Zhou Gong wore a plain-colored robe, his long hair tied up with a coronet, yet it was still much longer than Wen Ying's.
He appeared as if from thin air, bringing his props with him—a complete tea table set.
But this time, he held a small, cube-shaped box. The side facing Wen Ying had two small doors.
Zhou Gong didn't open the box's doors. Instead, he handed it to Wen Ying. "You and I share a bond of fate. This is my first gift to you: the Dream Butterfly."
"The Dream Butterfly? The saying goes 'Zhuangzi dreamt he was a butterfly,' but Zhou Gong dreams of butterflies, too?"
Little White asked aloud in surprise. Wen Ying mentally applauded it. 'That's what I wanted to know, too.'
Zhou Gong chuckled. "Miss Wen, this Dream Butterfly can draw people into dreams. You must use it with caution."
"Then can this Dream Butterfly let me see you again, or come back here?"
Zhou Gong just smiled, not answering the question.
"What's the second gift, then?"
