When Xiahou Dan passed away, Yu Wanyin fell gravely ill.

The ministers were worried that her grief would overwhelm her, given that the love between the two was already legendary. However, after resting for half a month, she returned to the court.

The parting was not heart-wrenching, because in the years stolen from fate, they had spent almost every day together. Spring brought flowers, autumn the mountain moon, summer the glow of fireflies by the lake, and winter the warmth of nights by the fireplace. Their long list of wishes was entirely fulfilled, leaving no regrets.

The wise emperor and empress made the most of every moment, opening a glorious era for the Xia Kingdom and raising children they could be proud of.

When Xiahou Dan came into this world, he was met with conspiracy and murder. When he left, he was finally surrounded by those he loved.

His last words to Yu Wanyin were: “Your story is far from over.”

After that, the immensely respected Yu Wanyin, following the natural order, ascended the throne. The few stubborn old officials who yelled about propriety were drowned out by the cheers of long live the Empress, like firecrackers going off twice.

The empress Yu Wanyin looked down at her court officials and said calmly: “Everything will proceed as usual.”

It seemed as if she had a plan in her heart, following it step by step, diligently managing the affairs of the state, and wrapping up the projects she had initiated. This renowned empress hardly indulged in leisure or enjoyment, except for occasionally visiting the places where she used to meet with the late emperor, to have a cup of tea and sit for an afternoon.

A few years later, just as the world finally got used to Empress Yu, she suddenly issued a decree, as calmly as when she ascended the throne, passing the imperial seat to her child and left the capital lightly.

On that day, she quit her job as Heaven’s employee.

Yu Wanyin had no regrets. She had given enough to this world; the rest of her life was now for herself.

Yu Wanyin traveled extensively, seeing the flourishing Xia Kingdom.

Golden grains in the fields year after year, the clanging of factory production lines, and the budding architecture in the cities. Erlan’s girls’ schools were continuously expanding, and Xie Yonger’s vision of freight was realized on the extensive roads.

The once unfamiliar and cold world, through the joint efforts of two generations of talents, vaguely began to resemble a distant homeland.

As for how this world would evolve in the future, it was beyond her lifetime to witness.

The original male protagonist Xiahou Bo had been dead for many years, yet the world did not collapse. According to the nameless visitor’s theory, once the Emperor Star returned to its place, the fortunes had shifted. Yu Wanyin understood this world as a parallel universe. Although it originated from the book “The Devilish Consort Reborn,” it had since completely deviated from the original plot, expanding into an independent, self-sustaining microcosm.

Even if she died and her soul dissipated, she believed the stories here would continue for generations, endlessly.

Yu Wanyin crossed countless mountains and rivers, visiting many old friends. When she could no longer travel, she returned to the capital and leisurely spent her twilight years.

As Xiahou Dan had predicted, her life story was indeed magnificent and extraordinary.

If there was any regret in her life, it might be not having invented the camera before Xiahou Dan passed away, resulting in his face becoming a blurred memory.

But ultimately, that face belonged to a character in a book—Xiahou Dan, not Zhang San. No one knew what her lover originally looked like.

What remained clear in her mind were his eyes.

Perhaps due to years of hiding in endless power struggles, or perhaps due to chronic illness, his eyes were always non-reflective. The impression left was not just of the ink-like pupils, but of a vast void, like a swamp ready to drown its prey.

Yet whenever she looked into them, she could only see a depthless tenderness.

If there was another life, she would like to see them again.

Yu Wanyin’s aged eyes gazed into the void, letting out her last breath.

The vision darkened.

——And then suddenly brightened.

Blinding white light.

The subway car gently swayed.

The phone in her hand was still lit, showing the halfway-read novel, black text on a white background, the title in the top left corner: “The Devilish Consort Reborn.”

Wang Cuihua suddenly lifted her head, feeling the world spinning. Her phone fell to the ground, and she herself tumbled forward.

