5 As If in a Dream

Once darkness fell, the Jiang family prepared to rest. Shen Qingyue was worried he would be unable to sleep so early, but perhaps due to the exhaustion of the day, he drifted off before the sky had even completely darkened.

Jiang Zhu, however, a local native, suffered from insomnia. Lying in his father's room, he felt as though the entire day had been a dream—a falsehood. Not long after lying down, he couldn't help but take an oil lamp and return to his own room to check. During the period just after his father passed away, he had gone through a phase like this. He would wake up in the middle of the night, convinced it was all a dream, and carry the lamp to his father's room to see for himself. At his worst, he would check seven or eight times a night. Sometimes, he wouldn't even light the lamp, creeping through the darkness just to see his father lying there. He had asked others if his father had returned to see him. His eldest uncle, fearing he had gone mad, had his cousin fetch a doctor, and his cousin’s wife had gone to the temple to get a peace talisman for him to wear. The doctor said it was sleepwalking—a state of confusion where he couldn't distinguish reality from dreams.

Jiang Zhu felt as though he were sleepwalking now. The closer he got, the more it felt like a dream. If it weren't a dream, how could there be an immortal? He paused at the door, steadied himself, and slowly pushed it open. The oil lamp cast long, flickering shadows, and on the bed, there was the vague outline of a human form. Jiang Zhu stood at the doorway for a long time, hesitating, before stepping inside on tiptoe. He looked closely: the "immortal" he had saved during the day was indeed lying on his bed, sleeping deeply.

Jiang Zhu stood there for a while, silently watching the gentle rise and fall of Shen Qingyue’s chest. He couldn't resist reaching out to check the air near his nose. There was breath. It was warm. He was alive. Jiang Zhu felt an inexplicable sense of relief, tucked the quilt around Shen Qingyue, and happily carried the lamp back to his own room to sleep.

As he lay in bed tossing and turning, his mind filled with the image of Shen Qingyue lying in the bamboo forest, glowing and shimmering. Two hours later, upon waking, Jiang Zhu felt he had had a bizarre dream—the mountain god hadn't given him a pet, he hadn't found anyone, and there was no such person as Shen Qingyue in the world. He scrambled out of bed and rushed back with the lamp. Shen Qingyue was still lying soundly on his bed, his posture unchanged, barely having moved. Jiang Zhu felt reassured and went back to sleep, thinking he must be truly ill—and quite severely at that.

In the small hours of the morning, Jiang Zhu was dozing when he suddenly heard a fit of urgent coughing. He opened his eyes, dazed, subconsciously wondering if this was another dream. Suddenly, the coughing intensified, and he heard a familiar voice painfully calling out for "Auntie." He jolted awake—it was Shen Qingyue!

Jiang Zhu quickly lit the lamp and ran over. Upon entering, he found Shen Qingyue hunched over the edge of the bed, coughing and gasping. His pale face was now flushed, his breathing ragged, as if he were trying to cough up his very lungs.

"Medicine..."

Jiang Zhu, startled, dropped the lamp and rushed to support him. "What’s wrong?"

"Huff... it's okay, help me get... my backpack..."

Jiang Zhu retrieved the bag and helped unzip it. Shen Qingyue fished out a white pouch, extracted a strange little bottle, put it to his mouth, and took a puff, slowly beginning to recover. After a long while, his complexion finally improved. Once the coughing subsided, Shen Qingyue put the emergency inhaler back into the pouch and put on his mask.

He had been careless. He hadn't expected such a drastic temperature drop in the mountains. He only had this one inhaler, and it was already used—there were only a dozen puffs left. He wondered if he would survive until his leg injury healed. He had quite wanted to travel around this world once he was better.

Shen Qingyue stuffed the pouch back into his backpack and, seeing Jiang Zhu’s worried expression, suddenly felt apologetic. The boy had been kind enough to save him, and now he might die in his home. And the boy was just an orphaned teenager. If he could have just dropped dead somewhere remote, that would have been ideal. Why did he have to fall into someone’s bamboo forest?

"Sorry about that. It's fine now, go get some sleep."

Jiang Zhu didn't move. "I'm going to find a doctor."

Shen Qingyue smiled. "It's not even dawn yet. What doctor are you going to find? Wait until it's light out."

Jiang Zhu: "Are you really okay?"

Shen Qingyue: "Yes."

He struggled to pull his sleeping bag out of the backpack. Fortunately, the sleeping bag could be unzipped and spread out like a quilt, so he didn't have to struggle to climb inside with his injured leg.

Seeing this, Jiang Zhu understood that he was afraid of the cold. He took a quilt from the cupboard—one he had washed and dried just two days prior—and unfolded it to cover Shen Qingyue. Shen Qingyue did not refuse. It was a cloth quilt without batting. He wondered if this world lacked cotton, or if this child was just exceptionally hardy against the cold. Seeing the boy stare blankly while fingering the edge of the quilt, Jiang Zhu thought he found it too thin. "I have a rabbit fur blanket!"

Shen Qingyue hurriedly stopped him. "No, no, no! I can't be exposed to cold air or animal fur, especially rabbit or cat fur. I’m allergic—it will kill me."

"..."

"Scared?" Shen Qingyue leaned against the headboard, smiling as he laid the groundwork for his potential demise. "Don't be afraid. My death is different from yours. Don't forget, I'm an immortal who descended to earth to endure a tribulation. If I die, it just means I've finished my ordeal and returned to the heavens. When that happens, my backpack will be yours. Just bury the shell I leave behind—ah, find a place with a nice view, and you'll be rewarded."

Jiang Zhu ignored him and tried to help him lie down.

Shen Qingyue: "No need, I breathe better sitting up, really."

Jiang Zhu didn't press the issue and went to the kitchen to boil water, feeling sullen. By the time the water boiled, Shen Qingyue was already leaning against the headboard, asleep again. Jiang Zhu silently covered him with the quilt and stood by the bed, feeling dejected. He thought to himself that the "pet" the mountain god had bestowed upon him, besides having an injured leg, didn't seem to have very good health either.

In the morning, Shen Qingyue was awakened by the sound of wood-chopping. He was still a bit dazed, taking a moment to remember that he wasn't at home and was no longer in his original world.

"Ha, sigh..." He rubbed his aching neck and looked out. The bedroom window was propped open, the sun was bright, and birds were singing. The sound of chopping wood, however, sounded a bit aggressive.

There was a bamboo couch by the window. Shen Qingyue pulled his backpack over, took out his sketchbook and pen