[ Note: guqin - an ancient chinese stringed zither instrument. It looks like a long board with raised strings running across it the long way, played by combo plucking and pressing down on the strings kind of like a guitar. Usually, set on a table or raised platform of some sort. Very classy! ]
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It was very uncomfortable and Ying Ru wanted to turn over, wanting to push it away, but as if there was someone besides her whispering comforting words to her, she listened and stopped moving.
All she felt was a steady warmth on her forehead and her breathing suddenly became light and shallow, evening out. The pressure withdrew from her forehead, a quiet release of held breath. There was no sound, only the fleeting trace of a night visitor's presence.
The person turned around to spare a glance at the object sprawled on the table and then at the girl now sleeping soundly on the bed. A conflicted expression lingered on his face. For the longest time, just standing there soundlessly, the gaze never lifted, only getting heavier.
"One lifetime is enough, why tie in another?"
The sound of something flapping in the night breeze caught his attention. Silly girl, even forgot to close her bedroom window. With a barely audible creek, the wind was barred outside. Silence returned to the room.
The window was now closed, the door never opened, but the figure had already gone, disappearing like dust in the air.
Sometime in the night, Ying Ru stopped breathing.
She felt very light, or was it the air that was unbelievably heavy and thick? She couldn't tell which one it was. It felt like water, the air. She was walking through murky, rolling air as if it were something much denser. It appears as if everything in sight were drowned underwater, the pressure of the air in here pressed at her from all sides.
Ghastly air currents, like those one would encounter in rapidly moving rivers, weaved up and down in elegant motions, completely covering the entire expanse like an enormous set of spiderwebs. Specks of glowing light bounced off of them, rendering them nearly ethereal. She wanted to reach out to touch one, but quickly recoiled when a sharp surge of energy entered her body, instantly making her uneasy and apprehensive. Ying Ru concluded then that it would be best not to touch them.
The diffused light bathing the area is inconsistently bright and dark at intervals, adding to the sense of nausea she recieved every time her body accidentally came in contact with one of the ghost currents. Everything she saw was as if veiled behind a thick mist or fog. No matter how hard she stared, squinted, or narrowed her eyes, it remained that way.
It did feel like she was indeed underwater, submerged in the same congealed air as the setting around her, yet permanently separated by it at the same time.
She continued moving forward, waving a hand in front of her although it did little to make her movements any easier. She felt like she was swimming, but she was merely walking.
Ying Ru emerges from a doorway and everything is instantly brightened tenfold. Even the sun here stings more! The ghostly currents still thread the air, which is still heavy and thick like water.
There is snow everywhere she looked. White snow blanketed everything in sight for miles and miles around, painting a breathtaking scenery with just the one color in all its tones.
Snowflakes drifted lazily from above, seemingly undisturbed by the currents running through the air. She reaches out to try to catch some. They fall right through her hands. Not like sand in between her fingers though, but through her flesh and skin, as if they are mere remnants of the mind that aren't actually existing.
She continues watching them dance in the air for a few seconds.
Ying Ru is standing on a long, flat stretch of rock, blanketed by a thick layer of snow. The staggering altitude of this place is obvious from other snow-capped peaks looming in the far corners of her vision. Where she is standing now is easily above them. Also, the sun is that much more unbearable at this height.
There is an octagonal pavilion in the distance. It's muted colors, further muted by the screen of fluttering snowflakes continuously pouring from the sky, doesn't contend against the white snow all around it. Rather, it sits there like a flickering mirage in the desert of endless white. Snow is heaped on it's sloping, ribbed canopy.
There are two figures.
One is sitting under the roof, shrouded in a flowing white robe. At one glance, Ying Ru would think that this person is merely an illusion, formed of the many swirling snowflakes. She could only make out a murky silhouette, even as she neared. Just the eye-scorching white of this person's robe seems so familiar and arresting.
It took her a moment to realize what the broken notes permeating in the air were. It was coming from a guqin laid out in front of the white-robed figure, although the melody was impossible to discern because they were muffled and carried echos, no doubt victimized by the strange atmospheric condition. One note is crisp and tart, but the next would most definitely be mutilated in some way. So was how the rest of the song would go.
This person's fingers fluttered over the strings of the zither. Ying Ru cannot see the zither nor how many strings it had either, but she could tell that this person's hand movements were fluid and like water.
All the while, tiny flakes of snow drifts from the sky, carried into the pavilion by gentle winds, landing on the white robe, landing on the zither.
Even if obscured by the dense air, even if she couldn't see the features on this figure or even as much as tell the gender of this white-robed figure that is playing the guqin, she is captivated by this person's beauty. It is a scene that, once come across, will forever be engraved in the back of one's mind.
Snow continues to fall nonstop, as if it would never stop falling here. Ying Ru continues to stand, unmoving.
