Chapter 151: Dream Teller

On the first day of the New Year, festive cheer was evident throughout the imperial capital.

Given the cold weather, Jiyuan naturally avoided thin clothing; he made sure to dress warmly enough to appear comfortable.

After the old dragon returned, Jiyuan had no intention of disturbing Yin Zhaoxian. Instead, he habitually went to check on the Xinpu Go House.

As he reached the narrow street where the Go house was located, he discovered that it was indeed open on the first day of the New Year. Although the door was closed to keep out the cold, a sign welcoming guests hung outside.

Jiyuan went inside and walked around. Only a few apprentices were manning the shop; there were no players, and the owner was absent, leaving only an acting manager.

After exchanging New Year greetings with the staff, Jiyuan left, intending to return to the attic where he had been staying recently to catch up on sleep.

The wealthy family was named Chu. Although their residence was close to the imperial city, they did not appear to be government officials.

The study seemed more like a decorative piece. During his stay, Jiyuan had only seen servants clean it twice. No one from the Chu family entered it, except perhaps to retrieve books.

Of course, it was also possible that the study was too large and cold; it was likely more comfortable to read and write in the main house.

This proved convenient for Jiyuan. The third floor of the study, isolated from the city's hustle and bustle, offered a quiet environment with numerous books. Besides resting and cultivating, he could also browse the collection in his leisure time.

While books were not exceptionally rare in this era, valuable ones were still quite precious. It was relatively difficult for ordinary people and even impoverished scholars to acquire knowledge.

This was one reason why academies were so popular. Compared to studying at home, academies not only provided instruction from venerable masters but, more importantly, had extensive collections of books. During county and prefectural exams, and sometimes even provincial exams, when testing basic knowledge by requiring students to recite classic texts from memory, some scholars hadn't even seen the texts, so how could they write them?

Walking along Yongning Street, Jiyuan absorbed wisps of spiritual energy while watching the townspeople exchange New Year greetings. Just as he was about to turn towards the Chu residence, a familiar voice from a distance caught his attention.

"A bowl of porridge, a side dish, and two meat buns, please. And don't forget to bring a basin of hot water. Thank you!"

"Alright, Mr. Wang, rest assured, I'll bring it to you shortly. We just bought buns this morning."

Of the two speakers, one was Wang Li, the storyteller from the Jin Prince's Residence, whose voice Jiyuan recognized instantly. The other, with a clear voice, seemed to be a child.

After a moment's thought, Jiyuan turned left off Yongning Street, following the sound, and entered an old alley.

The alley was about two carriage-widths wide, lined on both sides with residential houses enclosed by low walls, no higher than a person's shoulder. The courtyard gates, however, were taller, and most houses inside the courtyards consisted of two or three interconnected rooms.

Every household displayed couplets and "Fu" characters. A few even hung red lanterns. However, in this world, there was no tradition of door gods or kitchen gods, so no such deities were posted.

Jiyuan followed the sound and stopped outside one of the houses. He could hear about four people inside. Three of them were chatting and laughing in the two rooms on the right, from which warmth and a pleasant aroma emanated. The other person was in the single room on the left, who was indeed the storyteller Wang Li.

This storyteller had piqued Jiyuan's interest the previous night. And now, Jiyuan deeply believed in fate; since they had crossed paths again, he decided to go and see.

Casting an illusion spell, he lightly leaped into the courtyard. Although the room door was closed, he could hear the sound of ink grinding and slightly excited murmuring from within, confirming that the man was very agitated and showed no signs of sleepiness.

'This man performed ventriloquism and storytelling for half the night yesterday; he should have been the most exhausted person at the Jin Prince's family banquet. Even Master Yin was tired enough to go straight to sleep. Why is this fellow so energetic?'

Of course, Wang Li couldn't sleep. What was a night's fatigue compared to the impact of what he had witnessed the previous night? It was nothing.

The room was not large. Inside, a square table served as a desk, placed next to the bed. Wang Li was sitting by the bed, grinding ink.

Once the inkstone was ready, the hungry and cold Wang Li shivered slightly. He used a paperweight to secure the paper on the table, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began writing on the paper, muttering continuously as he wrote.

"On New Year's Eve at the Jin Prince's Residence, I, Wang, was invited to tell stories. I spoke of legends of immortals, and witnessed the imperial family..."

Wang Li's thoughts were exceptionally clear; he wrote quickly, and his handwriting was quite cursive.

"The Emperor sat by and asked for a moment, sweat poured down my back. Matters of spirits and gods were hard to explain; I strained my thoughts to answer... Time neared midnight, the Prince's servants announced the silent ritual... Suddenly, shouts of awe arose from outside the hall, joyous sounds overwhelming the spring air. Guests followed the Emperor, and within the central courtyard, auspicious signs appeared..."

By this point, Wang Li's brush trembled slightly, whether from cold or excitement. He repeatedly dipped it in ink and continued writing.

"In the garden, trees turned green as spring arrived, courtyard flowers blossomed in a myriad of reds. The Emperor called out, inviting the divine, white mist formed, but no one responded..."

"Hoo... hisss..."

The storyteller temporarily set down his brush, rubbed his hands, and blew on them. He then pulled the quilt from the bed behind him and draped it over himself.

"Knock, knock, knock."

"Mr. Wang, your food is ready. I've brought it for you!"

"Oh, oh, oh, good, good, good! Coming, coming!"

