Chapter 29: Awakening from a Dream (Continued)

The autumn wind rustled, the sun warm in the slanting rays; in the afternoon, within a certain classical garden in Bozhou, Huaixi, light and shadow interwove in a crisp, pleasant atmosphere.

Yet such a beautiful scene, being a weekday afternoon, had few to appreciate it. In fact, this scenic garden, themed around Daoist culture, had only a single backpack-toting tourist who had bought a ticket, and he was sitting on a bench, face covered by a book, tilting his head back and dozing.

"Rustle... thud!"

Suddenly, as the autumn wind gusted sharply, a thin copy of *The Gains and Losses of Chinese Dynastic Politics* slid from the young male tourist's face to the ground, carried several steps away by the wind. The man woke with a start, instinctively checking his backpack on the bench, and only after confirming nothing was missing did he go to look for his book.

But just then, an elderly Daoist priest dragging a large broom appeared from nowhere, bent down to help pick up the book from the ground, and then, still dragging the broom, sat down on the bench, casually flipping through the book... The autumn wind blew in gusts; blue robes, a wooden hairpin, an aged face with white hair—it startled the just-awakened young man.

However, when the young man looked closely and caught sight of the XL tag on the back of the Daoist robe's collar below the hair bun, he relaxed, then inwardly laughed at himself for being overly suspicious.

It turned out this place was Woyang in Bozhou, reputed to be the hometown of Laozi, and this garden was built leaning against the Laozi Temple; encountering a Daoist priest was nothing unusual.

"It's rare these days to see a young person seriously reading a book." After roughly flipping through a few pages, perhaps because he couldn't see clearly or simply couldn't understand, the old Daoist priest quickly handed the book back over the backpack, speaking with a thick Huaixi accent. "Actually, governance has been the same since ancient times. Understanding the gist is enough; specifics are useless. You picked the right book."

"Thanks... um... Reverend." The young man took the book back casually, but stumbled over the form of address. "Just something to look good with on the train. I don't really read it."

"Quite modest." The old Daoist priest grew more talkative upon hearing the reply. "Where are you from, young man? How old? What brings you to our Laozi Temple?"

"Local, twenty-one." The young man said offhandedly, his Mandarin gradually taking on a local Huaixi flavor. "Just graduated from university and started working. Came home to handle some business, leaving by train tonight. I knew it was quiet here, so I just came to kill time."

"Twenty-one is good!" The old Daoist priest sighed with feeling. "Young! You know, our Woyang is Laozi's hometown, the Laozi Temple has a long history. It's a pity locals rarely come, and young people even less. It's rare for you to..."

Before he could finish, the young man couldn't help but laugh: "Reverend, I'm a local. You can fool out-of-towners with that line, but why fool me? Everyone knows Laozi's real hometown is neighboring Luyi. Ours is the fake one, right?"

The old Daoist priest looked even more embarrassed, even blushing, but he just waved his hand repeatedly and said nothing.

The young man, probably bored, didn't let him off and pressed on: "What do you mean, Reverend? Ours is real and Luyi's is fake? Their Laozi Temple there has layers from the Han to the Tang to the Song, layer upon layer, endless cultural relics and historical sites. The iron pillar at their gate is a thousand years old..."

"I'm not saying Luyi's is fake." The old Daoist priest replied awkwardly, hugging his broom. "But ours in Woyang might not be fake either... The two places are so close. In ancient times, Luyi always belonged to Bozhou, and Woyang is a county newly built less than a hundred years ago. Why be so particular?"

The young man suddenly laughed in realization: "That's a point. Both are on the Guohe River. Who knows, maybe when Laozi was alive, they were one and the same."

"Exactly!" The old Daoist priest finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Distinguishing true from false in history is meaningless. When we say 'Laozi's hometown,' we mean the birthplace of that Li Er. Luyi can be the place of successive dynastic sacrifices. Both are true. Why say the other is fake?"

