Chapter Fourteen: Three Conditions

This time, Zhou Yan’s quest to find the Lady Sima was far from easy.

He first went to the Tidewatch Inn. When he asked about Sima, Qian Dahai’s plump face broke into a smile as he replied, “Master Zhou, you’ve come at the wrong time. Lady Sima’s whereabouts are like drifting clouds in the sky; wherever the wind blows, there she goes. If she isn’t drunk beneath the old locust tree in the rear courtyard, she’s surely somewhere in this town, hidden away, seeking someone destined to unravel their dreams.”

Zhou Yan, helpless, bid farewell to the inn and began his own search. The town was neither large nor small, but it took him a good while to scour its corners. He searched from midday until the sun slanted west, finally spotting her familiar silhouette at the bustling docks.

Beside the piers, shouts from sailors and laborers mingled with the crashing waves. Lady Sima seemed oblivious to it all. She sat in a quiet corner among the crowd, behind a battered square table. A faded banner reading “Guess the Heart” fluttered weakly in the sea breeze. She reclined on a stool missing a leg, holding a vermilion wine gourd, her almond eyes half-open and half-closed.

Zhou Yan steadied himself, stepped forward, and bowed deeply. His tone was respectful: “Lady Immortal.”

Sima didn’t even lift her eyelids, merely responded with a faint hum from her nose.

Knowing her temperament, Zhou Yan took no offense. He sat opposite her, produced from his robe a five-tael silver ingot, placed it gently on the table, and slid it across.

“Lady Immortal, I had another dream last night. I hope you might help me interpret it.”

Only then did Sima slowly open her eyes, but her gaze never touched the silver. Instead, her eyes lingered on his face for a moment then drifted away. “Speak,” she replied, coolly.

Zhou Yan steadied himself, leaned forward, and lowered his voice:

“In my dream, high above the heavens, there was a star that should have burned out three thousand years ago, falling into endless darkness.”

“But for reasons unknown, one night ten years ago, it suddenly flared again, its brilliance fleeting but enough to startle heaven and earth alike.”

“Since then, many have tried to follow its light, only to find the star had vanished like a clay ox in the sea—no trace left behind, as if shrouded by an invisible, dense cloud. Lady Immortal, what does this dream mean?”

As his words faded, the surrounding clamor seemed to recede into silence.

Lady Sima’s hand, which had been gently shaking the wine gourd, paused.

She was silent for a moment, then smiled unexpectedly.

She extended a slender finger and pushed the silver ingot back across the table.

“Master Zhou,” she said, her smile laced with irony, her gaze suddenly cold, her voice low, “Some ‘dreams’ cannot be interpreted. To unravel them is to invite disaster.”

She paused, her eyes flicking over Zhou Yan’s tense face, and added, almost languidly, “It would cost not only your life, but mine as well. This bit of silver cannot buy you that answer.”

At her words, Zhou Yan’s face turned deathly pale.

Sweat beaded on his brow. He opened his mouth, but not a sound came.

Seeing Lady Sima raise her wine gourd, clearly unwilling to speak further, Zhou Yan panicked. If he returned to the capital empty-handed, not only would his prospects be ruined, his life might well be forfeit.

At that moment, inspiration struck, and he hurriedly said, “Lady Immortal, you are right! I was reckless. Such earth-shattering dreams are beyond the reach of ordinary men like myself. But I have another, smaller dream from long ago—perhaps you would be willing to enlighten me?”

Lady Sima paused, glancing askance at him. “Oh? What little dream?”

Zhou Yan exhaled in relief and replied quickly, “It concerns the ‘cat’ you mentioned last time, upstairs. Lady Immortal, that cat’s incessant cries disturb my peace day and night.”

“I serve under imperial orders here. If this hinders my duty, I’ll have no way out. I beg your mercy, show me a path to safety!”

With that, he bowed deeply, lowering himself with utmost humility.

Lady Sima looked him over, contemplating for a moment. She lowered the wine gourd from her lips.

She stretched languidly, her manner lazy, as if the sharp edge of her earlier demeanor was merely a fleeting illusion.

“As for a solution… I have none.”

Zhou Yan’s heart sank to its nadir.

But she changed tack, “However, while I cannot help you silence the cat, I do have a way to ensure your safe return.”

Her words were like music to his ears.

Zhou Yan’s eyes lit with wild joy, nearly springing from his seat, “What brilliant plan, Lady Immortal? Name it, and I will obey without hesitation!”

Lady Sima did not answer immediately. She tapped the vermilion wine gourd on the table, producing a crisp sound.

She raised three fingers, waving them before Zhou Yan, her lips curling into a familiar smile—three parts teasing, seven parts cunning.

“Before I tell you, you must first agree to three conditions.”

…

When Lu Chenyuan came near the Taibai Tavern, he looked around for any sign of his master Sima. Finding none, he entered, disappointed.

Inside, the Taibai Tavern buzzed with the noise of the world. The place was not only the largest public house in town, but also a gathering point for all manner of people.

There were swordsmen, their faces weathered and wary, downing strong drink as they discussed blades, vengeance, and justice. Scholars in long robes clustered in groups, quoting classics and debating the affairs of court and literature.

Amid the din, boundaries remained clear; each world kept its own order.

Lu Chenyuan and Shangguan Chuci stood at the end of the long queue for “Autumn Dew White.” This famed liquor was the tavern’s prized treasure—only three jars sold each day, and those late, no matter how wealthy, would not get a drop.

The line moved slowly, surrounded by laughter and urging from the crowd.

Lu Chenyuan remained calm, unaffected by the noise, simply waiting with composure.

Shangguan Chuci, holding a white jade folding fan, gently waved it, her bright eyes darting around the hall, taking in every manner and expression.

Finally, her gaze settled on the quiet profile of the youth beside her.

She observed Lu Chenyuan’s serene face amid the chaos, her thoughts turning. As if casually, she spoke, her voice clear yet pitched just for him, “Brother Lu, I see you are steady in action and decisive in adversity—not one to be underestimated. Yet why… do you seem not to have embarked upon the path of cultivation? That is truly curious.”

Lu Chenyuan’s body stiffened ever so slightly. He did not answer, only casting his gaze toward the giant wine urn ahead.

Seeing his silence, Shangguan Chuci did not retreat. Instead, she leaned in a little closer, continuing with concern, “Could it be… your master is unwilling to teach you?”