Chapter Fifteen: Big Fool

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Shi Fei glanced down at himself, clad in a simple garment with a sword tucked at his waist. The blade was a three-foot length of iron—no sharp edge, no guard, and the hilt was merely two pieces of softwood nailed on. Could this even be called a sword? Shi Fei looked at the crude weapon and couldn’t help but wonder.

Reaching into his bosom, his expression grew stranger still. The pistol was still there. Earlier that day, he had examined it. The black handgun was a Glock 17, with a full magazine holding seventeen rounds. In yesterday’s dream, he seemed to have fired a few shots. Now, counting carefully, there were fourteen bullets left.

A fierce wind, thick with snow, surged toward Shi Fei but swirled around him instead. It wasn’t the kindness of the storm—it was Shi Fei activating his protective aura. In yesterday’s dream, he had spent a lifetime alongside Qingqing, naturally acquiring a lifetime’s worth of inner power. That power had come with the gun into this dream.

Would today’s dream continue from yesterday’s? Yet compared to his power, Shi Fei found himself longing more for Qingqing. To yearn for one dream while in another felt absurd. He could no longer recall what Qingqing looked like—did she truly exist, or was she a figment of his imagination? Shi Fei did not know.

He sighed, eyes scanning the endless white world around him, and pressed forward. Ahead lay a road; he had no idea where it led, but he had no choice but to walk on.

Gradually, snow ceased to fall. Though the snow stopped, the wind howled relentlessly through the heavens and earth. Suddenly, he heard the jingling of a carriage bell and the neighing of horses. A horse-drawn carriage passed by him, slowing until it matched his pace. The door was pushed open.

“Get in, I’ll take you part of the way,” a voice called out. In such a blizzard, few could refuse such an offer.

Shi Fei turned and saw a man sitting inside. The man was handsome, with a gentle and refined aura, though no longer young. Wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, and his pale face bore a faint, sickly flush of red. Most striking were his eyes—emerald green, like willow branches swaying in spring breezes. Anyone who saw those eyes would know the man’s heart was kind.

Shi Fei simply said, “I have no money.”

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The man laughed softly, “Ha~ no payment needed!”

Shi Fei nodded, “Thank you.” He lightly sprang inside as if a wisp of cloud, floating into the warm carriage. Inside, mink furs lined the seats, and on the table sat a charcoal brazier, radiating warmth.

“Little brother, you’re nimble!” the man nodded approvingly, observing how Shi Fei had left almost no footprints in the snow, with barely a flake settling on him. Clearly, Shi Fei was a master.

A young expert walking alone in the snowy road—undoubtedly, he was a man as lonely as the other.

“Want some wine?” the man offered a flask.

Shi Fei shook his head, “I have no money.”

“I’m treating!” the man tossed him the flask, then took another for himself and took a sip.

But soon after, he began coughing violently, as if trying to expel his very lungs, doubling over with the effort. After a long while, he recovered and looked at Shi Fei. “Why don’t you drink?”

Shi Fei sighed, “I’m afraid if I drink, I’ll cough just like you.”

The man suddenly laughed. Inviting Shi Fei into the carriage had been the right choice. In the martial world, interesting people were rare.

“What’s your name?” Shi Fei asked.

Yesterday’s dream had taught him that his visions were likely drawn from martial arts novels he’d read as a child. A man who drank and coughed, a small knife by his side, and an unfinished wood carving gave Shi Fei some guesses.

“Why bother with names when we meet by chance?” The man touched his chest. “Besides, I’m an unfortunate one.”

“How unfortunate?” Shi Fei pressed.

The man shook his head. “Very… never mind. I’m Li Xunhuan. A man forgotten by the martial world.”

He had vanished from the Jianghu ten years ago; the world should have forgotten him by now.

The carriage, the wine, their meeting—all this helped Shi Fei realize who he was. Now, perhaps, he was Ah Fei, yet he was not really Ah Fei.

Shi Fei said, “I am a big fool.”

“A big fool?” Li Xunhuan asked, “Who would think so of themselves?”

Most people considered themselves geniuses, simply unlucky. Few thought themselves foolish, let alone a big fool.

Shi Fei sighed, “I’m a big fool—I’m foolish enough to confuse dreams with reality.”

“Then the woman you dreamed of must be real,” Li Xunhuan said. “Only a woman can blur the line between dream and reality.”

Only a woman could make a man believe a dream was true.

Only a woman could make a man see reality as a grand illusion.

Shi Fei fell silent, feeling Li Xunhuan’s words ring true.

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Yesterday’s beautiful dream left only emptiness behind. What would today’s dream bring?

Li Xunhuan spoke again, “No matter what, keep living, keep looking forward. You are still young, life still holds many joys. Don’t dwell on the past.”

Shi Fei’s expression was odd. Li Xunhuan was advising him not to get stuck in the past.

He looked at Li Xunhuan, who seemed utterly sincere.

Li Xunhuan was always sincere with his friends.

Shi Fei said, “You bought me a drink, so does that make us friends?”

“Of course!” Li Xunhuan smiled. “You’re the only one who never tried to stop me from drinking—definitely a friend.”

A man who coughs shouldn’t drink.

Shi Fei said, “You treat your friends well! What a coincidence, I don’t mistreat my friends either!”

In reality, Shi Fei only had online friends, colleagues, classmates, and acquaintances—not a true friend. Yet here, in a dream, he had made one.

Truly, dreams were something else.

Li Xunhuan heard this and said, “If you don’t want to mistreat me, then just drink with me.”

Good friends drank together.

The wine was sharp and spicy going down, with a bitter aftertaste.

Shi Fei looked at Li Xunhuan and said, “If I drink, I will help you regain everything you lost.”

Li Xunhuan replied, “I am lonely, there’s nothing I have truly lost.”

Shi Fei said, “There’s a rumor in the Jianghu that ten years ago, Li the Scholar retired because his fiancée ran off with his best friend.”

Jianghu rumors often contained falsehoods.

Li Xunhuan’s eyes flickered with pain. “You actually know that?”

He saw before him a youth no older than seventeen or eighteen who still knew the events of a decade past.

Shi Fei said, “I know many things. I know you faced a difficult choice—a hard choice.”

A man of loyalty and sentiment, unwilling to hurt his fiancée yet unwilling to betray his best friend.

He chose to let his friend be with his fiancée, while he withdrew.

Though not the most manly act, this was Li Xunhuan.

He made his choice according to his conscience, sacrificed himself, and hurt three people.

Indecisive, trying to keep peace, but where is the perfect choice?

There is no perfect solution in this world!