Li Wei was yanked out of his sleep as if he were a drowning man suddenly hauled from the water, jolted into sudden awakening. In the very instant his consciousness returned, an overwhelming sense of weightlessness and suffocation clung to every corner of his body like a ghost. It was as though his soul had not completely freed itself from that collapsing dream world—torn and suspended at the boundary between reality and illusion by an endless void. He sprang up violently from his soft bed; the abrupt motion jolted muscles that had lain stiff all night, unleashing a sharp, numbing pain as if electric currents were surging from his spine into his limbs. His body felt as if it had just been lifted from a deep freezer. Cold sweat beaded densely across his forehead and rolled off in streams along his temples, sticking damply to his skin. The icy touch provoked an involuntary shudder, as if he were stranded in a barren, frigid winter wilderness, the chill seeping into his bones and freezing his blood.
His heart pounded furiously in his chest, like a wild beast that had broken free from its cage; every beat resounded like a drumming that drowned out the quiet sounds of the room, making his chest throb as though it might burst at any moment. He gaped and gasped, struggling for air like a fish out of water, his breathing rapid and erratic. His throat was parched as if scorched by flames, a burning pain spreading from his throat. The air was filled with a faint odor of sweat, intermingled with the characteristic dampness of a nighttime room, blending into a disquieting aroma—a sort of invisible shackle that tightly gripped his mind. His hands clutched the soft blanket as if it were his last lifeline; his knuckles turned white from the strain, and his fingertips trembled slightly like leaves shivering in an autumn wind, as if he were still futilely trying to grasp the dissipating fragments of his dream, to hold on to the faint image of Ying Yue and the echo of her final whispered words.
The room was shrouded in dimness, its curtains drawn tight. Only the weak glow of a streetlamp outside managed to seep through the gaps, casting several slender beams of light across the floor. The patchy illumination revealed the blurred outlines of a bookshelf in the corner, resembling a group of silent phantoms peering from the dark. The silence of the night was intermittently broken by the distant murmur of traffic, a sound so faint it only accentuated the deathly stillness of the room, as if the entire world were in deep slumber—leaving him alone to confront the vast loneliness and haze. The old-fashioned wall clock ticked relentlessly, each tick like a hammer blow against his heart, reminding him of the relentless passage of time while almost mocking the fragile nature of his dream that he could not hold onto. Gradually, his breathing steadied, yet his heartbeat still raced. An inexplicable dread clung to him like a shadow, as though he were trapped in an invisible prison where the air itself seemed to solidify and weigh heavily on his chest, making each breath a struggle.
In his mind, Ying Yue's voice—tinged with sorrow and longing—haunted him like a ghost, clear and piercing as it repeated over and over in his ears: "Find the truth behind that ceremony…" The voice did not seem to enter through his ears but rather seeped directly into the depths of his consciousness, like a distant call from another world that transcended the barriers of time and space. It disregarded the boundaries of reality and struck at his soul, shaking every nerve. There was an undeniable urgency and plea in her tone, reminiscent of a drowning person extending a final, desperate hand towards the shore, placing all hope and expectation on him, a stranger. Li Wei shut his eyes tightly, trying to catch the lingering echo of that voice, to listen once more for its call and decipher any hidden clues. Yet the voice, like a feeble candle flame in a wild gust, wavered and gradually faded into nothingness—leaving behind an emptiness, bewilderment, and an unshakeable unease, as if he had lost the most precious part of his life, leaving his soul partially hollowed out.
Slowly, he lowered his head, his gaze falling upon the "Time-Space Jade" still clutched in his hand. The jade pendant lay silently in his palm, exuding an unchanging, ancient chill—like winter ice or the still water of a deep pool—reminding him without words that the dream was not a mere illusion, but a searing, real experience. At the center of the pendant, a red gemstone shone brighter than ever before, like awakened eyes that radiated a soft yet eerie glow. It resembled a flame quietly burning in darkness, or as though congealed fresh blood were dripping from the depths of a heart, its mysterious, bewitching luster dancing in the dim room. That light seemed to silently echo the tremors of his dream, flickering intermittently—at times shimmering, at times dimming—almost as if it possessed a life of its own, in quiet dialogue with his still racing heartbeat. With deliberate care, Li Wei brought the pendant closer to his eyes, his gaze fixated greedily and intently on the depths of the gemstone as if he wanted to suck his own soul into it. In its depths, he vaguely saw Ying Yue's silhouette, a grand and mysterious palace, and her sorrowful yet expectant gaze—a look that was indelibly etched into his memory, refusing to fade. Unbidden, his fingers caressed the cold, smooth surface of the jade; a faint vibration, like a minute electric current or a whisper emanating from deep within the stone, tickled his fingertips and silently flowed into his consciousness, speaking of some ancient and enigmatic secret. In that moment, his heart jolted as if struck by lightning, suddenly clearing the mists of confusion.
