Running for her breath, Shengsi’s eyes snapped open as she felt the violent palpitation of her heart and the sweat on her forehead. With knitted brows, she looked at the sleeping Chuanhu, who was slumped against an empty tub, the water long gone along with the incantation imbued within it.

Both their clothes were somehow unbelievably dry.

“You fool,” she mumbled as she withdrew her hand from his.

Shengsi stood, scratching her nose. Why did it feel so itchy? It didn’t take long before she carried Chuanhu back to his grandfather’s room and laid him onto the bed.

It was still the early Hour of the Tiger, around three in the morning, when she prepared food for them, and by the Hour of the Rabbit, around five, her throat had begun to ache, her nose making her sniffle repeatedly.

By the time breakfast came, Shengsi’s countenance was filled with weariness. When Chengxu and Grandfather Li saw her, noticing how her nose and ears had turned red, they grew concerned as well. Both of them insisted that she rest for the day and do nothing. They didn’t ask what had happened during the ritual she performed, since seeing Chuanhu asleep already told them that she had failed, though the reason remained unknown to them.

Shengsi insisted on opening the bread shop, but dizziness took what little strength she had left and forced her back onto the bed. She couldn’t do anything for the rest of the day and was instead tended to by her frail brother, who kept scolding her without pause.

Additionally, it was after breakfast when Grandfather Li came to check on her condition. He said that her body had been strained from draining her qi during the ritual for several hours, depleting her of the vitality she needed to sustain herself. Because of this, her defenses had weakened, allowing her to catch a cold. He prepared a decoction of herbal medicine for her, one she had to take three times a day to restore her qi, warm her body, and expel the invading cold.

By dusk, Shengsi’s condition had lessened, though she still felt weak. Still, it was enough for her to sit up and speak with both her brother and grandfather about what had happened during her soul-finding and dream visitation.

They were in the main hall by then, having already finished dinner.

Shengsi recounted what had happened when she intruded upon his lucid dream, and how she came to realize that he held control over it, even while his soul was wandering.

Grandfather Li rubbed his chin as he absorbed the current circumstance Chuanhu was experiencing. “A lucid dream… such a thing is indeed possible, especially if one’s qi is strong enough to dominate even in a wandering state.”

Chengxu, with his fingers lightly rapping against the table, nodded. “About this lucid dreaming, Grandfather Li… is it possible for him to wake up on his own?”

For him, having control over such a state was no small matter. Not only would it imply that he could shape whatever he dreamed, whoever appeared there, and however events unfolded, but also that he might have the ability to wake at will.

“Hmm,” Grandfather Li shook his head, dismissing the notion, “awakening would not come easily.”

“But how so?” the Zhi twins asked at once, before exchanging glances.

“The answer lies within the matter itself, my grandchildren.” The old man then rose and clasped his hands behind his back. “There is also something known as a soul trap.”

They fell silent at the mention of the term.

Grandfather Li continued, “There have been many recorded cases of wandering souls documented by expert warlock physicians, those who encountered individuals whose consciousness remained dominant within their own lucid dreams.” He moved toward the window and gazed at the moon. “Among them, most became trapped within their own illusions. Some remained willingly, while others lost the ability to distinguish reality from falsehood, until they spent the rest of their lives asleep, their souls forever wandering.”

“Then… could it happen to Xie Chuanhu?” Chengxu asked.

Shengsi still couldn’t quite believe it. That man had the audacity to make a fool of her, to drive her out of his dream as if it were nothing, and now she was being told he might never wake because of it?

Grandfather Li glanced at her. “It is among the most devastating records left by warlock physicians. Many abandoned the practice of soul-finding rituals altogether, because such cases were once all too common.”

“But…” she said, her voice tightening, “we can’t give up on him, right?”

Of course, he had to live.

Otherwise, all the medicine they had spent, the qi she had drained performing the ritual, the lines she had crossed despite what was proper for a woman, and even the harm she had done to herself.

All of it would mean nothing.

Xie Chuanhu had to live.

No matter what.

On the other hand, to think that Chuanhu was not only lucid, but possessed such clarity and control within his dream.

That alone unsettled Grandfather Li and Chengxu the most.

“Not a commoner, and certainly not incompetent.” Grandfather Li’s tone remained stern, yet his intrigued eyes never left her. “Brilliant, with striking features and physique. I wonder why you still don’t consider him heaven-sent, Shengsi.”

Even his words seemed to imply something more.

“Heaven-sent? So I can act improper?” Shengsi scoffed. “He may be brilliant, even someone truly talented, as if favored by the skies, but he’s still a noble, Grandfather Li.”

“Other than that, he has enemies.” Chengxu coughed lightly, and only then did his sister turn to him. “I’m fine.”

“Am I a bad sister now?”

“Are you seriously saying that to your frail brother?”

“I mean, I can’t even take care of you these past few days.”

“And it’s been quite peaceful, to be honest.”

“You!” Shengsi shot him a sharp look, but he only raised an eyebrow in return. “Zhi Chengxu, don’t think I’ll go easy on you once I’ve regained my qi.”

“You have a strong constitution,” Chengxu said with a faint smile, “of course my sister will recover after a few days of rest.”

When their exchange came to an end, they decided to retire for the night. Shengsi, after taking her herbal medicine, returned to her room and tucked herself into bed.

However, she woke at midnight.

Her eyes drifted toward Xie Chuanhu’s room, her forehead damp with sweat.

“Xie Chuanhu… are you giving me nightmares now?!”

In the distance, dogs barked, creepers rustled, and the night wind howled softly, as if mocking Zhi Shengsi and the strange bond she now shared with that wandering soul of sleeping beauty.