As his lifeblood ebbed away, the echo of a nameless scholar’s words, spoken centuries past, resonated within him. The phrase, now an eternal refrain, swirled in his mind until the very moment his eyes closed, the instant his mortal coil gave way, and he was drawn into the Soul-Refining Banner, becoming its principal spirit.

In a final, desperate surge of sentience, his divine sense expanded outwards, washing over the Soul-Refining Sect. It was then, at that critical juncture, that he beheld him. A nondescript figure, fleeing from afar, had infiltrated the throngs of aspirants seeking entry to the sect.

The sight struck Nientian’s spirit with unimaginable force. He was astounded, horrified to realize that this man was none other than the scholar he had questioned all those centuries ago!

Confused and filled with unformed speculations, his consciousness dissipated. His nascent soul became a part of the ten-thousand-soul banner…

Meanwhile, Wang Lin was returned to the county town of Zhao, standing once more beneath the ancient tree outside the examination grounds. Da Fu was still asleep, the events of the recent days seeming like no more than a fleeting dream.

“Karma… I begin to understand…” Wang Lin murmured, gazing at the heavens. Again, he saw the white bird, circling lazily before disappearing into the clouds.

He roused Da Fu, who blinked sleepily, and together they returned to their inn. The full moon bathed the land in its silver glow, stretching their shadows long and thin.

The county examination results were posted a few days later, amidst the anxious anticipation of countless scholars. Those whose names appeared on the list would earn the title of “Cultivated Talent,” *xiucai*.

This honor granted them the right to travel to Su City and participate in the Su City examinations. Success there would offer a chance to soar to even greater heights, for a Su City graduate could journey to the capital of Zhao for the final, grueling competition!

Furthermore, a scholar of exceptional talent who earned the favor of the renowned Su Dao might find himself famous throughout the land. To be accepted as a disciple by Su Dao would bring unimaginable glory!

This was the dream of nearly every student in the kingdom of Zhao.

Yet, of all the scholars in the county, only a precious few, less than fifty, would achieve the coveted rank of *xiucai*. Wang Lin’s name, though not at the very top, was among those fortunate few.

Seeing his name, however, Wang Lin felt none of the expected elation. He gazed at it calmly, then turned to Da Fu, who was more excited and proud than he himself, and together they went to the county yamen to verify his identity and collect the certificate of his new title, along with the imperial stipend. Then, they departed, heading far away from the town.

For Da Fu, it was not Wang Lin’s success that brought such glee, but the silver coins in their purse.

The experiences of the past month had changed Wang Lin, subtly yet irrevocably. Perhaps this was his true destiny. The nightly dreams persisted, and he had gradually grown accustomed to them.

His mindset had shifted, freeing him from the burden of gain and loss, the anxiety and disappointment that had plagued him before.

To gain was the same, to lose was the same.

Nothing truly mattered, so long as his heart remained true, tranquil as still water, unruffled as an ancient well. Like the journey from seeing a mountain as a mountain, to not seeing a mountain as a mountain, to seeing a mountain once more as a mountain, Wang Lin, almost imperceptibly, had undergone a profound transformation in these short weeks.

The air of a great Confucian scholar began to emanate from him, even among the countless students and scholars. His upright bearing and serene gaze shone like a radiant pearl.

To become an immortal was to look coldly upon all cultivators; to remain mortal was to be a hero among men!

“Life is but a dream, and this dream, I have no wish to awaken from,” Wang Lin declared. He and Da Fu, shouldering his bamboo-bound books, left the county town amidst the cheers of the handful of new *xiucai* and the despondent sighs of the many more who had failed.

He departed as he had arrived, with quiet composure and effortless grace.

Da Fu trailed behind, constantly calculating the remaining silver coins, muttering to himself with a pained expression.

“Da Fu, go buy some wine!” Wang Lin stopped near the town gates, his gaze fixed on a nearby wine stall. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to drink, though he knew he would often become helplessly drunk after only a cup or two.

“We have so little silver left, and you want to buy wine!” Da Fu exclaimed, clutching his chest in dismay, shaking his head vigorously.

“This meager amount of silver is nothing! Wealth gone, wealth returns! Go, buy the wine!” Wang Lin said with a smile, giving Da Fu a gentle push.

With a long sigh and much reluctance, Da Fu trudged towards the wine stall. After an extended and outrageous display of haggling, bordering on uncouth, the wine seller, with a weary smile, agreed to sell him two jars at a drastically reduced price.

Even so, Da Fu’s face twisted in agony as he handed over the coins, muttering, “Mine, mine, all mine!”

Wang Lin chuckled, taking a jar of wine and gulping it down, the liquid streaming down his chin. With a hearty laugh, he strode out of the county town, Da Fu following close behind, his face still etched with misery.

It was midday, and the sun beat down fiercely. As they walked further and further, the loneliness and isolation that had clung to Wang Lin’s back began to dissipate, replaced by an aura of freedom and untamed spirit.

“Young Master, where are we going?” Da Fu’s voice echoed from afar, carried on the wind.

