Dream

In a university classroom, the professor was enthusiastically lecturing on the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms.

A sudden snore rang out. The professor stopped speaking and looked toward its source, expressionless.

The students turned as well, suppressing their laughter. In a corner seat in the back row, a tall young man lay sprawled over his desk, sound asleep.

"Him again."

"What's been going on with Zhao Changhe lately? He used to be such an energetic athlete. Has he been spending every night with young models at clubs, or 'reading the Spring and Autumn Annals' till dawn?"

One of his roommates answered listlessly, "Neither. He's been having nightmares every night, waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. Sometimes he even screams. He's been keeping all of us awake."

"What is this, a possession?"

Hearing the students' chatter, the professor shook his head. He didn't wake Zhao Changhe, merely tapped the lectern calmly. "Let's continue."

Little did Zhao Changhe know that things had now progressed beyond nightmares at night-even a nap over his desk in class brought them on...

The classroom chatter swirled hazily around his ears, turning into the chaotic sounds of his dream: footsteps, battle cries, furious curses, screams, and the clang of clashing weapons, all mingling together.

The surroundings soon sharpened from a blur. Zhao Changhe knew he had entered the dream that had been repeating relentlessly these past few days.

Every time, it was the same period martial arts drama: different settings, the same bloody slaughter.

He could already feel the familiar weight in his hands. It was a heavy broadsaber, roughly a meter and a half long and over ten centimeters wide. Zhao Changhe had to grip its long hilt with both hands; he simply couldn't swing something this heavy with one, and even two were a struggle.

He hadn't had it in his first dream. Chased by people hacking at him while he was unarmed, he had fled blindly and snatched it up beside a nearby corpse. Ever since, it had appeared in every dream.

Zhao Changhe wasn't sure whether a saber like this actually existed. It felt too heavy to wield for long and probably wasn't a conventional weapon, but it was exceptionally useful in a melee between low-level fighters-as long as you could swing it.

Whoosh! The sound of a sharp weapon slicing through the air came from his side. Zhao Changhe roared, twisted at the waist, and used that force to drive the heavy saber in his hands into a sweeping slash.

The blade moved, and the wind rose!

The attacker broke into a cold sweat and instinctively raised his longsword in a desperate attempt to block.

With a clang, the longsword snapped and a head flew into the air. All that remained was a headless corpse awkwardly clutching a broken sword, blood gushing from its neck.

Like smashing rotten wood and sweeping away dead branches!

"That's more like it. A longsword or dagger trying to stand up to a broadsaber? What a joke..."

The headless corpse sprayed a mist of blood. It was a horrifyingly gory sight, but Zhao Changhe no longer felt the nausea he had the first time. He even had the presence of mind to make a snide remark.

Suddenly, a faint, sharp rush of air came from behind. Zhao Changhe's skin tightened instantly, goose bumps rising all over him.

A sneak attack with a blade!

He instinctively twisted aside, and a dagger slipped silently past his right side.

A fragrant breeze brushed past. The instant the dagger missed, a ghostlike figure had already appeared on his left.

If this heavy saber had one fatal weakness, it was how sluggishly it moved. Zhao Changhe tried to drag the blade around, but he was already a beat too late.

The dagger slid lightly across his throat. Bone-deep agony struck, and the dream shattered.

The last image was a slender, graceful figure drifting away with a soft laugh.

Zhao Changhe flew into a rage. "You again, you witch! One of these days, I'm going to kill you!"

Only after the words left his mouth did he realize something was wrong. His throat had been slit-how could his voice still be so strong?

Zhao Changhe opened his eyes. Before him was a classroom silent as the grave, with everyone from the professor to his classmates staring at him strangely.

The professor's face was expressionless. "What exactly are you going to do with this witch? Do elaborate."

Zhao Changhe: "..."

A devastating social death. It hurt worse than having his throat slit.

The professor laid his cards on the table. "I've put up with you long enough. Go stand by the door and clear your head."

Zhao Changhe silently left the classroom. He had no intention of obediently standing there as punishment and simply walked away.

