“Perhaps because they do not know of dreams, the wandering ones chase illusions.”
Watching the dragon spurt blood and fall on the surveillance screen, and the boy holding the girl tightly as if embracing the entire world, Mai slowly leaned back in her chair, reciting an old Japanese waka in a soft voice. She took a sip of her hot chocolate, long since gone cold. Perhaps because it had cooled, there was a faint bitterness in its taste.
Caesar was driving a convertible down the crowded Xidan North Street, dodging through traffic like a rabbit running under a herd of buffalo. The big trucks coming and going were all suddenly intercepted by him, but no one honked their horn at him.
Everyone he overtook was in a good mood. It was a clear autumn day, and there was a brand new Mini Cooper, with a blond boy in a white suit and a Chinese girl in a red wedding gown inside. On the back seat lay a massive bouquet of 999 deep red roses. The boy and girl smiled at each other, both full of smugness—but a beautiful match nonetheless! Everyone guessed they must be heading to their wedding. If it were them, driving that car to marry that girl, how could they hold back? The car would practically fly!
They parked by the Wedding Celebration Building. The building was filled with shops offering wedding services—wedding photography, custom-made jewelry, even wedding officiants. There was even a “Hai Di Lao” hot pot restaurant—so, if you didn’t mind having hot pot at your wedding, this building could handle everything for you. Caesar led Nono up to the fourth floor, stopping in front of a shop with deep red Shu embroidery hanging over the entrance. Two old wooden doors, painted brown, were decorated with traditional brass door knockers. Caesar knocked on the knocker, and a slender old man opened the door just a crack. “Caesar Gattuso?” he asked.
He looked Nono up and down, nodding slightly. “Hmm, good quality!”
“Hey! Did you bring me here to meet a human trafficker?” Nono turned to Caesar. “I have to remind you, selling me to someone for their lineage is irresponsible—I’m very unreliable!”
The old man smiled. “I meant this wedding gown—the material is good, hand-embroidered, and the details are spot on. It’s a Qing Dynasty bride’s attire, fit for an official’s family. It’s rare to find a tailor who can make something like this nowadays. It just needs some alterations to fit your waist, and… it’s missing the most important part.”
“What part?”
“A phoenix coronet and cape,” the old man said, pushing open the door.
It was as if the doors of a treasure vault had opened, dazzling their eyes with light from jewels. Smooth pearls, translucent jade, glass beads in myriad colors, enameled buttons, gold and white gold thread rolls… In the center of the room, a half-mannequin was covered with black cloth. The old man, with a proud smile, pulled the cloth away, revealing a phoenix coronet of scarlet gold with a phoenix crest, surrounded by a hundred birds. Each bird’s wings were handcrafted with delicate feathers, and the veil was made of tiny jade beads.
“Wow!” Nono’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.
“A wedding gown like this needs a phoenix coronet,” the old man said. “Your boyfriend ordered one for you—it’s all handmade and will take six months to complete. But first, you need to choose the style you like.”
“Do you like it?” Caesar held Nono’s hand gently. “You’ll look absolutely radiant in it.”
“That’s going to be two kilograms of gold, 108 red coral beads, and 12 pieces of icy jade—a top-tier Chinese piece of jewelry, entirely handmade. It could be sent straight to an auction! Compared to this, any Cartier wedding ring is child’s play!” the craftsman boasted. “In China, only the phoenix coronet and cape are truly impressive!”
“It sounds really heavy…” Nono said in awe.
“Say something nice!” Caesar chided.
“It’s really valuable. Can we cash it out?” she joked.
“Of course.” Caesar kissed her forehead. “After cashing it in, I’ll get you another one in a different style.”
Nono’s face flushed as if she had just downed a bottle of baijiu. For once, she didn’t reject his “Made In Italy” flamboyant way of expressing affection.
“How long will it take to alter the wedding dress? We need it soon,” Caesar asked the craftsman.
“Get lost! This is just for the engagement. The wedding dress is for the actual wedding!” Nono shot back.
“It’s better to be ready early; less trouble later. After you’re engaged, there’s no running away,” Caesar said, naturally pulling her closer by the waist.
“Even if it gets altered now, I might not fit in it by the wedding. Friend, girls are like pigs, they gain weight really quickly…” Nono mumbled, her voice as small as a mosquito’s.
Lu Mingfei kept moving forward, his hand on the damp wall of the tunnel. He had left the flashlight with Gao Ming and the others— it would be more useful for them. The darkness was like a viscous swamp, and he waded through it.
He had no idea if there would be a door at the end of this road, brilliantly lit up with a sign that said “EXIT.” But he could only move forward; there was no turning back. He thought of the Greek myth of Orpheus. The guy played the lyre so well that even stones wept, and Cerberus, the hound of Hades, whimpered and wagged its tail. He also had a beautiful wife, Eurydice. But when Eurydice was bitten by a snake and died, Orpheus, devastated, took up his lyre and journeyed to the Underworld, making even the ferryman of the River Styx cry. Finally, he confronted Hades and demanded his wife back. Hades, impressed, agreed. But there was a condition—Orpheus couldn’t look back at her until they left the Underworld, or she would remain there forever. So Orpheus led his wife, who chatted behind him, all the way back. He steeled himself, ignoring her. But just as they reached the light of day, his wife complained that he no longer loved her, and Orpheus, in a moment of tenderness, turned to embrace her. She was then pulled back into the Underworld, leaving only tears for him.
This story shows that most heroes fall victim to that deadly tenderness. Therefore, “The Sunflower Manual” was wise to say, “To achieve supreme skills, one must castrate oneself.” But then again, what did that matter? Even Dongfang Bubai fell prey to Yang Lianting in the end!
There was a time, before he met any Chen Wenwen or Nono, when he was a good hero too. He was that fearless kid, standing on the terrace of his uncle’s house, hands shaped like guns, shooting at the night sky filled with red and green lights. He wasn’t scared, wasn’t anxious, wasn’t sad, wasn’t desperate—he was the kid who believed he’d own the entire world someday.
But then he grew up and learned that not everyone in this world could be a Saint Seiya. It wasn’t about shouting “hope” and standing back up. Some hopes were like soap bubbles—doomed to burst. Some people were too exhausted—once they fell, they couldn’t get up again. Sorry, folks, but the protagonist can’t keep going this time… He won’t be reaching for that girl’s hand again. She’s… happy enough already.