Chapter Forty-Nine: Only Hope

At the end of the banquet, many scholars chose to stay, while even more returned to their dormitories.

Leaning against the interior of the carriage, Liu Ping and Zhu Yingtai made their way toward the academy. The carriage moved swiftly and smoothly, scarcely jostling at all—it was indeed a fine vehicle.

Zhu Yingtai was evidently tipsy, her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of rose, her eyes dreamy and half-lidded as she drifted between waking and sleep, her head resting against Liu Ping’s shoulder.

With his right hand, Liu Ping lifted the curtain and turned his head to gaze outside, narrowing his eyes to peer into the distance.

The carriage was traveling along a riverside road. The river spread wide, and lights from the other shore spilled onto the water, scattering golden reflections like a field of flowers. It was nearly midnight, yet so many lamps still glittered—truly extravagant.

“Such scattered stars, truly a beautiful sight. As the saying goes: ‘The moon sets, crows call, frost fills the sky; by the maple trees and fishermen’s fires, I sleep troubled by sorrow.’ Surely this is what was meant? Only now the maples aren’t red, so it doesn’t entirely fit the scene,” Liu Ping murmured with a soft smile.

His voice was low, really just talking to himself, so that no one else could have heard. Yet Zhu Yingtai, wild at heart since childhood and trained in martial arts—had the world not been at peace, she would have charged onto the battlefield as a general—possessed keen hearing. Though the times allowed only dreams of glory, she still caught his words.

She repeated them silently to herself, inwardly admiring him. Oh, Liu Ping, why are you so talented? So quick-witted, so eloquent, so gifted in poetry, so broad-minded and unorthodox, even versed in celestial arts—what is it that you cannot do? Her hand brushed the wildflower hat in her arms, and an involuntary smile curved her lips.

Soon they arrived at the dormitory. Returning to their room, they collapsed and fell asleep. The next morning, Liu Ping’s eyes opened promptly.

Beside him, Zhu Yingtai slept deeply, occasionally murmuring drowsy words he couldn’t quite make out. Listening closely, he realized she was saying, “I… can’t eat another bite.”

“What a classic line for sleep-talkers! I swear, this phrase must be universal—past and present, east and west, old and young, man and woman—truly the king of all sleep mutterings!” Liu Ping couldn’t help but quip, then slipped out the door to greet the rising sun, slowly absorbing the purple energy.

This purple energy had little effect on him now, but the habit was ingrained—he continued almost unconsciously, thinking, “Well, a little is better than none.”

He gathered up the tulips and went to the Daoist temple, knocking on the door. After a moment, it creaked open a crack.

Two little girls inside, seeing it was Liu Ping, hastily opened the door wide.

Hua’er darted over like the wind, laughing, “Uncle Master! I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too,” Liu Ping replied with a smile, ruffling Hua’er’s hair.

Ye’er, standing to the side, looked like she wanted to speak, but after a moment’s hesitation, she puffed out her cheeks in frustration, saying nothing.

“Oh, right, these flowers are for your master… I was quite rude last time, so I’ve come today to apologize sincerely. Take me in, won’t you?” Liu Ping said, presenting the bouquet.

“Wow, what kind of flower is this?” Hua’er breathed in the scent. “So fragrant!”

“They’re tulips,” Liu Ping explained. “They’re common beyond the frontier and in the north—supposedly introduced from foreign lands a few years ago. They’re quite rare in the south.”

“So they’re called tulips!” Hua’er beamed.

Ye’er, face expressionless, said, “Uncle Master, I’m afraid you can’t see Master right now.”

Startled, Liu Ping’s heart skipped a beat. “Why… not?”

Hua’er giggled, “It’s not that you can’t see her at all—just not now. Master is in seclusion at the moment.”

A look of disappointment clouded Liu Ping’s face. Was she truly in seclusion, or was it just an excuse?

As if reading his mind, Hua’er grinned mischievously, “Of course she’s really in seclusion!”

Liu Ping blinked. “You can tell what I’m thinking?”

“Of course I can!” Hua’er crowed. “Uncle Master, you wear your heart on your sleeve!”

Liu Ping could only shake his head in resignation. “You little rascal.” He handed over some boxes. “Here, these three boxes of almond crisps are for you both. Since your senior is in seclusion, I’ll visit another time. Take the flowers to her for me, will you?”

“Alright.” Without their master’s permission, they couldn’t bring visitors into the inner sanctum anyway. Besides, Liu Ping seemed in no hurry to enter. Somewhat reluctantly, they bid him, “Goodbye, Uncle Master!”

Having failed to see Drunken Red Dust two times in a row, Liu Ping was a bit dejected. He hired an ox-cart and headed for Green Mountain Temple.

He hadn’t been there long when the abbot came out to greet him.

“Baldy—er, I mean, Abbot, good day.” Liu Ping didn’t think much of this monk, and nearly let his true thoughts slip, but caught himself just in time.

“Greetings, Benefactor Liu,” the abbot said, hands pressed together, smiling pleasantly.

