Wang Lin’s gaze, lost in the flickering flames of the fire, was broken by the distinct sound of swallowing. He turned to see a middle-aged man not far off, his eyes fixed upon the meager rations in Wang Lin’s hand, lips moist and parted in a display of pitiful longing.

Seeing the man’s condition, Wang Lin smiled, a warmth stirring within him, an unfamiliar sense of compassion washing away the stranger’s alien presence.

“Here,” Wang Lin said, retrieving dried provisions from within his bamboo raft, offering them to the man.

The middle-aged man’s eyes widened, a torrent of saliva escaping his throat as he rushed forward, snatching the dried food and devouring it in two desperate gulps.

“Delicious, delicious! This king has not eaten in days… Wait, *this king*? Why did I say ‘this king’?” The man paused, confused, shaking his head before his gaze returned to Wang Lin, a pleading look in his eyes.

“What is your name? And what brings you to this place? Where is your family?” Wang Lin asked softly, retrieving more rations from the raft and offering them to the man.

The man gave him an inexplicable feeling, a feeling that grew stronger with each passing moment, as if they had known each other in some forgotten realm. He felt a strange sense of guilt, a phantom ache within his soul.

The man reached for the offered food, but paused at Wang Lin’s question, gazing at the rations in his hand before bursting into tears.

“I… I don’t know my name. I awoke in the deep mountains, memories lost to me… Golden light! I remember golden light surrounding me when I awoke, and many sought to capture me. But they could not find me, no, they could not!” The man’s voice broke with sobs.

Wang Lin’s eyes softened further, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he watched the man devour the remaining rations. He shook his head, amused, and retrieved a water skin from the raft, offering it to the man.

The middle-aged man drank deeply, letting out a contented burp before turning to Wang Lin with a bright smile, offering a half-eaten chicken leg.

“Here, this chicken leg… it’s not very good anymore.”

Wang Lin chuckled, accepting the chicken leg. He did not eat it, but carefully wrapped it and placed it within his satchel on the raft.

Outside the crumbling temple, the rain intensified, the sky cleaved by jagged bolts of lightning. The wind howled, rattling the temple doors and sending them crashing against the ancient walls, echoing in the desolate night.

The world was swallowed by darkness, save for the faint, flickering light emanating from within the temple, a fragile beacon in the oppressive gloom.

Wang Lin and the middle-aged man sat beside the fire, their damp clothes slowly warming.

“Perhaps it is a blessing to not know who you are. For even if you knew, you might begin to wonder if you are merely someone else’s dream… Lately, I have been plagued by vivid dreams, so real they blur the lines of reality,” Wang Lin murmured, his gaze lost in the flames.

The middle-aged man drank from the water skin, shaking his head and muttering, “Nonsense! You should try knowing yourself! It’s much more painful than you think. To me, it matters not whether it is a dream or reality, so long as you find happiness and contentment within it.”

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, the man’s words striking a chord within his soul.

“As long as you find happiness and contentment… My dream is to pass the imperial examinations, to bring honor and comfort to my parents, to free them from the scorn of our relatives…” Wang Lin fell silent, nodding after a long moment. “And you? What is your dream?” He added more kindling to the fire, its flames leaping higher.

The middle-aged man yawned, appearing drowsy. But at Wang Lin’s question, he straightened, his face lighting up with an excited grin.

“Me? Oh, I have many dreams! I want mountains of spirit stones! I want coffers overflowing with silver! I want feasts of delicious food…” He paused, swallowing hard.

“Spirit stones?” Wang Lin asked, perplexed.

“Spirit stones? Did I say spirit stones? What *are* spirit stones?” The middle-aged man blinked, scratching his head.

Wang Lin remained silent for a moment, then chuckled, dismissing the question. He continued to converse with the madman within the rain-soaked temple.

They spoke as if they had known each other for lifetimes. The madman, who had seemed on the verge of sleep, grew more animated with each word, warmed by Wang Lin’s presence. He felt a strange kinship with the young scholar, as if they were long-lost brothers.

The wind howled outside, its mournful cries piercing the night, occasionally forcing gusts through the temple’s broken walls, carrying the damp chill of the storm. Yet, neither of them felt the cold.

Even the towering statue of the earth god, standing silent in the shadows, seemed to soften, its enigmatic smile spreading a subtle warmth throughout the temple, banishing the lingering chill.

The night deepened, the rain only intensifying, unleashing its fury upon the land. The fire before Wang Lin, starved of fuel, flickered and waned, threatening to extinguish completely.

“I shall tell you a secret, a secret I have not shared with anyone,” the middle-aged man whispered, leaning close to Wang Lin.

Wang Lin glanced at him, nodding with a smile and an expression of genuine interest.

The middle-aged man grinned, extending his right hand before Wang Lin.

“Look! Look here! What do you see?” he asked, pointing at his wrist with a triumphant air.

