Suddenly, her body felt light, and everything before Yingran’s eyes turned dark.
Her back hit something solid, and in a panic, she sat up, opening her eyes.
Still groggy, the person beside her pulled her close, his voice tinged with sleepy laziness in the dim night: “What’s wrong?”
Yingran turned to look at him, dazed.
His long hair was loose, dressed in plain white inner robes. By the moonlight spilling into the room, she could see his face was unblemished.
Yingran cupped his face, examining it closely, her hands touching his warm skin. Only then did her panicked heart slowly calm.
The dream had felt too real.
So real that the metallic scent of blood from the dream seemed to linger in her nose. Only now was it gradually replaced by the cool, snowy fragrance of his body.
Xu Liling pulled her into his arms. “Nightmare?”
Yingran nodded.
Xu Liling lit the candle by the bed with one hand, gently patting her. “What kind of nightmare?”
Yingran hesitated for a moment before saying, “I dreamed you were trying to kill me.”
Nestled against his chest, she couldn’t see the deep, shadowed look in Xu Liling’s eyes, untouched by the candlelight. “I would never kill you.”
Yingran: “In the dream, I was on a battlefield, terrified. Then I saw you and called out to you. You turned, looked at me, and thrust a spear toward me.”
Xu Liling’s lips, pressed into a straight line, curved into a slight smile. “Me, killing you with a spear?”
Yingran nodded. The fear had faded, leaving only a heart full of grievance and anger.
Xu Liling, amused: “If I wanted to kill someone, why would I use a spear? Only the tip is sharp—how inconvenient for killing.”
Yingran pouted. “Maybe because we were far apart, and a spear is long enough…”
The more she spoke, the more aggrieved and angry she felt, suddenly pounding his chest twice.
Back when she was a corporate drone, she’d scroll through memes at night and see stories about people dreaming their boyfriend cheated, then waking up to beat him. She couldn’t understand it then.
Now she did.
Even knowing the person in the dream wasn’t him, it felt too real, and the pain it brought was real too. As she spoke, she couldn’t hold back.
Xu Liling laughed. “Even if we were far apart, I wouldn’t use a spear to kill you.
A mortal—what need is there to kill with a spear? Even from a distance, a flick of my finger would do it.”
Unaware of the specifics of her dream, he still analyzed it seriously: “Maybe there was something behind you.”
Yingran, confused: “What do you mean?”
Xu Liling: “Maybe there was something behind you I wanted to kill without hurting you. So I used a spear. Only the tip is sharp, so the shaft wouldn’t hurt you like a sword’s blade would. What do you think?”
Yingran thought it over, recalling the dream’s details.
In that fleeting moment, everything happened so fast her mind went blank, and she hadn’t noticed if his spear was aimed past her.
But thinking it over, she suddenly realized something off-topic.
Yingran sat up, cupping Xu Liling’s face again, studying it under the flickering candlelight.
It was still that strikingly handsome face, with a hint of boyishness. But his expression and eyes were calmer, more detached, his demeanor lazy and serene.
In the dream, he seemed younger, like a true youth, his gaze and aura carrying the reckless arrogance and wildness unique to young men.
Yingran squinted, studying him, wondering if she’d dreamed of a younger version of him.
He didn’t seem that old now… but no, he was a demon.
His real age might be far greater than she imagined.
Why would she suddenly dream of a younger him?
Yingran sank into thought.
Xu Liling let her hold his face, and after a while, asked, “See anything?”
Yingran snapped back, let go, and lay down with her back to him.
Xu Liling: “Going to sleep?”
Yingran: “Mm.”
Xu Liling blew out the candle, hugging her from behind. “Mad at me because of a nightmare?”
Yingran stayed silent.
It wasn’t exactly anger over the nightmare.
How to put it—she knew he was a demon and had mentally prepared herself to let it go. But after such a dream, completely ignoring it was impossible.
She could feel Xu Liling staring at the back of her head.
Let him stare—she needed a moment to process.
She closed her eyes, ready to sleep.
Suddenly, she felt warm breath on the back of her hair.
He kissed her hair lightly, not forcing her to turn around, just holding her, his hand gently patting her abdomen.
Yingran kept her eyes closed, drifting off.
Half-asleep, half-awake, she turned and hugged him.
In the morning, Yingran woke to find Xu Liling still beside her.
Startled, she nudged him.
He was awake but hadn’t opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Yingran: “It’s not your day off. Aren’t you going to be late for work?”
Xu Liling, unhurried: “I’m staying with you today.”
Yingran guessed her reaction last night had worried him. Helplessly, she said, “No need. I’m planning to start packing today so we can move easily in a few days. Didn’t you say you’d bring me a map? If you don’t go out, where will you get one?”
Xu Liling opened his eyes to look at her.
Yingran leaned down, half-lying on him, smiling. “Tonight, we’ll look at where to move together?”
Xu Liling rubbed her back. “Alright.”
He got up, but Yingran stayed in bed.
He dressed, washed, made breakfast, came back to say goodbye, and left as usual.
Yingran dozed off again, then got up, ate breakfast, and started packing.
Little Yellow played at the courtyard gate.
Big Flower walked in: “You’re still planning to move with him?”
“Not entirely for him.”
Yingran said, “Since I’m not leaving him and we’re staying together, we might implicate my parents or Guan Yi. Moving somewhere no one knows us means we handle any trouble ourselves.
Big Flower sneered sarcastically: “Moving to a place where no one knows you—if he goes berserk and kills you, no one would even notice.”
Yingran: “Didn’t you say you’d protect me?”
Big Flower proudly lifted its little cat head: “Hmph.”
