Das Grab von Qin Shi Huang

Kapitel 15

He walked straight up to me and stared at me directly with his deep, dark blue eyes, as undisguised as the sea on a full moon night:

"One bottle of Bird's Nest yogurt, please."

His voice was deep and resonant, like the sound of a cello string, equally captivating.

Under that gaze, I couldn't refuse his request. After handing him what he wanted, I added, "Sorry, I'm not a waiter."

He turned his head, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a subtle arc; it was the worst and most charming smile I had ever seen.

“Of course,” he said, “I know.”

As he spoke, he grabbed the yogurt, smashed the glass with a "bang," and jumped out of the store.

The police sirens blared. A fat man in a police uniform—unfortunately, I still couldn't see his face clearly. In fact, in my dream, everyone except "that man" was indistinct; I could only identify them by their clothes—they called the fat man "Sheriff." The Sheriff, gun in hand, stormed in, furious, and immediately demanded, "Has anyone seen White Tiger?"

Including myself, everyone shook their heads blankly in denial. The sheriff ripped the wanted poster off the wall and pointed to the handsome man on it, saying, "That's him! The serial killer! Someone reported that he was just in the vicinity!"

Someone, no one knows who, let out a brief scream, which was quickly swallowed back down. Everyone was undoubtedly thinking, "Don't cause trouble, just stay safe." The sheriff glanced around the small supermarket and added, "He loves yogurt, he drinks at least ten cans a day. Did he really not come here?"

A man's voice immediately responded, "I heard you miss me, Sheriff?" This time, not even the bell on the door was disturbed. He stood silently in the sun like a ghost, playfully winking at me.

Volume Two: The Nightmare King of the Other Shore Flower (Part Two)

"White Tiger!" The sheriff only managed to shout once before the gun fired, three shots in quick succession. He couldn't even lift his police gun, staring in shock at the bullet holes in his body, the blood gushing out even splattering onto his face, hot and sticky.

"Like it? I'm giving you 'death' as a gift?" He chuckled, his twin pistols unhesitatingly unleashing a hail of bullets on the screaming, fleeing crowd. "Everyone gets one!" I stood there, stunned, only hearing the long, horrifying screams of those hit. Smoke filled my vision as he strode towards me, his movements like a drunken dance. I was too terrified to move.

“I fell in love with you at first sight,” he whispered in my ear, while gunshots rang out behind me. Each shot undoubtedly meant the birth of a new victim. In this symphony of blood and fire, smoke and death, he confessed his love to me, “I will not hurt you, really.”

"How long...did it start?" My answer was more like a groan.

“Just now.” He lightly leaped onto the counter, pulling the pale-faced cashier out from under it. She trembled in his strong arms. He greedily cupped her face, making clicking sounds as if praising her beauty.

"Please, spare my life! I won't tell anyone!" I heard the woman plead desperately.

"Ah..." He caressed her overly bright red lips intimately, and said softly, "If you kiss me, I'll spare you."

The woman stretched out her trembling arms and hugged his neck; she closed her eyes, seemingly waiting for his kiss—the gun went off, and her lifeless body slid limply to the ground. I couldn't help but shake my head, "You shouldn't have killed her."

And he, nonchalantly blowing on the smoke rising from the gun barrel, said, "I like you." His tall frame seemed to press down like Mount Tai, and his masculine yet devilish face remains captivating to this day. He looked at me, his deep blue eyes etching a spell into my mind:

"Remember, you belong only to me; I will take you away in 42 days."

She took a slight breath, clearly exhausted from the long and tedious narration. The astrologer offered her a cup of yogurt, which she rubbed for a moment before putting it down.

"Do you have any Bird's Nest brand ones? He only likes that brand."

The astrologer preferred domestic brands, and faced with her pickiness, he could only apologize. After she had been lost in thought for a while, she regained her composure and lit a cigarette.

The dream was so vivid that even after waking up, I lingered in a state of excitement mixed with a strange melancholy. Thinking about it carefully, the dream didn't seem to take place in China; the shopping streets, supermarkets, and even the so-called "sheriff" in the dream were more like something out of the American West. The only thing I clearly remember is Baihu's face, possessing an irresistible allure for the opposite sex. Even his cold-blooded, ruthless methods of killing seemed strangely captivating to me. If he weren't a character in my dream but a living, breathing man, I think I would have fallen madly in love with him, and we would have had a passionate, earth-shattering romance!

