Zhou Wei shook his head quickly. "No, not at all. It's just that during our synchronized meditations, the spiritual aura here can grow intense. Non-initiates sometimes experience vivid dreams if they're nearby. But you're not too late—tonight's session ended an hour ago."
Long nodded, making a mental note of that. Perhaps the rumors held some truth after all; this sect likely practiced some kind of collective dreaming technique. It was fascinating, if a bit peculiar. He had met cultivators who trained their bodies to weapons, who refined pills for immortality, who studied esoteric sword arts. But training through dreams was new to him.
The wolf cub trotted along, nose twitching at the fragrant flowers lining the path. One blossom in particular caught its attention—a large, blue nocturnal lily. As they passed, the cub suddenly pounced at it, likely mistaking the gentle swaying for a small animal. The flower bobbed and the cub ended up with a dusting of golden pollen on its snout. It snorted and shook its head vigorously, sneezing loud enough to echo.
Zhou Wei nearly dropped the lantern again. Long held back a laugh and reached down to wipe the pollen off the cub's nose with his sleeve. "Apologies," he said to Zhou Wei. "He's... curious about everything."
Zhou Wei exhaled slowly to calm himself. "No harm. Perhaps the dream lilies are tickling him. Their pollen can induce drowsiness in humans if inhaled deeply, but perhaps on a beast it just causes sneezes."
Long looked at the blue lily with interest, noting how its petals seemed to glow faintly. "Dream lilies? Are they used for your cultivation?"
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied, a touch more alert now that he was talking about something familiar. "They help calm the mind and guide the spirit into lucid dreaming. We brew them into teas or burn them as incense for our ceremonies."
The conversation was cut short as they arrived at a small guest house on the side of the courtyard. It looked cozy enough—a single-room cottage, likely for visiting pilgrims or wandering cultivators like himself. Zhou Wei slid open the wooden door to reveal a simple interior lit by a solitary oil lamp. There was a low cot with fresh bedding, a teapot and cup on a little table, and a straw mat on the floor.
"You can rest here for the night, Senior Long," Zhou Wei said respectfully, addressing Long with a term of polite deference despite Long's humble appearance. "I will inform the Dawn Elder of your presence in the morning. If you need anything, my quarters are just across the garden." He pointed to a nearby hut. "Though I'll likely be asleep," he added with a sheepish grin.
Long inclined his head gratefully. "Thank you, Zhou Wei. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated." He fished into a pocket and brought out a small talisman of protection. It was not particularly valuable, but it could ward off minor evil spirits. He offered it to the disciple. "Please take this as a token of thanks."
Zhou Wei waved his hands, initially refusing. "Oh, that's not necessary. Our sect always offers shelter to weary minds and bodies. It's our principle."
But Long gently pressed it into his hand. "Consider it a personal gift, then, for your kindness." Under the lamplight, Long could see the young man's face clearly now—he was barely out of boyhood, with dark circles under his eyes and a friendly if tired smile. Likely not much actual danger on night watch in these peaceful mountains, Long thought, aside from sleepy travelers like me.
The disciple accepted the talisman with a grateful bow. "Rest well. May your dreams be clear and insightful," he said in parting, an odd but presumably customary benediction here.
As Zhou Wei departed into the darkness, Long closed the door and finally relaxed his shoulders. The journey's fatigue hit him all at once. His legs felt like lead. The wolf cub circled the room, sniffing corners and inspecting this new environment. Long poured some water from the pitcher on the table into a bowl for the cub, then sank onto the low cot with a sigh. The mattress was firm but far better than cold stone ground.
He watched the cub lap at the water then prowl around, seemingly still energetic. "You should sleep too, you know," Long murmured, stretching out. The cub looked at him, then hopped up at the foot of the cot, curling in a circle but with eyes still open and alert.
Long shook his head with a faint smile and blew out the oil lamp, plunging the room into gentle darkness. Only a sliver of moonlight fell through the window shutters. Outside, the wind had picked up, carrying the distant patter of rain starting to fall. Safe inside the guest house, with the soft sound of rain and the knowledge that he was among hospitable (if strange) cultivators, Long allowed himself to drift.
His eyes grew heavy, darkness creeping into the edges of his mind. He dimly noted the wolf cub's silhouette by his feet, a small guard watching over him. The last thought that flickered through Long's mind before sleep claimed him was a curious one: What does a sect of dreamers dream about?