A Dream

Master storyteller! Pray forgive my interruption!

Awake from your dream at long last... How long has it been?

I have seen the plums blossom and wither ten times.

As long as my ink brush remain untouched, the scenery in the painting would never change.

To tell the truth, I had been counting ever since the moment I entered the painting scroll of Mount Sky. 'Twas indeed that long.

...Ten years?

You stayed in the painting for ten years?

More or less.

You, a mere wandering monk, fiddled away ten full years here. What drove you to partake in such meaningless tribulations?

Well, I could enjoy a good sleep, partake in all manner of indulgences, and I need not be disturbed by the world, to say nothing of the Catastrophes and infections. I thought it a rather pleasant experience.

Be that as it may, you dreamt... for ten full years.

Few are capable of remembering who they truly are after such a long time. Some would forget who they once were and choose to forever remain inside the painting.

My, how frightening.

Yet you are not afraid at all.

You are a kind man. I verily believe you would wake them before they cross that point of no return.

Oh? What makes you say that?

The old fisher at the summit of Mount Sky, the weaver by the banks of the Pu-kuei River, the halberd wielder of the Wu-chieh Plains, the lady innkeeper of the Lungmen Inn... and now the storyteller of the P'o-shan Village... Thou hast reminded me countless of times.

Yet I chose to deceive myself and continued to indulge in my pleasures, never to wake from my dream. I suppose I must apologize. It must have been tedious to keep me alive in the painting.

Pray be at ease. You came to the mountain when the autumn winds were yet blowing. 'Tis merely the beginning of winter now. It was but a brief dream.

Hoh! I was worried I would be reprimanded for my sluggish behavior. Little did I know it was but a brief period of time. That certainly puts me at ease.

You already knew of your predicament when you reached Mount Sky, that it was merely a painting. Why waste your time?

For I saw the truth of Dusk Beauty Flying to the Moon, and I could not well cease thinking about it... A madwoman took matters into her hands and sought to reclaim her true love from the heavens. 'Tis an act of pure lunacy, yet it overwhelms me with a sense of regret...

Hmm... What if I tell you Dusk Beauty's willpower was an addition I made to the painting—that it is of my own making?

All the nations of this world possess a great many legends, classics, literature, and myths, many of which can be called fabricated. The common folk are not likely to ever experience the machinations written therein. Should we disregard their lessons because they are mere fiction?

I think 'tis absurd to do so.

You are a strange one.

There is but a fine line between great and strange. I appreciate your compliment.

...Hah.

You are just like your master. He's old, yet he has the heart of a child, a clear mind.

You've helped me pass the time... Out of respect for your master, very well, I shall grant you an audience with me.

Um, an audience?

Haha, you cannot possibly believe you've awakened by waltzing in here?

*gasp*...! Am I yet within the painting?

No need to feel ashamed. This is merely how it's meant to be.

If I let you break out merely because you wished so, it would blemish my image.

Well, now.

Wake up—

Finally awake?

Ah...

Get up now. It's terrible manners to sleep on the ground.

Oh...! You are right...

......

What's wrong?

Well... 'Tis merely that I never imagined you... to look like this.

Heh.

Well, ask away.

I... I...

I thought that by surveying the sceneries of these hundred-and-some scrolls, I, too, could walk the journey that thou once walked. Yet... 'Twas but an insignificant fraction of the landscapes thou hast sketched...

Know that there are those who never accept their mistakes and find themselves content with dying here.

That I can understand...

That's not what you wanted to ask.

Oh, right, I was startled into forgetfulness. My apologies.

Master, I have once laid my eyes upon the 'Scene of Crude Mounts Utmost Risen' at my head priest's garret. Though at the time I thought there was meaning hidden therein, I could not quite put my finger on it.

I asked the head priest, and he had me leave the monastery to seek out the answer. I have since traveled all over the lands, and though I have since found parts of the answer myself, the ways of the world has me yet confused.

Since I am blessed with the fortune to meet thee in thy flesh, I thought I would—

If you've had your ideas, why ask me?

I wish merely to learn from thy explanation for my own betterment and to fill in the blanks... To tell the truth, the painting's true meaning eludes me still. Pray tell, wherefore was the end of the waterfall just one swift stroke, leaving naught but a swath of emptiness?

What do you think?

—Crude mounts utmost risen. The scenery within the scroll extends endlessly. The waterfall soars into the skies, leaving naught but white. 'Tis a way to depict the great mountains and rivers undepictable within the scroll...

......

Hrm... This is merely conjecture. I am hoping you could do away with the secrecy and reveal the truth. 'Tis making me blush.

Beauty, especially that of an art piece, is in the eye of the beholder. It falls on you to find your own interpretation.

Nonetheless... You racked your brains so for only that?

Much of what we do in life is seeking answers.

If not for this matter gnawing at my mind, I would not have had the fortune to feast my eyes upon thy landscapes within the scrolls.

I suppose so.

Alas, the stroke you are asking was one that I began at whim and also one that I ended at whim. That's all.

