By the time Wu Li and Chai Xiaomi arrived at the bamboo house in the suburbs, the mist had already faded.
The bamboo house, which looked serene and elegant during the day, actually appeared somewhat lonely and desolate at night.
A solitary building, nestled by the lake.
Chai Xiaomi felt a slight sourness in her heart. She could tell that Hongxiao was a girl who loved liveliness, yet she could endure this isolated loneliness.
Just what kind of conviction was supporting her?
Wu Li rolled up his sleeve. The Five Poisons tattoo that once adorned his forearm now only had four left. Most of the time now, Hongjiao was sealed within, sleeping in the form of a tattoo. Only when summoned could it materialize from the ink.
After Hongjiao slithered out, it took a huge gulp of air.
When sealed inside the tattoo, all of its senses were closed off; it could neither hear nor see.
It could no longer freely coil around its master's arm like before.
The snake felt wronged.
The snake decided to slither over to Chai Xiaomi first to tearfully complain.
But before its serpentine body could even touch the tip of her toes, its master blocked its path.
"Stay away from her, and stop always trying to climb onto her," Wu Li warned coldly. "I'll let it slide for now that you didn't clean up that filthy thing properly. Right now, go find that fox spirit in the house and weave a dream using the memories stored in her demon core."
A wisp of leftover malicious aura had slipped into Ouyang Rui's body; as expected, it couldn't be hidden from its master.
Hongjiao blinked slowly and slithered toward the bamboo house dejectedly.
Just as it turned its head, it was suddenly picked up.
"Why are you so fierce to it?" Chai Xiaomi patted Hongjiao's head. "It listens to you so well, you should praise and encourage it occasionally. Thanks for your hard work, big fat snake."
The snake was moved to tears.
If she could just remove the words "big fat snake," it would be even more moved.
Chai Xiaomi only learned today that Hongjiao could actually weave dreams.
According to Wu Li, the dreams forged by Hongjiao were divided into two types: real memories and illusory imaginations.
Imaginations were not entirely illusory either; most came from the dreamer's subconscious, carrying some sort of precognitive ability.
Hongjiao was only responsible for opening the dreamscape. As for the specific content, only the dreamer themselves would know.
"Are you ready?" Wu Li took her hand.
"We are about to enter that fox's dream. We will exist by relying on a leaf in the scene, a wisp of wind, or even a speck of dust. We can only be bystanders and cannot change anything. So no matter what you see, you are not allowed to be sad."
She nodded. "Alright."
......
The thirteenth year of Cheng'an, Liangya Prefecture.
A spring rain had just fallen, melting away the remaining snow.
The pitter-patter of dripping water echoed all around the corridors.
A palanquin stopped at the entrance of the Luo Manor.
Before the person inside could even step out, the little maid waiting at the door excitedly ran toward the main house. "Master, Madam, the Young Master has returned!"
The young master was only twelve, yet his chess skills were already extraordinary. This time, he had traveled far to the capital to compete with a group of older great scholars. He overcame all obstacles along the way, only losing by half a piece to the sexagenarian chess master of the Huang family, narrowly missing out on the first grade.
The good news had been sent back early on.
Madam Luo had been eagerly looking forward to this for a long time. Hearing of her son's return, she hurried out to welcome him.
The palanquin curtain was lifted.
Out stepped a young lord. His features were bright and clean, his eyes still holding a hint of green childishness, yet his posture was extremely upright.
"Father, Mother."
He performed a formal bow. His words and actions were entirely appropriate, gentle and proper.
Yet it still brought displeasure to the man seated above.
Master Luo glanced at a muddy stain on his son's chest, and his face darkened. "You trained so hard to this day, only to bring back a second grade. Where did you go wild to get yourself looking like this? I see your mind is entirely focused on playing. Go kneel in the garden for the night and reflect properly!"
The surrounding servants lowered their heads, unable to bear it.
They knew better than anyone that the young master worked harder than any of his peers. He practiced chess every day and never had a single day to play like ordinary children.
The stain on his chest was nothing more than an excuse for the master to vent his frustration.
But Master Luo's desire for his son to succeed was too urgent. Ever since he discovered his son's extraordinary talent in chess at a young age, he had devoted himself to cultivating him, longing for him to become Liangya Prefecture's youngest Chess Sage.
Luo You'an lowered his eyes, not offering a single word of defense regarding the stain.
A loss was a loss.
"Yes, Father."
Although the snow had melted, the early spring night was still chilling to the bone, chilling to the heart.
The young boy knelt perfectly straight.
His day-and-night efforts were only to earn his father's approval.
But as the snow water on the ground seeped into his robes, he suddenly felt that what his father loved was merely a son who could make him proud, and not him.
