Yan Jianlan completely collapsed. After crying his heart out while holding Sheng Jiao, he finally fell asleep exhausted in body and mind.
Sheng Jiao raised his hand to wipe the tear tracks from his face, staring unblinkingly at that face tormented to collapse by past events, knowing for the first time what powerlessness meant.
He couldn’t share any of Yan Jianlan’s pain, nor could he pull him out of the mire of despair.
Yan Jianlan had fallen asleep, but Sheng Jiao didn’t dare leave his side for even half a step. He had Winter Snow bring over the rhinoceros horn lamp.
Lezheng Jiu’s manifestation technique arrived in the carriage mustard seed. He looked with complex emotions at Yan Jianlan’s tear-stained face on the bed, silent for a long while before saying: “I’ll come over right away.”
“No need,” Sheng Jiao said in a low voice. “Just give me the technique to enter ‘Falling Dream.'”
‘Falling Dream’ was often used by the Medicine Sect to soothe cultivators who’d gone mad from cultivation deviation, to remove inner demons, but there had never been a case of an outsider entering the dream illusion.
“Wait for me to arrive,” Lezheng Jiu said coldly. “If you enter ‘Falling Dream’ with no one to wake you, your consciousness might fall into complete slumber, and you won’t be able to escape along with Jianlan.”
Sheng Jiao said: “I won’t. Give me the dream-entering technique.”
Lezheng Jiu’s face was written with curses. He probably wanted to give Sheng Jiao a thorough scolding, but worried about waking Yan Jianlan, he could only grit his teeth and reluctantly explain the array technique.
After obtaining the array entry technique, Sheng Jiao was about to extinguish the rhinoceros horn lamp without another word.
“Wait!” Lezheng Jiu stopped him, hesitating a long time before saying with difficulty: “Once you detect signs of Jianlan collapsing in the dream, immediately withdraw your soul and leave ‘Falling Dream.'”
Sheng Jiao’s icy eyes looked directly at him.
Lezheng Jiu added fiercely: “…A soul separated from the body is extremely fragile. If your soul suffers severe damage, even immortals might not be able to save you—don’t act recklessly just because you’re at Great Ascension.”
Sheng Jiao stared at him coldly for a long time before looking away and parting his lips slightly.
“I know. Thank you.”
Lezheng Jiu froze, keenly sensing that this block of ice seemed different from his previous cold-faced, cold-hearted self.
Just as he was about to say something, Sheng Jiao didn’t even blink before directly extinguishing the rhinoceros horn lamp.
Lezheng Jiu: “…”
What difference?! Still the same hateful dog appearance!
Sheng Jiao always acted decisively. After obtaining the technique to enter ‘Falling Dream,’ without any pause, he immediately took out the already-prepared ‘Falling Dream’ array and silently placed it throughout the carriage mustard seed.
The intricate spiritual power array suddenly lit up, making the sleeping Yan Jianlan furrow his brow.
Sheng Jiao removed his ear ornament and cupped his large palm over his eyes, letting him sleep more peacefully.
Soon, from the underground array, ‘Falling Dream’ extended countless skeletal hands like malicious ghosts, slowly reaching toward Yan Jianlan on the bed.
Yan Jianlan vaguely sensed an ominous aura, desperately shaking his head, a whimper of resistance escaping his throat.
Sheng Jiao steeled his heart, pouring spiritual power to forcefully activate the array. Countless grotesque skeletal hands clawed their way toward Yan Jianlan in unison, as if forcibly yanking his soul from that thin body, then suddenly burrowing back underground.
The worry between Yan Jianlan’s brows instantly dissipated, as if he’d suddenly become an empty puppet.
The moment the array activated, Sheng Jiao closed his eyes and recited the technique Lezheng Jiu had told him. Those skeletal hands that hadn’t fully receded surged toward him once more.
Sheng Jiao sat cross-legged in silence, allowing countless hands to drag him into the nightmare.
