Chapter 115 Delirium I've been dreaming my whole life.
Autumn has arrived, and persimmons should be ripe. In the streets and alleys of Yingzhou, there are many more people selling persimmons in various ways.
The translucent persimmons are either peeled, crushed, and drizzled over shaved ice, or frozen using a special method and topped with a layer of cheese. Some are made into dried persimmons, sprinkled with powdered sugar, and a child's bite can keep them sweet until the wee hours of the morning.
A street vendor carrying persimmons walked along, calling out as she went. Her eyes darted around, looking for a place with lots of children, and she didn't notice what was in front of her. Coincidentally, the other person also seemed to be unaware of the road ahead and bumped right into her.
The impact was solid, scattering the entire basket of persimmons onto the ground. Before the street vendor could even shout, the man swiftly grabbed one of the fallen persimmons, seemingly intending to take a bite.
The street vendor hurriedly reached out to stop her, saying, "Hey, don't eat what's on the ground!"
But when the other person looked up, his face was as pale as a water ghost that had been submerged for years. He wore a strange pair of tattered clothes, and his eyes were bloodshot, as if he had come to claim someone's life. The street vendor trembled in fright, his hand frozen in mid-air. Thinking he was about to die, he simply closed his eyes.
thump.
Instead of the bone-chilling cold and pain, she heard a muffled thud. She opened her eyes—
The person had fallen to the ground, unconscious. She was wearing a dark blue single-layered shirt, with a piece of coarse black cloth wrapped around her left arm. She had fallen so hard that a section of her arm was protruding from the wide sleeve, covered with fine cloth, and faintly stained with blood.
A crowd of onlookers had gathered around, leaving the street vendor in a predicament, unable to retreat or advance, and could only desperately shout:
"What are you looking at? Call a doctor right now! There's someone here who's about to die!"
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What's wrong with her?
As the saying goes, nothing is more coincidental than a story. The unconscious person was taken to the clinic that Shen Lixia and her companion had visited before. As the two were about to tell the doctor that the epidemic had been eradicated, they saw the person lying on the narrow bed in the clinic.
She looked a little thinner than before, covered with a thin blanket, with one hand outstretched and hanging at the edge.
Despite having received the letter beforehand, seeing Simmons now still felt like a distant memory, as if they had seen a ghost in broad daylight. Shen Lixia rushed forward, first grabbing one of Simmons's hands and squeezing it to make sure it wasn't a mannequin before looking up and asking the doctor beside her that question.
Qiao Yanshen followed closely behind, the two of them on opposite sides of the bed. One of them lifted the woman's bangs to carefully examine her face, and then probed her with his divine sense to check her meridians.
The physician asked curiously, "Do the two immortal masters know her? That's perfect."
As she spoke, she got up and rolled the thin blanket down a bit.
Shen Lixia frowned, and unconsciously tightened her grip on the Simmons mattress.
Her body, now bare of her single garment, was covered with tightly wrapped layers of fine cloth, with several spots of blood seeping through, like tiny red flowers blooming on a woman's body.
"Her breathing is stable, and her pulse is normal. It seems she was simply frightened and hadn't had any water for several days, which is why she's unconscious," the doctor said. "I just checked the areas that were bleeding; they've healed, but—"
She carefully unwrapped part of the bandage on Simmons' arm, revealing a dark red mark that looked like a stitch. Upon closer inspection, she could also see tiny needle marks.
"Perhaps my skills are insufficient to discern the mysteries within. In any case, to make a long story short, since you two know her, why not take her away directly? After all, matters concerning immortals are beyond the control of us ordinary physicians." The physician picked up some clothes from the side and gestured for Shen Lixia to help Simmons sit up and slowly dress her. "Remember to feed her every day, lest she starve to death before she even wakes up. I already fed her just now."
After giving some instructions, the two paid the doctor a few ingots of silver, and Qiao Yanshen carried Ximengsi out of the clinic, with Shen Lixia following behind her.
They returned to the inn, booked a room for Simmons, settled her in, and took turns caring for her.
This period was not peaceful. At first, she was just very weak, and her condition improved after a day or two. However, after one night, she suddenly developed a high fever.
Spiritual power seemed useless to her; she was as if she were writing a manifesto against the will of Heaven with her own body, refusing to accept any spiritual power, enduring the pain of her illness, and unknowingly biting her lips until they were stained with bright red blood. When preparing medicine to feed her, one had to be very careful, otherwise she would not drink a drop.
During her fever, she seemed to have regained her strength and started talking in her sleep. Shen Lixia noticed this one night when Simmons suddenly turned over. Thinking that the other person had woken up, she quickly went closer to check.
However, the woman's eyes remained tightly closed, her brows furrowed. Her whole body trembled slightly, and then Shen Lixia heard a soft sound. Looking in the direction of the sound, she saw that the woman's hand was gripping the bed frame tightly, and her nails broke from the excessive force.
Despite the fact that her fingers are connected to her heart, she seemed completely unaware, and instead increased the force in her hands, thus torturing her fingertips to the point of almost blood and flesh right under Shen Lixia's nose.
"What are you doing!" Shen Lixia shouted, grabbing her wrist. But the voice was like a spark in the long, desolate night, igniting her dazed state and causing her to suddenly let out a cold laugh.
"What are you doing here?" Simmons shook off Shen Lixia's hand, her tone unusually light, the words seeming to be squeezed out with difficulty from her throat, "Did I keep you waiting?"