Speaking of killing her, Yingran thought of last night’s dream again. She recounted it to Big Flower, adding: “I told you before about my battlefield dreams, right? Since that night, I’ve been dreaming of battlefields almost every night… and in the dreams, Huai Zhen looks younger.”
“Hm?”
Big Flower perked up, eyes gleaming. “What if you’re not dreaming?”
Yingran: “What do you mean?”
Big Flower, excited: “Different worlds have different mission modes. Some involve multiple timelines. Maybe you’re being pulled into a mission.”
Yingran frowned: “But I’m not bound to you.”
“Right…” Big Flower grinned sheepishly. “Then I’m not sure.”
It chuckled: “You could bind with me and see if it’s a dream or a mission.”
Yingran saw through it: “You’re just trying to trick me into binding. Don’t even think about it.”
Big Flower huffed, turned its back to her, and sulkily went out to play.
Yingran continued packing at home.
Daily necessities were inconvenient to bring, so she focused on sorting small, rarely used items she and Xu Liling couldn’t bear to discard.
Most of these were from before their marriage, stored in a cabinet in the side room.
She grabbed a bundle to pack, pulling out her old handkerchief, a worn sachet, a snack pouch…
Looking at these items, memories flooded back, and Yingran couldn’t help but smile.
She remembered the handkerchief was from a day when Xu Liling fed Little Yellow meat, and she handed it to him to wipe his hands.
The old sachet was the first one she embroidered for herself as a child.
The snack pouch was for holding treats before they married.
She’d once used it to carry floral honey sweets to share with Xu Liling.
And… what’s this?
In a corner of the cabinet, Yingran found an unremarkable black cloth bag.
She opened it, revealing a string of beads, pale as bone jade, starkly white against the black cloth.
She suddenly recalled that in their early meetings, Xu Liling seemed to wear a faintly visible white string on his left wrist.
Back then, they weren’t close, so she never asked what it was.
Later, when the beads disappeared from his wrist, she forgot to ask altogether.
But in last night’s dream, the beads on his wrist transformed into a long knife and spear.
Yingran took the bead string out of the bag. It felt like jade but wasn’t quite jade.
Exactly 108 beads.
A Taoist rosary.
She didn’t know what it was made of, only that it exuded an indescribable chill that made her uneasy.
Yingran put the beads back in the bag, stuffed it into the corner, and felt an inexplicable panic.
Were her dreams really just dreams?
Why did she dream of a younger him, and why did he have the same bead string in both the dream and reality?
Had she unconsciously noted the beads when they first met, projecting them into her dream?
Or, as Big Flower suggested, was it not a dream at all?
Yingran stood stunned for a while, then turned and packed the black bag with the other items as if nothing happened.
After finishing, she lounged on a chair in front of the house, soaking in the sun.
She’d hoped the sunlight would dispel the chill, but soon found it unbearable.
Whatever that thing was, she thought, it’s not as bad as the summer sun—it’s killing me.
She went back inside to lie down.
In the evening, Xu Liling returned home.
After dinner and bathing, Yingran sat with him in the courtyard, cooling off in the breeze, looking at a map book by candlelight.
The map was hand-drawn on fine paper, detailing place names, climates, and local customs.
The artwork was exquisite, the calligraphy bold and vigorous, with sharp, flowing strokes—like a dragon dancing. Clearly, the artist was from a renowned family, spirited and unrestrained.
Yingran, who wasn’t skilled at appraising, only knew a bit from being forced by her father to study famous artworks as a child.
This map was no less impressive than a master’s treasure.
Yingran flipped through it carefully: “This map book must be valuable, right?”
Xu Liling: “It’s fine. It’s mine.”
Yingran teased: “You didn’t steal it, did you?”
Xu Liling, too lazy to argue, flipped through it casually.
Yingran stopped being so cautious, snuggling with him as they discussed where to move.
Just looking at the map, Yingran couldn’t decide clearly.
But for every place she mentioned or questioned, Xu Liling had an answer.
She said: “You’ve read so many books—you know everything.”
Xu Liling asked: “Decided where to go?”
Yingran pointed to Lingyang: “My father said our family’s ancestral home is here. We sometimes cook dishes from there, and I like them. Shall we move there?”
Xu Liling: “Alright.”
Lingyang was prosperous, not too far or close to Yunshui County—a good choice.
He put away the map book and went inside to store it.
Yingran touched her half-dry hair, planning to wait until it dried completely before sleeping.
Watching his tall silhouette, she thought of the figure in her dream. After a moment’s hesitation, she called out: “Oh, while packing today, I found a string of beads. Are they yours?”
Xu Liling returned, lying on the chair beside her. “Mm. Taoist beads.”
Yingran felt a bit relieved, a smile forming.
Some things are left unsaid for the sake of living well together.
But hiding things means mutual distrust, and that makes living together impossible. Honesty is better.
She asked: “Are those beads a family heirloom?”
Xu Liling: “I made them when I was young.”
Yingran, surprised: “You can make Taoist beads?”
Curious, she added: “They don’t feel like jade, and I couldn’t tell what they’re made of. What are they?”
Xu Liling: “Bone.”
Little Yellow, outside the courtyard gate, suddenly looked in eagerly, wagging its tail excitedly at Xu Liling.
Xu Liling ignored it.
Yingran asked hesitantly: “Animal bone?”
Xu Liling: “Mm.”
Not human bone, then.
Yingran sighed in relief, joking: “Why’d you think to make Taoist beads from animal bone?”
Xu Liling: “Thought they’d be useful, so I made them.”
Little Yellow, listening to the couple’s chat, secretly rolled its eyes.
Xu Liling wasn’t wrong—animal bone.
After all, humans are animals too.
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