He had never been a well-behaved student who followed every rule, and his mental state was hardly normal right now.

Day after day on bloody battlefields had made the mental pressure almost tangible. Sleeping left him more exhausted than being awake. If this continued, his body would collapse. Worse, the dreams were unbelievably real. Each time, he was either hacked to death by a flurry of blades or had his throat slit in a sneak attack; sometimes he even died to some unknown AOE. The terror and pain were utterly real. It could genuinely drive a person mad.

He had seen a doctor, who said it sounded like he had become obsessed with games or novels and advised him to stay off the internet. The doctor had stopped just short of suggesting electroshock therapy.

But Zhao Changhe knew he hadn't played games in ages. Besides, these scenes weren't the same as the games he knew; only a few elements were similar-martial arts and fantasy stuff all featured sabers, spears, swords, and halberds. It wasn't as if they could pilot Gundams.

Had he become obsessed with novels? But the novel Zhao Changhe had secretly posted on Hetushu had flopped miserably, and he had abandoned it months ago. He hadn't even opened the Hetushu app since.

Normally, he worked out, played ball, and even belonged to the archery club. It was such a healthy lifestyle. How had things ended up like this?

He trudged listlessly out through the campus gates. With morning classes in session, the student shopping street was relatively quiet, though plenty of lovey-dovey couples were skipping class to shop and eat, taking turns biting the same grilled sausage. Zhao Changhe rolled his eyes at the sight.

He just wanted to shove that sausage into the witch's mouth.

Truthfully, his single heart wasn't entirely free of envy... Zhao Changhe curled his lip and looked away from the couples flaunting their affection, then suddenly turned into an alley off the student shopping street.

It was a dead-end alley lined with shops, most of which were closed at this hour. Zhao Changhe walked to its quiet end, where one small shop was open. A plaque above the entrance bore black seal-script characters reading "Chaotic Times House," while a sign beside the door read "Fortune-telling, dream interpretation."

This little fortune-telling shop had opened only three days ago. It was exceedingly low-key, yet its reputation had spread quickly.

There was only one reason: its fortune-teller was a woman, and a very pretty one. A pack of ravenous beasts had spent the past two or three days discussing her with knowing winks. Zhao Changhe had heard about her yesterday and made a point of visiting too. Of course, his reason was different from everyone else's-he genuinely wanted his dreams interpreted.

He strolled into the shop. No lights were on, leaving it rather dim. A short-haired woman sat quietly in a corner, sorting cards on the table with her eyes closed.

She wore black, ancient-style warrior clothes, as though she had stepped straight out of a martial arts film. She was indeed beautiful. With her eyes gently closed, she looked particularly like a serene statue. Yet the longer Zhao Changhe watched her, the more he sensed something mysterious and uncanny.

Could an ordinary person sort things with their eyes closed?

"Keeping your eyes closed while telling fortunes might help set the mood, but why close them when you're just sitting in your shop tidying up?" Zhao Changhe suddenly asked.

The woman didn't even raise her head, as though she had known he was there all along. "Why couldn't it be because I really am blind?"

"You don't even have a cane. Who are you trying to fool?"

"I don't need one," the woman replied calmly. "You, on the other hand, called me crazy yesterday, yet here you are again. Have you finally realized that you're the one with a problem?"

Zhao Changhe said, "Because your dream-entry treatment sounded so fake. Tell that to anyone-who wouldn't call you crazy?"

"Not necessarily," the woman said mildly. "When I told other people, several warmly invited me to enter their dreams with them... Perhaps you could find the answer here to why you don't have a girlfriend."

Stung by the slap to his pride, Zhao Changhe bitterly regretted revealing so much personal information yesterday in his attempt to have his dreams interpreted. He stiffened his neck. "Who the hell wants to enter a dream with you...? Anyway, how can you say something like that with such a flat expression and tone? You're like a robot."

The woman said, "Stating facts requires neither expression nor tone."

Fuck... Zhao Changhe changed the subject outright. "Fake or not, I'm here to give it a try today. How does this dream-entry thing work?"