Madam Luo, her face full of heartache, brought a cloak and draped it over her son's shoulders. She then took a soft cushion from a maid, wanting to tuck it under her son's knees.
"No need, Mother. Your son can endure."
He had long grown accustomed to his father's strict teachings.
Madam Luo sighed.
Both father and son were stubborn. They were full of aloof pride and never willing to say half a word more than necessary.
The cloak and cushion were clearly items the master had quietly asked her to bring out, yet he had repeatedly ordered her not to tell their son.
"You'er, how did you get this on your chest? Did you fall?"
A smile finally rippled across Luo You'an's calm face, adding a bit of the vibrancy a youth should have. "I saved a dirty little dog on the way. I saw it was about to freeze to death, so I held it in my arms to warm it up."
That little dog was also naughty, actually running onto a frozen mud puddle to play, not knowing that the thin ice of early spring couldn't withstand such bouncing. It accidentally fell into an ice hole and was fished out by him.
Knowing her son hadn't fallen, Madam Luo finally breathed a sigh of relief.
No one noticed that hidden in a cluster of grass in the garden was a tiny figure.
The little fox muttered to itself: It wasn't some little dog. It had just been playing around and rolling in the mud, dyeing its whole body a drab, earthy color. It clearly had a beautiful coat of fiery red fur.
It stared fixedly at the young boy.
Kneeling, yet his posture remained as straight as a green bamboo.
It suddenly missed the warmth of his embrace.
It had already cultivated for two hundred and seventy years. In another thirty years, it would be able to take human form.
It liked this boy. It decided to latch onto him.
Once it cultivated into human form, it would suck his life essence first.
*
Because of this kneeling, Luo You'an fell severely ill.
But Master Luo still made him get up to attend the private school first, and then return to the courtyard to practice playing chess by himself.
In the corner of the courtyard, an old locust tree spread out half a canopy of shade.
Luo You'an forced his sick body to hold up, studying the black and white pieces on the chessboard.
One day.
In his peripheral vision, a fiery red little shadow suddenly barged in.
It was like a splash of vivid, bright color intruding into the black-and-white world of the chessboard.
It was a little red fox, lying on top of the wall.
It was staring earnestly at his moves, seriously watching the chess game.
He couldn't help but chuckle secretly, and even his haggard, sick body gained a bit of spirit.
From then on, the little fox came every day, observing in secret.
One day, Luo You'an placed a piece down, a smile playing on his lips, and spoke leisurely, "Little fox, oh little fox, if you want to watch the game, just come over openly and watch."
After a moment of silence, a tiny fiery red figure finally leaped onto the chess table.
It raised its round little head, revealing a pair of golden fox eyes as clear as an autumn pool and as bright as the stars.
Luo You'an paused for a moment. Thinking of the bitter vegetable soup he had just drunk, his face broke into a smile. "It happens to be the solar term of Xiaoman today. From now on, I shall call you Xiaoman. How does that sound?"
The little fox tilted its head to look at him, and with a gentle wag of its fluffy tail, it seemed to agree.
From then on.
Winters came and summers went, year after year.
Unknowingly, the person and the fox actually became the closest of friends who talked about everything.
In reality, it was only Luo You'an pouring out his grievances, while the little fox was merely responsible for shaking or nodding its head, or eating the fruits and snacks laid out on the table as it listened.
"Xiaoman, I really envy my cousin. He has so many storybooks to read at home, tales of the strange and supernatural, martial arts and the martial world, everything you could imagine. But my father only makes me read dull and tedious ancient poetry and classics."
The next day, a stack of storybooks appeared on the chess table. The little fox sat right on top, its tail flicking up and down, its face full of smugness.
Luo You'an was stunned and lowered his voice, "Where... where did you get these?"
The little fox held its head high, wearing an expression that seemed to say, "Don't you worry about it."
He looked left and right, and after confirming no one was around, he quickly stuffed the storybooks into the hidden compartment beneath the chess table.
Then he gave a light cough, straightened his clothes, and sat back upright, returning to his usual gentle and refined appearance.
However, when no one was looking, he would secretly reach under the table, pull out a book, and quickly flip through a couple of pages.
When he read an exciting part, he could not help but laugh out loud.
As he laughed, he would quickly cover his mouth, terrified of being heard by others.
Whenever he finished a story, he would recount it exactly as it was to the little fox.
Looking into its bright yet innocent and naive eyes, he would earnestly explain the moral of the story to it.
That young master of the Luo family, who was always dignified, composed, and absolutely flawless in front of outsiders, only dared to reveal a hint of his youthful, mischievous nature in front of this little fox.
