At Kong Xuan’s suggestion, the two families celebrated the new year together. That winter brought the heaviest snowfall in a hundred years. Cottony drifts of snow blanketed the grounds, the roofs, and the rear courtyard. Kong Xuan and Li Jinglong’s father chatted idly over tea in the front hall, while Hongjun and Li Jinglong wrapped dumplings with Jia Yuze. Li Jinglong’s jokes sent Jia Yuze into peals of laughter.
Once again, Lu Xu felt their surroundings ripple. “Hongjun?”
Hongjun was on the brink of losing control. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back in time. He would pay any price to return to that winter, to this night, when he, his parents, and Li Jinglong were all snug within his home together.
“I want to go back,” Hongjun said. “Lu Xu, help me.”
The last time he’d entered these dreams, his consciousness had been in his own younger body. This time, thanks to Lu Xu’s intervention, he experienced these dreams as an outsider, merely watching from above.
“Sweet dreams are like fine wine,” Lu Xu cautioned. “You can have some, but not too much.”
Hongjun turned imploring eyes toward Lu Xu, who nodded and let go of his hand. Instantly, Hongjun became a ray of white light that shot into the small body of the Hongjun in the dreamscape.
“This is your dream, not your past.” Lu Xu’s voice rang in Hongjun’s ears. “Don’t try to change anything, and don’t think too hard about how this is a dream, or you’ll wake up before you intend to.”
In the next breath, Hongjun stood beside his mother, still laughing at Li Jinglong’s latest quip. Seeing her sweet smile, Hongjun instinctively leaned closer to her—he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around her and hold her tight.
Noticing her son’s distraction, Jia Yuze swiped a handful of flour over his face. Hongjun yelped, and she laughed again at the sight of him. “Mom!”
A snickering Li Jinglong went to fetch a towel to wipe Hongjun’s face. Jia Yuze pinched Hongjun’s cheek and bent to kiss him on the same spot. She wrapped an arm around him, and he buried his face in her waist.
In the waking world, Lu Xu released Hongjun’s hand and opened his eyes to find Mergen and Li Jinglong looming expressionlessly over him. Lu Xu looked up at them warily.
“What did you show him?” Li Jinglong asked.
“Nothing much,” Lu Xu replied.
Li Jinglong sat on the bed. Hongjun’s face was relaxed in slumber, the corners of his mouth turned up in an innocent smile, as if he was immersed in the sweetest of dreams. As Li Jinglong reached out to caress his forehead, Lu Xu quickly said, “Don’t rouse him, or he’ll beat you up.”
“Send me in there,” Li Jinglong said.
“I can’t. You can only enter his dreams if you’re in them.”
Li Jinglong studied Lu Xu. With a smile, he asked, “And how do you know I’m not?”
Observant as ever, Li Jinglong had guessed Hongjun’s dream had something to do with him the moment he saw Lu Xu’s hesitation. With a sigh, Lu Xu pointed at Hongjun’s hand, which Li Jinglong took. As he lay down beside Hongjun, Lu Xu shaped his fingers into a seal and pressed his hand against Li Jinglong’s chest. The white deer’s powers took hold, and the heart lamp’s gentle glow enveloped the two dreamers on the bed.
After stuffing himself with dumplings, Li Jinglong spent the first night of the year in Hongjun’s home. The boys lay down side by side, whispering to each other in bed. Li Jinglong took Hongjun’s hand in his own, and Hongjun turned over to snuggle up to him. “What does ‘joining the army’ mean?”
Li Jinglong’s eyes widened as his adult waking consciousness slipped into Hongjun’s dream.
“It means…” Li Jinglong tilted his head, observing the young Hongjun in shock. His eyes roved around the room. Where are we?
Hongjun, exhausted after a whole day of fun, was soon fast asleep. Li Jinglong looked down at the small boy in his arms. With his fair complexion and rosy lips, Hongjun as a child was almost prettier than he was as a young man.
Footsteps sounded outside—likely Kong Xuan. Li Jinglong squeezed his eyes shut just as the door opened. Kong Xuan gently slipped two red envelopes beneath their pillows before pausing above Li Jinglong.