Yet, I must continue my mundane campus life. My mailbox is overflowing with love letters again. I skimmed through them; nothing creative, just empty phrases like "amazing" and "want to be friends." These boring love letters are only fit to be sold to the scrap collector downstairs for two cents a pound before going to the recycling center. Lunch is another dinner invitation, hosted by a guy who's both unattractive and academically challenged. Dinner is the same—different guy, same unattractive. God, why is my life so miserable!

For the first time, I longed to see him sooner, the White Tiger of my dreams. Compared to ordinary campus romance, falling in love with a cold-blooded killer and living a life of bloodshed on the edge of a knife is far, far more exciting! So I went to bed very early, closed my eyes, and waited for the White Tiger to appear.

"He didn't come?" the astrologer asked.

She was silent for a while, then shook her head. "At that time, I didn't understand the relationship between the number of days on the card and the White Tiger. I waited for another six days, and it wasn't until the card reappeared on the seventh day that I finally saw him."

This time, it was in a magnificent palace. I dreamt I was naked, letting my maids apply fragrant sandalwood ointment to my chest and drape me in flowing, misty gowns. They were all heavily made up, their long, black hair flowing freely, exuding a rich, perfumed scent. Yet, all I could see were faces painted in vibrant colors—golden eyeshadow, blue eyebrows, and crimson rouge—but no facial features. I didn't know who I was, but strangely, I knew what I was about to do. After the maids finished dressing me, they pushed a large, full-length bronze mirror in front of me. I could hardly believe my eyes. Standing in it was a woman of regal beauty, radiant with glamour. I knew I was beautiful; everyone had praised me that way since childhood. But when I saw myself in the mirror, a tremendous shock left me speechless, utterly dumbfounded. I had never realized I could be so otherworldly, so breathtakingly beautiful. I was so moved by my own beauty that I shed tears.

A bride. More precisely, a princess.

Surrounded by the crowd, I gracefully stepped out of the crescent-shaped silver archway. Emerging from the other side was the king, wearing an eagle-shaped crown and holding a sun scepter—my husband, though I couldn't see how majestic he was. Under the guidance of the red-robed priest, the king and I walked simultaneously to the center of the altar. The moment the priest spoke, the crowd outside the temple suddenly stirred.

A man, a man with a tiger-skin cloak draped over his shoulders, strode in amidst the commotion of the crowd, his tall figure gradually melting into the afterglow of the setting sun. His deep blue eyes lazily swept over everything in the temple, and when he inadvertently caught sight of me, he jolted as if struck by lightning.

Wang stepped forward and hugged him. "You've finally arrived, my brother. You've made it just in time for my wedding."

Even when my brother held me in his arms, he still stared at me restlessly, scrutinizing every inch of my skin from head to toe. I knew that brazen gaze all too well; it was that captivating look that made me blush yet haunted my dreams. Did he remember me? Did he recognize me? My heart pounded in my chest.

"White Tiger?" I called his name softly.

"You recognize me?" His laughter was still childlike and innocent, yet there was something in his tone that made me suspicious. When I looked up again, I saw him holding the Sun Scepter high in the air, and beneath his feet lay the corpse of his poor brother, whom he had just murdered. Just as the king embraced his brother, the White Tiger flicked his wrist, and a bronze dagger plunged deep into his chest. Without even a scream, the king died. The White Tiger grabbed my hand and pulled me into his broad chest.

Volume Two: The Nightmare King of the Other Shore Flower (Part Three)

“I fell in love with you at first sight,” he murmured gently, sounding familiar. “You can’t be with anyone but me.”

"How long ago...?"

“Just now. So I killed him, only for you,” his large hand slowly stroked me, leaving a long bloody mark on his black hair, “From now on, remember, you belong only to me.”

"I'll come pick you up in 35 days..."

The astrologer carefully counted on her fingers; the dream's seven-day cycle was crystal clear. Her fair, jade-like chin trembled uncontrollably, and the lines of her neck were as elegant and captivating as a swan's. She had indeed once been a stunningly beautiful woman, so it wasn't surprising that a dream demon had fallen for her and entered her dreams to express its love. The astrologer completely understood this feeling.

“I must have been crazy back then, in my dream… I remember him pulling me onto the throne, and beneath our feet were mountains of corpses of his brother and other rebels. We mocked the innocent dead, living a life of debauchery and unbridled indulgence, drinking and reveling all night long, our laughter deafening… Oh God!” she groaned, clutching her head in distress. “When I came to my senses, I realized how immoral and sordid it was, but in my dreams, the pleasure of indulging with him was always so intoxicating, and his innate aura of a conqueror captivated me…” She drifted off into thought again.