“To Su City. I hear the osmanthus wine is excellent there. I go to wait for someone to arrive…” Wang Lin took another swig of wine, then untied his hair, letting it flow freely in the wind. His laughter rang out.

Su City lay five hundred *li* south of the Zhao capital. A sprawling metropolis, it was crisscrossed by several meandering streams, giving it a charming, waterside atmosphere.

The city’s name came from the esteemed Su Dao, but it was also home to nearly all of the talented individuals in Zhao. And wherever there were talented men, fair maidens were sure to be found.

These silver streams were constantly graced by pleasure barges, filled with music and dancing day and night. Scholars penned poetry, beauties performed, and the melodies of stringed instruments drifted through the air, enveloping Su City in a vibrant, crimson haze.
Beside the celebrated beauty, renowned throughout the land, lay the countless wine shops of Suzhou, purveyors of the city’s famed Osmanthus Wine. Its reputation stretched far and wide, so it was said, even the noble lords of the Imperial City would dispatch envoys to Suzhou for a taste of this ambrosial brew.

The Sage of Suzhou himself, the esteemed scholar Su Dao, had in his younger years been a fervent devotee of this wine, finding within its depths inspiration to contemplate the vastness of the heavens and the earth. As his fame grew, so too did the renown of the Osmanthus Wine, forever intertwined with the Sage’s legacy.

Two months on the road melted away as Wang Lin and his manservant, Da Fu, rattled along the road to Suzhou in a humble cart. They imbibed wine purchased along the way, while gazing at the passing landscape. Wang Lin’s drunken laughter often punctuated the journey.

“Young Master, please, no more!” Da Fu’s voice was a plaintive wail, laced with utter anguish. “Two months, just two months, and look how much you’ve drunk! Our silver is nearly gone, vanished into your gullet!”

“If you drink any more, we’ll be penniless when we reach Suzhou, unable to afford even the humblest lodging! I beg you, no more, no more!” Da Fu’s lamentations had grown increasingly frequent these past two months.

Yet, Wang Lin found his servant’s harangues not irritating, but rather strangely familiar and even endearing.

“Fear not, you are my steward and keeper of coin. If we find ourselves without silver, you shall simply earn more,” Wang Lin chuckled, sipping his wine and watching Da Fu’s mournful face.

Amid Da Fu’s endless grumbling, the sun began its descent, casting a soft, red glow across the land. The cart, swaying gently, slowly approached the gates of Suzhou.

Suzhou was vast, a majestic city viewed from afar. But within its walls lay not brute strength, but a delicate charm, like the reflection of the moon on still waters, a whispering echo of Jiangnan’s grace.

After settling the fare, Da Fu watched with despair as the few remaining coins dwindled in his hand. Most of their travel expenses had been transformed into wine, vanished down Wang Lin’s throat.

Yet, Wang Lin’s capacity for drink had also grown, no longer was he the man who could be felled by two cups.

Stepping down from the cart, Wang Lin adjusted his garments. Clad in white, his form was lithe, his long hair flowed freely, and the aura of a bookish scholar had vanished, replaced by a rakish abandon. He clutched his wine gourd, and strode into the city.

The streets teemed with people, a throng of scholars and students mingled with ladies adorned in vibrant silks, each adding to the vibrant tapestry of Suzhou.

Though Wang Lin’s features were unremarkable, he possessed a singular presence. As he walked through the streets, he drew many eyes, and not a few ladies cast admiring glances his way. Wang Lin remained unperturbed, drinking his wine and forging onward.

Da Fu trailed behind, his face perpetually etched with misery. For two months he had known no other expression, and sighs escaped him in a constant stream.

As dusk deepened in Suzhou, and the moonlight began to bathe the city, the music of strings wafted from the painted barges drifting along the canals. Wang Lin paused on a bridge, watching the boats and letting the enchanting melodies wash over him.

“Young Master, who are we waiting for?” Da Fu stole a glance at the dancing women aboard a nearby barge, and swallowed hard, his eyes gleaming.

“I await a figure from my dreams, a person who will bring me a flagon of wine. If he appears, it shall confirm a certain suspicion,” Wang Lin spoke softly, his expression serene.

“Are we to simply stand here and wait? Might we not first seek out a cheap inn?” Da Fu eyed Wang Lin’s empty wine gourd, his voice laced with apprehension, lest his master demand he buy more.

Wang Lin shook his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He turned to Da Fu.

“I seem to recall that we departed with ample coin, including a generous reward from the magistrate’s office…”

“Did we? Er… forgotten,” Da Fu blinked innocently, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“Fetch out the coin you’ve been squirreling away and buy me some Osmanthus Wine, then rent a small painted barge. We shall reside upon the waters for a time,” Wang Lin said with a smile, turning away from the hapless Da Fu.

A breeze swept down the canal, rippling the water and stirring Wang Lin’s hair. The air was mild, carrying not cold, but warmth, and with it, the haunting melodies of strings.

“Will you come…” Wang Lin murmured into the wind.