Opening his eyes just a crack, Li Jinglong saw Kong Xuan make a strange sign with his hands, perhaps some sort of spiritual technique. He flicked his fingers, and a sigil flew toward Li Jinglong and sank into his heart.
Li Jinglong waited until Kong Xuan had left, then tiptoed out of bed. It seemed he’d returned to his childhood. Two sets of new clothes for the New Year festivities were folded neatly on the table. He pulled one of them on and padded out the door, examining his surroundings.
If this was his past, he had no memory of it. What was going on?
Li Jinglong was stunned. This was Hongjun’s dream, of that he was sure—but why would he appear in a dream about Hongjun’s childhood? Does Hongjun know what I looked like as a child?
Outside, the snow had stopped. Li Jinglong walked out into the courtyard, only to stop short at the sight of the camphor tree reaching up over the walls of the residence next door. Was this Hongjun’s dream or his own?
Voices sounded in the entrance hall: Kong Xuan seeing Li Jinglong’s inebriated father out. Kong Xuan was about to turn back when he spotted a figure in the alley.
“Well, come in then,” Kong Xuan said, stepping back to make way for Yang Guozhong.
Jia Yuze gave Yang Guozhong a wary look as she cleared the table. Arms full of dishes, she left them, shutting the door lightly behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, Li Jinglong snuck closer, hiding in the corridor to peek through the door she’d left ajar.
“Have you thought it through?” Yang Guozhong asked grimly. “This is the only way to save him.”
“If we save him, the world will be destroyed,” Kong Xuan said.
“Where there is light, there is shadow; where there is good, there must be evil,” Yang Guozhong replied. “Today we live in an age of peace and prosperity, yet there will surely come a day when demons make their return. It is because of all living things that malign energy exists in this world, and hence this energy must someday return to those that created it. This calamity is written in the fate of the Divine Land, inevitable. Why do you not understand this?”
Yang Guozhong tilted his head slightly with these last words, his gaze fixing on Li Jinglong, hovering outside, through the crack in the door. Startled, Li Jinglong instinctively shied back before remembering this was Hongjun’s dream and not reality. But then, how had the dream Yang Guozhong seen him? During these original events, had someone else peeked through these doors at this exact moment?
“Your son holds nearly three-tenths of the world’s malign energies within him. I’m doing my best to gather the rest.” Yang Guozhong took a sip of tea. “Entrust him to me, and he’ll be rid of this demonic energy in less than ten years. When the time comes, you can seal Mara, and your son will emerge alive.”
“And what about you?”
Yang Guozhong smiled.
“You only want to save Xing-er’s life for your own sake,” Kong Xuan said coldly. “After you absorb the demonic energy inside him, you’ll fear no one, and be free to do as you please. Who in this world will be able to stop you when the time comes, Xie Yu?”
“Is the demonic energy more dangerous once it seeps into my soul, or after your son has absorbed it? Very soon, I will transform into a dragon. I’ll be able to control it. If Chouxing descends into demonhood, on the other hand, he’ll be far more difficult to rein in. Think carefully.”
“If Chouxing someday becomes the heavenly demon,” Kong Xuan vowed solemnly, “I’ll put an end to him myself—and the mistakes I made along with him.”
“Then you must act quickly.” Yang Guozhong thought a moment, then added, “Even you will be no match for him once he absorbs the other seven-tenths of the world’s malevolent energies.”
“The divine kun is gathering energy from the sun and the moon of the North Sea for me. He hopes to reconstruct the heart lamp.”
“The heart lamp is useless to you,” Yang Guozhong said. “It doesn’t belong to the yao race.”
“Someone will inherit it eventually,” Kong Xuan replied evenly.
“You’re thinking of the Chen family?” Yang Guozhong sneered. “If Chen Zi’ang’s descendants were capable of that, the heart lamp wouldn’t have ended up in pieces in the—”
Time seemed to stutter as Li Jinglong’s surroundings rippled subtly, almost unnoticeably. Both Kong Xuan and Yang Guozhong froze.
Li Jinglong took a hasty step back, realizing that the original witness to this scene had arrived.