"Aren't you afraid of him?" the astrologer asked. "From your description, he seems to be a ruthless killer who regards human life as worthless?"

"No! That's not right!" she protested vehemently. "I don't think he killed any people! Those things didn't have faces at all; they were just symbolic scenes from my dream!"

“But isn’t he also one of the symbols in your dreams?” the astrologer gently retorted. “In the end, the White Tiger is just an illusion reflecting your inner desires.”

"No!" she screamed, standing up and glaring at the astrologer with a terrifying look in her eyes. "You know nothing! The White Tiger is a real person! He came out of my dreams!"

Seven days later, she dreamt of Baihu again. She sat up in bed, letting the sunlight stream onto her smooth back. She longed to crawl back into the warm blankets, to return to Baihu's strong, broad embrace, and savor every moment of their first meeting. This encounter took place in ancient China. She was a sorceress from a cult, and also the most beautiful woman in the martial arts world, while he was a direct disciple of Wudang, a scion of a prestigious family. Change always begins when their eyes first met. Baihu fell in love with her at first sight, betraying his sect and committing treason for her, stirring up a bloody storm in the martial arts world. Finally, after eliminating all her admirers and potential suitors, he finally embraced her, his soft, earthy hair brushing against her delicate earlobe.

"Remember, you belong only to me."

What confident, yet willful and domineering words of love! Yet, it was precisely his unreasonable, kingly demeanor that captivated her completely. Each time, Baihu fell in love with her at first sight, launching the most ardent and forceful pursuit, his passion burning like a raging fire. But her poetic, girlish heart subtly added weight to their love each time. Every time he saw her, it was new; every time, he was awestruck; his fervor never waned—to Baihu, she was always a new love, always on their honeymoon—how wonderful!

However, reality was far from rosy. A boy named Zheng Hua had been pursuing her since middle school, vowing to marry no one but her. He followed her from the same junior high school all the way to the same university, haunting her like a ghost. She was genuinely annoyed by him, but no matter how she tried to drive him away, tease him, or make explicit or implicit advances, Zheng Hua was stubbornly persistent and refused to change his mind. Sometimes, she would soften her heart or take the initiative to help when she was in trouble, and Zheng Hua would be busy running around, eager to help. But helping was one thing, and being grateful was another. When she was happy, she might be as sweet as honey, calling him "brother," but when it came to boyfriends, her face would change like the afternoon sky, instantly turning gloomy. But Zheng Hua didn't see it that way. He acted like an older brother and started interfering in her daily life. He would call her at least ten times a day to inquire about her well-being, which annoyed her so much that she simply turned off her phone. Then Zheng Hua would call her dormitory to inquire about her whereabouts, or he would suddenly intercept her downstairs at the girls' dormitory, insisting on going to and from school with her "little sister" and never leaving her side. He was even stricter than the neighborhood committee aunties!

Calling him "brother" is just being polite, but he really thinks he's something special! It's so annoying! She stormed off to bed in a huff. Her roommate told her that Zheng Hua had called again, insisting she answer the phone. She replied curtly, never imagining that this unintentional remark would become Zheng Hua's prophecy:

"Let him die!"

The next morning, a sanitation worker found Zheng Hua's body curled up in a ball in the privet bushes below the girls' dormitory.

"It was Baihu! It must have been him!" She gasped nervously, her pink tongue licking her dry lips. "Because he said I belonged only to him!"

"You believe that the White Tiger killed his love rival in his dream, so he will do the same in real life, right?" the astrologer asked.

“That’s right, he’s the most jealous person, and I really can’t do anything about it,” she said, furrowing her delicate eyebrows and staring intently at the astrologer with her dark eyes. “Besides, I’ve given him instructions.”

Zheng Hua's death shocked and terrified her. When she and Bai Hu met again during the 21-day dream, standing together after all the fighting, she still remembered to ask Bai Hu that question.

And he actually remembered to answer, even though his answer was exactly what she expected. "Of course it was me, baby. Didn't you tell me to do it?"

He cupped her face and kissed her earnestly. She had her eyes closed, but a strange sensation stirred within her. He was licking her—not kissing, but tracing the lines of her soft, white neck, his lips moving up and down, while he murmured indistinctly, "Just give the order, my beauty, what is murder! I'd do anything for you!"

"Just for you...!"

