An Ping was witnessing Mu Gesheng’s rare moment of defeat for the first time. Before he could even begin to gloat, a sudden, sharp cramp seized his abdomen. He let out a strangled cry of pain and tumbled right off the sofa.
The impact jolted him awake.
An Ping lay there, dazed and disoriented, before finally realizing he was in his own home theater. He had fallen asleep during the movie—and in his dreams, months had passed.
*I didn’t starve to death?* An Ping fumbled for his phone in a daze. When he checked the date, he realized that less than a day had passed in the real world.
He had slept for over ten hours; it was now the morning of the next day.
An Ping sat on the floor, stunned, until reality finally hit him. He let out a panicked shriek. School started today! Not only was he going to be late, but he hadn't written a single word of his homework!
For a high schooler, academics were the center of the universe. An Ping immediately cast aside the chaotic remnants of his dream. He splashed his face with water, grabbed his backpack, and bolted out the door. He hailed a taxi and spent the entire ride trying to frantically finish his assignments, a desperate attempt to mend the fold after the sheep had already bolted. By the time he finally reached the school, the second period was already over.
“Rep! Why are you just getting here now?” His seatmate began to wail the moment he saw him. “No one in class finished the last set of practice papers. We’ve all been waiting for you like hungry chicks in a nest. Do you have no heart for your fellow man?”
“Sorry, sorry, I overslept.” An Ping forced his backpack into his desk drawer. “Where’s the homeroom teacher? I’m so late, he’s probably going to skin me alive.”
“The teacher isn't checking the class today.” His seatmate jerked his chin toward the back row. “*That* guy showed up.”
An Ping froze. He whipped his head around and saw Mu Gesheng sitting in the window seat, chatting cheerfully with a female student. As if sensing An Ping’s gaze, Mu Gesheng turned and gave him a wink.
“Holy crap! Was he just looking at you?!” His seatmate shuddered. “He actually didn’t go straight to sleep today? And since when did he get so close with the class rep?”
Only then did An Ping notice the girl sitting next to Mu Gesheng. It was the class representative, who had been absent for a long time. “The class rep is recovered?”
“Supposedly she’s all better. The class group chat was going crazy over it yesterday. She was meant to stay in the hospital for observation a bit longer, but she didn't want to stay there, so she decided to come back to school. Her parents personally dropped her off today; I saw them eating breakfast with her in the cafeteria.” His seatmate sighed. “Now those are real parents. I’m pretty sure mine found me in a dumpster.”
An Ping studied the class rep’s face. The girl looked spirited. Mu Gesheng seemed to be telling a joke, making her giggle uncontrollably.
The class rep had previously been a quiet, studious girl with a reserved personality. Now, she seemed much more vibrant than before.
After a major illness, both the patient and those around them likely came to understand many things. After a long vigil by a hospital bed, the moment a daughter finally opens her eyes is perhaps worth more than anything else.
“Hey, I never realized that guy was so easy to talk to,” his seatmate whispered. “He usually never comes to class, and the rare times he does, he’s dead to the world in the back row. He looks like someone you shouldn't mess with. I don't know what kind of medicine he took today… Crap, did you see that? He just smiled! How can he be so damn handsome?!”
An Ping was speechless. He thought to himself that his seatmate was being fooled by appearances; this guy was nothing but a wicked old wolf in sheep's clothing. Just as he was grumbling internally, he noticed a sudden silence around him. He looked up to find Mu Gesheng standing before him, looking remarkably pleasant. “How’s the body feeling?”
His seatmate covered his mouth, letting out a strangled, squeaky gasp.
“Fine. I skipped breakfast, so I’m a bit hungry.” An Ping didn't know what to say for a moment, so he chose his words carefully. “I woke up late. I was dreaming all night.”
“That won’t do. You can’t go hungry at your age,” Mu Gesheng said. “Come on, lunch is on me.”
Before he could finish, the bell rang for the start of class. Mu Gesheng completely ignored the physics teacher who had just walked in and strolled out of the classroom with casual arrogance.
“…Rep, I know your family is rich, but I was shallow. I underestimated the imagination of the wealthy.” His seatmate looked at him with a mix of horror and admiration, lowering his voice. “You actually took Mu Gesheng in as your lackey?”
An Ping: *I am begging you, stop making things up.*
He did indeed have many questions for Mu Gesheng. After sitting restlessly for a few minutes, he couldn't hold back anymore. Using the excuse of a bathroom break, he slipped out of the classroom.
Mu Gesheng was at the end of the hallway, filling a thermos at the water dispenser. Hearing An Ping’s footsteps, he remarked casually, “In the middle of winter, these City First High uniforms are thin enough to freeze a man to death. It’s good to be young.”
An Ping understood the subtext immediately. Surprised, he asked, “You know that I know?”
“An Ping, my friend, you’re talking in circles.” Mu Gesheng opened a bag of goji berries and dropped them into his thermos. “One night isn't exactly short. What did you dream about?”
The hallway wasn't a good place to talk. An Ping followed Mu Gesheng to the rooftop. He gave a brief account of what had happened in the dream. As Mu Gesheng listened, he let out a few soft chuckles.
“How many flowers have fallen in that dream.” Mu Gesheng leaned against the railing, unscrewing his thermos as steam drifted into the air. “It seems you know quite a bit now, An Ping. Any thoughts?”
“I can’t really say.” An Ping was silent for a moment before asking, “Why did I have that dream?”
“The situation in the Santu Realm was urgent, and you tasted my blood,” Mu Gesheng explained. “Blood is a medium. It’s not strange that you obtained my memories through it.”