“No need for ceremony, Abbot. I’ll just wander around by myself,” Liu Ping replied.

He soon found himself in the Great Hall, standing before a mural. After a while, with nothing happening, he felt a twinge of disappointment. Still nothing?

Unwilling to give up, he sent his spirit out of his body, flying toward the mural—only to pass right through it and end up in a side hall next to the main temple.

Sighing, his spirit returned to his body. “No affinity? Without affinity, nothing works? Wait… maybe I need to pay an entrance fee?”

Stroking his chin, he considered the possibility. That abbot was clearly advanced in Buddhist cultivation—maybe this really was his plan?

He turned to seek out the abbot, when suddenly, the ancient seal he carried flashed.

Feeling a strange resonance, Liu Ping stopped in his tracks. Fixing his gaze once more on the mural, he was struck by a sudden realization—his body grew light, and his spirit left his body. Delighted, he dove into the mural.

His perspective shifted.

He found himself amid endless seas of cloud, a Milky Way hanging in the sky, stretching far into the unseen distance.

He flew to the riverbank, bewildered. “Where am I? Could this be the legendary Heavenly River?”

The sands on the riverbank sparkled. River sand?

He bent to scoop up a handful—and was stunned. The “sand” was made entirely of diamonds! Examining the facets, he saw they were genuine.

Looking around, he realized the riverbanks were strewn with such diamonds—countless, everywhere.

“So many diamonds…” he swallowed. But then, deflated, he sighed, “But in ancient times, these are worthless… and I can’t take them back anyway.”

Shaking his head, he gave up and walked along the riverbank. Before long, he saw a familiar stretch of land and hurried over.

In the distance, palatial halls and towers rose in endless, gilded splendor—a breathtaking sight. Liu Ping recalled these were the domains of the Buddhist monks, and had no intention of entering. Instead, he followed his memory toward Dreamshaw’s abode.

After a long walk, he arrived—only to find, not the small courtyard he remembered, but a grand palace.

“Did I take a wrong turn?”

No… a voice he recognized drifted to his ears. Liu Ping crept closer, then stopped abruptly as he caught sight of what was happening.

A magnificently dressed woman emerged—it was Dreamshaw. He started to greet her, but paused—she seemed utterly changed from the gentle Dreamshaw he once knew.

Behind her trailed more than a dozen fairy maidens. Before long, several approached and bowed respectfully. “Greetings, Deputy Envoy of the Hundred Flowers.”

“Mm,” Dreamshaw replied coolly. “Seal the news as best you can—let none discover it. That celestial trace belongs to the Hundred Flowers lineage. No one else must interfere.”

“Yes, at once,” the fairies replied.

“And have the Twelve Flower Goddesses return immediately,” Dreamshaw commanded.

“But… it’s nearly the Flower Festival in the mortal world,” one fairy ventured hesitantly.

“Silence! What’s more important—the Flower Festival or the celestial trace? Tell them to return at once!” Dreamshaw snapped coldly.

“Y-yes!” The fairy, frightened, hurried to obey.

“That’s enough. Get to it—quickly, all of you,” Dreamshaw ordered.

Crouching in the shadows, Liu Ping stared, dumbfounded. What had happened to turn Dreamshaw into this? The maiden had become a queen?

Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the air.

“Insolent intruder! Hiding here, are you?” A passing fairy had spotted Liu Ping and shouted.

He froze—he’d been discovered!

At once, all the fairies surrounded him, demanding, “Who are you? Speak!”

Behind them, Dreamshaw’s eyes widened in disbelief as she recognized Liu Ping.

He was about to speak when Dreamshaw cut in, “Silence—all of you!”

The fairies looked at each other in confusion.

“This is an honored guest of our palace. Show no disrespect—apologize at once!” Dreamshaw commanded.

At her words, the fairies, bristling moments before, bowed and apologized. “We were rude just now, truly, and beg your forgiveness, celestial sir!”

Faced with their apologies, Liu Ping, who had never been angry, waved his hands. “It’s fine, really.”

“Sir Liu, come with me,” Dreamshaw said, then turned to the others. “You all have your tasks—go!”

“Yes!” the fairies chorused, and dispersed.

Liu Ping followed Dreamshaw into a chamber within the palace. The walk was silent, tense, and somewhat unsettling—yet beneath it all, his heart brimmed with hope.

“Sir, you’ve finally come,” Dreamshaw suddenly said, turning to him. All her armor seemed to fall away—she gazed at Liu Ping with a pitiful, glistening look, nearly in tears.

Liu Ping was taken aback—then overjoyed. He’d been hoping against hope that Dreamshaw was still the same person he’d known.

Her demeanor here was utterly unlike the stern authority she’d shown outside—this was the Dreamshaw he first met.

Whatever had happened, to him, Dreamshaw had not changed.

He couldn’t help himself; in a few quick steps, he took her small, soft hand.

Dreamshaw blushed but made no move to pull away, letting him hold her.

——————

Many thanks to Warring States 111, Ephemeral Existence, and Sparkflower for your generous support!