Chapter 29: Nightmare (Part Three)

After Wei Li had cried her fill and exhaustion overtook her, she fell asleep in Guangzong’s arms. The night was already cloaked in ashen darkness, and the stars above squinted as they watched the world below with a faint, cool luminance.

Guangzong gazed at Wei Li’s tranquil sleeping face. At last, his hand came to rest upon her cheek, his ink-dark eyes quietly studying her. Finally, he carried her to the entrance of Yaohua Palace. He knocked softly, and upon hearing footsteps within, prepared to slip away. But just then, Wei Li clung to the hem of his robe, murmuring, “Who are you, really?” In this vast and forbidding palace, tears were a forbidden luxury—even in drunkenness, she had to maintain the composure of an Empress Dowager. Yet, in the instant her hand gripped Guangzong’s wrist, all her strength seemed to crumble.

“I…” Guangzong faltered, unsure what to say.

“Tomorrow at noon, wait for me at the teahouse outside the city gates,” Wei Li whispered, releasing her hold just as the palace doors opened. Guangzong slipped into the shadows, watching as the palace maids ushered Wei Li inside.

The next morning, Guangzong arrived early and waited on the teahouse’s second floor. There were few patrons. After waiting two hours, he began to regret not offering to find Wei Li himself—her eyes could not see, and she might not find her way out of the palace, or perhaps she would remember nothing once sober.

It was only after his fifth pot of tea that Wei Li finally appeared, draped in a heavy cloak. She was not alone; the High Minister accompanied her. Guangzong quickly ducked down, casting an impatient glance at the emperor, who seemed so attached to Wei Li—if he revealed himself now, he would surely be thrown back into the dungeons.

“The person the Empress Dowager waits for will likely not come,” the High Minister said, turning to Wei Li with a frown.

Wei Li shook her head gently. “He will.”

“But—”

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” A man brandishing a longsword hurried toward them, dropping to one knee before the High Minister. “Your Majesty, you had us searching everywhere for you!”

The High Minister turned, smiling in mild confusion. “What is it? Has something happened at the palace?”

The man replied respectfully, “Not at all, Majesty. But you promised the Empress you would join her for lunch. It is midday, and she’s growing anxious that you have yet to appear.”

“Return to the palace, then. Do not keep the Empress waiting.”

The High Minister departed. Guangzong stood, watching the figure recede into the distance—a departing silhouette tinged, perhaps, with loneliness.

“How long have you been hiding?” Wei Li’s voice startled Guangzong. He turned to find her looking in his direction, dappled sunlight falling into her hollow eyes.

“Not long. Merely an hour,” Guangzong replied, descending the stairs to sit across from her.

Wei Li forced a laugh. “Is that so? Well, thank you for waiting.”

Guangzong could tell she was nervous, her hands fidgeting ceaselessly. At last, she spoke again: “Would you like to hear my story?”

Guangzong was taken aback, but before he could answer, Wei Li began: “Since childhood, the High Minister and I were devoted to each other, yet by a cruel twist of fate, I became the late emperor’s consort. On the day of my investiture, the emperor passed away, and so I became the Empress Dowager.”

Her expression was inscrutable as she reminisced. “I thought this would mean I could finally grow old with the High Minister. But the palace was rife with spies and enemies intent on our downfall, so we could only meet in secret. I often asked myself—when did I first fall in love with him? It must have been our wedding day, when he called my name through the door. In that moment, I thought I would never leave him. I believed I could risk everything, so I heeded his words and poisoned the nuptial wine. It was that poison that stole my sight forever.”

Guangzong’s gaze darkened. He pressed a string of prayer beads into her palm. “Wei Li, this is just a dream. If you wish to awaken, you can do so at any time.”

Wei Li gripped the beads and smiled faintly. “Do you know why I asked you to meet me here?”

“Why?” Guangzong asked.

She set the beads on the table, her voice slow and deliberate. “As a child, I lived in the countryside. The villagers feared me, and after my parents died, they drove me away—for I had no shadow. Had I a shadow, I would have been like anyone else. My parents said that when I was three, I fell gravely ill, and from then on, my shadow was gone. The villagers claimed only ghosts have no shadow, that perhaps I had died and become a wandering spirit. Until you appeared—one of the palace maids pointed out joyfully that I had a shadow again. Do you know how happy that made me? But then a dream began to haunt me—a dream of a temple deep in the mountains, where I wore monastic robes and prayed. Gradually, I could no longer distinguish dream from reality. Can you tell me what all this means?”

Guangzong could feel the oppressive tension in the air, as if Wei Li’s effort to recall was shattering the nightmare, yet the cracks only let the darkness seep in more fiercely, threatening to devour them both.

