Chapter 2: Seeing Ghosts

The content of dreams is not bound by the limits of reality, so they are often bizarre and inexplicable. The dreams Fang Yue had about this world, in their first half—or rather, for the greater part—were quite ordinary: he was transformed into a scholar of ancient times, striving for success in the imperial examinations.

Yet on the final night—last night, the very night before he crossed into this dream world—the long dream abruptly shifted in tone, turning strange and terrifying. Under normal circumstances, it would have been nothing more than a ridiculous nightmare. But now Fang Yue had crossed into this dream, becoming the scholar within it. Would the terrifying events from that last night also come true?

The memory of the nightmare sent a chill through Fang Yue’s heart. Although the dream of the final night was chaotic and fragmented, the scenes flashing by like a lantern show, utterly different from the vivid, immersive dreams of the previous nights, Fang Yue could not forget its grotesque horror, nor the bloodshed.

"If the last night’s dream comes true, then this world is no paradise, but a hell of horrors."

Fang Yue’s face darkened, and his fingers trembled slightly around his wine cup.

"Excellent, Miss Bai, your performance was marvelous."

"Miss Bai’s skill on the zither is unmatched. This piece, ‘Mountain Stream Flowing,’ truly captures its essence."

A round of applause broke out; Bai Yao had finished her song. She smiled reservedly, her eyes limpid as autumn waters sweeping over the faces of the scholars, finally coming to rest on Fang Yue.

"Young Master Fang, Young Master Fang."

Fang Yue raised his head. "Yes, Miss Bai?"

Bai Yao feigned mild annoyance. "Young Master Fang, you were lost in thought again."

Fang Yue sighed softly, drained the last of his wine, and said, "I was thinking of some troublesome matters. Please, enjoy yourselves, don’t worry about me."

Ren Junlin, swaying his head, said, "Fang Yue, if I may—why think about troubles in a place like this? Whatever the matter, forget it now. Life is meant to be enjoyed in the moment."

"Live in the moment?" Fang Yue’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. If the nightmare came true, it would happen soon, if his memory served; there was little time left, no time nor mind for merriment.

But as an ordinary man, how could he hope to survive if the nightmare became reality?

"The monsters, demons, and wicked beings that wrought the horror and bloodshed in the nightmare should already exist in this world. Yet I, in this world, have lived safely from childhood to now, more than twenty years; though I’ve heard of strange occurrences, I have never seen anything truly dreadful. Either they remain sealed away, or there are extraordinary powers here to oppose them."

But where could he find those with such powers? And would these reclusive masters even care to help someone as ordinary as himself?

Fang Yue’s brow furrowed slightly.

"Still, in the dream, I too was an ordinary person—how did I survive?"

Throughout the dream, including the nightmare of the final night, he experienced everything as Scholar Fang. The strange and horrific events happened to him or nearby, but he lived through them all, meaning he survived until the end.

"I remember now. In the dream, I relied on a jade pendant."

A look of joy came to Fang Yue’s face, as if a ray of hope had pierced the darkness—hope for survival.

"That’s right, the jade pendant! Where is it?"

His expression changed again. He remembered: he did possess a jade pendant, though he couldn’t recall where it came from.

Of course, that wasn’t important. The crucial thing was that today, before coming to the Drunken Blossom Pavilion, worried that he might not have enough money and lose face, he had pawned that very pendant.

"What jade pendant?" Ren Junlin, sitting beside him, heard Fang Yue muttering and asked curiously.

Fang Yue suddenly stood, took a small piece of silver from his person and placed it on the table. "I have urgent business and must leave. Here’s my share for the wine."

With that, he hurried out, leaving the others in the room exchanging bewildered looks.

…

Dusk had deepened, and night was falling fast.

Fang Yue jogged all the way, breathless, to ‘Fenghe Pawnshop’ on East Street, only to find the wooden doors tightly shut. Of course he knew the pawnshop would have closed long ago—they would never conduct business so late—but still, clinging to a shred of hope, he had rushed out from the brothel and run here. He couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

"I’ll have to wait till morning when they open to redeem the pendant."

Fang Yue was anxious, but there was nothing more he could do. The pendant had become his lifeline, and he dreaded anything else going wrong.

Unable to retrieve the pendant at once, he could only turn back toward his inn.

By now, night had fully descended. The street was utterly quiet; aside from Fang Yue, there wasn’t another soul in sight.

Darkness pressed in from all sides, but at least tonight’s moon was bright, hanging high in the eastern sky. The moonlight, though hazy, was just enough for a person to make out their way.

A gust of wind swept by. Having run all the way, Fang Yue was lightly coated in sweat, but now the wind made him feel cold. He pulled his robe tighter around himself.

After a while, Fang Yue saw someone ahead, carrying a lantern, approaching from a distance.

The figure seemed to be calling out for someone. But the distance was too great—Fang Yue couldn’t make out the name, only the wind carrying snatches of the call.

"So late—who could they be searching for?"

The thought crossed his mind, but he didn’t pay it much heed.

As he drew closer, by the moon’s faint glow, he could just make out that the person was carrying a white lantern. On one side of the lantern was a bold black character.

"A white lantern with black writing—a bad omen. And that character… it looks like ‘memorial.’ Wandering about with such a lantern at night—is he trying to frighten people?"

Another gust of night wind blew; Fang Yue felt the chill deepen around him.

As the lantern-bearer drew nearer, Fang Yue’s nerves began to tighten, though he didn’t know why.

"Xiaowan, Xiaowan."

The one holding the white lantern was a stooped old man, his hair white as snow, shuffling along and calling out that name.

"Old sir."

As the old man reached him, Fang Yue called out.

But the old man acted as if he hadn’t seen Fang Yue at all, shuffling onward, on the verge of bumping into him, making no effort to sidestep.

Fang Yue was forced to step aside and watched him pass.

"Whose elderly relative is this, wandering so late at night?" Fang Yue frowned, thinking to hurry after him and offer help—after all, an old man alone at night was hardly safe, especially in this ancient world, not the modern one.

But as he took a step, a surge of unease welled up in his heart. In the end, he did not follow, but watched the old man’s stooped figure shuffle off, vanishing around the corner.

When they brushed past, Fang Yue had clearly seen that the black character on the white lantern was indeed ‘memorial.’ And the old man’s clothes—if Fang Yue was not mistaken—looked very much like the shroud customarily worn by the elderly after death.