Wang Li quickly got up from the bed and went to the door to help the child delivering the food.

As he opened the door, a gust of cold wind hit him, making Wang Li shiver even more. A boy, about twelve or thirteen years old, stood outside holding a tray with steaming porridge, a side dish, and buns.

The boy didn't let Wang Li take the tray, seeing the man huddled up, and worried he might drop it. He carried it inside himself and took out each item from the tray.

Jiyuan also entered the room with the boy. Wang Li quickly closed the door. Although closing the door made the room somewhat darker, the oiled paper on the windows still allowed enough light in.

"Mr. Wang, are you writing? Are you writing a story?"

Wang Li returned to the bed, holding the bowl of saffron porridge with both hands to warm his cold fingers for a moment before picking up his chopsticks and stirring the porridge, blowing on it as he replied.

"Yes, I was invited to tell stories at a wealthy family's residence last night. The generous payment was secondary; more importantly, I witnessed an auspicious omen. It was truly a worthwhile trip, phew... phew..."

"Slurp... gasp... slurp..."

Blowing on the slightly hot porridge, he ate a few mouthfuls, and his body began to warm up.

"Mr. Wang, your handwriting isn't as good as those great masters on Wenqu Street."

The boy curiously looked at the messy handwriting on the paper. Jiyuan, observing Wang Li's demeanor as he spoke of last night's events, noted that his spirit seemed clear and he possessed some talent, even if his handwriting was indeed rather poor.

"Heh heh, those are proper scholars; how can I compare? Besides, I'm used to writing quickly; as long as I can read it myself, it's fine."

Saying this, Wang Li picked up a bun, tore it open, and dipped it into the porridge a couple of times, as if using the porridge as a dipping sauce. He put it in his mouth and ate with great relish.

"Mr. Wang, what wealthy family did you visit last night? Were there any interesting things? Tell me about it!"

The old master had been renting here for half a year, and the boy had long since become familiar with him.

"You might not believe it, but yesterday I was invited to the Prince's Residence. Do you know the Prince's Residence?"

"The Prince's Residence? Where the Emperor's son lives?"

"Exactly, exactly! That's where the Emperor's son lives!"

Wang Li had just put a piece of pickled vegetable into his mouth. He gestured repeatedly with his chopsticks towards the boy, indicating he was correct.

"I even saw the current Emperor!"

The boy's eyes immediately widened.

"What does the Emperor look like? Is he especially tall and strong? Is he really as fearsome as a tiger?"

Wang Li paused at the question, and even Jiyuan smiled and glanced sideways at the boy.

"Yes, especially tall and strong. Sitting next to him, I, your master, didn't even dare to breathe heavily. But the more interesting thing happened afterward. After midnight, the ice and snow in the Prince's garden actually melted, and hundreds of flowers bloomed. Many people said it was an auspicious sign from heaven."

The boy scratched his head, finding it hard to imagine the scene, but he felt it sounded very impressive from the master's descriptions.

As if sensing the boy hadn't fully understood, Wang Li rephrased it.

"It was like an immortal performed a spell last night, making all the plants and trees in the Prince's garden sprout. Flowers that only bloom in spring, summer, and autumn all opened at that very moment. It was truly beautiful!"

"Wow!"

Now the boy understood. After an exclamation, he still seemed a little unconvinced.

"Is that real or fake...? Mr. Wang, you're not tricking me, are you? My dad says you're a storyteller, best at making things up..."

Wang Li felt a surge of indignation.

"Your dad... *sigh*... Xiao Dong, storytellers' tales aren't completely fabricated. Most are adapted from real events. Some parts are exaggerated, but some are genuinely true, like the one I just told you. I haven't even turned it into a full story yet, so it's a personal experience, it's real!"

"Oh! Right, I'll go get hot water for your foot soak, sir!"

The boy scratched his head, remembered he hadn't delivered everything, and hastily opened the door and left. Jiyuan also took the opportunity to leave with him, leaving Wang Li alone in the room, eating and pondering the details.

Before leaving, he looked back at the storyteller, then at the paper. This man seemed more suitable than Master Yin.

Moments after the boy left, halfway through his porridge, Wang Li inadvertently glanced at the paper on the table and suddenly froze.

"Clatter..."

His chopsticks slipped to the floor.

Wang Li put down his porridge bowl and carefully leaned closer to the paper. Three unfamiliar characters had mysteriously appeared on it.

He nervously looked left and right. There was no one else in the room besides himself.

The calligraphy exuded an extraordinary vitality and power, clearly the work of a master. The crucial point wasn't how good the characters were, but that they had appeared out of thin air.

"White Deer Destiny?"

Wang Li's fingers twitched slightly. He subconsciously touched the paper, and the moment his fingertip made contact, his mind clouded over. He stumbled vaguely onto the bed and fell asleep.

Through an item embodying divine essence, and in a way that a mortal could endure, Wang Li was having a peculiar dream...

Knocking sounded again from outside the door. After waiting a moment without a reply from Wang Li, the little boy pushed the door open and entered with the hot water, only to find Wang Li already asleep.

"This old master... didn't even finish his porridge, just fell asleep like that!"

Muttering to himself, the boy quietly approached, picked up the chopsticks, wiped them on his clothes, and put them back on the table. He then took off Wang Li's shoes and pulled the quilt up further before tiptoeing out with the basin of hot water, carefully closing the door behind him.