Dreams, Part Two, Section Three

Late into the night, the village at the foot of Jade Capital Gate Mountain lay in tranquil silence.

Jiang Xuehe was contemplating the meaning of favoritism—

He entered the tent, gathered Ti Ying into his arms through the bedding, gently patting her back to soothe her into a sounder sleep. He didn’t understand what she was murmuring, but he asked softly, “Would this count?”

Naturally, Ti Ying, lost in her dreams, could not answer him. In her fitful sleep, she clung to his arm, nails biting into his skin. Fearing the rough fabric would hurt her hands, Jiang Xuehe slowly rolled up his sleeve, letting her grasp his bare skin instead.

In the candlelight, his arm was a map of scars, talismans binding him tightly. Fortunately, Ti Ying was asleep and did not see, sparing her a fright.

In her nightmare, Ti Ying was merely seeking something to hold on to; the driftwood she clung to did not push her away, but instead rolled up its sleeve, so her trembling eased a little. In her drowsiness, she nestled closer to Jiang Xuehe.

This was not as things should be.

In the mortal world, boys and girls of their age—even siblings with the deepest of bonds—would not share the same bed.

Yet Jiang Xuehe, looking down, saw Ti Ying’s brows knit tight, her face deathly pale, with the trace of tears at the corner of her eyes.

He tried to wake her. “Little sister?” Perhaps he spoke too gently, or perhaps her dreams were too deep; no matter how he nudged her, she did not stir. But if he called out too sharply, with her temper, she would only wake in a huff.

Jiang Xuehe fell into thought: Without her permission, he naturally could not enter her spiritual sea to see what troubled her. Still, he could guess the cause of her nightmares.

Ti Ying had used some unknown spell on herself, and when it backfired, blood had flowed unchecked from her waist and belly. Even before the backlash, she had stubbornly pushed herself to kill Suan Yu.

From what Jiang Xuehe had observed these past days, his little sister’s cultivation, spellwork, and spiritual power were all lacking. The one talent she possessed, she refused to hone for fear of ghosts.

She was a talisman cultivator, yet her affinity for spirits was too strong. Once her spiritual power was exhausted, the stray wraiths of heaven and earth would inevitably invade her dreams with nightmares.

To help her, the simplest way was to lend her some spiritual energy.

Jiang Xuehe’s own spiritual strength, if not inexhaustible, was at least difficult to deplete.

So he cradled Ti Ying in his arms, placed one finger gently on her brow, and cautiously sent her his energy.

The moment he did, he found her reserves alarmingly drained. His spiritual power had barely reached her before she hungrily drew it in, vast torrents vanishing like water into sand, leaving no trace.

Jiang Xuehe was startled: his little sister’s spiritual strength was even weaker than he had thought.

With such fragility… must she still tread the path of cultivation? She would surely suffer much hardship.

He lowered his gaze to the sleeping girl in his embrace, troubled for her future.

But worry would do her little good.

After the transfer of spiritual energy, Ti Ying’s tightly furrowed brow slowly relaxed, and color returned to her cheeks.

She rolled over, burying her face against his chest. Such an innocent child, she flung her arms around his waist, confused by the difference from her former master, and nuzzled uncertainly.

She pushed him away. “I don’t want you…”

Jiang Xuehe replied with patience, “Then whom do you want?”

Ti Ying, muddled in sleep, could not answer, choking back a sob and falling silent.

Heavy with dew and frost, the candlelight flickered over the flowing drapes of the tent.

Soft, tangled hair, like waterweed, drifted across the boy’s waist and dark robes.

Jiang Xuehe did not move.

Settling into a comfortable position, Ti Ying sighed contentedly.

Jiang Xuehe’s hand, resting on her brow, stiffened at her restless movement. After a moment’s thought, he adjusted his fingers, touching her forehead from the side, and continued sending her energy.

Little Ying was so well-behaved.

No more crying, no more calling out. She slept deeply and sweetly.

Was this the docile child their master saw every day?

Yet, what if he were not a good man? If his little sister trusted so easily and was bullied, what then? Had their master truly taught her nothing?

Jiang Xuehe nursed a faint grievance toward the elusive master he had seldom met.

But then he reconsidered: She had followed her master, now followed him, and would soon be taken by her second senior brother, perhaps even entering Jade Capital Gate, to be sheltered by such a grand sect… He needn’t worry too much.

But what should he do with his little sister now?

Why hadn’t Second Brother come to fetch her? When would he himself be able to leave?

These few days together had left so many mysteries about him, and it seemed his little sister was growing suspicious. Once she awoke, he would have to offer some explanation.

But more than all that, Jiang Xuehe’s mind circled one thought—

With Suan Yu’s death, the foul energy had returned to the heavens and earth, and the resentment had dissipated. By this merit, the talismans binding him had lost some of their power.

In other words, the curse restraining him had loosened a little, and he could restore something of himself…

Should he recover his voice first, or his appearance? Or perhaps remove the wounds from his hands?

He remembered the curious, round-eyed gaze of the girl when his hood had slipped back that night.

He might as well restore a little of his face first.

He was used to walking alone.

Having a little sister to look after all of a sudden was… rather amusing.

Ti Ying slept a long, deep sleep.

