o: Through the Mist

In the darkness, a shadow of a sword appeared, a crisp sword light flashing by. Then a second, a third—more sword shadows intersected in the dark. Instead of the expected clangs of metal, there was silence. Tao Ci was stunned watching the sword shadows before discovering something remarkable amidst their chaos!

Left one, right two, diagonal three... Upon careful observation, there was a traceable pattern.

The expected sounds of cold steel clashing were missing, replaced by muted drumming, sometimes like torrential rain, sometimes like a light, graceful touch. Tao Ci felt a bit intoxicated, on the verge of a revelation, when the sword shadows suddenly halted, and a mist swept away all the shadows like a sand painting, each sweep removing sand for a new transformation.

Not long after returning to darkness, a distant figure appeared. Tao Ci couldn’t see clearly. It was far and blurry, seemingly a woman approaching him. Each step seemed to take centuries, yet the figure gradually became clearer: flowing long hair, a tall and upright figure, holding a sword in her left hand, standing quietly on the horizon.

Startled, Tao Ci wondered why he was encountering such a dream when he hadn't watched any period dramas recently. “Who is this fairy intruding into my dreams?” But before he could gather his thoughts and take a closer look, the shadowy figure paused her steps. After a while with no progress in closing the distance, Tao Ci tried walking towards her. Yet, every step forward he took, she would retreat a step.

After a few futile steps, he stopped. With each advance, she would retreat the same distance, maintaining their gap unchanged. Determined, Tao Ci prepared to dash, aiming to catch her off guard. He bent his knees slowly—seeing no reaction from her, he suddenly leapt forward with all his strength. This time she didn’t retreat, but as he was about to see her face, an inexplicable discomfort surged into Tao Ci’s mind.

“Ah!” Tao Ci gasped, his breathing irregular. Looking around, his colleagues remained in various napping poses, illustrating that the lunch break continued. Suddenly, the light seemed glaring and unusually disorienting. Tao Ci adjusted his breathing, picked up his phone and lit the screen: 13:22. The work bell was about to ring, but a few minutes of tranquility remained to be enjoyed.

He put the book in the left drawer, poured some water into the bottle cap, drank it all but still felt parched, so he drank a few more cups until no more water came out. Feeling the weight of his body, Tao Ci leaned back in his chair, tilting it to a nearly flat 140 degrees.

It was the seventh time this month he had strange dreams. Initially, he thought it was the influence of the novels or films he watched during the day. But lat

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