My name is Xiao Meng. I have no surname. I do not know my parents’ names, nor where I come from.
I don’t even remember my mother’s face.
Everything before I was six years old is completely forgotten.
My earliest memory is from when I was six, one winter evening in a shabby alley.
It was early winter, and the sun was bright—a rare warmth in my earliest memory. That evening, my mother dragged me off the main street and into a winding alley. The sky was clear, the sunset still brilliant. Sunlight shone into the dark alley, casting bands of light and shadow on the grey mud walls.
On the same grey wall, where the sun touched, it was bright and dazzling; where the sun did not reach, only gloom. The same alley, the same wall—whether it was bright or dark depended on where you stood.
My mother led me in, crossing the alley where light and shadow alternated, nearly black and white. At the time, it felt like I was following her into a dream.
Later, as if annoyed at my slow pace, she picked me up and hurried ahead. She held me, head lowered, so I couldn’t see her face clearly. Only when the sunlight brushed her neck and cheek did I glimpse that her skin was fair, her profile delicate.
At last, we reached the end of the alley, a narrow courtyard where three strange-looking men were waiting. I knew, instinctively, they were bad people. My mother put me down and led me over. Immediately, a fat man grabbed me, but I didn’t struggle.
I watched as my mother walked back toward the entrance of the alley with one of the men. The setting sun turned them into silhouettes. The man handed my mother a heavy money pouch. She bowed, turned away, and left. I watched her go. She never once looked back at me.
After she left, the fat man pinched my cheek, face full of disbelief, "My god! Look at that pretty little face! Is he really a boy?"
The tall, thin man, clearly the leader and the one who had just given my mother the money, slapped the fat man's hand away. "Don’t dirty his face with your filthy paws. That face alone is worth a hundred more boys. And don’t forget—he’s for Grand Eunuch Duan’s inspection in the palace. If anything goes wrong, none of us will live. Until he’s delivered, make sure he’s well-fed and warm."
The leader smiled at me, "In all my years in this trade, you’re the prettiest child I’ve ever bought. Consider yourself lucky! Do you know how many poor children wish they had your chance? Once you enter the palace, if you rise to favor, remember to thank us!"
That is all I remember about the day my fate began.
I don’t even remember how I felt that day. Sadness? Grief? Fear? I have no idea.
That day was like a dream without any emotion.
Even the woman who sold me to the traffickers... I can’t even be sure she was really my mother. But in my memory, I’ve always thought of her as my mother.
But I do remember clearly: when she picked me up and I saw her profile, there was a bright red, blood-like flower blooming in her dark hair.
Boys must be castrated before entering the palace as eunuchs. Needless to say, the process is extremely painful, and one cannot walk for over a month afterward.
Luckily, I was young when it happened, so I had time to forget the pain. Besides, compared to what I would endure later, that pain was nothing.
My life has always been full of strange contradictions. It’s as if, when the life between my legs was cut off, the spring of my life began to blossom.
After my wounds healed and I could walk freely, I was bathed, dressed up, and brought before Grand Eunuch Duan—the one who sent people outside the palace to buy children like me.
"Old Zhao, I’ve seen countless beauties, but never a child this exquisite!" Grand Eunuch Duan exclaimed.
"A pretty face is nothing without clever eyes—look at his intelligent, affectionate gaze. He’s a brilliant child. With proper training, he’s sure to win the emperor’s favor!" The two—Grand Eunuch Duan and Eunuch Zhao—were among the Ten Attendants and would become my foster fathers.
They adopted me. Since I was their first adopted child, they named me Xiao Meng. From then on, I lived a carefree and happy life in the palace.
Back then, I lived in luxury, wanting for nothing—my daily life, food, and clothing were even better than that of real princes and princesses.
After all, unless they were favored, royal children’s lives could be quite hard.
But my two foster fathers were powerful at court—officials’ fates depended on their whims, and many vied to please them. So the latest delights, delicacies, and rare tributes from distant lands all came to our home first.
Besides the singing, dancing, and music I was required to learn, I studied whatever was fashionable in court. My favorite was archery—I loved the feeling of pent-up power, the thrill of hitting the mark. My foster fathers found me the best teachers. As always, they provided only the best for me.
From these two broken men, I learned what it meant for parents to love a child, to care for them in every way.
And, of course, I learned the meaning of "hoping one’s son will become a dragon, one’s daughter a phoenix." They poured their hearts into me, hoping I would win the emperor’s favor and become his most trusted eunuch—only then could their power last.
In the palace, to keep power is to keep life.
So, even though I never liked dressing as a girl and performing, it became my specialty, because I had to repay my foster fathers’ hopes, for my family, and to keep my happy life going.
Especially when I saw how many little eunuchs without backing, or princes and princesses whose mothers had been sent to the cold palace, were bullied and even died mysteriously—how could I not strive to make my foster fathers proud?
In fact, with my fathers’ influence, my talent, and my effort, it was not hard to become a favorite at the emperor’s side.
I really thought I would soar, just like the trafficker had said.
But good dreams are always short-lived.
When I was twelve, the emperor died. My two foster fathers, who always smiled at me, were constantly gloomy, discussing things I couldn’t understand, full of resentment and bitterness.
