Dreaming for 10,000 years

Chapter 380 Sky

In the courtyard of the desert, Shi Fei frowned as he sized up the boy in front of him.

The boy had a head of messy, dry hair, a thin, sunken face, and dark circles under his eyes. His tattered clothes were covered in dust, and his bare ankles were covered in thick scabs, the marks left by years of walking barefoot.

"Who are you?" Shi Fei asked.

The boy shook his head blankly, his voice as light as a grain of sand in the wind: "I don't know. I've never had a name since I was little. Everyone else has names like Laifu or Gou Dan, but I don't have one."

“They all call me, that guy, that brat, that dog.”

He was a beggar who somehow ended up in this desert. The scorching yellow sand almost killed him, but luckily, Sun Wukong, who was planting trees, found him and carried him back like a chick.

Shi Fei looked at him, nodded, and said, "Since you're here, stay here."

He recognized everyone from the desert, except for this boy. Perhaps this boy was just an unknown person appearing in his dream, just like himself in the city of dreams.

Who says only protagonists have the right to dream? Ordinary people like this young man should have dreams too!
The boy nodded blankly again. He had been living on the streets, taking anyone who gave him food. This was just a change of scenery.

At dinner time, the boy paid no attention to his astonishment at Sun Wukong's enormous appetite. He trembled as he picked up the celadon bowl, which was filled with glistening white rice, with glistening braised pork next to it.

This wasn't spoiled leftovers, but a hot meal prepared especially for him.

He had never eaten such a good meal before. He wolfed it down, almost swallowing his tongue. He ate until his belly was bulging, until Linghu Chong stopped him.

"Eat slowly." Linghu Chong pressed down on his hand, which was reaching for the steamer for the third time. "You'll overeat."

He's not Sun Wukong, after all; he'll burst if he eats any more.

"It's so delicious! If I could eat this every day, I'd be happy even if I died!" He thought to himself, reluctantly withdrawing his hand.

He didn't die; he just continued planting trees with Shi Fei and the others every day. Even though he was the weakest, he gritted his teeth and persevered. He wanted to repay Shi Fei and didn't want to be kicked out by him for being too useless.

Once, he fainted from heatstroke. When he woke up, he found Shi Fei applying a wet cloth to his forehead.

"It's just planting trees, there's no need to work so hard," Shi Fei said.

"No! It's not hard at all!" The boy shook his head. Compared to being chased and bitten by stray dogs in the street, compared to being beaten for half a spoiled bun, this kind of life was like paradise.

He is very content with his current life. Although Uncle Linghu says that his current life is a dream that he will eventually wake up from, he would rather never wake up.

After cooling off, he ate some chilled watermelon, and only felt much better after having a meal.

At this moment, Shi Fei led him into the courtyard, because from today onwards, Shi Fei would teach him to read.

"I...I can read too?" The boy nervously rubbed his fingers together. In his view, literacy was an extraordinary skill, something only scholars and gentlemen possessed.

"Of course!" Shi Fei sat with him in the courtyard, casually broke off a branch of a tamarisk tree, used the sand as a drawing board, and began to teach the boy to read.

The moonlight, like water, cast long shadows of the two people.

The boy carefully knelt beside the sand, watching the twigs make the first mark on the fine sand.

"Brother Shi," he suddenly mustered his courage, his dirty fingers clutching the hem of his clothes, "Can I...can I have a name?" The branch paused on the sand. Shi Fei turned to look at him and saw a humble longing flickering in the boy's eyes: "You want to have your own name?"

"Everyone else has a name, and I want to have my own name too," the boy said.

He actually envied those who had names; everyone had a name, and that made them seem more like "people." People without names were like dogs on the street.

No, some dogs do have names.

"After you've practiced your calligraphy, you can choose a name for yourself," Shi Fei said, stroking his head.

"I'll get it for myself?" The boy suddenly looked up, his eyes suddenly shining like stars in the desert.

“Of course! You can choose a name for yourself!” Shi Fei said.

Upon hearing this, the boy's eyes lit up involuntarily.

He saw Shi Fei write the character "天" (tian, meaning sky) in the sand and said, "This character is '天' (tian, meaning sky), the 'sky' in 'all under heaven'."

The boy heard Shi Fei break down the character "天" (tian, meaning sky) into two characters: "Now it becomes two characters, one is '工' (gong, meaning work) and the other is '人' (ren, meaning person). Let me explain these two characters to you..."

He held his breath, afraid of disturbing the strokes on the sand. His fingertips unconsciously traced the lines in the air, as if those lines were the most precious treasure in the world.

On the rooftop next door, Linghu Chong tilted his head back and gulped down a mouthful of wine. Moonlight shone on the wine jug in his hand, reflecting the mottled patina of copper.

Since Lu Xiaofeng left, the drunkard has had no drinking buddies, and the wine always tastes particularly bitter. He has also become much more taciturn.

His gaze fell on the master and apprentice in the courtyard. The moonlight gilded the silhouette of Shi Fei teaching, giving him a somewhat sacred air.

Why does this mysterious man plant trees in the desert? Why does he take in these lost wanderers? If this is truly a dream, why does every detail feel so glaringly real?
What is the significance of him planting trees? Why did I come here? And, if this is a dream, why did I dream about it?

Is this my own dream?
He had many questions in his mind. In the past, when Lu Xiaofeng was around, he could test each other. Now, besides him and Boss Shi, there were only two other teenagers in the entire courtyard.

One boy only knew how to eat, and so did the other. He suddenly felt out of place in the entire courtyard. But he was very patient; he was waiting for the other boys to grow up.

When the boy grows up, he'll be like his junior brothers and sisters, right?
Come to think of it, he hadn't thought about his junior brothers and sisters, or... his master, for a long time. Those days seemed to be getting further and further away from him.

He has become accustomed to being a silent tree planter.

As Linghu Chong was thinking about these random things, he suddenly had a strange feeling; the wine pot suddenly became heavy.

He felt a strange dizziness, as if someone was trying to pull him out of the deep sea. The moonlight before his eyes began to distort, and the outline of the courtyard gradually blurred.
He wanted to say something more, but found himself unable to speak. He tried to grab the eaves, only to find his fingers slipping through the tiles.

Then, he suddenly raised his head!

"You're awake!" He heard a clear, old voice from not far in front of him.

It was a plain white gauze screen, behind which sat a woman whose clothes were obscured. A bronze incense burner on the table emitted wisps of smoke, the scent of sandalwood both unfamiliar and pungent.

He woke up from his dream and came into reality.

(End of this chapter)