The Young Girl's Chronicles of Demon-Slaying

Chapter 25: The Dream (Part 2)

As she rounded a bend ahead, the view suddenly opened up before her, revealing an exquisite arched bridge carved from a single block of jade. The arch bridge was about two meters wide, with a seamless deck intricately carved with a profusion of flowers. The railings on either side were delicate and exquisite, their surfaces adorned with patterns that were truly awe-inspiring. The bridge spanned a small stream less than two meters wide. The water is crystal-clear, with lotus leaves spreading across the surface and water lilies in full bloom. Among these water lilies, carp swim. These carp are entirely golden, shimmering with iridescent light as they swim—a truly beautiful sight. They swam around the lotus leaves, sometimes gathering together, sometimes scattering, and sometimes chasing and playing—they could hardly stay still for a moment and seemed incredibly lively. As Song Jianqiu continued walking forward, she soon reached the railing at the head of the Jade Stone Bridge, where she immediately spotted an antique-style pavilion surrounded by exotic flowers and trees. It was an octagonal, square-based double-eaved pavilion. True to its name, it featured a slightly smaller, four-cornered eave at the top, with an octagonal eave below it—forming two layers, hence the name “double-eaved pavilion.” The entire double-eaved pavilion resembled a single block of white jade carved into shape, with its eaves curving upward,glazed tiles, and eight pillars supporting the roof, which are carved with coiling dragons, soaring phoenixes, immortal deer, qilin, and other mythical creatures. The railing connecting the eight pillars is crafted using openwork techniques, featuring carvings of exotic flowers, immortal herbs, lotus blossoms, and swimming fish. All the carvings—whether of animals or plants—are lifelike; at first glance, they appear to be alive, and only upon closer inspection can one distinguish the real from the artificial, inevitably prompting one to marvel at the craftsmanship that rivals that of heaven. After examining it for a moment, Song Jianqiu’s gaze shifted away from the pavilion and settled on a young woman standing by the railing overlooking the small stream diagonally across from her. What a beautiful woman! Her jet-black hair fell to her waist; she had delicate willow-leaf brows, beneath which lay a pair of alluring almond-shaped eyes; a dainty, delicate nose; a face as smooth as cream; and thin lips as pink as fresh blossoms… Song Jianqiu racked her brain, pondering for a long time, but ultimately felt that such a description not only failed to capture even a tenth of the woman’s beauty but actually felt like a desecration. And even the most common idioms used to describe beauty—such as “as beautiful as a flower, as radiant as the moon,” “a beauty beyond compare,” “making the moon hide its face and the flowers blush,” and “a beauty capable of toppling a kingdom”—all seemed inadequate when applied to this woman. She was so beautiful that words could not describe her—yet hers was not the kind of beauty that captivates. It was a curious phenomenon: though she was undeniably indescribably beautiful, she did not captivate him. Instead, after admiring her features for a moment, Song Jianqiu shifted his gaze to her attire. She wore a sleeveless silk bustier that revealed her petite, alluring navel, paired with loose-fitting silk trousers covered by a sheer, lightweight skirt. The outfit wasn’t particularly elaborate, nor did it feature any superfluous embellishments, yet it suited her surprisingly well—as if she were meant to be dressed this way. However, taken as a whole, her outfit bore a resemblance to Arabian styles, yet was interwoven with elements of aesthetics from ancient China, creating a sense of familiarity and strangeness that was, nonetheless, remarkably harmonious. Song Jianqiu couldn’t tell exactly which country’s attire this was, nor could she make out where they were. The woman stood before a white jade railing, facing Song Jianqiu at an angle; only a small stream less than two meters wide separated them, and nothing obstructed their line of sight. Yet the woman seemed oblivious to her presence, simply scattering a little fish food gently into the stream from the railing. As a result, the golden fish—which had been chasing and playing with one another—gathered around the woman, scrambling to snatch up the food. Song Jianqiu felt as though she must be dreaming, yet she knew full well that she was dreaming. Many people have experienced this kind of lucid dream, and she was no exception. Based on past experience, in such dreams, as long as the dreamer’s will is strong enough, they can alter the dreamscape to a certain extent. However, when she simply tried to walk across the jade bridge to get to know this woman, she discovered that her body wouldn’t obey her. No matter how hard she tried to move, she could only stand stiffly motionless at the railing at the head of the bridge, watching the woman’s every move across the river. This was completely unscientific! But with so many unscientific things happening lately, she’d grown somewhat accustomed to it. Since she couldn’t move, she abandoned her original intention and stayed put, waiting to see how this dream would play out and what it was ultimately trying to achieve. She didn’t have to wait long. Just as the woman across the river scattered fish food for the third time, a young woman dressed in court attire—who appeared to be a maidservant—led a monk over. Although the maid who led the way couldn’t compare to this woman, she was still quite beautiful. But Song Jianqiu wasn’t concerned with that; instead, she thought to herself: if she has maids and servants at her beck and call, this woman is clearly either wealthy or of high status. Yet here she is, in a garden like this, meeting with a monk—doesn’t this plot seem a bit off? Though these thoughts swirled in her mind, she was unable to move or speak at that moment. She could only stand there blankly, watching the events unfold before her. The maid led the monk to the woman’s side, then immediately curtsied and turned to leave. The monk was bald and