"When ordinary people have lucid dreams like yours, where they can fully control their actions, they are omnipotent within the dream. Whatever outcome they desire becomes reality. You must have had such dreams before?"

"Yes." Zhao Changhe felt her wording was starting to sound strange-"such dreams," for instance. Wouldn't a normal person say "dreams like that"?

The woman continued, "But in these recent dreams, you can control only your own actions, nothing else. Things repeatedly go against your wishes. Correct?"

"Yes."

"You remain trapped in an endless cycle of nightmares because an unfulfilled desire within the dream has not been resolved. If you fulfill it, you can break free." The woman asked, "So what outcome do you wish to achieve? For example... defeating a certain opponent? Slaughtering everyone present? Or merely escaping the battle? Even conquering the world? Easy or difficult, it must be what you truly want. Otherwise, it is meaningless."

What outcome did he want to achieve?

A beautiful figure in black flashed through Zhao Changhe's mind, and he blurted out, "Kill that witch, of course!"

The woman's perpetually calm expression twitched almost imperceptibly.

"What? Sneaky bastards have to die. Is there a problem?"

"No." The woman regained her composure and spoke slowly. "What outcome you wish to achieve is your business. I cannot go in and help you. I am merely having you confirm your goal, understand what to do and how to bring things to an end. That is all."

"If you can't help me, I still won't be able to beat the witch once I'm dreaming. Am I going in just to feed her another kill?"

The woman silently pushed over the cards she had finished sorting. "Draw three."

"What are these?"

"The first will grant you an additional ability within the dream to help fulfill your wish."

"So you're throwing in a cheat?"

"It is a dream, after all. There is nothing strange about unusual abilities."

"Fair point... What about the second?"

"It determines your starting location. You will not appear directly in the most dangerous place, giving you a chance to prepare."

"That's good, that's good. And the third?"

"A clue to achieving your goal. For example, who she actually is, or how to find her."

Zhao Changhe paused, puzzled. "If you have a clue, why not just tell me? Why make me draw it myself?"

"Because I do not know what it is either. I can only interpret the cards you draw. You may consider it divination."

Zhao Changhe glanced at the cards on the table, said nothing more, and casually drew three from the middle.

In truth, he still didn't really believe anything she had said. He was essentially treating a dead horse as though it might still be saved, giving it a try. If it didn't work, he would only get swindled out of a few dozen yuan. He could pretend he had sent a friend money for Crazy Thursday.

He casually turned over the first card. Its main image was a huge eye, with a blurred background that looked like a person seen from behind.

The second showed a round jade pendant carved with a dragon. The background glittered with gold, looking like a palace and a dragon throne.

The third was pitch-black, like a solid black curtain, though faint traces of gold showed through, outlining a face like that of a god or Buddha. He couldn't make out any details.

The woman remained silent for a long time.

Zhao Changhe was somewhat speechless too. "Why are your eyes still closed? Can you actually see?"

"The first is simply an eye behind you." The woman finally seemed to come to her senses and spoke slowly. "It can improve your eyesight slightly. More importantly, it allows you to see what happens behind your back."

You really can see... Zhao Changhe froze for a moment, then suddenly found this rather interesting.

What he hated most was being ambushed. Wasn't this a convenient coincidence? Whether or not the woman had deliberately interpreted it that way after hearing about his dreams, the picture really did show an eye behind someone.

Could drawing these cards actually reflect his subconscious?

"Then... the second is the location? What does this jade pendant represent?"

The woman fell silent again. After a long while, she suddenly said, "Won't you find out once you go in?"

Zhao Changhe: "???"

The woman abruptly reached out and picked up the eye card. Before Zhao Changhe could even make out her hand's movement, she had pressed the card against his forehead.

The next instant, the world spun, and Zhao Changhe vanished as though he had never been there.

The eye card disappeared along with him, while the other two remained on the table.

The woman picked up the final black card and sat quietly for several seconds, then murmured to herself, "I never expected... that he could actually draw out my true nature..."

She slowly opened her eyes. Her pupils were black as ink, like a desolate night, icy and deathly still.

"Kill the witch? Heh... I'll be waiting."