Outside the bamboo house, the night had grown heavy, with sparse stars and moonlight. A few faint beams of light escaping from the sky, delicately dyed the black bamboo house. Light and darkness blended perfectly. In front of the bamboo fence in the courtyard, several osmanthus trees were in full bloom at their best moment, emitting a delicate fragrance that captivated people.
There were no tables or chairs in the courtyard. Jiu Jue leaned against an osmanthus tree, sitting on a straw mat with fallen osmanthus petals scattered around like stars. A jug of wine was placed in front of him, untouched. He gazed at the distant horizon with half-squinted eyes, although it was only a hazy blur of light and shadows far away.
"Master, is something worrying you?" Beside the osmanthus tree, Lan Ting's petite figure walked out of the void. His mouth didn't move, but he spoke clearly, his childish voice blending into the air.
"I've been saying it for hundreds of years, don't call me master." Jiu Jue didn't move, not even bothering to lift his eyelids. "With such a poor memory, no wonder you haven't made any progress in your cultivation for such a long time. You were a child when I first met you, and you're still a child now."
Lan Ting disdainfully curled his lips and said, "It doesn't matter to me if my cultivation level is low or high. But you…the Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching and your wish is about to come true, so what are you unhappy about?"
"I keep feeling something is wrong, but I can't put my finger on it." Jiu Jue tilted his head back, inhaling the fragrance in the air, and smiled. "I'm really a useless immortal."
"You've saved many people, including me! That's not useless!" Lan Ting was displeased.
"Haha." Jiu Jue opened his eyes, changing the subject. "If your cultivation level were higher, you could protect yourself if I'm gone one day."
Lan Ting lowered his head, silently pinching his fingers without speaking.
"Monk Sanjie and I are old enemies. There are old grudges since the time both he and I were in the heavenly realm. After he was demoted to the mortal world, he has been my enemy from age to age, and he's the most difficult in this life. Last time, Su Qiuchi ruined his big plan; he won't let it go easily." Jiu Jue flicked his forehead, "You better be more cautious. That monk may come looking for trouble at any time."
"He's not your match," Lan Ting thought carefully for a long time and said so.
"The opponent isn't really Monk Sanjie," Jiu Jue sighed, "it's Empress Wu."
"A mere woman."
"Although she's a woman, she doesn't love makeup; she loves power and influence. Dealing with her is even more challenging than dealing with ten Monk Sanjie." Jiu Jue picked up the wine jug, raised his head and took a small sip, then patted Lan Ting's head, "But it doesn't matter. I'll protect you until I can't. Now, go to sleep. We'll think about tomorrow's matters tomorrow."
"I'll sleep right here," Lan Ting sat down on the straw mat and lay down next to Jiu Jue, very much like a cat that has always relied on its owner. "It feels more reassuring this way." After saying that, he eagerly looked at the wine jug in Jiu Jue's hand and added, "Master, can I have some? Just a sip... it smells so good!"
Jiu Jue chuckled, conjured a cup, poured a shallow layer of wine, and handed it to him, saying, "Just this once."
After enjoying the fine wine, before long, Lan Ting began to hiccup. With each hiccup, his body shrank a little, until finally, he transformed into an unfolded scroll with four words on top — "Lan Ting Collection: Preface." At the final moment of transformation, a glowing sphere gradually emerged from the very center of the scroll, pulsing faintly as if alive. A book appeared from within the glowing sphere, and as the radiance dispersed, two characters became visible on the aged cover — "Awakening Dreams."
A cool breeze swept by and flipped the pages, revealing that there was nothing but emptiness beneath the cover. There was only one page left in the entire book. Seeing this, Jiu Jue put down the wine in his hand, took off his outer robe, and covered the book with it. Shaking his head, he said, "I've never seen a demon like you, who can't make any progress and reveals his true form after just a few drops of wine."
Yes, Lan Ting was a book. Monk Sanjie wanted this book, Empress Wu wanted this book, and throughout the past thousands of years, those who coveted this book were as numerous as the fish in the sea.
The Three Lives Awakening Dreams Book could see events through the veil of time. Accurately speaking, Lan Ting was a demon that has perpetually taken the form of a book. In the past, half of its lifetime was spent assisting those who sought its help in observing the so-called "Wheel of Fate," i.e. the working of destiny. The other half of its time was spent escaping for its life from the clutches of one evil-intentioned villain after another. The word on the street was that turning the Three Lives Awakening Dreams Book into ashes, steeping it in water, and drinking it would transform one into an unparalleled prophet, able to foresee the future and manipulate destiny. However, the truth is that even if someone consumes it, the ability to foresee fate will not transfer to that person. This irresponsible misinformation has caused nothing but great harm to this poor demon.
Three hundred years ago, Jiu Jue saved Lan Ting from being pursued and killed by the old demon Red Bear on Cloud Top Mountain. He learned that this stupid book demon always got caught up in being hunted down with those harboring evil intentions. During the Eastern Jin Dynasty, it was relentlessly chased by a Daoist priest who sought to use it as an ingredient for an elixir. In a desperate escape, Lan Ting stumbled upon a drunken old scholar in the wilderness, who was fervently wielding a brush and splashing ink. Lan Ting cleverly hid its original body within the book being written by the old scholar. Unexpectedly, the old man named Wang was a scholar possessing great talent, as if he was the reincarnation of Wenqu[1]. His whole body exuded a pure, austere aura that completely cleansed Lan Ting of its demonic energy. From then on, no one could trace Lan Ting's whereabouts based on its scent. As a result, "Lan Ting Collection: Preface" that has been circulated throughout the ages became the refuge of a demon, and basking in the fame of this work, Lan Ting's cultivation improved and it could now transform into a human form, albeit that of a child. It was satisfied with its new existence. It not only embraced a wealth of literary and poetic knowledge but also adopted the name Lan Ting, making it his own. Encountering the old demon Red Bear later could only be blamed on Lan Ting's love for alcohol, as it ended up intoxicated and revealed its hiding place in the woods. After being rescued by Jiu Jue, it regarded him as its master, accompanying him back to the dwelling in the black bamboo forest and becoming his pageboy, living a peaceful and happy life ever since.
Jiu Jue understood Lan Ting very well. His greatest virtue was his kindness, but at the same time, his greatest weakness was also his kindness. Faced with those who appeared troubled and sought answers about their future, Lan Ting always acceded to every plea, revealing the answers to their questions one by one. Little did they know that every time he answered someone's question, he burned a page.
Once all the pages are burned, you'll have nothing, you'll be nothing. Jiu Jue had warned. I came from nothing, I should return to nothing. I just can't bear to see those miserable people. If a little sacrifice can change their future, it's worth it. Lan Ting answered him like this.
After all, it was just a book. Even if it was labeled as a demon, its thoughts were pure and upright. But is it really meaningful to know the future and comprehend destiny? This is a question Jiu Jue secretly pondered for many years. However, the reality he had to admit was that one page from Lan Ting had once burned for him.
Two hundred years ago, he asked Lan Ting a question: When will I be able to find him? Lan Ting's answer was: Following the fragrance from a thousand miles, smiling at the reflection in the wine.
[1] God of Culture and Literature.
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