The only thing on his wrist was dirt. After a long moment, Wang Lin shook his head with an apologetic smile.

“What? You see nothing? Impossible! Wait, wait, I shall wash it off.” The middle-aged man jumped up and hurried to a puddle of rainwater within the temple, scrubbing his wrist clean. Returning to Wang Lin, he held it up once more, whispering conspiratorially, “Now, do you see it?”

Wang Lin looked at the man with a strange expression, shaking his head. He saw nothing.

The middle-aged man flew into a rage, roaring at Wang Lin.

“Look closely! Open your eyes! You… you… how could you not see it? You’re lying! You clearly see it!”
Wang Lin rubbed his brow, then gently lifted the middle-aged man’s right hand, studying it with a keen gaze. A wry smile touched his lips as he nodded. “Aye, I see it. I truly see it.”

“Heh heh, what do you think? I’m powerful, ain’t I? Hmph, I must find him! I have a notion, you see, that he knows me.” The man settled back, a flicker of contentment in his eyes, lost in reverie as he stared at his right arm.

“I must find him… I have a faint memory, a whisper in my soul… he promised to care for me, I think. He promised to take me to play, but then he left… and no one cared for me, I was alone… I must find him, I must.”

His voice faded to a murmur, his face clouded with a desolate shadow. He huddled into himself, staring blankly at his right arm, his words growing softer and softer until he finally drifted into slumber.

Wang Lin sighed softly. He rose and fetched a thick, homespun cloak, ignoring the man’s dirt-stained appearance. With gentle care, he draped it over him. Perhaps disturbed by the movement, the man’s right arm twitched, and he turned in his sleep, his form curled around himself as he snored, his right hand extended toward Wang Lin.

Wang Lin settled down beside the dying fire, watching as the embers faded to a mere glow. The silence of the ruined temple, broken only by the drumming rain outside, settled heavily upon him.

His heart, once clouded with uncertainty, began to clear. Dreams were but dreams, incapable of changing what was. Yet, even if this life was naught but a dream, he would fill it with joy, with unwavering purpose.

“I shall consider that dream another life of mine!” he thought. “A life perhaps filled with wonders, perhaps torn by storms, but the solitude, the grief it carried… that was enough to stir the very soul.” Wang Lin felt a new understanding dawn within him.

The last embers flickered and died, leaving the temple in complete darkness save for the dim grey of the storm seen through the temple doors. Wang Lin leaned back against one of the temple’s rotting pillars, the man’s snores a droning lullaby drawing him toward sleep. But as he began to close his eyes, he snapped awake, turning swiftly toward the sleeping form.

Upon the man’s right arm, bathed in darkness, a faint golden light shimmered. It emanated from the skin itself, revealing a shadowy handprint!

It was as if an unseen hand had once gripped the madman’s wrist, leaving its indelible mark.

Gazing at the handprint, a strange feeling, one of profound familiarity, welled up within Wang Lin. He stared for what felt like an eternity, then looked down at his own hands. But the print was too indistinct, the finer details of the whorls and arches indecipherable. Wang Lin remained frozen for a long moment, then shook his head, dismissing the thought.

The rain fell throughout the night, ceasing only as the first streaks of dawn painted the sky. The earthy scent of the storm-washed land drifted into the temple.

The night passed without dreams.

Wang Lin opened his eyes, stretching his stiff limbs. He rose, looking out at the growing light, before turning back to the sleeping man. His right arm appeared as before, the golden handprint vanished.

He buried his confusion deep within his heart. Wang Lin gathered his meager belongings, changed into clean clothes, and gently nudged the sleeping man. The man blinked awake, his eyes still clouded with sleep. Wang Lin offered a courteous bow and a smile.

“We have shared a night under this roof, which must count for something. I am Wang Lin, and I must travel onward to the county seat for the examinations. If fortune smiles upon me, perhaps…” Wang Lin trailed off. The man’s head was bowed, his face a mask of loneliness and despair.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Wang Lin placed a day’s worth of dried meat and hardtack before the man. “I must go. Surely you will find the one you seek. Surely.”

He did not understand the pang of regret that pierced his heart. He glanced at the man one last time, then turned and walked toward the temple entrance. But before he could step out, he heard the sound of weeping behind him.

“Everyone leaves me! He left, now you are leaving! No one cares for me…”

Wang Lin hesitated, gazing out at the rain-washed dawn. After a long silence, he turned back to the weeping man.

“I… I find myself in need of a books companion,” he offered hesitantly. “Though you are older than I might have sought, perhaps you would serve?”

Little did Wang Lin know that these few words would set in motion a chain of events, a turning of the wheel. In the man, he saw a shadow of another self, a figure he had glimpsed in the Land of Fallen, during the Vermillion Bird Trials: another life in a parallel world, attended by a loyal companion who lamented the cost of good wine.