The young man nodded perfunctorily, but inwardly sneered... Frankly, who the hell cares where Laozi was born? The dispute over 'Laozi's hometown' is clearly about tourism resources and local cultural confidence. The old Daoist priest could spin it with some sophistry, but the two local governments definitely wouldn't agree! And the Luyi government, which holds a wealth of genuine cultural relics, certainly wouldn't!

Besides, this Daoist priest wasn't a proper one. He was probably just a cosplaying cleaner, and a lazy, slacking one at that... Otherwise? A Daoist priest, mouthing 'Laozi' this and 'Li Er' that, without a shred of respect? Then, on a windy day, carrying a broom in the garden, putting on airs—who was he trying to fool?

However, seeming to sense the young man's perfunctory attitude, the old Daoist priest started rambling again: "Young man, don't be skeptical... Our Woyang also has genuine cultural relics. The Nine-Dragon Well in the Meteor Garden is a Spring and Autumn relic verified by experts. There's only one like it. If you don't believe me, go take a look."

The young man shook his head repeatedly, stood up, and grabbed his backpack to leave... As a local, what didn't he know? The so-called Nine-Dragon Well—Luyi had one too. But honestly, forget Woyang's; even Luyi's—who the hell knew if it had any connection to the Daoist Ancestor?

"Young man, wait a moment!" Seeing this, the old Daoist priest grew more anxious, stood up, leaning on his broom, and told the truth. "A dog fell into that Nine-Dragon Well over there. Its leg is hurt. I can't reach it with my broom. The well is wide enough, only about man-height deep, but at my age, I can't get back up if I go down. I need to trouble you, young man, to help."

The young man was speechless for a moment: "Reverend, why didn't you say so earlier!"

"I was afraid you wouldn't agree." The old Daoist priest also felt awkward, but he led the way with his broom. "Young people these days are hard to talk to. Besides, I didn't want to bother with the dog, but its owners know me well and often invite me to meals. Now that they're all away, I can't just leave their dog in the well and pretend not to see it..."

Amidst the muttering, the two walked one after the other towards the Spring and Autumn relic, the so-called Nine-Dragon Well in the Meteor Garden. When they arrived, they indeed saw a well-preserved ancient well, with a pavilion built over it, bearing a plaque reading 'Number One Pavilion Under Heaven'... But the old Daoist priest led the young man to a side well instead.

The so-called side wells were just eight newly built wells, forcibly constructed to complete the legend of the Nine-Dragon Well at Laozi's birth. They weren't relics but simply made of cement, with cement bottoms, about two meters square and less than two meters deep... More like wide-mouthed cement pits than wells.

The young man followed the old Daoist priest to one of these wells, looked in, and sure enough, there was a small Pekingese dog lying motionless at the bottom, over a man's depth, only occasionally kicking its legs to show it was still alive. Around the little dog was a pile of coins and copper cash, offerings for blessings.

Seeing this, the young man frowned slightly and was about to put down his backpack and jump in. But as he gripped the edge of the well with both hands, for some reason, he felt an unwillingness to help with this small task, as if going down this well would mean death.

Seeing the young man so uncooperative, the old Daoist priest sighed, then suddenly glared:

"You won't save it, you won't leave—are you trying to fool the whole world?!"

"How does a mere dog get tied to the whole world?" The young man frowned instantly.

"Regardless, since you agreed to my words, you must keep your word, right?" The old Daoist priest leaned on his broom and scolded forcefully. "A young man hesitating and lacking integrity—how will you step into society in the future?!"

The young man was about to say he'd already found a job and was a member of society, but the old Daoist priest suddenly raised his large broom, pushed hard, and easily shoved him into the well.

After falling into the well, the young man heard only a single dog bark before falling into a daze.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!! Your Imperial Majesty!!!"

In the daze following the dog's bark, Zhao Jiu vaguely heard human voices, then sat up abruptly from the cold tent, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like rain. It took him a while to realize he had just been dreaming. The first part of the dream seemed to recall the very origin of everything before him, as if he were reliving it, vivid and clear; the latter part was utterly absurd, as if his dream-self had improvised.

