Chapter Sixty: Butterflies Dancing in a Dream of Shadows

When Wu Ming sensed the presence of the Blood Kirin, he touched his mirror. The surface trembled lightly, then returned to calm. “I suppose that was the Blood Kirin trying to enter,” he mused with a smile, shaking his head. “But if it enters my mirror, it won’t be coming back out.”

“Hey, Xiao Mei, I just found a stunning beauty…” Ling Mei had barely finished her sentence when Director T-Rex interjected eagerly, “Where? Let me have a look…” His thirst was almost palpable.

“No way, you don’t get to see her. The beauty’s for the head to review first,” Ling Mei teased, kindling the director’s curiosity only to douse it instantly, leaving him frustrated. The deep bags beneath his eyes seemed to bulge with anticipation.

“Senior sister, is it another strange psychic?” Wu Ming, having been worn out by Ling Mei’s boisterous personality, was already losing interest.

“Guess who? This psychic is just your type…” Ling Mei’s enchanting eyes sparkled mischievously at Wu Ming, sending shivers down his spine. He shook his head, “Let’s set her aside for now. I really don’t want to see your picks anymore. That Blood Kirin just now scared the director so badly he wet himself. Look at the floor beneath his chair…”

Wu Ming pointed at a small puddle under the director’s seat, faintly tinged with yellow.

At this, everyone’s gaze shifted in unison, then erupted into laughter that refused to die down.

“That’s just my tea! I accidentally spilled it when you startled me,” the director explained awkwardly, which only made the laughter worse, the scene devolving into chaos.

With a bang, the director slammed his fists on the table, “Enough! Stop laughing!” The room finally quieted, but what happened next nearly bent everyone double with laughter. The director, exasperated, exclaimed, “Fine, I admit it! I wet myself! Happy now?”

“All right, all right, we’ll stop. Now, let me see that beauty. Sorry, Director, that joke went too far,” Wu Ming tried to bring everyone back to order, though the director looked about ready to faint from rage.

“Junior, this beauty is just your type, but don’t you dare forget your senior sister after you’ve seen her,” Ling Mei slithered over to Wu Ming, swaying like a snake, and handed him the file.

“Butterfly Dream Dancer? Ability: Open and create dreamscapes.” Wu Ming’s interest was piqued. This was essentially a gateway, a direct passage into dreams—no more nights lost in endless sleep, no more days spent in darkness. “Is that all there is to her file? Just a name and a skill?” His curiosity was immediately interrupted by the lack of information.

“Ah, we were laughing so much just now, the files got all mixed up. Let me find it,” Xiao Mei muttered, rifling through the documents for a long while without success.

“No need. I know where it is!” Ling Mei glared at the director. “Look what’s under his hand.” While everyone else searched, the director was utterly absorbed in perusing the beauty’s dossier, oblivious to the world around him.

With a swift motion, Ling Mei snatched the latter half of Butterfly Dream Dancer’s file from beneath the director’s hand, and before he could protest, she scolded him, “Don’t be so greedy. One is enough. Don’t go eyeing the pot when you have a bowl in front of you.” The director was left speechless, then turned to Xiao Mei, rubbing his belly with a shameless look, “I was just reviewing the file! Work, all work!”

Ling Mei ignored him and handed the full file to Wu Ming, winking. “Junior, see if she should be your new assistant.”

Wu Ming did not reply, only sighed softly. Yet inside, his heart raced, for the photograph in the file was breathtaking, almost otherworldly. This Butterfly Dream Dancer, though lacking Ling Mei’s seductive charm, possessed the unearthly grace of a fairy untouched by mortal dust, as the saying goes: “When the breeze stirs and flowers bloom, butterflies flutter in dance. Of all the blossoms, none is as splendid as the one the butterfly alights upon.”

Butterfly Dream Dancer, birth name Shangguan Youmeng, was a classical dancer. Since childhood, she had been plagued by dreams, waking each night in terror. For over twenty years, she lived this haunted nocturnal life—within her dark room, the world she saw with eyes open was no different from the one behind closed lids. With the coming of night, dread and gloom engulfed her. Yet out of this battle with darkness, she developed a unique skill: a symbiosis with dreams. Later, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Through a bone marrow transplant, she survived, but her personality changed dramatically. She became withdrawn, silent, and rarely left her house. It wasn’t until three months ago that Long Wu found her…

“Miss Shangguan, we’re here to help you. Will you open the door?” Long Wu knocked in the dark, damp corridor. The dripping sound echoed in the pitch-black hallway, an oppressive darkness so complete it made one realize that while light cannot reach every corner, darkness fills all space.