He stared at the pendant, his breathing gradually normalizing, yet he felt an odd warmth emanating from his palm—a stark contrast to its surface's chill, as if a dormant flame lay hidden inside, waiting for his touch. He began to wonder if this pendant was merely an ancient relic, or perhaps a living entity—a messenger with a soul—guiding him toward an unknown destiny.
"This dream… is by no means an ordinary one," Li Wei murmured to himself, his voice low and husky, carrying remnants of his recent shock and a barely concealed tremor. His gaze slowly lifted from the jade as he aimlessly scanned the familiar surroundings of his room. The light was dim, the curtains drawn, and only a faint glimmer of early morning light seeped through the cracks. Disorganized files and books lay scattered across the desk, and the dense collection of books on the corner shelf appeared vague and unfamiliar in the low light, as if cloaked in a veil of mystery. He felt that he had not yet fully extricated himself from that bizarre dream, that the line between reality and illusion had blurred, with every corner of the room tainted by the residue of the dream. A surge of inexplicable excitement raced up his spine like an electric current, momentarily numbing his body and causing his blood to boil. Mixed with this thrill was a tinge of nervous tension and unease, like the anticipation before unveiling a secret buried for millennia—a blend of eagerness and trepidation. The sensation was both foreign and familiar, as if he had truly traversed a tunnel through time, returning to the distant Qin Dynasty, standing face-to-face with Ying Yue, witnessing that majestic palace with his own eyes, and feeling the tangible temperature and aura of that bygone world.
He strained to recall every detail of the dream, trying to seize any clue: the towering, magnificent palace, its massive bluish-gray stone pillars adorned with vivid, lifelike dragon motifs that coiled around them, shimmering mysteriously in the firelight; the row of ancient bronze bells hanging under the eaves, their clear, melodious sounds resonating in the breeze; and Ying Yue's elegant black gown, its hem sprinkled with countless golden patterns resembling stars… These images were not merely visual; they were as though seared into his very soul, each detail strikingly clear and lifelike, imbued with an uncanny realism that made him feel as though he had truly experienced them. He could still recall the faint scent of sandalwood mingled with a hint of pine resin and herbal bitterness—a fragrance as warm and mellow as aged wine, lingering at the tip of his nose. He remembered the delicate touch of the Qin Dynasty robes, cool and smooth as the finest silk, gliding through his fingers; and he could hear the clear, resonant chime of bronze bells echoing in an open courtyard, like a mysterious ancient call that pierced through time and space to touch the heart. This overwhelming realism quickened his heartbeat once more, and a wild, almost insane hypothesis emerged uncontrollably in his mind: perhaps the "Time-Space Jade" he cherished was not merely an ancient artifact, but a mysterious medium connecting reality with another, unknown dream world. His dream was not an illusion—it was a real experience through which Ying Yue had conveyed crucial information, perhaps even a plea for help.
Li Wei's thoughts raced uncontrollably, a torrent of ideas and speculations flooding his mind. He began to analyze the possible deeper meanings hidden within the dream. In the dream, Ying Yue had explicitly mentioned a mysterious "ceremony" with an urgent plea for him to uncover the truth. What could this ceremony be? Was it an important sacrificial ritual of the Qin Dynasty, or was it directly linked to the fate that had sealed Ying Yue? He meticulously tried to recall every detail, searching for the slightest clue. The imposing, solemn palace; the austere soldiers—each element exuded a gravitas and mystery, as if the palace were not a mere dwelling but the core of a secret ritual, perhaps even a sacred altar for worship. Deep within him, Li Wei sensed that the truth behind Ying Yue's entrapment might be closely connected to a mysterious Qin ceremony, the secret of which could be the key to breaking her seal and his only hope of rescuing her.