Huh?

By the time I got to the waterfall, I no longer wanted to continue, and so I stopped there. I took a look afterwards and thought it was rather picturesque, so I gave it a name and sent it your master's way.

I—

—I could never have imagined!

Disappointed?

Having spent such a long time in the painting, and you ended up with quite possibly the most boring answer—

Not at all. Leaving aside all that I have learned inside the scroll, thy answer is most interesting!

Drawn on a whim, and stopped on a whim... I once thought that there is meaning to all things upon this world. As time passed, I became far too entrenched in my search, unable to pluck myself out.

Right, right. We need not be so focused on the meaning behind everything... If there is but one answer, to repeatedly scrutinize would merely be a futile exercise.

I had heard from my master an aphorism: 'Where there was naught at first, from whence could dust have emerged.' Mayhaps it means the same thing?

...Hah.

Everyone has their own interpretations. As long as you understand that, it's not necessarily a bad thing to be cocky.

Oh, I shall keep that in mind. Many thanks.

When I gave your master this piece, I told him merely three words, 'Crude Mounts Utmost.' The 'Risen' in its name... is his interpretation.

'Risen?'

Do you know what your master saw in it?

He gazed not upon its landscapes with thee?

He didn't.

Hoh?!

A-Am I returning to the painting...?

Oh, this must be what the head priest saw—

—

Is that... my head priest?

That's right.

He had scraped the soles of his feet, he was starving, and he walked three full days and nights of hunger.

He prayed many times, as many as two thousand and a score, and yet he never thought a thing about his life and death. He merely felt sadness and lamented his inability to understand.

Did you save... my head priest?

I had already saved him once at the K'u-t'an River. I didn't help him this time.

Think about it. At his young age, he had already been through such hardships.

Think about how he went from that to the warm, caring head priest that you know.

And how he added the word 'risen' to the painting's title.

Head Priest...

On the day I left the monastery, my head priest bestowed upon me my name, Saga.

That's right.

He had seen the coldness of mankind, yet he was never disheartened. Even the collapse of Mount Sky did not sway him.

After the young wandering monk made his way back to Higashi, he decided to take in a group of children with nowhere to turn to. He built a monastery in the mountains, and that's how he became the head priest you often speak of.

It's not that uncommon of a story.

The crude mounts had not fallen... That was the meaning the head priest sought to give the painting.

Very well! Then, in his stead, I shall see all the sights there are to see in this vast world!

Well, as you please.

Now that you got that weight off your shoulders, it's time for you to leave.

W-Wait, master!

This is merely the original source of my perplexity. Having traveled the scrolls some ten years, I am afraid there are certain things I must ascertain for my worries to dissipate.

Ask away.

But know that this is the last chance I'm giving you. I'm not fond of blabbering people.

The inhabitants of the paintings. Are they real or not?

That's an interesting question. You know they are from the painting. Why ask if they are real or not?

Oft did I nod off when we studied our scriptures, yet in my languidness I was able to constant seek out truth... For ten years have I walked the landscapes in thy painting, though I yet remain befuddled.

Pray tell, what is real?

...Real.

When we look at those who are unreal in the painting, as those who are real, we are able to laugh off all the fake lives and deaths depicted therein.

But if we are yet inhabitants of a painting, and we will one day vanish into the thin air, would you still be able to remain so calm?

All men will one day cease to be. There is little reason to be tormented by that which is inevitable. By approaching all things from the heart and living my life naturally and freely, there is naught to fear.

Man is not necessarily free. Everything that I've drawn, be it real or otherwise, is merely my way of interrogating myself.

Man is naturally free.

Wrong. Both you and I are habitants of a painting.

......

You seek to solve this problem by yourself, yet you know not a thing about yourself. How do you mean to seek truth?

In the end, what is real, and what is false? Are you sure you can truly tell them apart?

And why take it so seriously?

So thou meanst... I am yet within the painting right this moment?

...You've truly left my scrolls, that I can assure you.

I'm only asking, how do you prove that these landscapes before your eyes are not yet another boring painting scroll?

......

The roads you've trodden, the people you've met, their births and deaths, and their setbacks in life. All of these things might merely be events drawn at the whim of an artist without any particular meaning assigned.

The so-called reality that you people spend an entire lifetime looking for is yet another fantasy.

We are merely characters in a scroll. The viewers see the events that transpire in the painting and either applaud or criticize its contents.

Our lives are but a fantasy, like a dewdrop or lightning, leaving not a trace in the end.

......

Let's stop here. You're wasting both your time and mine, and it's getting on my nerves.

I will find a chance to pluck the other ones out. You should get going.

Lava came a long way solely for the chance to meet thee... yet thou wouldst not grant her an audience?

That's none of your business.

You don't know why they came, so stay out of it.

But—

—Don't push your luck, Saga.

One more word, and I'll have you truly regret it.

But I promised Lava to present this to thee, at the very least.

You—This...?!

Found you...!