At the end of that year, Yuan Shao’s army stormed the palace and slaughtered the eunuchs.
In panic, my foster fathers sent me out of the palace, stuffing me with treasures. With the old servant Shun Bo, we passed through gate after gate, and with each gate my load grew lighter. By the time I left the palace, I had only a jade bangle and a handful of silver left. Shun Bo and I hid and wandered, living day by day. By the next spring, Shun Bo died of illness, and I began to wander the world alone.
I disguised myself as a girl, singing and dancing in various brothels. Sometimes, a wealthy patron would show special interest in little girls—I would go with them, drug them when they weren’t looking, steal their valuables, and disappear. Then I’d take on a new identity and drift to another place.
Life was hard, but I had little to complain about.
But the feeling of shivering in the cold and hunger, the endless loneliness, and fear—those left a deeper mark on me than the pain of castration.
Still, I always felt I didn’t belong to that world, that I shouldn’t have had that kind of life—those six years of luxury were just a long dream, and now I was simply waking up, back to where I always belonged.
This life lasted more than two years, until the eldest son of the Sima family found me and brought me back. He said the Sima family had been close to my foster fathers and had been searching for their adopted son Xiao Meng, and that they had already found the murderers who killed them and would avenge them for me. So, another dream began.
The Sima family had been a merchant clan in Henei for centuries. Life here, though not as extravagant as the palace, was certainly comfortable and worry-free.
What’s more, both the eldest and second young masters treated me extremely well. I was willing to serve them, and they taught me a lot about business and management, which benefited me greatly.
The eldest young master gave me my own courtyard and servants. When I had no missions, it felt as if I were once again that little lord in the palace.
Compared to the second young master, the eldest was even kinder to me. He would take me on outings, boating and fishing. When he fancied a girl, he’d ask me for advice. He said his younger brother had always outshone him, so only with me did he feel he truly had a little brother.
But I knew, after all, they weren’t my parents, and I was someone who always repaid kindness. So despite the eldest young master’s objections, I insisted on joining the Remnants as a member of the Sima family's private mercenaries, becoming an assassin.
From then on, I shuttled between two completely different dreams—the warmth and comfort of the Sima family, and the blood and brutality of one mission after another.
Yet among the blood and blades, I felt true camaraderie, and a subtle, almost obsessive connection with Fire-ge, LiaoYuan Fire—a bond of life and death, close yet distant.
That made me unwilling to wake from either dream. I wanted to keep dreaming until my life ended. But dreams, after all, must end.
When I saw Fire-ge and Sun Shu together, the first crack appeared in my dream. One crack led to another, until both the bloody dream and the warm dream were completely shattered.
I thought—I have to wake up again. But this time, what will my reality be?
Eh... Am I back in the dream again?
Because I recognize this dusk, this alley...
Could dreams keep repeating?
No. I have to walk out.
I started running through the alley, the bands of sunlight and shadow falling behind me. As I ran, I saw my two foster fathers standing at one side, silent, watching me pass.
Then, bodies started appearing on the ground of the alley. I gritted my teeth and kept running over them.
I saw the eldest and second young masters, covered in blood. I dashed past as they called after me, "Xiao Meng... don’t go... come back..."
I did not look back.
More and more corpses littered the ground. Sweat soaked my clothes and blurred my vision. I saw Zhang Lei and Guo Ang, but didn’t pause—they flashed by at my side, calling after me, "Xiao Meng! Where are you running off to in such a hurry?"
I didn’t know.
But I knew I couldn’t stay here.
Once I left this alley, my dream would end!
The corpses on the ground grew fewer—I was almost at the end!
But I had to stop, because Fire-ge stood in the middle of the alley ahead.
"Xiao Meng."
He reached out his hand to me, eyes full of warmth. "Come, let me take you. Let’s go back."
"I don’t need you to take me. I won’t go back," I said.
"If you won’t go back, where will you go?" Fire-ge still smiled gently.
"...Anywhere, Fire-ge," I gathered all my strength and dashed toward him, "I won’t dream anymore."
When I crashed into Fire-ge, he faded away like stardust.
Heh.
So he was fake too.
When the starlight faded, I saw a whole new scene—
—An endless sky, a boundless plain, wind rustling the grass to reveal cattle and sheep.
Where is this...?
...A grassland?
Sha~~ sha~~
I heard the wind in the grass, and a lone eagle’s cry.
Am I... awake?
The grassland rolled in gentle hills. I kept walking, walking for a long time.
Until I saw someone standing in the distance, back to me, hands clasped behind.
A tall, majestic figure, robed in dark armor, radiating the aura of someone who scorns the world.
A surge of wild joy hit me, and I shouted, "Lü Bu—!"
Then, without thinking, I ran to him.
He seemed to sense me, turned, and looked back.
It really was him!!!
As I got closer, I could see his face more clearly.
So the end of my dream was his clear, radiant smile.
End of Chapter 26
Copyright Notice:
The Burning Dream Chronicle Chapter 26: "The Flower That Survived Tribulation"5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsPzlXstNVA
Original work by Jing Xixian (Vampire L), all rights reserved.5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA0ilnj7WWG
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