"It's good that Your Majesty is awake." Yang Yizhong also breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhao Jiu turned to look at Yang Yizhong, whose complexion was equally terrible, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and managed to comfort him: "Zhengfu (Yang Yizhong's courtesy name), don't worry. I just had a nightmare."

Yang Yizhong was cautious, hesitating to speak.

"Is something the matter?" Zhao Jiu asked instinctively.

"Grand Marshal Liu has crossed the river and arrived." Yang Yizhong lowered his voice and said carefully.

"What?" The Imperial Majesty was confused again. "Who?"

"The Military Governor of Fengguo Army, Grand Marshal Liu, has led his troops across the river and arrived." Yang Yizhong grew even more cautious.

"I told him to send the old, weak, and excess militia over, not to come himself?" Zhao Jiu seemed to recall an edict he had issued yesterday or this afternoon, but grew even more confused. "Is he afraid I'll punish him?"

Yang Yizhong's expression was extremely troubled.

"Tell me the truth!" Zhao Jiu was completely out of patience. "What exactly is going on?"

"Grand Marshal Liu brought his elite troops, seized the ferry boats, and crossed over. He left the old, weak, and militia behind in Xiacai." Yang Yizhong was clearly at a loss as well. "The commotion earlier this evening was because Grand Marshal Liu personally led his troops to seize the ferry crossing within Xiacai city."

"How do you distinguish between Liu Guangshi's elite and his old and weak?" Zhao Jiu asked cautiously, knowing that Yang Yizhong was originally a subordinate of Zhang Jun.

"His three thousand Western Army veterans, two thousand under Wang Ye, and the three thousand organized troops of Fu Qing, surrendered from Jingdong, have all crossed the river intact." Yang Yizhong gritted his teeth and said. "That's bad enough, but just now, perhaps on Grand Marshal Liu's orders when he left, the last group of Fu Qing's troops set fire to the inner ferry at Xiacai before leaving. Now Xiacai city and the nearly twenty thousand troops of Grand Marshal Zhang inside are isolated... As a member of the Imperial Guard, I shouldn't meddle in this, but seeing the fire on the opposite bank, I secretly went down to find acquaintances in the Western Army to ask, and that's how I learned the details!"

Zhao Jiu was stunned for a long time, taking great effort to fully grasp the specific situation Yang Yizhong had reported. When he suddenly understood, ignoring the bitter cold, he turned and rushed out of the tent, sprinting to the Linhuai hilltop with the excellent view. Sure enough, he saw the ferry crossing at the foot of Bagong Mountain all the way to the pass camp already bustling and crowded beyond measure, with no telling how many troops had arrived. And on the opposite bank, a certain place in Xiacai city was indeed ablaze with fire.

The Imperial Majesty was first completely dazed, then burning with rage, blood rushing to his head. He was about to turn and call for someone, but unexpectedly Yang Yizhong had chased after him from the tent at top speed, disregarding everything to kneel down and desperately grab hold of the Imperial Majesty:

"Your Majesty must be patient! You must know that right now, near Bagong Mountain, there are only a few thousand laborers. The usable troops are only Huyan Tong's unit and a few hundred Imperial Guards. How can they be a match for Grand Marshal Liu's eight thousand elite?!"

Before he finished speaking, someone came running from afar. Several eunuchs called out from a distance: "Your Majesty, Your Imperial Majesty! The Military Governor of Fengguo Army, Grand Marshal Liu, the Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Camp, Grand Marshal Wang, and Privy Councilor Wang Xianggong request an audience together!"

Hearing this, Yang Yizhong dared not speak further, but his grip involuntarily tightened.

Zhao Jiu gave a cold snort, shook him off forcefully, and under the light of the campfire, his face was ferocious yet seemed to carry a smile, like self-mockery: "Let them come! All of them! The Chancellor, the Academicians, the Censors, and the generals in the camp—all of them!"

PS: Continuing to dedicate to *The Imperial Uncle of the Great Ming* by Yu Ze Shou Hu, the 'global escape' journey of Zhu Gaoxu, the Prince of Han of the Great Ming!

Also, continuing to wish everyone a Happy New Year!