Yan Jianlan’s nightmare.
Sheng Jiao had learned from Madam Wan how Yan Jianlan was persecuted by the Xi family back then. He’d thought ‘Falling Dream’ would take Yan Jianlan to his most fearful moment—when his parents were killed.
But after a bout of dizziness, Sheng Jiao’s soul silently landed in a secluded mountain area.
It was actually below Yan Family Mountain.
Sheng Jiao appeared as his twelve-year-old self, standing alone on stone steps in white robes. Looking up at the setting sun, he confirmed this dream didn’t begin from that rainy night that terrified Yan Ling.
Sheng Jiao waited patiently for a while, vaguely hearing rustling sounds from the dense forest around the corner below.
Suddenly, a warm yellow figure darted out from the bushes, cradling a small black cat in his arms.
It was Yan Ling.
Nine-year-old Yan Ling was at the age despised by cats and dogs alike. His new clothes had gotten thoroughly dirty after just half a day of running around, sleeves torn by tree branches. He stood on the steps waving down below, his face full of youthful, carefree innocence.
“Ah Yue! Come quickly!”
Every time they climbed the mountain steps, Yan Yue always lagged far behind him.
Yan Ling waited left and right. Seeing Yan Yue still hadn’t come up, he could only run ahead first while holding the cat and giggling. He was like a lively spring breeze—wherever he passed, spring warmth and blooming flowers followed.
Sheng Jiao stared at him in a daze.
So this was what Yan Ling was like in his youth…
Yan Ling happily ran up several mountain steps. When he inadvertently passed by Sheng Jiao, he seemed to sense something. After running several more steps, he actually turned back to look with confusion.
Sheng Jiao froze. His gaze met Yan Ling’s directly.
No one dared risk entering another’s ‘Falling Dream.’ Probably even Lezheng Jiu didn’t know that Yan Ling could see Sheng Jiao in the illusion.
“You…” Yan Ling looked at him curiously for a long time, then suddenly said “Ah!” and grinned: “I remember you—the brother who gave me osmanthus cakes at the Qiqiao Festival yesterday!”
Sheng Jiao was silent.
Yan Ling really could see him.
Yesterday was Qiqiao Festival, so today was the eighth day of the seventh month.
Still many days until August.
Yan Ling ran back holding the cat. He’d probably always been a little short—standing on the step above Sheng Jiao, he could barely meet his eyes.
He sneakily stood on tiptoe, raising an eyebrow: “Brother, why did you come here? Did you also get lost?”
Sheng Jiao remained silent.
He had completely forgotten meeting Yan Ling at the Qiqiao Festival back then, much less what his own personality was like before age twelve. Everything before Shen Tianshe seemed covered in a layer of dust—he couldn’t remember no matter how hard he tried.
Fortunately, Yan Ling was very talkative back then. Even without Sheng Jiao responding, he could chatter on endlessly: “We’re playing, you know. Do you want to join? Oh my, Ah Yue is really too slow. Playing with him has no sense of achievement. Brother, are you going home?”
Sheng Jiao shook his head.
“Then play with me,” Yan Ling said cheerfully, pressing the cat’s paw on Sheng Jiao’s shoulder, turning to point at the end of Yan Family Mountain’s steps, grinning: “Let’s race to see who gets to the top first, okay?”
In his youth, Yan Ling’s greatest pleasure was climbing mountain steps. Even winning against the sickly Yan Yue would make him immensely proud.
Sheng Jiao pressed his lips together, unsure whether to agree.
But remembering that nothing he did in ‘Falling Dream’ could change the past, he nodded.
Yan Jianlan was overjoyed. He immediately looped the cat around his neck—the cat was extremely obedient, hooking its claws onto Yan Ling’s clothes and curling docilely at the back of his neck, giving a soft meow.
Yan Jianlan patted his chest proudly: “I’ll give you a ten-step head start.”