Volume Two: The Nightmare King of the Other Shore Flower (Part Four)

The cigarette butt burned her finger, and she jolted, pulling herself out of her reverie. She forced a smile. "When I heard that, I felt both scared and relieved."

"The latter is more likely," the astrologer chimed in knowingly. "A perfect lover, especially for a woman like you."

Even so, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, fearing that she might lose control of her emotions and cause a tragic event. She repeatedly warned herself not to easily lose her temper, lest the White Tiger go berserk again. Although he was utterly loyal to her, he often couldn't distinguish between jokes and reality. Murder was a crime, and even though the White Tiger could freely travel between reality and dreams, and could ignore the threats of human police, he had still committed a crime. Unlike the blurry figures in her dreams, Zheng Hua was a living, breathing human being. He should have ended his infatuation with her in time, fallen in love with and married an ordinary girl, and died peacefully surrounded by his wife and children, instead of lying in the bushes below the girls' dormitory, becoming a blood sacrifice for the White Tiger.

Baihu had said that she belonged only to him, and anyone who dared to oppose him would only face death. In her heart, she silently cried out to her suitors, "Leave me! No one but Baihu can have me. For your sake, I must not lose my temper, and I must not utter the word 'death.'"

But not long after, she forgot about the ban. The reason was that one day, a major incident occurred at K University that shocked the entire campus. Along the nearly one-kilometer-long tree-lined path from the girls' dormitory to the second teaching building (commonly known as the Second Teaching Building), the trunks of more than fifty plane trees along the path were all painted white, and five bloody characters were written on each plane tree. The ghastly red color looked at first glance as if it had been painted with human blood, but in fact it was just red paint.

The five large characters are:

I love you, Narcissus.

On that very day, she became infamous at K University, utterly humiliated.

The perpetrator of the tree trunk love confession incident was quickly found: a crazed art student who had dated her for a mere month. He openly expressed his deep love for her and his profound regret after their breakup, telling the school newspaper reporter the same thing, and repeating it over the school radio station's loudspeaker. He even shouted his love slogans directly on the radio, his rough voice echoing throughout every corner of the campus, while she could only manage to close the window, her face ashen, speechless.

He portrayed himself as a devoted and faithful man, while she became a promiscuous woman who took pleasure in manipulating and tormenting men, needing their praise to breathe. Despite this, he still regretted his decision to break up with her. "As long as it makes you happy, I'm willing to endure the bites of the serpent of jealousy alone," he pleaded earnestly, urging her to turn back. He promised that, no matter how long it took, he would always wait for her.

"That beast!" she muttered under her breath, a momentary lapse in judgment leading to this terrible mistake. Indeed, not long after they started dating, she discovered he was unambitious and jealous. How could she have been so blinded by sweet words, abandoning so many good men to choose him alone? So she decisively dumped him, ignoring his tearful pleas and vowing never to return, even if it meant a tragic ending straight out of a Shakespearean play. But he wouldn't leave her alone, daring to make defamatory remarks and cause trouble in front of the entire school! And the worst was yet to come. Pengfei (his name) even appeared on the popular LOVE section of the BBS, starting a serialized column—"The Untold Story of Me and Narcissus"—2000 words a day, updated regularly at 8:00 PM, recounting every detail of their relationship. This won over many enthusiastic readers, and countless others were moved by his tender and poignant writing, leaving numerous comments in his own thread. These comments boil down to two main points: first, sympathizing with Pengfei and encouraging him to overcome his trauma and pull himself together; second, condemning Shuixian as a modern-day "Pan Jinlian," a "bitch," a "slut," and using all sorts of vicious and offensive language. Since no one can see what lies behind the scenes, everyone has donned their armor and joined the fray, using the insults directed at a woman exposed to the world to enhance their own reputation as moral guardians. If their insults could be converted into spittle, she would have been drowned forty-five times over.

No wonder it's been said for a long time that the power of the masses is boundless. The overwhelming condemnation crushed her. Her close classmates and alumni, completely forgetting the ancient admonition that "only the innocent can be judged," spontaneously formed a third-party jury to determine her moral character. Her beautiful eyes no longer held any admiration, only the blatant contempt of her classmates. An electric net of mockery filled the air; every step she took triggered waves of ridicule. From then on, no boy dared approach her. Everyone distanced themselves from her, as if she were the Sirens of Greek mythology, ready to devour them at any moment. The school beauty, stripped of her supporting layers of green leaves, could only wither and fade rapidly in the dried-up sea of praise.

