Chapter 60: Dream Continued
"This is a hospital. Is my wife a doctor?"
"Your wife is about to give birth." The daughter rolled her eyes and pulled Xia Feng's arm, dragging him straight into the hospital.
Xia Feng suddenly came to his senses. He looked up in confusion at the four large words above him: "Pingshan Hospital." Surprised, he wondered—Am I in a dream? Can this dream continue?
Before Xia Feng could react, he was pulled past the threshold. A dazzling light struck him, and he instinctively tilted his head, raising his hand to shield his eyes.
When he lowered his hand, he realized he hadn't entered a hospital but a white void.
At the center of this world stood a solitary rectangular glass box, positioned vertically. It was three meters tall and one meter wide, with a woman seemingly suspended inside.
She wore a bright red fairy dress adorned with a classical, majestic phoenix motif. The elegant and sacred design stretched from the back of her neck down her body, draping over her curves until it reached her ankles and slender feet. Her graceful toes were painted with transparent, shimmering red nail polish.
As Xia Feng drew closer, he could see intricate patterns of light gold traced along her delicate instep. The designs crisscrossed upward past her ankles, following the contours of her legs before extending to her collarbone and the bridge of her nose, finally vanishing into her slightly parted fox-like eyes.
Her attire seemed ancient. With her hands pressed together, she stood poised in midair, her milky-white skin glowing as if gilded. Her pupils shimmered with golden light, radiating nothing but sacredness.
Yet Xia Feng recognized instantly—this woman's face was nearly identical to the one who had brought him here.
Baffled, he turned around, only to find the so-called "daughter" had vanished.
As Xia Feng approached, the woman's brow furrowed slightly. The golden light in her eyes dimmed, revealing rose-red pupils. When she blinked, her gaze held surprise—and a hint of curiosity.
She stared at Xia Feng unblinkingly.
Xia Feng blinked back. "You're my unborn wife?"
"Ah?" The woman tilted her head slightly. Her voice was clear and crisp, carrying an innocent tone as she answered earnestly, "I already have a husband."
Xia Feng studied her belly thoughtfully. "Oh, so the one in your belly is my wife?"
The woman also glanced down at her stomach before lifting her head in confusion, her eyes clouded with bewilderment.
"I don't understand what you mean. But can you take me away from here?"
"Take you away?" Xia Feng frowned. "Where are you?"
"I don't know." Her mature, enchanting face showed uncertainty. As she gazed at Xia Feng, her fox-like red eyes gradually lost focus. She murmured, "I really don't know."
Whoosh—
Xia Feng jolted upright in bed. Outside the window, a light drizzle still fell, its soft patter lulling the world into drowsiness.
He shook his head, disoriented, as fragments of the dream drifted through his mind.
"What was that all about?" Rubbing his bleary eyes, he reached for his phone.
[13:09]
"Huh?!" Xia Feng leapt out of bed. He must have slept until noon—these past few days had drained him.
After washing up, he headed to BloodnightStreet.
The rift in Bloodnight Street's infinite world had been sealed with the Imperial Gate's help, restoring peace to the area.
Pingshan Hospital had long since crumbled into ruins. Xia Feng spent hours combing through the debris but found nothing.
That dream had been maddeningly vague. With a sigh, he decided to let it go.
[Mushroom Hates Potato: Are you on your way yet?]
He checked the time—nearly half past six.
[Xia Feng: I'll be there soon.]
Bloodnight Street was close to the Final Great Wall.
Every year, Prince Liszt held his birthday celebration at the central tower of the Final Great Wall.
Though called a "tower," it resembled more an ancient palace, sprawling across the high wall beneath the vast sky.
When Xia Feng arrived at the foot of the city wall, rows of luxury cars glittered across the vast square, each attended by a dedicated receptionist. Gentlemen in tailored swallowtail coats and ladies in elegant backless evening gowns stepped carefully from their vehicles. Groups of nobles mingled as they strolled through the magnificent gates, their laughter filling the air.
Suddenly, murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Xia Feng turned to see an indigo luxury sports car cutting arrogantly across the red carpet—reserved for foot traffic—before screeching to a halt at the reception entrance. A flustered attendant rushed forward, bowing as he opened the door and shielded the roof. "Your Highness," he whispered respectfully, "Lord Wang Jue requests your immediate presence in Hall 19 upon arrival."
The man who emerged wore a dark blue tuxedo, his thick black hair swept back with a small braid at the nape. With phoenix eyes and delicate, almost feminine features, he shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked the car door shut. "Enough chatter. Move the car," he said flatly.
"Yes, Your Highness." The attendant scurried into the driver's seat as the indigo vehicle glided away. Instead of entering, the braided man lingered at the entrance, scanning the crowd—until his gaze locked onto Xia Feng.
Xia Feng recognized him instantly: Li Siwen, the untalented eldest son of the Wang Jue family. At 28, the man remained a mere apprentice spiritualist, incapable of reaching the first rank even with his family's wealth. Yet his artistic prowess was undisputed—a piano virtuoso lauded by critics, his trophy case overflowing with prestigious awards.
Their eyes met briefly before Li Siwen deliberately looked past him toward the square's right entrance. Following his gaze, Xia Feng spotted a sleek, dark sports car slinking into the plaza like a shadow.
The door cracked open. A pale calf sheathed in black crystal heels emerged, followed by a woman in a subdued evening gown. As she straightened, moonlight caught the snow-white hair piled atop her head, secured by obsidian hairpins resembling a queen's crown. Her exposed collarbones and slender neck gleamed like porcelain. Without her signature half-rim gold glasses, the usual scholarly gentleness had vanished, replaced by an imperious nobility that commanded attention.
Mu Qingtong's golden eyes found Xia Feng instantly.
Whispers erupted around them—every aristocrat recognized the Taicang Mu family's daughter. Just a month ago, rumors had swirled about her betrothal to the prince's youngest son. But the engagement announcement was followed by the prince's mysterious death, and after the Black Moon Church's interference, she'd shockingly married this nobody: Xia Feng.
Dressed in a flawlessly tailored white tuxedo, Xia Feng approached. He noted her deliberate lack of jewelry—no necklaces, no earrings—yet the absence only heightened her refined elegance.
With a smile, he offered his arm. "Shall we?"
"Mm." Mu Qingtong's lace-gloved hand slid into the crook of his elbow, her grip featherlight yet possessive.
Side by side—one in black, one in white—they advanced down the crimson carpet under the weight of countless stares, moving toward the towering gates ablaze with light.
(End of this chapter)