beardless, with a kind and gentle countenance. A gentle smile never left his face, and just looking at him made one feel deeply at ease, peaceful, and serene. After the woman met the monk, she began to speak, but all she could see were their mouths moving—she couldn’t hear a single sound. It looked just like a silent film. Although Song Jianqiu was curious, there was nothing she could do but stand there. Strangely enough, after a moment, she suddenly heard voices again. The monk’s voice came through with a rather baffling statement: “…Neither human nor non-human.” “Neither human nor non-human,” the woman replied. “What of the broken flower?” the monk asked. “When the flower breaks, one knows the will of Heaven!” the woman replied. “Fish and dragons enter the sea.” “Entering the sea, one knows the time of return.” “The blind see with their eyes.” “Heaven knows, and Earth knows!” A woman and a monk engaged in this brief yet deeply Zen-like dialogue, exchanging questions and answers. At first, after hearing them, Song Jianqiu could still reflect on their words and grasp their meaning. But as the conversation progressed, their words grew increasingly profound and obscure. She felt as though she half-understood what they were saying, yet when she tried to think it through, her mind became a fog, and she couldn’t make head or tail of it. In the end, she could only jot down the gist of it, intending to study it more carefully later when she had time. Here, she had no sense of the passage of time; she didn’t know how long their back-and-forth had lasted. When the exchange finally ended, the monk smiled and said, “The Palace Mistress has gained an even deeper understanding of the Dharma—truly a fortunate thing!” “It’s only because I fell for your trick!” The woman’s face flushed with mild anger at the monk’s praise. “How can you say you fell for this old monk’s trick?” The monk remained beaming. “You are a woman of your word, Palace Mistress. Now, this old monk has another little game in store. I wonder if you’d be willing to play?” “I lost to you because of this last time, and now you’re asking me again? Do you think I’m an easy mark?” The woman addressed as the Palace Mistress glared at him, but with her beauty, even her anger made her look exceptionally adorable—so much so that one couldn’t help but want to reach out and stroke her cheek. “How wonderful, how wonderful. Since I have some free time on my hands, why not have a little wager?” The monk paid no heed to the Palace Mistress’s anger and pressed his palms together in prayer. “For someone who’s attained the status of an Arhat, you’re surprisingly eager to gamble!” the woman scolded. “This ‘battle’ isn’t like that kind of battle. ‘Battle’ is just a name—the result is what matters most,” the monk replied, completely unfazed. “You bald-headed donkey, I’m not afraid of you! Draw a line for me! I’ll take it on!” The woman planted her hands on her hips, adopting the posture of a shrewish brawler or a street thug—yet because she was so beautiful, everything she did lacked any real sense of menace. Song Jianqiu, however, seeing the woman like this, felt that this woman—whether she was called a princess or a palace mistress—had a rather straightforward temperament. As for this “betting game” business, she knew exactly what it meant—it was simply gambling. In ancient times, gambling was referred to as “***.” “Let’s set the stakes at one lifetime, with one realm as the betting pool. How does that sound?” the monk said. “Agreed!” the woman replied so decisively that even Song Jianqiu had no idea what exactly these two were betting on, or what the consequences would be if one won or lost. “Then let us wait quietly for time to pass.” The monk pressed his palms together, chanted the Buddha’s name, and said, “This old monk must take his leave now.” “See him out!” the woman snapped impatiently. Immediately, a maidservant stepped forward and escorted the monk away. Once the monk had left, this garden—which resembled a fairyland—was once again left with only Song Jianqiu and this woman, whom it was unclear whether she was a princess or the mistress of the palace. The woman continued to scatter fish food, attracting a large school of golden carp to gather around her. After scattering the food twice, she paused, lowering her gaze as if admiring the golden carp vying for the food in the water, or perhaps taking in the beauty of the water lilies. A moment later, the woman raised her head, her gaze fixed directly on Song Jianqiu, a radiant smile on her face. Though they were merely gazing at each other across the river, that single glance seemed to traverse an endless expanse of time, cross layer upon layer of space, and travel a distance beyond measure—a journey so vast that even “thousands of mountains and ten thousand rivers” could not begin to describe it—before finally resting upon Song Jianqiu. Song Jianqiu felt somewhat at a loss, unsure what this actually meant. She could only clearly sense that the woman across the river was sizing her up from head to toe. After a moment, the woman nodded slightly and said, “... You’ve disappointed me.” The voice did not reach her ears all at once, but grew gradually louder—starting as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, yet the final word rang out as clear as a great bell. However, although she hadn’t heard the first few words, judging by those last three, the entire sentence must have been, “Don’t let me down.” What does that mean? What on earth is going on? Song Jianqiu was completely baffled, her face a picture of utter confusion. Just then, a carp suddenly leaped out of the small river. Its golden, streamlined body sent a long trail of water spraying as it hurtled toward her. She instinctively reached out to catch it, and when she looked down, she suddenly found something in her hand! Looking down, she realized it was actually a carp pendant! Clearly, this carp pendant had materialized from the very same golden carp that had just leaped out of the water. Was it a gift for her? Before she could examine it closely or even say thank you, she suddenly felt the entire space grow dark. She instinctively opened her eyes, and day had already broken. (End of Chapter)