Her eyes swim the expanse of the snow-covered plateau, falling on a stretch of rock overhanging the narrow cliff, jutting out into the air. Below it, there is nothing but a steep descent into the valley thousands of miles below. Beyond it, are the peaks of distant mountains. This stretch of rock is similarly blanketed by a layer of snow. The second figure is there.
It is when her eyes land on this second figure that her heart stops.
This figure is draped in purple, a rich and brilliant shade of purple. Ying Ru's heart gives a tremble, her fingers gripping the folds of her own dress.
She cannot see the facial features of this individual as well, likewise cannot discern the gender. She cannot even clearly see the movements because of the rippling ghost-currents and the distance barring her from this individual.
But she realizes what is happening.
She cannot hear the notes the guqin makes, but she can see it. She can see the melody, the rhythm, and inaudible fluctuations of the music in this figure. She was watching a dance, a dance defying all previous meanings of beauty in Ying Ru's mind. In the fluttering of weightless fabric and the powerful flowing movements of this purple figure, the only thing she can find besides beauty would still be beauty, a mind-numbing kind of beauty.
An immense backdrop of snow-tinted grandeur, mountains or valleys lined up along the sun-pierced horizon, all of them seeming to be bowing, subjugated at a lower elevation.
Speechlessness made her throat dry. Everything about this image was moving, and it plucked at every thread of her consciousness.
Unsheltered from the elements, the swirling purple figure and the landscape became a natural harmony that was impossible to reproduce anywhere else. Even the snow drifting silently around this figure momentarily seems to be full of life and purpose. It was a kind of beauty that cannot be contained, possessed, or even captured. It was everything fleeting and unrealistic, only existing for this moment alone, witnessed only by Ying Ru and this white-robed figure working the guqin.
This was a secret glimpse, a stolen moment from an unknown place and an unknown time. There was no context at all.
The snow? Which year's and which place's snow is this? It's abstract and indecipherable to her, useless as clues. Ying Ru can admit one thing: this was the single most beautiful snowfall she had ever seen in her life.
Suddenly, as if a hand had covered over the sun, everything went out like a flame. Inky blackness now greeted her eyes every direction she looked. There was no more snow and no more sunlight. Ying Ru couldn't tell what was happening, only that she felt harsh winds blowing at her, weaving around her body like sheets of silk. She was afraid to move.
When the ink dispersed, she could consciously tell that she was no longer at the same place, possibly a different time too. The darkness had cleared like a thick fog. Again, rippling currents glimmered across her eyes and everywhere there was air. The air was still thick and water-like.
Again, she sees the figure in the white robe. The white of the robe is so pure, it stings her eyes. The way the white of the fabric flows around this figure, it seems like it is emitted from the body instead of covering it. For the inexperienced Ying Ru, this figure appears more and more inhuman every time.
Before, she saw these two individuals under the sun, far apart, one in snowy white and one in pale purple. They appeared like two suns in the sky, competing. Now, when placed together, she can clearly see. They were not competing at all. Both were unearthly in appearance, but one was clearly the sun. The other can only be a moon at most.
Suddenly the purple figure, who stood unmoving behind the white figure, gave a tremble. Something must've been said, but Ying Ru cannot hear a thing. She could barely make out the features on the purple figure's face, much less see lips moving.
The wheels in Ying Ru's mind spun and spun, trying to make sense of something, anything, but to no avail. She could feel a surge of relief though, unexplainable and random.
Who was feeling it?
The two figures stood like statues for so long, not making a single move. The purple figure, without the snow and the sweeping movements, suddenly appears this thin and fragile, she notices out of the blue.
Suddenly the white figure disappears, or was in the process of disappearing right before her eyes.
Ying Ru's eyes remained wide like a deer's, watching the unexplainable phenomenon unfold in front of her, afraid to miss even a second of it.
That blindingly-bright figure that was so real, so solid, in a blink of an eye is now a cloud of glimmering white dust, suspended in midair. It was like watching a star break into millions and millions of tiny dust particles. The white was that intense, that unrealistic.
The powdery white dust hovered in the air, glimmering, as if time had conveniently stopped at that exact interval, preventing any of them from ever reaching the ground. It got even more intense, even more white. All those dust particles started to converge together, the white getting brighter and brighter the closer they became.
A pillar of light started to emerge.
At the center, it was virtually opaque, but she didn't dare look. This degree of brightness could easily blind the eye.
The purple figure had not moved the entire time, seemingly transfixed onto that unearthly white beam of light. It didn't seem like this person was experiencing any of the effects she feared though. Ying Ru didn't know how and why she did, but she felt that the purple figure would reach out for that beam of light. The movement was so slow and hesitating, but inevitably sure.
Ying Ru raised a hand, placing the back of it against her temple to shield from the light, closing her eyes.
Just as it happened, a sharp light emitted from the not-yet-solid beam of light. Everything went black once again. It was the same inky blackness Ying Ru experienced earlier. The transition this time made Ying Ru swerve unsteadily. Every time this happened, she felt as if her body had gone through something uncanny. Did she move or did she not?
