Volume One: The Scroll of New Rain Chapter Twenty-One: Lost Memories

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Night, in the woods at the edge of the small town.

Within the dense foliage, no moonlight or starlight penetrated; it was nearly absolute darkness. Yet a shadow darted through the trees, sometimes leaping from branch to branch, sometimes racing wildly along the ground, sweeping past like a gust of wind and stirring a cascade of fallen leaves.

At last, the shadow climbed the tallest tree in the forest, ascending ever higher until it reached the summit. The long-lost moonlight gently spilled down, illuminating the shadow’s face.

It was an ordinary yet delicate visage.

This was Ye Mingke, his eyes covered by a strip of black cloth.

He lay atop the slender branch, hands cradling his head, rolling onto his back. The branch bent and swayed beneath him, rocking his body gently at the tree’s peak.

Like a cradle for an infant, it mirrored the subtle ripples in his heart.

Stretching a hand toward the sky, though blindfolded, he could clearly sense everything around him, could even “see” the world before his eyes.

This world was different from the fiery red realm he had known before; this one was green. Bands of green sprites drifted and danced among the trees and above the forest canopy.

He loved these beautiful sprites. In his heart, he called to them, but at most they would touch lightly upon his outstretched hand before floating away.

They could sense his intent, could even merge with it to become his eyes. Yet to win their response was no simple feat.

That day, when Ye Mingke struck and shattered those crimson pillars, he realized later it was because the pillars themselves were already unstable—his resolve was merely the final straw.

Was the secret to gaining their response some miraculous Daoist art?

Ye Mingke pondered.

The night breeze brushed past the treetops and Ye Mingke’s cheek, carrying his thoughts far and wide.

Months had passed since his fight with Li Yin. During that time, he had repeatedly strengthened his connection with those mysterious sprites, gradually mastering their ebb and flow. Darkness no longer posed a barrier to him.

Yet for several days, he still hadn’t prepared himself to play chess and defeat Aunt Long, to uncover the first secret.

He had often fantasized, in moments of frustration, about that triumphant scene of finally outplaying Aunt Long. Now, with the moment upon him, why was he not so eager?

Was it fear? Fear that the familiar town was not as peaceful as he imagined? Fear of the world's complexity and terror?

But whether he knew or not, those things existed regardless. What difference did it make to face them sooner or later?

Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow.

Ye Mingke tore away the black cloth from his eyes, and gazed straight into the massive moon wheel above, his pupils brimming with moonlight, bright and clear in the night.

He had made up his mind.

The night was deep. After enjoying another moment of wind atop the tree, Ye Mingke climbed down, left the woods, and headed home.

Walking along the flagstone street in the darkness, he paused before the tall wall of the village dye house, studying it.

“I wonder if Qiao Qiao is having nightmares again tonight, unable to sleep?”

Having just made an important decision, Ye Mingke felt no urge to sleep. Gazing at the lofty wall, his childish mischievousness stirred once more.

“They really did raise it higher. But it’s still not high enough.”

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Ye Mingke chuckled, took a few steps back, then suddenly dashed forward, leaping up the wall, grabbing its top, and with a slight effort, quietly vaulted over and landed in silence.

More than two years had passed; though he hadn’t grown much taller, his strength had increased considerably.

“Mingke.”

No sooner had he landed than he heard Qiao Qiao’s low, delighted call.

“Knew you’d still be awake.”

Ye Mingke turned, seeing Qiao Qiao, hair loose, dressed in nightclothes, sitting at the table in the courtyard, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

He gestured for silence, softly walked over to sit across from Bai Qiao Qiao, placed his hands atop the table, rested his chin on his arms, and gazed up at her with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“What brings you here?”

Bai Qiao Qiao mirrored his posture, arms and head resting on the table, matching his height, her dreamy eyes smiling into his.

“Night cat comes to catch night mouse—caught you red-handed!”

Ye Mingke teased.

“Up again, wandering after another nightmare?”

Seeing her in sleepwear, he shook his head in resignation.

“Yes.” Qiao Qiao wrinkled her pretty nose, pouted, equally helpless.

A chill wind swept through the courtyard; the weather had turned cool, and Qiao Qiao, in thin clothes, shivered and straightened, giving a little sneeze.

Ye Mingke, feeling guilty, glanced nervously at the house where her uncle and aunt slept.

“It’s fine. My uncle and aunt sleep deeply at night.”

No sooner had Qiao Qiao spoken than her aunt’s voice rang out loudly from the left.

“Girl, don’t sit outside in the wind! You’ll catch cold. Get back to bed!”

Ye Mingke and Qiao Qiao, feeling abashed, darted indoors.

Inside, faint moonlight seeped through, and the air was filled with the scent of osmanthus from the courtyard. The young man looked down at the girl beside him and spoke softly.

“Qiao Qiao, I want you…”

A blush crept across Qiao Qiao’s face.

“…to lend me your textbooks.”

Ye Mingke finished.

…

So, a while later, the studious one, bathed in moonlight, sat at Qiao Qiao’s bedside, poring over the schoolbooks.

He glanced up at Qiao Qiao, peeking out from under her quilt, eyes watching him. He smiled, “Go to sleep. Don’t be afraid, I’ll stay with you, just as you nap beside me in the afternoons.”

He reached out, placing his hand on hers outside the quilt.

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“But this isn’t like an afternoon nap…”

Qiao Qiao, her thoughts briefly wandering, muttered inwardly. Yet unable to resist the dictatorial look urging her to sleep, she meekly closed her eyes.

Just as on those peaceful afternoons, with him by her side, the nightmares seemed to keep their distance, leaving only the gentle moonlight and the lingering fragrance in the air.

She drifted off.

Ye Mingke, seated by her bed, read for a while, but the soporific effect of the textbooks proved irresistible, and he too unknowingly fell asleep at the bedside.

His hand on Qiao Qiao’s, his sleep was restless.

In his dreams, he wandered through mountains of corpses and seas of bones, stepping on brittle skeletons, moving forward step by step. The sky above was a ghastly red.

That world was utterly silent. He felt no fear in the dream, only a profound sadness swelling in his chest, so heavy that crying could not relieve it.

He could only keep walking forward, not knowing what lay ahead, nor what meaning there was in moving onward—only that he must keep going.

As he walked, the grim world faded, replaced by warm sunlight and a world incredibly small.

He vaguely sensed he too had grown small; he could barely move, and his vision was narrow.

“Son, don’t be afraid.”

Faintly, he heard a gentle, clear voice. Straining to look outward, he glimpsed a blood-stained figure—probably a man, though his face was indistinct.

“Son, don’t be afraid.”

“I will find the knot, the solution, for you, for her, for all of us.”

Listening to that voice, his agitated heart gradually calmed.

Still, the golden sunlight shifted and changed within his tiny world, yet never vanished.

Sheets of talisman paper, intricately brushed with cinnabar, drifted above him in his confined space. The man spoke no more, but he lingered nearby, seemingly deducing something on the talisman papers.

Endless calculations, unsetting sun.

The dream seemed destined to unfold monotonously, but at some point, the sunlight stopped shifting and grew ever more intense, eventually becoming a dazzling white.

He could see nothing.

Yet he vaguely heard the man speaking to someone.

“Don’t deceive him. You may withhold the truth, but don’t lie to him.”

“He was born into a tangled, chaotic puzzle—leave him something, something he can trust… something real.”

After those words, there was a long silence.

Then a calm voice, steely and resolute—a voice Ye Mingke knew intimately—rang out within the blazing white light.

“I will.”