At midnight, Diqiu filled with people.
Vendors shouted their wares. Drunks brawled in taverns. Children crowded around a toy-seller, screaming for pinwheels. The city breathed with life.
Su Yan opened his eyes. Perfume drifted toward him. A young woman parted the bead curtain, already half-undressed, climbing into his bed.
"I'm tired — who are you?"
She screamed, clutching her clothes to her chest, staring at him in horror.
Su Yan turned away. "Miss, I meant no offense. I was passing through, found this room empty —"
"Turn around! Wait until I'm dressed!"
He heard rustling fabric. "I'm ready. Turn around."
He turned. A sword pressed against his neck.
"Name yourself, so I know which lecher dies under Feng Xue'er's blade!"
Su Yan tried to summon his qi. Nothing. His cultivation had vanished.
"Miss, I'm Su Yan. I'm a traveling cultivator. This is a misunderstanding."
"Su Yan?"
She blushed furiously, dropped the sword, and fled.
Before Su Yan could escape, an older woman approached with maids and the blushing girl. "The groom has arrived! Who put him in the young lady's chamber?"
"When did I agree to —"
The woman cut him off. "The match was arranged long ago. But a maiden's chamber is no place for an unwed man. We'll hold the wedding tonight, right here."
Su Yan called for the bell. Silence. Called for Yuan Qi. Nothing.
*A dream. Just a dream. I'll wake soon.*
He calmed himself. If it was a dream, he might as well let it run its course.
The wedding was hastily arranged but strangely beautiful. In the bridal chamber, guests gone, music faded, Su Yan sat on the bed, heart pounding.
Feng Xue'er lifted a corner of her veil. "You dared enter my room, yet won't lift my veil?"
He lifted it. She leaned against him, trembling.
"My heart races when I see you. As if I've known you forever."
She looked up. Starlight filled her eyes — the same light he'd seen in Yuan Rusi's gaze.
She kissed him.
* * *
The next morning, Su Yan told himself it was a dream. He called for the bell. Nothing.
Days became weeks. Weeks became months.
He forgot Yuan Qi. He forgot the bell. He forgot Zhu Chanchan and her medicine. The life of a snake-catcher from a burned village felt like a bad dream he'd finally woken from.
This — this was real. The warmth of Feng Xue'er's hand. The laughter of their neighbors. The simple peace of Diqiu.
One day, Feng Xue'er mentioned that great mages had arrived from the capital to perform Heaven-Man Resonance. The sky tilted. People muttered about omens.
But nothing happened.
Then Su Yan woke. The bed was cold and empty.
He walked through Feng manor — empty. The streets — empty. Bun shops still steamed. Tea still sat warm in cups. The toy-seller's pinwheels still spun.
But no people.
Everyone had vanished.
He ran like a madman, searching every house, every alley.
"Where are you?"
"Xue'er!"
He howled like a wolf with its heart torn out. Heaven had given him everything — then snatched it away. The cruelty of it crushed him.
In a teahouse, the sorrowful elder sat with a cup of steaming tea.
"Drink this. You'll forget everything that happened here. You'll have a new life."
Su Yan stumbled toward the cup, broken.
"Kid! Kid!"
The bell's voice echoed from far away, growing louder, closer.
Su Yan jolted awake. He stood in the teahouse, a hot cup in his trembling hands. Tears streaked his face.
"You were sleepwalking," Yuan Qi said, his voice grave. "Shouting. Crying. Looking for someone."
Zhu Chanchan watched him with wide eyes. "You kept saying one name. Over and over."
Su Yan looked at the cup in his hands. Three thousand years old. Still warm.
*Was it real? Or just a dream?*
He lifted the tea and drank it in one gulp.
The taste was familiar. Bitter. Sweet. Then nothing.
Mengpo's soup.