On that night of dreams that haunted the soul, a fine rain began pattering down again after midnight. The travelers gradually succumbed to drowsiness, until all they heard was the breeze tapping at the windows and rain falling on the green bamboo.
The next morning, when Zhang Xingyan awoke and went out into the inn's courtyard, he found only wisps of mist lingering in the clear sunlight. The earthen ground was barely damp, with no sign that rain had fallen during the night. Only the feathery bamboo shadows against the whitewashed walls seemed especially fresh and green.
By then, daylight had fully broken. From the street outside the inn came the faint cries of merchants hawking their wares and the greetings of passersby. With each breath, he caught the clean fragrance of pine firewood burning in the inn's kitchen. Everything before him seemed as ordinary as ever; all the living beings around him still moved serenely along the paths their lives had laid out for them.
Yet, ordinary and unremarkable though this mortal world was, after a night of strange dreams, the familiar street cries and comforting fragrance of pine charcoal filled the youth's heart with an inexplicable gratitude.
As he strolled leisurely through the courtyard, Xing Yan suddenly noticed that the little girl who usually slept late was already fully dressed and playing out of sight before a stone shrine in one corner.
"Oh? Qiong Rong is up rather early today. What's she playing all by herself at this hour?"
Curious to see Qiong Rong up so early, Xing Yan went over to look. As he drew nearer, however, he noticed something odd-the little girl was making faces before the stone shrine, now widening her eyes, now wrinkling her nose, now pursing her little lips. He had no idea