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Qi Yutai had a dream.

A very long dream.

The dream was disjointed and chaotic, noisy and loud. One moment he was in a thatched cottage in Mangming Township with birdcages hanging above, the next he was in the midst of a surging fire within Fengle Building. Amidst the ash-filled sky, he saw an aged face with blood streaming from its eyes and nose, a simpleton with a vacant stare smiling at him, with a Light-vented singing crisply on his shoulder.

He ran in panic, only to be stopped by a locked door. Turning back, he saw a painted beauty in the room of Fengle Building shedding tears, coldly watching him.

"Ah—"

Qi Yutai abruptly opened his eyes, sitting up straight on the couch.

Hurried footsteps sounded by his ear, followed by the voice of a servant: "Young Master?"

Qi Yutai looked around in fear.