Darkness.
Then birdsong.
Soft, distant, peaceful—like a morning in the countryside.
Xin Ying floated in it, weightless, warm, almost smiling—
BEEP—BEEP—BEEP—
The alarm shattered the calm.
Xin Ying jolted awake, heart racing, breath uneven.
She stared at the familiar ceiling above her.
"…My apartment?"
She sat up slowly, confusion settling deep in her bones.
Morning light streamed through the curtains. Everything was normal. Too normal.
Xin Ying lifted her hand to her face and touched her right eye.
Smooth skin.
No bandage.
No pain.
No scar.
"…It was just a dream?" she murmured.
Yet her chest tightened.
Why can't I remember anything?
It felt important… didn't it?
She shook her head, pushing the feeling aside, and went through her routine on autopilot—brushing her teeth, washing her face, eating breakfast she barely tasted.
The mirror reflected an ordinary woman.
A teacher.
Nothing more.
She dressed, grabbed her bag, and left for work.
At school, Xin Ying placed her bag on her desk and sat down. The classroom was quiet, sunlight warming the windows.
She rested her chin in her hand, eyes unfocused.
Why does it feel like I lost something?
Someone?
Her heart felt strangely hollow.
The bell rang sharply.
Class began.
Xin Ying stood, smiled automatically, and taught as she always did. Her voice was steady. Her explanations are clear.
The students listened.
Time passed.
When the final bell rang, she returned the confiscated novel to its owner without comment.
The student looked relieved. "Thank you, teacher."
Xin Ying nodded, already lost in thought.
---
Evening came.
She walked to her favorite Chinese restaurant—the one tucked quietly on a corner street, warm light spilling from its windows.
She took her usual seat.
"Soup dumplings, dim sum, Peking duck, Kung Pao chicken," she said without looking at the menu.
The food arrived quickly.
Steam rose. The scent was irresistible.
Xin Ying ate happily, every bite perfect, every plate wiped clean—no crumbs left behind.
For a moment, the hollow feeling eased.
She stood to pay—
And froze.
At the front of the restaurant, a man and a woman were arguing.
Their clothes were sharp, professional. Business people.
The man's voice rose. His face twisted with anger.
Then he stood abruptly—and raised his hand.
Xin Ying moved without thinking.
She crossed the space in seconds and caught his wrist mid-swing.
"If you have something to say," Xin Ying said calmly, eyes locked onto his,
"then use your mouth. Violence can't solve anything."
The restaurant fell silent.
The man stared at her, stunned.
The woman behind him looked equally shocked.
The man yanked his hand back, sneering.
"You got away this time, Zhi Han," he said coldly. "But I won't let you off so easily."
He stormed out.
Xin Ying turned to the woman.
"Are you okay?"
The woman inhaled slowly, regaining her composure.
"I'm fine," she said. "Thank you."
She hesitated, then added, "I'm Zhi Han."
Xin Ying smiled politely. "I'm Xin Ying."
The moment the name left her mouth—
Zhi Han froze.
The restaurant noise faded into nothing.
Lantern light blurred.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Xin Ying.
Not just a name.
A memory.
A life.
A world of snow, blood, silk, and devotion.
A body in her arms.
A bullet.
A scream she never forgot.
Zhi Han's hands trembled.
She remembered everything.
The Palace.
The throne.
The kiss beneath plum blossoms.
Xin Ying stepping in front of death without hesitation.
Her eyes burned.
You survived.
You're here.
Zhi Han took a step forward, her voice shaking despite her control.
"…Xin Ying."
Xin Ying looked up, startled by the way her name was spoken
.
"Yes?"
Zhi Han stared at her—at the familiar face now dressed in modern clothes, alive, breathing, whole.
Tears welled up, but she forced them back.
"I finally found you," Zhi Han whispered, so softly only she could hear.
Xin Ying frowned slightly. "Have we… met before?"
Zhi Han smiled.
A smile full of longing, relief, and unwavering certainty.
"Not yet," she said gently.
"But we will. Again."
Outside, traffic lights changed.
The city moved on.
But fate—having failed once—had brought them together again.
And this time, Li Hua swore silently—
I won't let you die.
Not in any world.
---
Thank you for reading my novel
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