Chapter One: In Dreams, Time Is Unfathomable

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In the autumn of 2018, the lingering heat in the air had just faded, replaced by the cool caress of the autumn wind.

In a bedroom of a residential complex in Taizhou, Anhui Province, Huaxia.

A startled cry broke the silence, and Chen Xing awoke abruptly from his dreams, sitting up. He reached out to wipe away imaginary sweat, muttering, “Seriously? Even during a nap, my dreams force me to binge-watch shows. Can I catch a break?”

Chen Xing, male, nineteen years old, had just been admitted to the Archaeology Department at Huaxia University this year. He had chased after dramas—no, rather, he had been dreaming—since he was old enough to understand the world.

But here’s the odd part: have you ever heard of someone having the same dream for over ten years? Perhaps you’ve had long-running dreams too—but have you ever found yourself trapped in a space suffused with violet mist, empty except for occasionally picking up strange, inexplicable items, unable to do anything else?

Fine, suppose you’ve experienced that as well. But after finally getting used to it, have you ever felt your familiar dreamscape shatter like glass, leaving you unnerved? It was terrifying.

Chen Xing rubbed his sleepy eyes and sighed. “It’s been over ten years. Maybe I won’t have that bizarre dream anymore. After all, it’s gone now.”

Feeling relieved, he hopped off the bed, took care of his hygiene in the bathroom, and prepared to begin his day.

Perhaps because Chen Xing had had this dream since childhood, he grew up smarter than his peers—grades were never a problem. (As he would say when he was young, all that violet mist he absorbed in his dreams must have gone straight to his head, making him smarter. He even gave the violet mist a childish name: ‘Super Invincible Smart Mist.’)

Silly as it may sound, Chen Xing’s intelligence really surpassed everyone’s expectations. He never needed to study desperately; his grades were always among the top. If not for fear of shocking others, he could have aced every test with ease.

Yet, some mysterious intuition warned him that pushing too far would lead to trouble. He had no intention of becoming a guinea pig for national experiments, so he kept his grades within the top ten, and still managed to become the provincial top scorer in the university entrance exam.

With his academic performance, he could have chosen any highly regarded major. But to everyone’s surprise, he hid his intentions from his parents and chose a less popular field: archaeology.

For this choice, his mother, He Ying, gave him the silent treatment for a month, but ultimately couldn’t change his mind.

In truth, Chen Xing’s decision was driven by a secret no one knew. When he was twelve, he discovered in his dream that among the “junk” he picked up in the violet space, a dark purple bead followed him into reality when he awoke.

Though only a preteen, influenced by countless fantasy and cultivation novels and TV dramas, he felt no fear. Instead, he was thrilled, believing he had acquired a mystical fate, and solemnly reminded himself not to tell anyone—“a jade in hand invites trouble,” as the saying goes.

Because he wanted to uncover the bead’s secrets, Chen Xing tried everything—blood recognition, soul entry (which was just staring intently at the bead), and other experiments, but nothing worked.

Helpless, he showed it to his father, Chen Wei, who ran an antique shop. When told his son had found an unknown bead, his father barely glanced at it before declaring, “It’s just a glass bead.”

Chen Xing was speechless. He knew it wasn’t a glass bead, but if even his father, the president of the local antique association, couldn’t identify it, what else could he do?

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Professional testing was out of the question—he still remembered the warning about “a jade in hand invites trouble.” He knew the bead’s origin was strange.

So, to unravel the mystery, Chen Xing gritted his teeth and enrolled in the Archaeology Department at Huaxia University with a score of 699.

The old NJY phone rang just as Chen Xing finished his morning routine and was about to head out for breakfast.

Because his father believed in raising sons frugally and daughters lavishly, Chen Xing’s monthly allowance barely covered food and bus fare. Even his phone was a hand-me-down from his dad. It was a sad story.

“Fatty, why are you calling so early?” Chen Xing grumbled.

Fatty was Zhu Feng, Chen Xing’s childhood friend. With a height of 169 cm and weighing over 200 pounds, everyone affectionately called him “Zhu Fatty.” Loyal and dependable, he and Chen Xing were practically inseparable.

“Chen, school’s starting soon. How about a spontaneous trip before that?”

Chen Xing rolled his eyes. “You know my financial situation. Are you going to carry me?”

“Heh, you’re the top scorer in the entrance exam. Hasn’t Auntie helped you out financially? Just say the word—Shennongjia, are you in?”

“Are you crazy? That place has so many disappearances every year, and you still want to go?” Chen Xing was startled.

