[1st Pov]
"Let me out!" Lian wailed, pounding on the door. After crying for so long, exhaustion overtook him. He slumped against the door and fell into a deep sleep...
Once again, Lian awoke with a start from the same recurring dream.
It happened years ago, but lately, it kept coming back in his dreams.
As a child, Lian was exceptionally mischievous, his parents called it "hyperactivity." He frequently got into fights with his classmates.
And when young Lian threw a punch, he had no sense of restraint whatsoever.
It wasn't uncommon for him to throw stones directly at other children's heads.
Fortunately, despite the frequency, no one had ever been seriously injured.
But his parents suffered the consequences.
Apologies and compensation became routine occurrences.
Over the years, the medical bills alone had piled up considerably.
While childhood mischief was natural, Lian's antics had long surpassed his parents' tolerance.
Left with no choice, they resorted to strict discipline.
When his parents were home, he was forbidden from going out. If both parents had to leave at the same time, the straightforward solution was to lock Lian inside the house.
At first, Lian wreaked havoc at home, destroying furniture and appliances.
When his parents returned, besides physical punishment, his father would tease him almost like a bully: "Well done, smash more... Better than your parents groveling for forgiveness. Besides, broken things cost less than medical bills."
This confinement lasted years, from second or third grade through junior high.
Lian''s personality seemed transformed into someone else entirely.
Trapped indoors, bored to death, Lian found solace only in books.
At first, it was children's literature deliberately bought by his parents, story collections, fairy tales, and the like. But as he grew older and his studies advanced, the books he read became more numerous, more varied, and increasingly unusual...
By fourth grade, he started reading martial arts novels. By fifth grade, he began tackling books far beyond his age level.
He read everything from the Hundred Schools of Thought, including The Art of War and several other stuff.
When he couldn't understand something, he'd ask his parents. His mother would simply say she didn't know either and tell Lian to ask his father.
His father's answer was equally blunt: "I don't know either."
Lian was puzzled: "If we can't understand them, why did we buy these books in the first place?"
"Doesn't understanding them mean we can't buy them? We buy them to put on the bookshelf. When guests come, they can serve as decorations..."
What kind of answer was that?
By this time, Lian was no longer the naive youth of his childhood. As his knowledge expanded, he had cultivated some composure.
Though he disapproved of his father's response, he didn't dwell on it, returning to his books.
He loved reading, yet sought not to grasp every detail; a broad overview sufficed...
After entering middle school, Lian had transformed from the troublemaker of his elementary years into a diligent student in the eyes of his parents and teachers.
The punishment of locking him in had long since ceased... though lately, it kept resurfacing in his dreams.
Lian found this puzzling.
As he grew older, he came to understand his parents' actions back then.
What he couldn't grasp was why these memories, once so agonizing, now haunted his sleep. Perhaps it was because he'd grown accustomed to years of reading at home, rarely venturing out.
Compared to his classmates, Lian's physical constitution was somewhat frail.
Even in class, he often felt faint.
This had even prompted concern from his homeroom teacher, who deliberately discussed it with his parents.
But by now, Lian had grown accustomed to being a homebody; his parents couldn't even get him out the door if they tried.
Resigned, his father simply went along with it: "A useless scholar is still better than a troublemaker."
After school, Lian walked home with his backpack as usual, his mind drifting back to the night's dream... Mid-stride, something surged through his head. His mind swelled, and his body went limp, collapsing straight to the ground... Dimly, he felt someone catch him before losing consciousness entirely.
In a haze, Lian seemed to see a hand... Pale and delicate, its index finger rhythmically teased him... With each beat, Lian felt waves of strange sensations, a feeling that threatened to suffocate him, yet brought unexpected pleasure. Under this conflicting pressure, he felt every pore in his body open, followed by muscle pain... After the pain, Lian experienced an intense wave of pleasure... Then everything faded.
When he opened his eyes, Lian found himself lying on the ground, his gaze falling upon a strangely dressed figure.
It wasn't truly bizarre, just exceptionally uncommon in modern society.
The figure had a bun on his head and wore a black cap...
"Are you a Taoist priest?" Lian couldn't help but ask.
"Looks like you're all right..." The priest's face lit up with relief. "Young man, you gave this humble priest quite a scare just now. You were walking along and suddenly stumbled. Luckily, I was nearby and caught you..."
Then, a look of concern crossed the priest's face. "By the way, young man, what's your name?"
Lian paused, then replied, "My name is Lian.."
The Taoist looked relieved. "Good, good."
Having studied extensively these past years, Lian had also read his share of social news reports.
The Taoist's remark instantly clarified why he'd asked so pointedly. Lian chuckled, saying in his place "Rest assured, I'm no old man trying to scam you."
The Taoist laughed heartily: "You're a quick-witted lad! My Taoist name is Pingshan, and I reside at Xiang Temple on the next street over. Meeting like this, perhaps we share a karmic connection. If you're ever interested, feel free to drop by for a visit."
Hearing Pingshan speak thus, Lian found the Taoist rather interesting, quite unlike the typical monk.
He couldn't help but respond in kind: "Master, you've shown me kindness. Since you've invited me, I'll gladly accept."