Brother Owen gently opened the wooden box and lifted the exquisite book jacket, revealing the beautifully bound cover inside. This immediately caught his eye. After all, he had once been fascinated by the flashy books from Hollywell Street, but he had never seen packaging like this before. Maybe it didn't come from that notorious street? Perhaps Owen had bought it elsewhere and just brought it back with him?
He carefully wiped his hands and opened the leather cover. What met his eyes was a completely blank page. This puzzled him — with such painstaking packaging, was it just a notebook? That seemed like a terrible waste.
Flipping through several pages, all were blank. Brother Owen became even more confused. He put the book back into the box, deciding to return this empty notebook to Owen.
"Maybe I misunderstood," he thought. "Perhaps it really is just a finely crafted notebook."
When Owen took back the lost-and-found *Dream Journey* from his brother, he was nearly moved to tears with excitement. Facing his brother's question, "Why did you buy such a beautifully packaged notebook?" his heart raced, and his mind spun rapidly. Thinking quickly, he claimed he just wanted a high-quality notebook to practice his ugly handwriting. Though his brother was somewhat skeptical, he didn't press further and just offered some encouragement before leaving.
Eagerly, Owen took the box back to his room, gently closed the door, and locked it. With reverent care, he opened the box and took out the book.
When he flipped to the blank pages, he was puzzled again, but quickly recalled the shopkeeper's warning: even if much of the book was blank, he shouldn't be angry. Without those thick blank pages as camouflage, the book would have been taken by his brother and never returned to him, and wouldn't have remained intact.
Finally, he found a page with writing. Spirit renewed, he sat up straight on his bed, and began to read with a sense of awe.
He had to admit, the shopkeeper's praise was justified! Just from the beginning, Owen was deeply shocked. His feelings were like Columbus discovering the New World for the first time. So oral literature could be so fresh and breathtaking!
The setting of "a married woman" didn't surprise him much—he had heard many similar little secrets. But the lack of long-winded buildup and the straightforward dive into the main story surprised him a bit. Many oral literature works padded their stories to hide shame, sometimes starting from childhood attachments to a nanny—yet that made Owen happy. After all, who wants to read a half-length irrelevant buildup before getting to the "oral" parts?
The details themselves made his pupils quake, his eyes widening. Most oral literature nowadays only painted surface scenes, describing beautiful appearances and "inner feelings," sketching simple movements and then "joy," going through the motions like showing a pretty picture. In short, oral literature was like a mysterious realm where people only imagined from these simple portrayals.
Maybe the authors didn't dare write openly, or society tabooed it. At first it might be interesting, but later reading was like any ordinary novel, even less exciting.
But *Dream Journey* was different—actually, extremely different, making his whole body flush. It wasn't mere description; it focused on delicate psychological portrayal. That explained why the protagonist had to be a married woman—it fully expressed the moral and conscience struggle, blended with the pleasure of such acts, creating an extraordinary thrill. It was like the first time doing something naughty secretly, without adults catching you—a sensation of hanging on a tightrope, where a slight slip meant falling.
—Though it was a dream, the thrill was real.
Besides the psychological descriptions, the sensory portrayals fascinated him. Nobody knew why so many oral literature authors failed to realistically depict pleasure, instead hastily using words like "ecstasy" and "excitement." With such rich vocabulary, they could write so much more vividly and powerfully.
The irresistible expressions, deeply carved phrases, simple but powerful details—like grabbing the wife's ankle to pull her back, or the wife's fingertips clutching the bedsheet—all made Owen's cheeks flush, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Before finishing the first dream scene, he quickly closed the book and moved on to another activity.
"Luckily my brother didn't find out," he thought gratefully. "If he saw these words, he would never return this book to me again."
Meanwhile, Owen's brother was not as simple as Owen imagined.
He was a loose member of a "Gentlemen Intellectual Brotherhood," which, despite its name, was more like an open club where members were relatively tolerant of oral behaviors. Among them was a famous member who collected thousands of oral literature works in various languages.
Owen's brother did not visit the club often, but today, still suspicious of the finely packaged book, thinking it might hide some secrets, he went to the club after returning the book to Owen.
The club was bustling with noise and chatter. He spotted several members holding copies of *Dream Journey*, which confused him further. He approached a familiar gentleman and asked where the book came from.
"We're discussing this book right now," the man said warmly, clapping him on the shoulder. "It might be the most oral book I've ever seen. The best part," he flipped through the blank pages in front, "is that it hides itself so well. People unaware might think it's an ordinary notebook."
Brother Owen's eyes widened, and he gritted his teeth.
"Truly astonishing. I don't know which master created this amazing work," the man continued, unaware of his expression. "At first, I thought two pounds was expensive and haggled with the shopkeeper for a while, haha, but now it seems funny. The shopkeeper probably doesn't want to do business with me anymore."
Hearing "two pounds," Owen's brother narrowed his eyes.
"But this book is definitely worth the price," the man said like a professional salesman. "I strongly recommend you get one too."
Another man joked, "You've said enough, don't make people think you're getting kickbacks from the shopkeeper." Then he turned to Owen's brother, "He's been yammering here all day but won't show us a single word, like he's hiding a treasure. I say, since you praise it so much, at least show us the real thing. Let us see for ourselves."
The salesman seriously refused, saying he would never let the book be openly handled, fearing someone might embarrass themselves and blame him.
Other members holding *Dream Journey* were similarly cautious. They didn't hide it intentionally but only showed it briefly to close friends. When those friends saw the content, their eyes would widen, eager to keep reading but would be abruptly refused. The members sincerely said it was for their friends' own good.
Since this book was so highly praised but stingy with sharing, no wonder others were suspicious and gossiping. But Owen's brother had no such concerns—he clearly remembered his own brother had a copy.
Setting aside how Owen's brother would "handle" his brother at home later, after the bookstore's business ended that day, Joseph closed the door and went to rest on his small bed upstairs. He quickly fell into a dream, enjoying some unknown sweet dream.
But early the next morning, before dawn, he was awakened by loud noises outside.
Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Joseph dressed and went downstairs, opening the shop door. A cold wind mixed with morning dew brushed past, making him shiver.
Several breathless customers stood outside, clearly arriving very early on purpose.
"Shopkeeper, I heard you have a book called *Dream Journey*?" one asked eagerly.
Joseph was surprised—he hadn't expected the book to be so sought-after after just one day. "Yes, but it's quite expensive," he warned.
"Great!" the customer beamed. "I tried several small shops yesterday and they were sold out, so I got up early to buy it here."
Joseph smiled and nodded, recalling his stock was nearly gone and wondering if he could satisfy these early customers.
He let them enter, then hurried upstairs to fetch the last few copies of *Dream Journey*. The customers paid quickly, carrying the wooden boxes and showing no interest in other books.
Joseph was puzzled but soon more customers came looking for the book, and his inventory was declared sold out. Helpless, he closed the shop temporarily and rushed to Mr. Hermann to restock.
But when Joseph arrived at Hermann's printing factory, he found him looking helpless and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, apparently sleepless.
"Joseph, I'm really sorry. The latest printed books were all snatched up by other bookstores. I'm powerless now. Many shopkeepers are asking me where the second half is... but how would I know?"