She was trapped in a dream from when she was ten. Terrified and sobbing, suddenly a vast snow began to fall.

The snow buried the village of her dreams.

The twilight darkened, the pale mountains stood silent, crows wheeled and scattered, and Ti Ying stood alone in the cold night, gazing up at the swirling snow.

She did not find the snow cold.

She liked snow.

Gentle, endless flakes fell in her dreams, and she slept peacefully within them. So when she awoke, Ti Ying found her spiritual energy brimming, filling her with delight.

Had her cultivation improved?

Tumbling upright in bed, she quickly entered her spiritual sea to check, only to emerge disappointed, cheeks puffed out, sulking in the tent: She knew it—her poor cultivation was hard to advance.

She pouted for a while, then heard rustling outside the tent.

Blinking, Ti Ying lifted a corner of the drapery and peeked out—the screen dividing inner and outer chambers was flimsy, and from her vantage on the bed, she saw at once the tall, hooded figure.

He sat at a table, either writing or reading, poised and serene as a painting.

Ti Ying found herself transfixed.

Upon waking, one quickly forgets nightmares; the clearest memory is that fleeting moment after opening one’s eyes.

And in that moment, through the screen, Ti Ying saw Jiang Xuehe’s silhouette—

Fragments of her dreams rushed back. A moment, she was the witch in the cave with the imprisoned immortal brother; another, she was in the great formation, snow swirling between heaven and earth…

She thought dully: She seemed to have dreamed of her senior brother…

And hadn’t she dreamed of him after her first loss of spiritual control, on the way to the Poison Forest?

What did it mean?

Now, recalling the dreams, they grew hazy, slipping from her grasp. Ti Ying’s brows knitted, and she began to resent the “Great Dream Incantation.”

She knew that spell was trouble: one moment she was hunted, the next plagued by nightmares, then suddenly her senior brother appeared in her dreams. Why should she dream of him at all?

And even if she did… now she could recall only vague images of some demon, some immortal, some strange senior-brother-sister bond… But there were no such things as demons in this world.

Hmph!

More importantly, she clearly remembered her second dream.

Yes, the first dream had started after meeting her new senior brother; the second was the one she’d had often since cultivating—memories from before she turned ten.

At ten, Ti Ying had survived an ordeal she would never forget—the Tenfold Annihilation Branding Curse.

She had been lucky.

The curse had failed, and her former master, wandering through the village, had saved her and taken her away to cultivate.

She had long forgotten that village.

Now, recalling it, Ti Ying fixed her gaze on the hooded figure behind the screen—Tenfold Annihilation Branding Curse!

A forbidden spell that burdened its bearer with the grievances of thousands of spirits.

In an instant, Ti Ying understood why Jiang Xuehe’s talismanic marks had always seemed so familiar.

His body was withered as dead wood, his voice hoarse, his form covered with wounds, his hands those of an old man, and though he possessed a primordial spirit, he could not use it; the night he killed Suan Yu, when his hood fell back, a shadowy aura of curse power flickered about him.

All of it pointed to one thing: Jiang Xuehe bore the Tenfold Annihilation Branding Curse.

If Ti Ying herself had never witnessed the curse’s most terrifying power, her senior brother was surely enduring it.

But hadn’t her former master said that once the curse was cast, its bearer would either die or go mad? How could her senior brother be alive, and even seem normal?

No, she mustn’t think that way.

Her master had said: those bound by the Branding Curse walked the edge of life and death, a single misstep enough to doom them.

He seemed pitiable, but anyone who attracted such a curse must have committed grave sins, to draw so many spirits to haunt them.

Ti Ying herself had become a vessel for the curse because an entire village wished her dead; for it to fall on her senior brother, did that not mean countless souls hated him, resented him, wished him dead?

Ti Ying shivered.

Could he truly be a villain?

She had to escape.

Ti Ying was a heartless little rascal.

Discovering her senior brother’s curse, she had no desire to seek out the truth or hear his story. She only wanted to distance herself from the curse, from her nightmares, from anyone who might be a villain.

She crawled to the side of the tent and called softly, “Kind senior brother?”

There was no answer from outside.

The girl climbed out of bed.

She checked her belongings—her little talismans and magic items, the toys her former master had given her—all safe. She could protect herself.

Now, she ought to sneak away to Jade Capital Gate, tell them she had killed Suan Yu, and claim her place in the sect.

And if she ever ran into her senior brother there again… she wasn’t afraid! She could hold her own against him!

Having settled her plan, Ti Ying tiptoed past the screen toward the door. Everything was going smoothly, though her wounded belly still ached…

Behind her came a hoarse, devil-chosen voice: “Where is my little sister going?”

Ti Ying saw no reason to answer. “Hmph!”

Jiang Xuehe was snubbed again.

After a pause, he compromised. “Let me accompany you.”

Ti Ying retorted, sharp-tongued as ever: “And who are you? Do we know each other?”

She flung her talisman papers behind her in a heap, hoping to block his way.

Jiang Xuehe smiled: Last night she clung to him, today she would attack him.

And she asked who he was.

He said, “Why not turn around and look at me?”

Coaxing little girls—wasn’t it her wish to see his face?

Even if he didn’t know what she was up to, soothing her first could do no harm.