Chapter 8: Dream Awakened

Wei Lan borrowed eight copper coins from Liu Mingyi—this was her capital for today’s experiment.

She arrived at the famous Xiaoyao Tower in the city, a gambler’s paradise and one of the liveliest places around. The faded wooden doors bore red lanterns, and shouts and cheers constantly leaked from the cracks.

The moment she pushed the door open, a wave of sweat and alcohol hit her nose, making her instinctively hold her breath.

Inside, smoke curled through the air as gamblers shouted and dice clattered. The gambling tables were packed tight, offering everything from dice games to Pai Gow and Mahjong. Excitement and despair painted the faces of the crowd—some flushed with exhilaration, others pale from devastating losses.

Wei Lan scanned the room. The place was filled with men, making her presence stand out sharply. Strangely, though she seemed out of place, no one cast her a second glance, as if she were invisible.

She squeezed her way to the innermost gambling table, just in time to see the dealer lift the dice cup.

The gamblers’ eyes were bloodshot, their faces twisted with tension. Some were red with excitement, while others looked ashen from defeat. The dealer spun the dice cup across the table, the suspense growing with every second.

Among them, one man caught her attention. His expression was a mix of despair and madness, his remaining chips pitifully few. Yet, with reckless determination, he pushed his last copper coins onto the table.

Suddenly, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his robe and shouted, “This is my wife’s indenture contract! I’ll wager it all for one last chance to win back my fortune!” His eyes were bloodshot, and his robe was stained with liquor.

For a moment, the crowd froze. Then, laughter erupted.

Wei Lan felt a wave of sorrow. She had glimpsed the cruelest side of gambling houses.

The man was beyond reason. The house manager exchanged glances with the guards stationed in the shadows. Two burly men stepped forward, grabbed him by the arms, and dragged him away without mercy.

He kicked and screamed, “Just one more chance!” But his pleas were quickly swallowed by the noise of the gambling hall. No one paid him any attention.

Wei Lan watched in silence, a mix of emotions surging in her heart. She realized that this place was ruthless—winners were few, and most ended up losing everything. Clutching her copper coins tightly, she now understood the cruel nature of the game.

In the corner of the hall stood a water clock, its level shifting with the passage of time.

Wei Lan’s gaze flickered toward it. When the marker hit the ninth hour, she placed all eight of her copper coins on “Big.” The gamblers around her mostly bet on “Small.” The dealer revealed the dice: four, five, six—”Big.” A chorus of disappointed sighs erupted. Silently, she collected her sixteen copper coins.

For the second round, she bet on “Big” again. The dice spun, then settled—three, five, six—”Big” once more. Her coins doubled to thirty-two.

In the third round, as the dice cup lifted, a fine layer of sweat formed at the back of her neck. The dice revealed two, six, six—”Big” again. Sixty-four copper coins clinked in front of her.

Wei Lan quietly gathered her winnings, heart pounding with excitement and disbelief. Was this divine intervention or mere luck? Regardless, today, she had bet against fate—and won.

When she stepped out of Xiaoyao Tower, the sun shone brightly. Her spirits soared like the golden light flooding the streets. With a heavy purse, she dashed toward Lao Tang Tavern.

The waiter, seeing her beaming face, grinned. “Miss, seems like fortune’s on your side today?”

Wei Lan poured her winnings onto the table, the copper coins forming a small mountain. The waiter’s eyes widened in shock.

“Half a roast chicken,” she said, counting out fifty coins. Keeping fourteen for herself, she planned to repay Liu Mingyi and still have six left.

The waiter pocketed the money faster than the dice could settle. “Right away! Fresh from the oven!” He rushed to the kitchen.

Moments later, he returned with half a glistening roast chicken, setting it before her.

The rich aroma made her mouth water. Just as she was about to dig in, she hesitated. Something crossed her mind. Picking up the chicken, she hurried toward the Earth God’s shrine.

Her heart raced with anticipation. Arriving at the shrine, she respectfully placed the chicken on the altar, pressed her palms together, and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, Earth God, for your blessing. This is for you.”

She closed her eyes, counting silently, as if waiting for the deity to partake. Only then did she take the chicken and begin eating.

For the next few days, the Earth God visited her dreams, guiding her bets. Every day, she wagered a few coins, doubled her winnings, and brought half a roast chicken to the shrine. It became an unspoken ritual between them.

On the third evening, she carried an oil-paper package into the shrine, the scent of roast chicken mingling with incense smoke.

“The dealer cheated today,” she muttered while sitting cross-legged on the mat, biting into the chicken. “Do you think I should switch gambling houses?”

She had told the Earth God everything—about glowing screens, penicillin, four-wheeled automobiles. But when she mentioned her parents, she fell silent, her tone turning somber. “If they knew I was gambling every day…”

She knew the Earth God wouldn’t answer, but here, she could speak freely. He was her only confidant. She believed he was listening.

“You know,” she said softly, “I’m used to talking to you. I don’t know what the future holds, but as long as you’re here, I don’t feel alone.”

Then she asked, “Earth God, can I still go back?”

She touched the statue’s surface as if seeking warmth. Suddenly, a past conversation surfaced in her mind: “If I can’t go back, at least let me have meat every day.”

For days, she had been using her winnings to buy roast chicken. Now, a realization dawned. She whispered, “Earth God, are you telling me… I’m meant to stay here?”

A bold idea took shape. If she pawned her jade pendant, she could get 100 taels of silver, use it as gambling capital, and win even more. With that, she could not only buy back the pendant but also open a medical clinic!

She tapped her forehead, smirking. “Why didn’t I think of this earlier? I should’ve made a big bet from the start!”

She grinned at the statue. “If you don’t object, I’ll take it as a yes, okay?”

Excitement surged through her as she rushed toward the pawnshop, eager to execute her plan. But fate had its own way of toying with her. She tripped, pain shooting through her ankle, slowing her pace. By the time she limped to the shop, the doors were shut.

Even so, she wasn’t discouraged. She decided to dream of her wager that night and return to the pawnshop the next day.

That night, she went to bed early, anticipating the Earth God’s guidance. But for the first time, her dreams were empty.

In the following days, the Earth God never reappeared.

She returned to the shrine, lighting incense. Amidst the swirling smoke, she murmured, “Earth God, why won’t you come to my dreams anymore? Didn’t you promise I’d always have meat to eat? Is it because I got greedy?”

Why had she, of all people, traveled from the modern world to the Ming Dynasty?

In her past life, she had loving parents, countless achievements, and a bright future. Now, all of that was gone.

If gods existed, they must know her plight—yet none helped her. Was this fate’s design? A cosmic joke? Or divine indifference?

When she had believed in the Earth God, she clung to a fragile hope that she might return home. But now, with his silence, her last hope shattered.

At last, she understood: she wasn’t going back.

She sat on the shrine’s stone steps, staring at the blue sky. A rare sense of peace settled within her. She knew she had to accept reality, to carve out a place for herself here.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up.

“Thank you, Earth God, for the revelation,” she whispered.