Having finally lost sight of the two men, three others jumped down from the carriage, cupping their hands with a smile and saying, "We shall meet again."
One by one, friends leaped from the carriage to bid farewell, like the end of a play, the audience dispersing.
Chen Ji tried to remember their faces, but those friends were cloaked in the darkness of night, their features never clear.
He asked the person next to him, "Where are they off to?"
No one answered.
Chen Ji looked around in surprise, only to find that on this swaying ox-cart, he was the sole, lonely passenger remaining.
At that moment, a basin of cold water cascaded from above, startling him awake from the lengthy dream.
Chen Ji slowly opened his eyes and looked up to find his hands bound and suspended from the ceiling of the inner prison, the icy chains digging painfully into his wrists.
Looking down, he saw his whole body sopping wet, with water still dripping from his tousled hair and chin.