Sheng Jiao nodded again, stepping past Yan Jianlan and walking up ten steps methodically.
Yan Jianlan prepared himself and said: “Start!”
As soon as the words fell, both rushed up the mountain steps.
But Sheng Jiao, this romantically clueless block of wood, wouldn’t show mercy even to his beloved’s childhood self. When told to race up the mountain steps, he truly climbed them earnestly.
Sheng Jiao’s form was like a mountain peak, almost instantly reaching the end of Yan Family Mountain.
Yan Ling, who had only run a few steps: “…”
Yan Ling froze entirely, gaping at the distant Sheng Jiao looking down at him indifferently. After a good while, he finally reacted.
The young child was optimistic. His first reaction was actually: “No wonder Ah Yue is always on the verge of tears every time.”
Now that he was the one being crushed, Yan Ling nearly cried from grievance too.
But Yan Ling was good at managing his emotions—big-hearted and carefree. He slapped his cheeks, forcibly holding back tears, and bounced up cheerfully, excitedly jumping on the steps.
“Brother! Brother is amazing! Brother, are you a cultivator?!”
Sheng Jiao watched him bounce up breathlessly. After thinking, he still reached out to pull him up.
The sun set behind the mountains. Yan Family Mountain had already lit its lanterns. Madam Zhao had cooked the meal, chimney smoke rising to merge with the fiery clouds on the horizon.
Yan Ling gripped Sheng Jiao’s hand, finally struggling up the last step with effort.
This was the beginning of Yan Jianlan’s greatest fear—not because of danger, but because it was a past he could never return to no matter how hard he tried.
Both parents still living peacefully in seclusion on Yan Family Mountain, Yan Ling also having childhood playmates, carefree and untroubled by anything.
For the current Yan Jianlan, it was a wound that hurt to the bone just thinking about it.
It could never heal.
The moment Yan Ling stepped onto the mountain platform, the surroundings shifted. Faint sounds of pattering rain emerged from all around.
That rain had begun to fall.
Young Yan Ling curled up alone in a cramped cave dwelling, covering his ears and shedding tears, his whole body trembling with fear.
“I’m scared…”
He said.
But right after speaking, little Yan Ling immediately regretted it, because Yan Hanque told him not to be afraid.
He couldn’t be afraid.
“I’m not scared,” little Yan Ling covered his eyes, voice trembling as he murmured. “I’m not scared at all. I’m waiting for Father and Mother to find me. The rain… the rain will stop soon.”
At that time, he thought the rain would stop quickly.
In the cramped cave dwelling, suddenly came the sound of fabric rustling.
With a “hiss,” it seemed a candlelight brightened.
Yan Ling’s eyes flashed with light. He hurriedly opened them: “Father! Mother!”
Sheng Jiao crouched before him holding a lamp, the warm light in his hand slowly breaking through the darkness enveloping Yan Ling.
Yan Ling blinked blankly: “Brother?”
Sheng Jiao placed the lamp on the ground. The candlelight reflected in his vacant eyes seemed to finally hold a trace of dim light. He gently tidied Yan Ling’s disheveled long hair and said softly:
“It’s alright.”
Yan Ling’s breath stopped for an instant. His soul’s dependence on Sheng Jiao prevented him from questioning why this person was here, nor did he doubt why he was so intimate with a stranger he’d only met twice.
He stared blankly at Sheng Jiao, then suddenly crawled forward on his knees, stumbling into Sheng Jiao’s open arms.
Little Yan Ling’s whole body trembled, choking out: “I’m scared, I’m afraid.”
The release of fear twelve years late, and the response he’d wanted to hear…
“Don’t be afraid.”
Sheng Jiao said softly.
This “don’t be afraid” might be just empty words to twenty-four-year-old Yan Jianlan, but to nine-year-old Yan Ling, the meaning was completely different.
As if venting all grievance and fear without holding back a trace, little Yan Ling finally didn’t need to endure anymore and cried out completely.
**
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152