pore slowly opening.

As he stepped into the bathtub, the hot water rose over his ankles, calves, knees, and thighs, finally reaching his waist. He sank into the water, the heat causing him to let out a low sigh from deep in his throat.

He closed his eyes, resting the back of his head on the curved pillow at the edge of the bathtub.

A misty haze hung in the air.

The candle flame flickered slightly on the windowsill.

Xu Xiaoyan's laughter came from downstairs, and then Ye Xinglan said something, and the girls all laughed together.

Laughter mingled with faint music; someone was playing a piano in the living room, the notes falling clear and distinct, one by one.

Yun Jingheng slowly loosened his clenched fist in the water.

It seems... not bad?