“Who… If you want to come in, just do so,” a beautiful voice replied. Long Wu entered to find a woman with butterfly wings dancing on a white circular platform. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, and her elegant, tilting, spinning movements radiated the regal grace of a classical beauty. Yet those falling flakes were actually feathers. Long Wu, mesmerized by the scene, leaned quietly against a great tree, his eyes dreamy as he watched. It was bliss, pure satisfaction—he drifted off, closing his eyes.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be working, and here you are dozing off! I knew you’d mess up!” Long San’s voice suddenly sounded in his ear, but Long Wu was unwilling to leave the wondrous scene before him.

Smack! A heavy slap brought Long Wu out of his dream, leaving him dazed and soaked with sweat, his energy drained as if he’d just finished a thirty-kilometer forced march.

“Boss, what happened to me just now?” Long Wu asked, still shaken.

“You’re still too green. You got a lesson from Miss Shangguan. Good thing I came, or else…” Long San chastised him, then gently knocked on the door again.

“Is Miss Shangguan home? It’s Third Brother!” His greeting was oddly formal.

The door creaked open, and an alluring voice invited, “Third Brother, come in. My apologies for earlier—please forgive me.”

“Hope she doesn’t mess with me too,” Long San muttered, tapping the wall and bending his fingers back, then knocking his forehead lightly against the wall. “Ouch, that hurt. Guess it’s real.”

A stunning woman in white appeared before them—Shangguan Youmeng herself.

“That’s the same dancer from before,” Long Wu’s heart pounded as their gazes met and he felt an overwhelming pressure, too intense to meet her eyes.

“Third Brother, it’s been months. You still call me ‘Miss’?” Shangguan Youmeng smiled at Long San.

“You’ll always be my mentor, Miss Shangguan, even if you’re younger than me. Ever since that time, you taught me the most important thing: dreams are life’s ultimate driving force.” What “that time” was, Long Wu had no idea. He sat on the sofa, not daring to breathe, wishing the conversation would end so the mission could be over. But his boss just kept talking with this angelic figure. Long Wu knew he’d nearly been undone by his own inner darkness; he still dared not look at this “Miss.”

“Third Brother, you’re here for my help?” Shangguan Youmeng asked bluntly.

“Yes. I need you,” Long San replied just as directly.

“I… I still don’t understand what’s happening to me. How can I help you?” Shangguan Youmeng tried to refuse, shaking her head, though she knew Long San came prepared.

“I think I’ve found the way. Will you join us?” Long San’s tone left no doubt.

What Long San referred to was Wu Ming and the others. Since her recovery, Shangguan Youmeng had changed, becoming a shut-in. She herself felt transformed, unsure of her own abilities. She could control her own dreams and enter the dreams of others, manipulating time, space, energy—everything—within the dream world. Yet she had no idea why.

“In that case, I trust you, Third Brother. I’ll do as you say.” Shangguan Youmeng agreed without hesitation. “But your protégé here needs more tempering. Steel is forged with heavy blows!” The comment made Long Wu sweat, but Long San only laughed. “Thank you for the lesson, Miss. Consider him duly chastened.”

Back in the file review hall, Wu Ming pored over the dossier, noting its curious detail—it read more like a novel, recording every twist and turn.

“How odd. Why is there nothing about…” Wu Ming scratched his head, perplexed.

“Stop scratching your head, Junior! You’ll go bald!” Ling Mei teased. “What’s missing? A boyfriend?” she chuckled.

“No, Senior Sister. She doesn’t mention the Blood Moon. Isn’t that odd? All the other psychics do, but not her. It’s as if her ability is innate. We need to investigate this further,” Wu Ming sighed, overwhelmed by the strangeness of each file.

“You know, Junior, I recall reading about someone called ‘Nightmare’—left side was a seductive woman, right side a demon of desire. Since ancient times, it was said Nightmare controlled the whole dream realm until being destroyed by someone—who, I forget. Just a legend, probably not true,” Ling Mei, for once, did her best to recall her chaotic memory, only adding to Wu Ming’s confusion.

“Forget it—for now. We’ll investigate later. This Youmeng is definitely a key subject. I’ll ask Long San more about her later,” Wu Ming muttered, feeling increasingly bewildered.