“The more mysterious, the more intriguing! Besides, we’re well-equipped—there’s nowhere we won’t dare go,” Zhu Fatty said proudly.

“Fine, you’re impressive, but I really can’t go. I’ve got no money. After choosing archaeology, my allowance got slashed. I can’t even afford to eat away from home,” Chen Xing replied.

“No worries, buddy. I’ve got money. Just come along—you won’t starve. But don’t forget to tell Uncle and Auntie.”

Thinking it over, with more than twenty days before school started, his father would probably support a trip. So Chen Xing said, “Alright, I’ll talk to my parents. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“Great, it’s settled. Bye!”

After hanging up, Chen Xing packed a few changes of clothes in his backpack, casually touched the dark purple bead hanging from his chest, and headed out.

In Taizhou’s Western City, there stood a pagoda said to have been built when Master Xuanzang returned from India during the Tang Dynasty. Legend had it that Xuanzang once lectured there. To commemorate the master’s brilliance, the local authorities named it the Star Pagoda.

Later generations built a temple beside the pagoda, called Star Temple, hoping to bring peace. Unfortunately, wars across the ages destroyed the temple, but strangely, the pagoda remained intact, not even slightly damaged. Experts tested it and found it made of ordinary bluestone—how it survived was a mystery.

Nearby was a street frequented by antique enthusiasts, which eventually became known as Antique Street. At the entrance of a shop called Boguzhai, a calm-faced youth of eighteen or nineteen entered (if you wonder why he seemed so mature, imagine being trapped in a dream for ten years—staying sane, let alone mature, was remarkable).

“Dad, has Mom come back yet?” Chen Xing asked the middle-aged man behind the counter, who was reading.

“What, still not satisfied with the trouble you’ve caused her?” Chen Wei replied mildly.

Chen Xing scratched his head awkwardly, feeling frustrated. “Not at all. Fatty wants to go traveling, and asked me to come along. I just wanted to let you know.”

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Chen Wei smiled slightly. “Do you have travel money?”

Chen Xing grew more embarrassed. “Dad, that’s why I’m here—to ask for your support.”

Chen Wei smiled, took a bank card from the drawer, and handed it to Chen Xing, saying, “Take it, but don’t spend recklessly. Don’t let your mother know, or she’ll be upset again.”

“Alright, I won’t hold back then.” Father and son exchanged smiles.

“So, where are you and Zhu planning to go?” Chen Wei asked.

“Shennongjia. Fatty wants to experience its mysterious culture and history,” Chen Xing replied, half-truth, half-lie. He knew that if he mentioned exploring Shennongjia, his parents would worry.

“Oh, just stay on the outskirts. Don’t go deep inside,” Chen Wei said, unconcerned. He knew his son, though young, was steady.

“Got it, don’t worry! By the way, where’s Mi Mi?”

“She went to the market with your aunt,” Chen Wei answered without looking up.

Chen Mi was Chen Xing’s twelve-year-old sister. If Chen Xing was the lowest in the family, Mi Mi was the crown jewel. As Chen Xing often joked, he must have been a promotional bonus when his parents signed up for phone credit—a discounted giveaway. The Chen family, though not fabulously wealthy, was worth tens of millions, yet Chen Xing never had more than five hundred yuan at a time. Mi Mi, on the other hand, was pampered like a princess, getting anything she wanted. As their father said, daughters deserved luxury—they were the family’s precious ones. Sons, on the other hand, were simply ignored.

Chen Xing felt helpless about this. The most ironic thing was that he adored his sister—she was not only cute and lovable, but also clung to her brother.

“Dad, why don’t you talk to Mom for me? I’ll go buy some things first,” Chen Xing said.

“Alright. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. Tonight I’ll go to Fatty’s place to discuss the itinerary,” Chen Xing replied.

“Okay, be safe. Don’t go too deep inside; it’s dangerous,” Chen Wei cautioned.

“Got it, Dad. Don’t worry!” Chen Xing said, turning to leave. After just two steps, he suddenly felt a warmth on his chest. Surprised, he took out the purple bead hanging from his neck and noticed a faint streak of fiery red flashing across its surface.

Chen Xing wondered, “The bead hasn’t changed at all since I brought it out of the dream. What’s happening today?”

He looked around but saw nothing unusual. With the modern antique market flooded with fakes—his own shop included, though more politely called ‘craftwork’—authenticity depended on one’s eye. If you found a genuine piece, it was thanks to your vision. When Chen Xing saw a pile of items that looked freshly dug from the earth, his eyes lit up.

“Dad, did you get new stock today?” Chen Xing asked curiously.