Qilin gently patted Zhi Nu’s back and replied, “Alright, I’ll remember it for you.”
Ten days later, Qilin found Zhi Nu again in a dream. The boy was crouched alone in the corner of a room, silent and motionless.
Qilin walked over, sat beside him, and asked, “Zhi Nu, what’s wrong?”
Zhi Nu was dressed in silk sleepwear, his face clean and delicate, and the whip wounds on his body had completely healed. But there was no light in his eyes—he sat stiffly, like a lifeless puppet.
Qilin gently patted Zhi Nu’s back to help him breathe more easily and asked again, “What happened?”
Zhi Nu answered blankly, “I’m useless. My father died in prison.”
Qilin hugged Zhi Nu tightly. “Man proposes, but heaven disposes. You did everything you could to save him. If your father’s spirit is watching over you, he wouldn’t blame you.”
Zhi Nu’s voice was terrifyingly calm. “I went on a hunger strike for five days. The old madam of the Wang family couldn’t bear it and finally agreed to send a doctor to treat my father. But it was too late. He couldn’t be saved anymore. I was so foolish. Why didn’t I beg the old madam from the start instead of stealing and sneaking into the prison alone? I thought I was being clever, but I ended up getting my father killed.”
Qilin comforted him, “No one can predict the future. You didn’t do anything wrong—you tried your best.”
Zhi Nu shook his head. “I could have tried harder. My father was the Grand Diviner of the Imperial Observatory. He taught me how to read the stars, cast divinations, and perform spiritual rituals. Running away from the Wang family was a reckless and foolish move. If I had truly mastered divination, I wouldn’t have made the wrong choice.”
Qilin thought to himself—this child’s heart was unbearably cold and unyielding, and he was even harsher on himself than anyone else.
After this dream, another three months passed before Qilin saw Zhi Nu in a dream again.
Once more, Zhi Nu was crouching in the corner, staring blankly ahead. This time, he was holding a small sandalwood box.
Qilin asked softly, “Zhi Nu, what’s wrong?”
Zhi Nu didn’t respond.
Qilin moved closer and wrapped his arms around the boy, speaking gently, “No matter what has happened, you can tell me.”
Zhi Nu’s voice was hoarse and choked with emotion. “Little Celestial Brother, I really have become an orphan.”
Qilin said, “If you want to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it in. Let it out.”
Zhi Nu buried his face in Qilin’s shoulder and finally let out a sob.
Only after a long while did he begin to tell Qilin what had happened.
Forty days earlier, Zhi Nu had read the stars and divined that his mother was in danger. He begged Lord Wang Chengxing to send people to look for her.
Because Wang Chengxing had felt some guilt over Zhi Nu’s father dying in prison, he agreed without hesitation. But the news that came back was devastating—Zhi Nu’s mother had eloped with a tea merchant to Xingsha. There, she had fallen ill during an epidemic. The tea merchant abandoned her, and she died alone in a foreign land. The men Wang Chengxing sent out returned only with a small urn containing her ashes.
Qilin held Zhi Nu tightly as the boy, voice trembling, said, “Little Celestial Brother, I will never have the chance to be Wu Zheng again. Lord Wang has strictly ordered that no one in the Wang family is to mention my past. To the outside world, I am now his illegitimate son, Wang Cang Hai. From now on, no one in this world will know my real name.”
Qilin responded, “I will always remember it for you. Your given name is Wu Zheng, and your childhood name is Zhi Nu, isn’t that right?”
Then he added, “Even though your parents are gone, they will turn into stars in the sky and watch over you. You can grow into a strong and righteous man—help orphans who have lost their parents, reunite families who have been torn apart. If your parents’ spirits are watching over you, they will surely be proud of you.”
“Qilin, thank you,” Zhi Nu whispered.
From then on, they met in dreams every few days.
0 Comments