He began to sketch out possible scenarios in his mind: perhaps the ceremony was related to dragons—the dragon motifs on the stone pillars serving as crucial symbols; the chiming of the bronze bells might have been part of the ritual, their specific rhythm and tone invoking some latent force; and Ying Yue's black gown adorned with golden, starlike patterns might symbolize her role as either the sacrificial offering or the officiant, her identity far beyond his imagination. He even suspected that the collapse of the dream was no accident, but a force deliberately preventing him from uncovering the truth. Though full of questions, his excitement burned brighter than ever—he felt he was on the brink of discovering the truth, needing only one more step to unveil the mysterious veil.
Taking a deep breath, Li Wei forced himself to calm the tumultuous emotions and arrange his scattered thoughts. He was unmistakably aware that this dream was not a random occurrence nor a meaningless hallucination—it was an important revelation imparted by the "Time-Space Jade," a desperate signal sent by Ying Yue across time and space. He couldn't allow these precious clues to slip away; he had to record them immediately, study them carefully, and unearth as much valuable information as possible. Swiftly, he grabbed a blank notebook from the bedside table, opened its pristine first page, and, with trembling fingers gripping a black fountain pen, began to jot down every detail of the dream without regard for his swirling thoughts. The pen scratched rapidly across the paper, producing a rustling sound; his handwriting was hasty and somewhat messy, yet every stroke was imbued with an indescribable urgency and focus, as if he feared missing even the tiniest detail.
He neatly wrote at the top of the notebook "Record of the Strange Dream" and then proceeded to detail every scene, sound, and scent of the dream, striving for a complete and accurate reproduction as though he were a detective meticulously documenting a crime scene. He wrote: "A magnificent palace with an ancient and solemn architectural style, built of bluish-gray giant stones etched with the marks of time, exuding an air of ancient desolation. The enormous stone pillars supporting the palace roof were intricately carved with lifelike dragon motifs, their sinuous bodies and powerful claws shimmering with a mysterious glow in the firelight, as if alive. Under the eaves hung a row of simple bronze bells arranged like a pagoda, their surfaces covered in greenish copper rust. When the breeze blew, they produced clear, melodious sounds—low and lingering—reminiscent of an ancient call echoing through an open courtyard, stirring the soul. The air was imbued with a subtle sandalwood fragrance, warm and mellow like aged wine, yet tinged with the mystique of a ritual, imbuing a sense of peace and intoxication. In the courtyard, solemn soldiers clad in black armor stood rigidly, their armors reflecting the light of torches with an icy severity, gripping spears that gleamed coldly, their eyes sharp as eagles, silently guarding the palace…" He recalled every detail with painstaking effort, describing each scene and sensation with the hope of capturing the dream's stark reality.
He also recorded the texture of the stone pillars: "Cold and rough, with distinctly carved dragon patterns that could be felt on one's fingertips—a testament to the passage of time." The sandalwood, mixed with hints of pine resin and the bitterness of herbs, led him to note: "Perhaps these are the incense materials used for ritual sacrifices." Then he documented Ying Yue's appearance and words: "Ying Yue wore a gorgeous black gown, the hem of which spread like the night sky adorned with countless golden star patterns, dazzling like a galaxy. Crowned with a delicate jade headpiece inlaid with emerald green stones, her dark hair shone in contrast, enhancing her noble and cold elegance, as if she were a celestial being from the Moon Palace. Her eyes were deep and complex, filled with longing and sorrow, and when she saw me, a soft light flickered within them. Standing on the palace steps, she looked down upon me and spoke in a voice that was both gentle and urgent: 'Wei, you have come… I need your help. I have been trapped here for far too long… Find it… find the truth behind that ceremony…' Her figure grew hazy and eventually disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the echo of her final whisper." As he reached this part, Li Wei's pen faltered, and Ying Yue's sorrowful eyes, like dim stars in a dark sky, haunted him with their loneliness. A sharp pain welled up from within, overwhelming him with sadness and helplessness, his hand trembling to the point of barely holding the pen. Taking a deep breath and suppressing his emotions, he continued writing: "After Ying Yue vanished, the palace collapsed, the pillars shattered, the ground caved in, the soldiers dispersed, and everything turned to nothingness—I fell into darkness, and then I awoke."