Just as they were in the middle of a stalemate, they suddenly heard a shout from Zhang Chengling’s room next door. Zhou Zishu’s brow furrowed. Pushing Wen Kexing away, he put on his outer robe with lightning-quick speed, rose, and fled. Wen Kexing shook his head and sighed. Bringing his five fingers near the tip of his nose, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply in intoxicated pleasure, before slowly following him out.

Zhang Chengling had merely been trapped in the throes of a nightmare. When Zhou Zishu pushed the door open and entered, he discovered him with his eyes tightly shut, mumbling something Zhou Zishu could not discern. He had worked up a sweat from kicking and flailing about. Zhou Zishu pushed at him, but found that he could not wake him. He held his wrist, channelling a thin thread of qi into him, and only then did Zhang Chengling tremble all over with a shout, "Don't kill him!"

Then he bolted upright into a sitting position. Slowly, the fear in his eyes dissipated, and an expression of slight confusion appeared on his face. He looked at Zhou Zishu, and called in a daze, “Shifu…”

Zhou Zishu patted his head, and pressed him back down without a word. Tugging his covers back into place over him, he said, “Go to sleep.” Then he sat by the bed, leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed in front of his chest as he closed his eyes to rest, as though he was staying by his side.

For a long while, Zhang Chengling was silent, then tugged lightly at Zhou Zishu’s clothes and said in a small voice, “Shifu, just now I dreamt about...a person who was cloaked completely from head to toe holding a knife, he rested it against the throat of my father’s second wife, and forcefully questioned my father “where is it”. Was that…”

Zhou Zishu opened his eyes. At this moment, the door was pushed open from the outside, and Wen Kexing walked in. Upon hearing this, his expression grew serious, and asked as he thought about it, “What did that person look like? Did he have any features of note?”

Zhang Chengling thought for a long while, and shook his head remorsefully. “I couldn’t see it clearly in my dream…”

Zhou Zishu recalled the sentence that the Delighted Mourning Ghost had forcefully questioned the youth with that day, and a thought struck him. He asked, “Did you notice if that person’s hand had five fingers, or four?”

Zhang Chengling shook his head again, looking at him with wide eyes. Zhou Zishu sighed, patted his head, and said softly, “Go to sleep…”

One stood and the other sat, but both were silent. When Zhang Chengling's breathing had finally evened out, the boy evidently asleep, Zhou Zishu tugged his blankets into place, stood, and exited with Wen Kexing.