Even though Wei Ji had already opened his eyes, the gentle calm from the dream clung to him like a warm blanket. He lay there in silence, staring at the wooden ceiling, listening to Lu Shaohua's soft breaths beside him. The world around him felt softer than usual, as if the dream had followed him back into reality.
He closed his eyes again.
And just like slipping into water, he sank back into the dream… but this time, he was fully aware. He knew this was not real. He knew the sect was gone. He knew his master was long since buried. He knew the disciples laughing in the courtyard were memories and nothing more.
But knowing it was a dream only made him want to stay longer.
He stood once again at the sect's central courtyard, watching the disciples move through their morning exercises. Their footsteps landed in a steady rhythm. Their breaths came out in soft unison. The air was warm, as if the sun rose only for this little world.
Wei Ji let the wind brush across his face.