In the dream, the man said something that silenced the woman for a long time. Then, she trembled all over, like an enraged lioness, breathing heavily and painfully, and shouted—
"You lied to me! You said you could help me, but you were just stalling for time! You lied to me...you lied to me!"
After saying that, she relaxed again, as if she had lost all her strength, and collapsed onto the bed, chuckling disdainfully.
After repeating "You lied to me" twice more, Simmons' voice gradually became indistinct, until only two sentences remained, clearly echoing in the dimly lit room: "...We're even. You can go now."
After she finished speaking, she stopped moving, like an empty shell, her breathing gradually becoming steady.
Shen Lixia knew this wasn't something she should hear, but she genuinely wanted to hear it, because knowing where a person came from and where they were going was important, as it was the only way to touch their heart and see what was inside.
Although she once thought that Simmons' heart was probably full of spiritual stones.
Forget it, I'll just pretend I didn't hear it. If it happens again, I'll shut off my hearing.
After healing Simmons's injuries, the boy separated a wisp of his soul, which transformed into a bird and perched beside Simmons's pillow.
Then she leaned over the edge of the bed and closed her eyes.
After that night, her condition became extremely unstable. Several times her forehead burned like a hot iron, but the fever would subside on its own after an hour or two. She continued to mutter in her sleep, but it was no longer as intense as the first night; it was often just a soft whisper that no one could hear.
One time, Qiao Yanshen came to take care of her. After hearing Shen Lixia say that Simmons could talk in her sleep, she would often block out her hearing when the other person was about to speak, maintaining basic respect.
But this time it was a little too late, and then a soft "plop" was heard. A tear slid down and dripped onto the back of the woman's hand, which was pressed under her cheek.
Even so, she did not appear fragile; in fact, her originally bold and expressive features were made even more sharp by the moisture in her eyes.
Like a smooth piece of glass that, when shattered, reveals sharp edges and corners.
She sighed softly, wiped away Simmons's tears, and thought to herself with a bittersweet smile: Now the three sickly women are having a meeting.
Perhaps one's life is destined to be bitter, so one must always experience a near-death experience at least once.
After some time, Simmons' condition improved, and she gradually no longer needed to be cared for day and night, and her fever subsided.
At this time, autumn deepened slowly, and the sky was always spotless, like a piece of plain gray cloth. The leaves turned from green to yellow, swirling and falling.
One of the pieces happened to be carried by the wind into the window today, and gently landed on the face of the person inside.
The leaf trembled, then was picked up by a hand and taken away, revealing a pair of hazy eyes underneath.
Simmons sat up and felt something was wrong. When she looked down, her robe was gone and her clothes were somewhat white. Only four words remained in her mind—something terrible had happened.
Was I robbed?
It took her a while to realize that she was in an inn. Turning her head, she saw the black cloth folded on the table and the mustard seed bag next to it. She breathed a sigh of relief and got out of bed.
Without even putting on her shoes, Simmons pushed open the door, and two figures came into view, seemingly heading in her direction.
Their eyes met, and all three froze in place. After a moment, Shen Lixia took a step forward and rushed over to hug Simmons tightly.
The man's injuries had almost healed, and he started being cheeky again: "Be gentle, be gentle, you're going to be strangled."
However, she was met with another person's arm encircling her. Simmons looked up, somewhat surprised.
She remembered that this fellow Daoist Yan Shen didn't really like physical contact with people.
Well, some time has passed, maybe he's changed his ways. She sighed, letting the two men approach her from both sides, feeling a chill run down her spine.
But when she felt a warm, moist touch on her shoulder, she lowered her eyes, gently placed her hands on their backs, and sighed.
She thought to herself, "Now there are people in this world who will shed tears for me."
Of course, it's impossible to keep hugging like that forever.
"It's time to let go, I'm going to take a shower." After a long while, Simmons shrugged, trying to nudge the two of them away in this way.
The two then released her.
"Let's go buy some food," Shen Lixia said. "See you later."
“Okay.” Simmons nodded.
They went downstairs and disappeared through the door. Simmons leaned against the stairs for a while, then turned and went back to her room, only to realize she wasn't wearing shoes.
The reason I remembered it was because the floor under my feet was cold, unlike the warm floor in my dream, which had a thick fur carpet.
She had a very, very long dream.
Ignorance, anger, greed, resentment, separation, and unfulfilled desires. Love and hate are separated by a fine line; lust burns fiercely, sweat pours down, but in the end, only emptiness remains.
All captured in dreams.
Amidst all the hazy pain, a pair of compassionate eyes suddenly appeared, their color like crimson silk, born of nobility.
Just recalling it made her heart clench, as if she were still immersed in a dream.
However, the hypocrisy ultimately overwhelmed the tender feelings, and hatred surged up, quickly erasing this sentiment.
She shook her head, put on her shoes, tidied her clothes, and went to take a bath.
When the three of them gathered in one room again, Shen Lixia cautiously and tentatively said in a soft voice, "You seem to have been having a lot of dreams lately, and you haven't been sleeping well."
Simmons laughed twice and said lightly, "I've been dreaming my whole life!"
The two people opposite her were taken aback, then laughed.
It's easy to see that intense, desperate, and burning past—
She no longer cared.
Having died once, one should let go of the past.
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Author's Note: I will put the story of Simmons in a side story. Those who are interested can go and read it next door then. (bows)
If you can't accept that she has a past intimate relationship, think twice before you act. Anyway, congratulations on the three of you being reunited. You won't be separated again from now on.
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