Chapter Forty-Three: A Dream in the Theatre

“Peanut,” I suddenly whispered, “can you tell me something?”

“What do you want to know?” Peanut didn’t turn around; he just slowly picked up his cigarette and took another drag.

I thought for a moment and said, “About my father. What’s his connection with the ‘Azure Blood Dragon Pattern’? Why did he leave the ‘key’ in the old house? Why did he come alone, bringing no one with him? What is the link between this ancient tomb and my father?”

“Why ask me?”

I didn’t know how to answer at first. After thinking, I said, “I don’t know, but I feel you know these things. Otherwise, why did you look so furious when you saw Qin Feng and Second Fool’s actions back then?”

Peanut continued to gaze at the fire outside, a faint smile curling at his lips. “Focusing too much on the details won’t do you any good.”

“I’m not one of you. I just want to know about my father.”

Peanut slowly turned his head toward me. “Digging into your father’s affairs is… even more dangerous for you.”

“What… what do you mean?” I suddenly felt there was so much hidden behind Peanut’s words.

He paused, then turned his head back. “I can only tell you some things about this tomb.” After another silence, Peanut finally continued, “What I’m about to say, just treat it as a story.”

I nodded.

“It was around the Spring and Autumn period, in a place near the Southern Sea, where there lived an unknown tribe. The people there believed their ancestors came from the depths of the sea. Every hundred years, they would gather by the shore to await the arrival of their new chieftain from the ocean. The coming of the new king meant the departure of the old, so each time, the tribe would kill their chieftain and share his flesh among them. But one chieftain refused to accept this fate. He slaughtered all his people, leaving only his closest kin. Together, they continued the ceremony by the sea, waiting for the new chieftain to emerge. Eventually, the new chieftain appeared, and they killed him too, consuming his flesh. But their actions angered something powerful. Their homeland was cursed: fish vanished, game disappeared, and despair settled over them. Then, one day, a massive ship appeared on the sea. It was empty of people but loaded with food and water. The chieftain and his kin boarded the ship, which carried them across the ocean. When they landed, they found themselves on a vast continent, far greater than their homeland. The people of the land were astonished, unable to fathom where the newcomers came from. Fearing his deeds would be discovered, the chieftain concealed his tribe’s origins. Looking at the totem on the sail, he told the locals just two words… ‘Ye Lang.’”

I snapped back to attention. “Is that the origin of the Ye Lang tribe?”

Peanut didn’t answer. “Later, the chieftain led his family north, seeking to leave the sea behind and start anew. Yet, the curse followed them. The only way to delay its effects was with a stone he carried—a piece that became his constant adornment. Some say it was the ship itself transformed, their savior. Soon, though, the chieftain discovered this relic had a unique power. With it, they assimilated into the continent, multiplied, and founded a kingdom. However, the chieftain who wore it began to change in strange ways. To hide these changes, he secluded himself, letting his descendants inherit the throne while he maneuvered everything behind the scenes, century after century. Eventually, he became a legend; no one ever saw him again.”

Chills ran up my arms. “Are you saying… the chieftain became immortal?”

Peanut nodded faintly. “Later, he realized something was wrong—the relic’s power was waning. He knew the kingdom’s end was near. In desperation, the chieftain discovered an eerie method: it would destroy everything in the kingdom, but grant him a chance to be reborn. Through a series of events, he killed all his descendants, escaped with a woman, a thousand attendants, and all the riches of the kingdom. With these people and treasures, he built a buried ‘world’ underground. There, he lay down to sleep. This ‘world’ wasn’t large, but it was protected by some force, awaiting the chieftain’s awakening.”

Peanut’s so-called story sent shivers through me. Was this “world” the tomb we stood in? Not a place for the dead, but the chamber where the Ye Lang chieftain awaited his rebirth?

Suddenly, I remembered those bizarre murals in the passageway—people by the sea performing aimless rituals. If those rituals had meaning, could their true purpose be to welcome the chieftain’s resurrection? It was too incredible, like a strange tale from “Records of Searching Spirits.”

I was about to ask more, but realized Peanut had already returned to his usual playful manner, his casual air restored. He grinned at me. “It’s just a story. Don’t take it too seriously.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Yes, things that defy reality… they can only be stories. But in my heart, I understood Peanut wouldn’t tell me all this for nothing. This story had meaning.

Suddenly, my mind flashed back to Peanut’s earlier words—“This world isn’t large, but is protected by a force.” At that moment, a terrifying thought took root in me.

It was irrational, but looking into Peanut’s eyes, I felt such a fantastic thing might not be impossible after all.

I pressed my temples, telling myself, “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. It’s impossible.” Yet, like the curse in Peanut’s story, I couldn’t stop the idea from spreading in my mind.

Seeing my shifting expressions, Peanut was unconcerned. “Rest a bit. Don’t worry, I’ll help you find your father.”

Perhaps out of a desperate need to escape those terrifying thoughts, when Peanut said “rest,” fatigue swept over me from every corner of my body. I wanted to smoke, but once I closed my eyes, I couldn’t summon the strength to open them again.

After days of relentless travel, my energy was nearly gone. I had never felt so exhausted. In my hazy state, I felt as if I had become someone else, my body drifting away from consciousness, my thoughts freezing into sleep.

“Go… go…”

I didn’t know how long I slept, but vaguely heard a voice—low, ethereal, as if it belonged to a woman.

I wanted to open my eyes, but after trying for a while, found I couldn’t wake from the heavy drowsiness. My mind was clear, but I couldn’t feel my body, as if I was wrapped in thick liquid, unbearably uncomfortable.

“On the road, the elder sister’s news… the Mulberry Garden… visit… Lan Ying…”

The voice continued beside my ear. Listening for a while, I realized—it was a woman singing. I was slow to react, but kept trying to wake up, struggling to break free from the half-dream, half-awake state.

“Crossed the Peach Blossom Ferry… passed the Apricot Flower Village…”

As I listened, a chill crept up my spine. The song’s melody and style—a woman singing opera, not in the northern style, but with a southern softness. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was. What unsettled me was how familiar it sounded, as if I’d heard it somewhere before. TV? Opera house? No, I had never cared for folk arts, and the familiarity was so strange, as if it tied to a fragment of my own past.

Was I bewitched? The slow, deep melody frightened me, yet I found the voice hauntingly beautiful.

“Passed the Seven Treasures Pavilion… before the Mulberry Garden. Only to see, a lush mulberry grove, and several households nearby… bamboo fences and thatched cottages clustered deep, could it be the Yang family? Let me go up and push the gate…”

Half-struggling to wake, I became increasingly drawn to the song. An indescribable feeling washed over me. In a sudden moment, it pierced my heart like a needle—I shrank back and abruptly stood up from the ground.