Clarity gradually came to her eyes again.
The scene before her now, Ying Ru located as an interior of some sort. It was relatively dim though. The pulsating behavior of the light bathing this room, or was it this strange air quality, made Ying Ru's mind throb as well. She felt so exhausted, as if someone had taken her and wrung her dry of energy.
The ever-familiar currents rippled through the thickened air. Now she realized what made them shine like that...
White dust, very small amounts of it, are present in these ghostly currents. The realization made them that much more piercing to the eyes. An idiotic thought passed in her head. Ying Ru found herself reaching for one of them. Thrill coursed through her veins at the prospects of what they could actually be. She wasn't even close to forming a guess though.
The purple figure was alone in this room, unmoving. There was another presence in here though, she could acutely feel it in the room, but she couldn't place where. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught a faint glint of something in the purple figure's hand, fairly small, but couldn't identify what it was.
Ying Ru reached for a ghost-current that was directly in her path, at neck height. It was very fast, it's movement smooth and almost snakelike. The tip of her finger grazed it for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The entire thread disappeared, absorbed entirely into her quivering body, not a trace of it visible in the air in front of her.
The experience was nearly the same. The overwhelming surge of nausea-inducing energy did happen, as she was still reeling from it. However, she did feel something more.
Ying Ru quickly pulled up her sleeve and peered at the smooth skin. There was supposed to be something there. Ying Ru squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but on the underside of her arm, the skin above her wrist remained that way. It was unpierced, without any cuts or gashes, not even a scar.
But she was certain. The second she touched that glimmering thread, she did indeed cut a gash there.
She had a dagger in her hand.
The pressure on her bottom lip as she bit down on it to prevent herself from making a sound, the sharp pain she felt as the piercing edge of the blade separated her skin, the crimson blood that gushed out, trailing along the slender cut and finally rolling off of her arm; she experienced every one of these in sequence. A few drops of bright red had landed on an object laying quietly underneath on the surface of the the table.
But the truth was in plain sight.
The knife? There was no knife anywhere, and there definitely wasn't one in her hand. The skin on her arm was clean, without a flaw, likewise carried no evidence of recently being cut.
That's not possible. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, only opening them up again when she was clearer in the head. Yes, there was also no lacquer table before her either. There was nothing in front of her right now. There was just blackness and the sound of harsh wind blowing in her ears.
An unbearable feeling in her chest woke her up. It wasn't pain. She had forgotten to breathe. For how long, she didn't know. Her lungs were heaving for air. After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes.
Her senses slowly returned to her body. Ying Ru felt like she had just died and come back to life.
Familiar sounds of crickets chirping rang in her ears, getting louder and louder the clearer her mind became. It was very annoying tonight. Ying Ru's breathing has eased a whole lot already, but a heavy weight seemed to have settled on her chest, making her feel very uncomfortable. She pushed the heavy covers off her body and twisted into a sitting position.
Placing a hand against her chest, she could be certain. The feeling was still there, a little resembling suffocation, a little like fatigue. So that weight, it wasn't the thick blankets. It was her.
Her bare feet settled on the chilled floorboards. She only had an inner robe on, which made the winter coldness all the more apparent. Ying Ru shivers, grabs one of the blankets pushed aside on the bed, and throws it over her shoulders like a cape. She feels around the bedside for her slippers with her toes, burying her feet into them and getting up. The bamboo doors give a soft squeak as she pulls them open, ushering in a gust of snow that had settled on the door frame.
The small bamboo complex is completely silent.
A lonely sliver of the moon, hanging high up in the inky sky, appears as if it's missing so much of its usual brightness. There's also a fresh layer of untainted snow covering the ground from a night of silent snowfall. Ying Ru makes her way outside, marking the virgin snow with a set of deep, clearly-defined footprints.
Rubbing a hand on her reddened nose, sniffing a little, Ying Ru takes a seat on a chair in the courtyard. Her eyes land on the snow on the ground next to her two feet. Lao Shen Sheng's words randomly surface in her head.
"Like this winter season, even the snow that falls is a different snow."
The snow she encountered in this dream...
Ying Ru's hand clenched into a fist unnoticingly, as if reliving the very moment those unsuspecting white flakes almost landed on her palm, but instead, fell right through them as if she wasn't there.
It's as if she was the dream.
An unknown place and an unknown time, the only thing certain was that it was a winter just like this one, with snow silently drifting from the sky.
She remembered every passing moment, so clearly as if it were a piece of lost memory rekindled after being forgotten for a long while. Whether it was the radiant figure surrounded by dancing snowflakes, with the pale purple of her clothing spinning around like circular ripples on the water, the blinding white of the other figure's robe or the eerie notes hanging in the air, it's all tinged with an unexplained familiarity.
Ying Ru has really had her eyes opened tonight.
Lao Shen Sheng, that old man, his storytelling is really not a joke.