The bright moon was like a mirror, and the moonlight was like water. Under the tranquil moonlight, the village with only a dozen or so households appeared particularly peaceful. Suddenly, a candlelight lit up in the night, standing out conspicuously.

In the tiled house lit by candlelight, two elderly people looked at the child lying on the bed, his brows furrowed and his face flushed, and talked with some concern...

Giant, mountain-sized boulders rolled through the air; looking up at them, a sense of insignificance and powerlessness arose in my heart.

As the body plummeted off the cliff, the benevolent-looking ancient Buddha sat serenely on the edge, offering no aid. An unprecedented fear surged within the heart...

Startled awake from the nightmare, Feng Bingwen groggily opened his eyes. His head was foggy, his body was burning hot, his limbs were weak and sore, and he was covered in cold sweat. His clothes were wet and damp, and he felt extremely uncomfortable.

"He has a fever!"

This strange yet familiar feeling, along with the extremely heavy thoughts in Feng Bingwen's mind, made him understand his current state.

"Just like in my dream."

This nightmare was different from the strange dreams he had had before. Even though he had a premonition, he was still terrified. Even the flickering candlelight in the room made him feel uneasy, and the shadows under the candlelight made him even more fearful, as if some harmful ghosts might crawl out from them.

"Don't be afraid, Grandpa's here!"

In a daze, filled with fear, a steady and powerful voice rang out. Then, a pair of strong arms lifted him from the bed and held him in their arms. In his panic, Feng Bingwen felt a warm, spring-like feeling envelop him and instinctively opened his arms to hug it tightly.

After calming down a bit, Feng Bingwen saw the old man's drooping black beard. His stern face, which had been angry during the day, became kind and gentle in the quiet night, giving him an indescribable sense of peace.

As the candlelight flickered, the shadows that danced with it became less frightening. A wave of drowsiness washed over him, and Feng Bingwen, no longer terrified, closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep, his breathing gradually becoming calm.

How is Wen'er?

A voice, kept low, rang out, trying not to disturb the sleeping child.

"He's asleep. Feel his hands and feet to see if they're still hot. If they're too hot, put some vegetable oil on them. I'll carry him to see the doctor tomorrow morning."

"You old fool, are you getting senile? Is this something a doctor can cure? I'll go set up the chopsticks, and when it's light, I'll go buy some incense and paper money. After calling once, I'll go back to sleep and I'll be fine."

"..."

Under the candlelight, the old man sat on the bed, silently holding the sleeping child in his arms. On the headboard, a three-foot-long, glossy rattan cane reflected the flickering light, seemingly glowing faintly.

"I know you don't like praying to ghosts and gods, but isn't there no other way?"

"I didn't stop you."

The old man's voice was low and he seemed somewhat frustrated.

"You should lie down and rest for a while too, it's still a long time before dawn!"

"I've had enough sleep, I'll just sit here!"

“How can that be? You still have to go to the school to teach when it gets light. You’re too old for that.”

The elderly woman with gray hair showed a look of heartache on her face.

"I can't stand it. I'm very strong. I'll just sit here and take a nap when I get sleepy."

"It's alright, go to sleep!"

The old woman still wanted to persuade her.

"If I go to sleep, this kid won't sleep peacefully. It's okay, we'll get through tonight. Go to sleep, it's still early!"

"I'll take your place later!"

"Forget it, you can't handle this."

"Look how smug you are."

The old woman snorted and didn't say anything more. After checking that her grandson was in a pretty good condition, she went to bed.

The quiet night passed by amidst the flickering lights. As the sunrise painted the east with crimson hues, the once silent village gradually came alive with activity.

When the sun was high in the sky, Feng Bingwen groggily woke up from his bed. He felt parched, his head felt heavy as if it were filled with lead, and he was drowsy and had little energy.

"I do have a fever!"

Feng Bingwen lay on the bed and recalled for a moment. He remembered everything from last night, including the bizarre, illogical, yet terrifying nightmare.

"I still couldn't dodge it!"

The child, with an unnatural flush on his cheeks, squinted his eyes. He didn't want to move; he was too tired.

Ever since he had those strange dreams, he has developed some quirks that seem odd to others.

He wouldn't drink raw water or eat raw meat. While other children in the village could roll around in the mud, he would never stoop to their level. Although he was just a young boy, he was cleaner than the vast majority of people in the village.

These unusual traits, so different from the other children in the village, have made him the subject of much teasing from the village elders, with some jokingly saying that he was a rich young master in his past life.

Of course, those who gossiped were always in the minority, because his grandfather was one of the most learned men in the surrounding area and a teacher hired by the county academy. As the grandson of a scholar, it was normal for him to be particular.

However, despite his meticulous nature, he has fallen ill, though whether this qualifies as an illness is still debatable.

"That feeling of fear..."

His head was heavy and uncomfortable. After a while, Feng Bingwen recalled the strange events of last night: the flickering candlelight, the shadows that rippled with the flame, and the chirping of insects. These things made him feel uneasy and terrified.

I think I cried.

The child reached out and touched his fair face, where he could feel some dried tear stains, confirming that what he had experienced the night before was not a dream.

"What exactly is that?"

Feng Bingwen struggled to sit up, sensing that something was wrong. He had similar experiences in a strange dream he had before, and when he was beaten yesterday, he had a premonition, and sure enough, he fell victim to it that night.

"Wasteland behind the village!"

Yesterday, my grandfather returned from the county academy, and upon hearing that he had gone to the wasteland behind the village, his face suddenly contorted with rage.

"There really is something dirty inside!"

The child was somewhat afraid. He would occasionally hear the adults in the village talking about some rather frightening and strange stories, but most of the time he just listened to them for fun. After all, no matter what, they couldn't compare to the dreams he had.

"If only we had a 105mm howitzer shell, we could just fire one at the wasteland behind the village and the illness would surely be cured."

Recalling the scenes from his past dreams, Feng Bingwen couldn't help but recall the sprayed flames that appeared in his dreams, weapons with terrifying destructive power.

Even ghosts and gods would be torn to shreds by a weapon of that power!

"Wen'er, you're awake? How are you feeling? Are you thirsty?"

Footsteps sounded outside. Feng Bingwen snapped out of his unrealistic fantasies and looked up to see his grandmother holding a stack of incense paper, looking at him with concern.

"I feel a little dizzy, and my mouth is very dry!"

Feng Bingwen honestly said that having a fever is an uncomfortable thing.