“Did you do it on purpose?” An Ping had already seen Mu Gesheng’s skills. Escaping the Santu Realm shouldn't have been difficult for him, and bringing a "noob" like An Ping along shouldn't have been an issue either. There was absolutely no necessity to feed him blood.
But he couldn't think of a reason why Mu Gesheng would do such a thing. He was just an ordinary rich kid; his daily homework was enough to kill him. Why would a man like Mu Gesheng take an interest in him?
“Oh, right. You haven't dreamed of that place yet.” Mu Gesheng held his thermos, blowing away the steam. “Actually, I’ve died once.”
An Ping froze.
“By now, you must know that everyone in that dream is connected to an entity we call the ‘Seven Houses of Philosophers.’”
“You can think of it as a form of heritage. A thousand years ago, seven types of people came together to establish an organization. Through the shifting sands of time and the changing of dynasties, it has never fallen. Among these seven types, some are families, some are sects, and some are lineages passed from master to a single disciple. Each type constitutes a ‘House,’ and the head of each House holds the title of a ‘Master.’ Thus, they are known as the Seven Houses of Philosophers.”
“An Ping, you’ve already met four of the Masters in your dream—Chai Shuxin of the Medicine House, who holds the title of Master Lingshu; Song Wentong of the Mohist House, who holds the title of Master Mo; and Wu Zixu of the Yin-Yang House, who holds the title of Master Wuchang. Three of the seven houses are family lineages: the Chai, the Song, and the Wu.”
“I understand those three now.” An Ping thought for a moment. “You said I’ve met four Masters. Who is the other one?”
“You met my master, didn't you?” Mu Gesheng laughed. “The old man is Master Tiansuan.”
“Master Tiansuan?”
“In the Tiansuan lineage, the succession is passed to a single disciple in each generation. No more than three disciples are ever taken; once a successor is determined, everyone else must leave the sect,” Mu Gesheng said. “Because the numbers are so few, one person *is* the House. Therefore, we aren't called the ‘Tiansuan House’ or anything like that. Master Tiansuan is the Tiansuan House.”
An Ping pondered this for a moment. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask. These so-called Seven Houses of Philosophers… what exactly do they do?”
Mu Gesheng blinked, then laughed. “Fair enough. No wonder you don't know; in your dream, you probably only saw us fighting.”
An Ping thought to himself: *Not just fighting—there was also all that trivial stuff like eating, drinking, and sleeping.*
“Each of the Seven Houses has a specialty. The Medicine House specializes in silver needles and herbal medicine; their medical skills are peerless, capable of bringing the dead back to life. The Mohist House excels in the arts of divine craftsmanship, mechanics, and metallurgy; they possess the skills of legendary artisans. The Yin-Yang House is born with bodies that are half-underworld; they can command gods and ghosts, traveling between the realms of the living and the dead. As for Master Tiansuan, as the name suggests, he’s a fortune teller.”
That last one sounded a bit too casual. An Ping couldn't help but press further. “A fortune teller?”
“Tiansuan means ‘Heavenly Calculation.’ Each generation of Master Tiansuan inherits forty-nine Mountain Ghost Amulet Coins to calculate the Mandate of Heaven,” Mu Gesheng said. “Historical records suggest that Mountain Ghost coins only appeared during the Yuan and Ming dynasties, but the ones held by Master Tiansuan can be traced back to antiquity. My master used to say they were personally crafted by Fuxi, though I don't know if he was just bragging.”
The information was overwhelming, and coming from Mu Gesheng’s mouth, it sounded like he was spinning a tall tale. However, the things An Ping had experienced over the past few days were beyond common sense, and he was completely immersed in the narrative. Moreover, he had an inexplicable intuition: though Mu Gesheng looked casual, he was telling the truth right now.
“Master Tiansuan calculates the Mandate of Heaven?”
“Correct. Among the Seven Houses of Philosophers, Master Tiansuan is the leader. In ancient times, as the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors passed away, a sage sensed that the world was about to change. Thus, he gathered like-minded individuals to carry out the Mandate of Heaven and uphold the righteous path. This was the origin of the Seven Houses. That sage was the first Master Tiansuan. With the forty-nine Mountain Ghost coins in his hand, he could calculate the Mandate of Heaven. The Seven Houses then used that Mandate as their guide, making choices at critical moments to lead the mortal world. This heritage has continued through every dynasty. You could say that behind every change of power or sudden upheaval in the world, the shadows of the Seven Houses can be found.”
An Ping found it hard to believe. “Is it really that accurate?”
Mu Gesheng pulled out a handful of pocket change. “Want me to calculate your college entrance exam score?”
An Ping immediately changed his tune. “I believe you.”
He took a moment to digest the information. “So far, I’ve only seen four houses. What about the other three?”
“The other family lineage is the Zhu House. Their head holds the title of Master Xingxiu; they possess the bloodline of the Vermilion Bird, so they’re basically gods. The sect-based lineage is the Immortal House of Penglai; their leader holds the title of Master Changsheng, following the path of seeking immortality—let’s call them half-immortals. Finally, there is Master Luosha. This one only appears in times of great chaos, has no fixed lineage, and is generated randomly.” Mu Gesheng gave a rough overview. “You’ll see them if you go back and sleep a few more times.”
An Ping memorized the distribution of these powers like he was reading a game guide. Suddenly, he remembered something. “Wait, what did you say just now? You’ve died once?” The realization finally sank in. Even though he knew Mu Gesheng was an "old monster," he still felt goosebumps.
“You finally caught that, did you?” Mu Gesheng looked at him with a half-smile. “Correct. Or to put it more accurately—I am a man who has already died.”
***
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