"Hiss... ow..."
The lump on Shao Zhen's forehead felt swollen and tight. Touching it barely hurt, but his entire head throbbed with a dull, dizzy ache.
"Could I get a lump like this just from sleeping? No... hadn't I already gotten up?"
Shao Zhen's thoughts finally cleared. He remembered that he had already gotten out of bed, remembered grasping the mysteries of painting gods, and, more importantly, remembered going out when someone called at the door.
But after opening it, before he could see who stood outside-or even react-his head had reeled, and he remembered nothing after that.
Meanwhile, his earlier dream grew increasingly clear, everything in it seeming to have happened right beside him.
Shao Zhen propped himself up into a sitting position, but his weakened body swayed, and he fell back down.
Only after he felt steadier did he rise again, throw back the covers, and climb out of bed. He pulled on a thicker garment and walked outside step by step.
After waking from that dream, even looking at the paintings around him felt different.
Yet after circling the room, he found no one else. Who had struck his head, then? Had he knocked it against something himself?
Shao Zhen went to the door and discovered that it had merely been pulled shut, not bolted. He hurriedly slid the bolt into place, only then feeling a little reassured.
He came before the portrait of the Manifest Holiness True Lord and stared blankly at the deity painted on the black cloth. The deity's gaze was calm, as though he, too, were looking at Shao Zhen.
"Thank you for your guidance, True Lord!"
Shao Zhen bowed to the portrait, then supported the black cloth's upper roller with both hands and hung it on a bamboo pole to one side