Chapter 29

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Qing Guang carefully pulled out the talisman from the pocket on its collar and casually slapped it onto the chaise, then began to nonchalantly lick its paw. In the corner, a green-glazed, lotus-patterned, three-legged incense burner emitted wisps of smoke that slowly dispersed into the air. The scent of chrysanthemum-infused incense drifted gently around, lingering near Old Madam Gu’s nose.

Drowsiness washed over her, and she slipped into a hazy state, hovering between wakefulness and slumber.

“Meow!”

A strange, eerie cat’s meow sounded directly beside her ear, as if whispering into it. Startled, Old Madam Gu jolted upright, wide awake in an instant.

“Someone come!” she called out in a sharp voice, but what escaped her lips was an unmistakable “meow.”

Old Madam Gu froze, realizing something was terribly wrong. She had fallen asleep in her own room, yet now found herself in an unfamiliar garden, surrounded by enormous trees and oversized flowers that towered around her like giants. She raised her voice to call out for help again, only to hear another piercing cat’s meow in response.

Old Madam Gu furrowed her brows tightly, trying to stand, only to realize her hands and feet had transformed into furry black paws.

“Meooow!” Panic gripped her heart as she let out a desperate cry, her whole body going cold. Finally, it dawned on her—the cat’s cries were coming from her own mouth. She had turned into a cat!

“Caw!”

Suddenly, a pitch-black crow swooped down from above. Instinctively, Old Madam Gu lifted her paw to swat it away, but the crow’s sharp beak struck her. She let out a shrill scream as the crow flapped its wings and swooped down at her again, cawing relentlessly.

In terror, she broke into a frantic run. Everything around her felt overwhelmingly large and unfamiliar—the buildings, the trees, the flowers—all now towering over her like colossal shadows, casting a suffocating gloom.

From behind, the crow continued its relentless pursuit, hovering just above, its sharp beak pecking painfully at her back and head, over and over.

In her panicked flight, Old Madam Gu dashed through a few clusters of chrysanthemums, only to find herself facing a wide, open riding field. There, a group of spirited young men and women rode tall, majestic horses, their hooves kicking up clouds of dust.

A large polo ball, about the size of a bowl, darted back and forth among the galloping horses and the swaying mallets, zipping from one side of the field to the other.

To Old Madam Gu, in her current state, the horses appeared monstrous, like the mythical beasts described in the Shan Hai Jing—ferocious and otherworldly. A single stomp from their hooves would surely spell her end.

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Translator’s Note: The Shan Hai Jing (《山海经》), or Classic of Mountains and Seas, is an ancient Chinese text that describes mythical lands, creatures, and folklore, blending geography with mythology from the Warring States and Han periods.
===

She froze in place, eyes wide with terror. At that instant, there was a loud “thunk!” as a mallet struck the polo ball with great force. The ball hurtled toward her like a shooting star, so fast it was almost impossible to follow. Old Madam Gu tried to dodge, but her reaction was far too slow.

She could only watch helplessly as the ball, swift as lightning, crashed squarely into her forehead…

A bone-deep, searing pain struck Old Madam Gu’s head, as if the world itself were collapsing. An endless darkness surged toward her. Her eyes shut, and her body fell backward uncontrollably. In a haze, she faintly heard several voices around her:

“Ugh, where did this black cat come from?”

“How unlucky! Get rid of this dead cat!”

…

Old Madam Gu felt herself sinking into a helpless stupor, her body limp, with no strength to resist. She sensed someone roughly lifting her by the scruff of her neck… Dark, cold waves of pain spread throughout her body, enveloping her like a bottomless mire.

Summoning all her strength, she opened her eyes, only to find herself tossed into a stinking pile of garbage. As her mouth opened, foul-tasting slop seeped in, nauseating her. Flies and mosquitoes buzzed relentlessly, swarming around her.

“Woof, woof…”

Two emaciated stray dogs, drawn by the smell, approached with hungry, bloodthirsty eyes fixed on her. Drool dripped from their long jaws, and their sharp, pointed teeth gleamed with an ominous glint. A yellow dog lunged forward with a howl, sinking its teeth into her delicate, vulnerable neck…

“Meow!”

A sharp, desperate yowl echoed as Old Madam Gu’s eyes shot open. She lay on the chaise, her gaze unfocused and terrified, her chest heaving with each breath. Frantically, she raised her hand to touch her face, then looked repeatedly at her palms, ensuring she was human—and not a cat. Only then did she start to calm down.

Zhuang Zhou’s butterfly dream… was this reality, or had the nightmare been real?

===
Translator’s Note: Zhuang Zhou’s “butterfly dream” refers to a famous allegory by the ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou (Zhuangzi). In the story, he dreams of being a butterfly and, upon waking, is uncertain whether he is a man dreaming of being a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming of being a man, symbolizing the blurred line between reality and illusion.
===

Disoriented, she sat up slowly on the chaise. Her forehead throbbed, and a splitting headache pounded through her, her breathing still labored. Beneath the chaise, the talisman paper had burned to ash, drifting to the floor with her slightest movement.

Outside, someone seemed to have heard the commotion and lifted the curtain to enter.

“Old Madam!” Nanny Xu entered with a respectful bow, her tone eager to please. “I brought a few people to search the area thoroughly. We didn’t see any stray cats outside.”

Old Madam Gu was still troubled by the remnants of her dream, the harsh cawing of the crow echoing in her ears and filling her with an ominous sense of dread.

Nanny Xu personally offered Old Madam Gu a cup of tea and, as she bent down, noticed a few cat hairs clinging to her shoe. Frowning, she sighed, “Old Madam, I believe it must be Second Miss’s cat that snuck into Cihe Hall.”

“It’s just like her—she knows how much cats bother you, yet insists on keeping one.”

Nanny Xu continued to grumble, her resentment toward Gu Yan Fei clearly evident. She harbored a deep-seated annoyance for having had to travel all the way to Huaibei—a rural, impoverished place—because of Gu Yan Fei. The trip kept her away from the capital for four months, including the three she spent in Dan Yang City, and she hadn’t gained a single benefit from it. In fact, someone else had even taken over her original, coveted position.

For the past half month, Nanny Xu had been stewing in resentment, looking for an opportunity to teach Gu Yan Fei a lesson. And now, it seemed, that opportunity had arrived.

A faint, malicious glint appeared in Nanny Xu’s eyes as the corner of her mouth curled slightly in satisfaction.

At the mention of the word “cat,” Old Madam Gu’s eyelids twitched violently, her pupils contracting.

Noticing her reaction, Nanny Xu believed she had guessed correctly. With an ingratiating tone, she pledged her loyalty, “Old Madam, leave this matter to me. I’ll personally take people to Yuheng Courtyard and deal with that cat. I’ll make sure it’s disposed of and thrown to the dogs!”

Images of her nightmare resurfaced before Old Madam Gu’s eyes—the garbage heap, the gaping, dark jaws with sharp fangs aimed at her neck… A wave of panic rose from the depths of her heart, spreading throughout her body.

“Meow!”

Suddenly, a sharp cat’s cry sounded from outside the window, startling Old Madam Gu so badly that she leaped up from her chaise, feeling as though she were once again the helpless cat from her dream. In a panic, she shoved Nanny Xu away, the teacup slipping from her grasp and crashing to the floor. The blue and white porcelain shattered into fragments, shards and tea scattering across the floor in a chaotic mess.