Chapter 8
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The yellow millet porridge is still not done?
The words seemed to awaken Qi Wuhuo from his reverie. His gaze slowly shifted, taking in the bundle on the side table, the books spread out nearby, and the three strings of copper coins that Teacher Su had brought.
He noticed the green plants he was tending to the side, the pile of cabbage in the corner, and the unchopped firewood in the courtyard outside. He lay on the wooden bed he had made himself, feeling the lingering warmth from the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his eyes regained their clarity:
“Indeed… my yellow millet porridge is still not done.”
Prompted by the old man’s urging, the young man got up, tidied up the meal, served the yellow millet porridge from the pot, and prepared a plate of side dishes, placing them on the table. He sat down and picked up his chopsticks, but his movements came to a halt.
“Boy, the food is getting cold. Why are you just sitting there?”
At the table, the old man took a bite of the yellow millet porridge and a chopstick of crispy side dishes. He looked at Qi Wuhuo with a smile and said: “What’s the matter? You have woken from the dream, and you’re still thinking about it?”
Qi Wuhuo raised his eyes but did not respond.
There was a hint of contemplation in his gaze.
The heavy snow outside has stopped. Birds perched on the branches, preening their feathers. The branches swayed, causing the accumulated snow to fall, creating a picturesque scene of countryside charm. On the table, there is a coarse ceramic bowl filled with yellow millet porridge, some crisp and refreshing side dishes, and cabbage adorned with rings of chili peppers, all looking quite appetizing.
Some time had passed since Qi Wuhuo had awakened from his dream, and the yellow millet porridge had grown cold. Qi Wuhuo found the food tasteless, put down his chopsticks, and calmly said to the old man: “Old sir… I had a dream just now…”
He paused, glancing at the bed: “That jade pillow…”
The old man smiled and said:
“Oh? The jade pillow? It was given to me by a traveling Daoist.”
“It is said to be beneficial for sleep, calming the mind and aiding in falling into dreams.”
Qi Wuhuo nodded silently.
The old man chuckled and asked: “It seems, just as that traveling Daoist said, you slept quite soundly.”
“But no matter what kind of dream you had, there’s no need to dwell on it too much. Life is like a dream, and dreams are like life. As we live in this world, how can we be sure we’re not merely figures within a dream?”
“After such a dream, Wuhuo, what have you gained?”
Qi Wuhuo lowered his gaze. Though it was indeed a dream, everything he experienced within it felt incredibly vivid. While the smaller details had faded, the major events remained so clear, almost tangible.
If he could walk that path again.
He could navigate it far more smoothly, achieving with ease the accomplishments he had labored for a lifetime to attain in the dream. But, so what? The young man suddenly felt bored.
Seventy years pass like fleeting clouds; from eight hundred miles away, the Daoist returns.
“It was just a dream…”
Qi Wuhuo sighed deeply after a long silence and replied:
“The ways of honor and disgrace, the fate of prosperity and adversity, the principle behind gain and loss, and the feelings of life and death.”
“I have seen it all…”
The old man stroked his beard and laughed heartily: “Excellent wisdom.”
After the meal, Qi Wuhuo washed the dishes, dried his hands, and set about organizing the items that Teacher Su had given him. He stored away two strings of copper coins and placed the third in the cabinet for easy access.
He chopped wood, swept the courtyard, and washed clothes—just like any other day. There was no difference.
Afterward, when he had some free time, he picked up the scrolls of ancient texts that Teacher Su had given him.
These were materials for preparing for the imperial examinations in the coming spring, filled with knowledge required for the imperial civil service exams. In places where the content is difficult and obscure, Teacher Su has written annotations in small, neat characters with a cinnabar red ink to explain the material.
For Qi Wuhuo, these were things he had yet to learn.
Some officials and scholars might not even be able to fully comprehend the texts, but Teacher Su’s understanding was profound and precise. His deep knowledge had earned him great renown throughout the entire prefecture. This reputation was why even noble families sent their children to study at the academy in this small town.