All of this was accomplished in just two days, during which Peng Fei fabricated the facts.

Damn it! Die! Die, all of you! She made up her mind, and the tip of the scissors plunged deep into the desk, piercing a horrifying hole. The same hole appeared in Pengfei's body; the scissors also pierced his heart, and blood gushed out like a fountain, shimmering a mesmerizing red in the setting sun.

"...That boy, he also died at the hands of the White Tiger?" the astrologer asked.

A deep smile line appeared on her face, with a smug and strange look on her face. She shook her head slightly. "There's more than one."

Peng Fei, a reporter for the school newspaper and an announcer for the school radio station… She slowly counted on her fingers, counting one on one hand and then the other, “Every Sunday morning, when I wake up, the school gains a fresh corpse. Those who insulted me, those who fueled the flames, those who mocked me to my face, and,” a strange smile flickered in her eyes, “those who hid behind computer screens, thinking they were safe because no one knew, secretly morally condemning me, one by one, they became the most permanent silent ones in the world, never to speak again.”

Volume Two: The Nightmare King of the Other Shore Flower (Part Five) - Complete

Sunday, the day of rest for God who created all things, has plunged humankind into eternal slumber.

The faces she knew, the faces she'd only met once, and those complete strangers she'd never even dreamt of—all of them, covered in blood, struggled and howled in her dreams until they collapsed. Only the White Tiger's unrestrained laughter chased after them, like a shadow. Every step he took was paved with mountains of bones, and trails of crimson blood spread from his feet.

She covered her eyes with her hands, veins bulging, as if she couldn't bear to look. "Enough," she said in a trembling, weak voice through her fingers. "It's enough. Even if it was to avenge me, the blood on his hands is too deep and too thick. The resentment he felt back then has long since vanished with Peng Fei's death."

"If that's the case, why don't you just tell Baihu to stop the killing?" the astrologer asked an obvious question. "Doesn't he just follow your orders?"

"How could I not want to?" She raised her head and sighed deeply towards the sky. "But ever since Pengfei was killed, I have never seen Baihu again."

A 14-day dream, a 7-day dream, until the final end, the day promised to pick her up… Baihu completely vanished, never to appear before her again. He broke his promise, refusing to return to the dream world in pursuit of his prey in reality, abandoning the woman who waited for him so desperately in his dream.

It's been a full twenty years... Her faint sigh drifted like the wind into the astrologer's ears.

And the killing continued. Every week, every year. For a full twenty years.

“That’s why I came to you, you astrologer with flesh and blood.” Her dark eyes seemed to be filled with an abyss of helplessness and despair. “I heard you can grant your clients’ wishes, no matter how strange or unusual, as long as the client pays the corresponding price, you are capable of anything…”

“Indeed,” a mysterious smile crept onto the astrologer’s lips, “an equal exchange, fair and square. All I need is a woman’s body.”

She smiled; even with a few stray white hairs mixed in with her full head of black hair, which were particularly eye-catching, her smile was still incredibly charming; she was generous and graceful, and before the astrologer kissed her arm, he secretly stuck out his bright red tongue. The moment his cold tongue touched her still smooth skin, both of them shivered strangely.

She was no longer young, yet still beautiful. When the astrologer bit into her slender throat, his sharp teeth sank deep into her soft, elastic blood vessels—cutting, rupturing—the gushing arterial blood drenched him from head to toe. Every pore of his body, even his black trench coat and white gloves, greedily absorbed this crimson source of life, in exchange for their own longer existence.

The astrologer raised his head, his entire body shrouded in the blood rain, silent, his vision clouded by a crimson mist. As the viscous raindrops gradually coalesced into streaks of bloody tears, slowly flowing down his hairline and cheeks, a man appeared before him.

A man with a radiant smile, as fierce as a tiger, exuding agile explosive power and the aura of a king. A large red "king" character was etched on his forehead.

White Tiger.

The white tiger was laughing; he looked at the astrologer, his smile revealing a row of neat, white teeth, innocent and naive. He didn't even glance at the woman lying in a pool of blood beside him, as if she had never existed.

Only the astrologer could see that his eyes were as cold as the solid ice at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean, without a ripple. It was a cruel and ruthless gaze unique to reptiles, a heart of stone.

"You killed this woman?" Baihu Gege laughed, her large hands seemingly casually tucked into her pockets, but actually poised to strike and kill him. Only the astrologer understood the depth of his feelings for her; it wasn't simply a matter of "love at first sight."