On the night he arrived in Taiyuan, Zhang Xing had a dream. He dreamed he had returned home-not merely to his previous world, but to his hometown in that world, a typical farming township surrounded by fields on a great plain, a place developing at breakneck speed yet destined to be left behind.
He dreamed that he wrapped a quilt around himself as clothing and walked out of his home without looking back.
He crossed a patch of grass, and green vines clung to the quilt, then grew rapidly as though nourished by Longevity True Qi,
weaving themselves into living ropes that fashioned the quilt into clothing for him while binding it tightly to his body.
He walked through a strange field that seemed both to be yielding a harvest and falling into decay. Only halfway through did he realize it was a field of sunflowers, all with their heads hanging down.
He reached the town's only crossroads. Amid the swirling dust, he seemed supposed to turn left to go to school, but the bus to the county town on the right was about to leave. Yet at that moment, despite not being hungry, he chose to sit down and order a bowl of his hometown's oil tea.
Then, before the oil tea had even been poured, he woke up.
This left Zhang Xing rather suspicious and uneasy.
He could hardly be blamed. It had been a long time since he had dreamed of his previous world, let alone his hometown there. Besides, while this world appeared to have no ghosts, it really did have gods.
Hadn't the emperor slaughtered the entire family of his only elder sister after having a dream? Leaving aside whether that was heartless, the point was that nobody dismissed his dream.
Everyone believed the dream