“Wei Li, I’ll get you out of here!” he cried, seizing her hand as they ran. Wei Li did not resist; one hand clutched Guangzong’s, the other held the beads tight. The wind howled and battered them like caged beasts, roaring and crashing as the figures within the dream—twisted and monstrous—pursued them relentlessly.

Guangzong could find no exit, blindly leading Wei Li onward. The wind shook the trees with a wolf’s mournful cry, tearing the bandage from Wei Li’s eyes and exposing her scabbed lids. Light—she saw light. She turned and saw their pursuers, then looked back at Guangzong. It was he who shone with light; his arrival brought her hope, reviving her withered heart. She remembered—she remembered everything.

Suddenly, Guangzong scooped Wei Li into his arms, carrying her into a field of reeds. Gasping for breath, he set her down. “Hide here—don’t move. I’ll come back for you.”

Wei Li clung to his robe. “Where are you going? Take me with you.”

“Don’t worry.” Guangzong gently patted her head in comfort. But Wei Li had an idea; without warning, she tore a strip from her own robe and draped it over her head. “Monk, I’ll wait for you to come back and lift my veil. If you return, I am yours.”

Wei Li sat upright, as solemn as a bride on her wedding night, not daring to move for fear he would not find her. But as the air grew cold and damp with dew, Guangzong did not return.

If he does not return, what then?

Wei Li smiled at her own folly. After all, it was only a dream—perhaps she would never awaken from this nightmare.

Suddenly, she heard a rustling in the grass ahead. She snatched up a broken stone, and as the reeds parted, hurled it like a dagger. Her hand was swiftly seized—“It’s me, Guangzong.”

Relief overwhelmed her. She crawled over on her knees, solemnly intoning, “Lift the veil.”

But Guangzong gripped her wrist, whispering, “I led them away.”

Wei Li stubbornly tugged at him. “Lift the veil.”

“I know you remember now.”

Her ruse exposed, Wei Li yanked off the veil herself and shoved him in mock annoyance—only to find her hands sticky and wet. Alarmed, she cried, “Monk, are you hurt?”

Guangzong’s breath was faint, his voice nearly lost. “It’s nothing.”

“This is only a dream. Once we awaken, everything will be fine!”

His voice weakened further. “I may have to leave—this time, for a long, long while. I can’t take you with me.”

Wei Li’s eyes darkened. “A mere nightmare dares to defy me?” Cold fury exploded forth, shattering the boundaries of the dream.

In that instant, Zhai Hongyi appeared, seizing Wei Li by the throat. “You can truly awaken?” Her face darkened with thunder, rain pouring down in torrents.

“I found this dream amusing, nothing more—a brief sojourn. Yet you dared to try to kill me!” Wei Li’s gaze was chilling. Zhai Hongyi faltered, releasing Wei Li and stammering, “Who… are you?”

The wind surged like an invisible hand, flinging sand and pebbles, blinding Zhai Hongyi. Suddenly, the dream collapsed. Wei Li shoved Guangzong free; Zhai Hongyi tried to stop her, but Wei Li pinned her down. “Empress Dowager? Emperor? Poison? You must read too many novels!” With that, she drove a fist into Zhai Hongyi’s face.

Zhai Hongyi was terrified. “It was the King of the Underworld—there’s a bounty for you! I have no quarrel with you, spare me!”

“My uncle? Why would he want to capture me?”

The word “uncle” crashed into Zhai Hongyi’s mind. Could Wei Li be the fugitive little King of Hell, as rumored in the underworld? Terror overtook her. Wei Li feigned surprise, covering her mouth. “Oh dear, I let that slip.” Her gaze turned deadly. “It seems you won’t get the chance to tell anyone.”

Wei Li seized Zhai Hongyi’s head and, with a wrench, tore it off. With a scream, Zhai Hongyi’s body crumbled into sand, dissolving into the wind. The dream world immediately began to quake and shatter. Wei Li closed her eyes and, when she opened them again, was greeted by Wen Bai’s pale face.

Wei Li paid him no mind. She rose and, seeing that Guangzong had regained consciousness, breathed a sigh of relief. Guangzong recuperated at the mountain temple for four or five days before regaining his strength. Wei Li, however, could not make sense of Zhai Hongyi’s dying claim that the King of the Underworld had put a bounty on her. If it was true, there would be no end to those seeking her—had her uncle been kicked in the head by a donkey, or had the door slammed on his head? She resolved to visit the underworld to question him, but with Guangzong still recovering, she set the matter aside for now.