Qi Wuhuo opened a few pages but hadn’t begun reading when a flood of words flowed through his mind, as if the content of these books was already familiar to him. It was as if he had read them dozens of times before. The information surfaced in his mind, clear and vivid, without even looking at the text.
Qi Wuhuo paused in his actions.
He was certain he had never read this book before.
Except in the dream…
A strange and absurd thought rose in his heart.
“Could it be…”
“That dream…”
He quickly recalled the contents of the book in his mind. Though he had never read it before, the words were perfectly clear, floating up from his memory. He then opened the book and skimmed through it, and indeed, the content matched exactly what he had just recalled!
He flipped through the other books, and it was the same for all of them.
Not only was he extremely familiar with their contents, but the intricate and profound meanings within were deeply ingrained in his heart, as if they were second nature. Then, he looked at the annotations left by Teacher Su, a scholar of great repute.
But now Qi Wuhuo could vaguely perceive some subtle flaws in Teacher Su’s explanations. Though his insights were brilliant, they were not flawless.
It was as though Qi Wuhuo was no longer a mere fourteen-year-old youth.
But rather, he had become the renowned and unparalleled scholar, Master Wuhuo, a figure who had read and mastered the classics, reached the pinnacle of both civil and military affairs, and was peerless across the realm. After a long while, Qi Wuhuo put the three books back in their place, his expression calm and composed. His suspicions were becoming clearer.
The emotions from the events in the dream had faded away, but the experience of reading and learning remained. Though it usually lay dormant, when needed, this knowledge surfaced as naturally as instinct.
Though it was just a dream.
The books he had read and the things he had seen were not illusions.
Qi Wuhuo stood up and looked toward the jade pillow.
The pillow was made entirely of white jade, adorned with six intricate tadpole cloud patterns. The relief carvings of swirling clouds seemed to be of Daoist origin. When Qi Wuhuo reached out to touch it, it seemed he had triggered something. The cloud patterns briefly glowed, then seemed to dissolve into nothingness, followed by a crackling sound. The pillow was soon covered in numerous cracks.
The old man’s voice of regret came from behind him:
“Ah, what a pity, what a pity.”
“After having this for twenty-seven years since I received it from that traveling Daoist, I never expected it to be so fragile. It shattered after just one use. That Daoist really played a trick on me.”
Qi Wuhuo turned around to see the old man standing behind him, half of his purple robe shrouded in light, the other half in shadow. At a glance, he looked like he was wearing a purple Daoist robe, smiling gently at him.
Qi Wuhuo knew this old man was definitely no ordinary person. After a moment of silence, he asked:
“Old sir… you mentioned a Daoist?”
The old man smiled and said, “Yes, that fellow called himself [Fire Dragon True Person].”
“Over twenty years ago, we met by chance. He lost three consecutive gambling matches to me and gave me this pillow as a debt settlement. It’s merely a sleeping aid, not worth much.”
“Wuhuo, don’t concern yourself too much.”
“Anyway, I remember there should be at least one more of these pillows. I can just ask for another in return the next time I see him.”
Qi Wuhuo set aside his doubts, poured tea, and treated the old man with the same courtesy as before. He didn’t show increased respect despite knowing the old man’s identity or become arrogant due to his dream experience.
Holding the teacup, he reflected and said to himself:
“In this world, demons and ghosts. Demons are nothing more than wild beasts with spiritual powers, and they too have life and death.”
“Ghosts are merely lingering obsessions.”
“Can…”
Qi Wuhuo fell silent, his eyes slightly closed. The dream images, seeming both real and illusory, tumbled in his mind. The fantastical dream of seventy years—studying, entering officialdom, becoming a general, engaging in the bustling world of emperors and ministers, achievements, and beauties— all flowed through his mind. He then composed himself and asked:
“May I ask, old sir, are there truly immortals in this world?”
The old man’s smile faded slightly, and he answered: “Yes.”
The young man asked again:
“Can one achieve eternal life?”
The old man adjusted his attire.
Sitting upright, with a composed expression, he answered——
“Can.”
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