The passenger next to her was startled, reaching out to catch her and asking, “Are you alright?”

Wang Cuihua fell back against the seat, her eyes vacant, shaking her head dazedly.

A kind person picked up her phone, asking, “Is it low blood sugar?”

Wang Cuihua struggled to speak, “…I’m fine, thank you…”

Ah—this voice was indeed her own, just one she hadn’t heard for decades, sounding somewhat distorted.

Distant memories slowly returned.

She had actually returned to 2026, back to the moment she first entered the book.

Yu Wanyin’s long life had only lasted a microsecond in the real world. All the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs, were swallowed up by the cool air of the subway, without even a ripple.

Life is fleeting, like dust in the wind.

Wang Cuihua took her phone and turned on the front camera.

The screen showed a familiar face.

Standard commuter attire, long black hair left unstyled, light makeup almost worn off after a day’s work. Her features could be described as “spirited” and “delicate,” occasionally complimented as beautiful when well-dressed, but compared to the breathtakingly beautiful Yu Wanyin in the book, she appeared plain.

This was her, yet not entirely her.

But she still recognized herself immediately, not by this young face, but by the old eyes.

Wang Cuihua sat blankly in her seat, listening to the chatter around her.

Gossip about classmates, jokes about bosses, stock market updates, celebrity scandals.

Rumor had it that it would rain tomorrow.

Where to eat out over the weekend.

All vaguely familiar topics from her younger days—her past life’s younger days.

Wang Cuihua eavesdropped for three stops before her mind began piecing together the fragments of words. By the fifth stop, she remembered where her home was, but she had already missed her stop.

Wang Cuihua staggered out of the subway station and took a taxi home.

Neon lights and billboards flashed past, then fell behind. Vibrant and colorful, close at hand, yet distant from her.

Ironically, when she was in the world of the book, she constantly missed this world. Even when surrounded by friends and family, she always felt like a visitor from another land, with a trace of unshakeable loneliness.

She had dreamed of returning home all her life, but now that she had finally broken free, she found herself out of place.

No longer belonging anywhere, she had become a wandering soul.

This situation…only one other person had experienced it.

She had always loved Xiahou Dan, but only now did she truly, deeply understand him.

Right, Xiahou Dan…in this world, he should be called Zhang San.

Does he really exist here? Or is he part of a dream? When he died in that world, would he return here like she did?

They had discussed this topic once.

In a winter palace, soaking in hot springs. After the snow, at dusk, the rising steam slowly blended into the twilight above. They leaned against each other in the pool, lazily like a pair of hibernating animals.

Xiahou Dan suddenly broke the silence. “You entered the book from 2026, but I came from 2016. If we were to return, what year would it be in the real world?”

She, half-asleep, counted on her fingers. “Conservatively, it should be 2036 by now…if I haven’t been buried, I must have been in a coma for ten years.”

“Then I’ve been in a coma for twenty years. If I wake up, it should make the news.”

Yu Wanyin chuckled, not mentioning the gloomy details of what twenty years of muscle atrophy might look like, or if they could live normally again. After all, “not buried” was already a hopeful assumption.

Xiahou Dan, however, was enthusiastic. “I’ll come find you. As long as I have one breath left, I will stand before you.”

“Why don’t you ask if I want to find you?” Yu Wanyin teased him.

Xiahou Dan seemed genuinely taken aback, then smiled, “You’ll miss me so much you’ll go mad.”

“Stop being so conceited!” Yu Wanyin splashed water at him.

In the end, she did not wake up as a coma patient.

Does this mean Zhang San’s situation is the same as hers, returning to the moment of the crossover? For him, that would be 2016.

Could it be—

Wang Cuihua suddenly laughed. She thought: could it be that the once-mighty Xiahou Dan, after returning, would be preparing for his high school entrance exams again?

Another ten years had passed since then. Where could he be now? Had he tried to find her during these ten years?

They could meet again, she could see him again.

This thought acted like a shot of adrenaline, finally giving her a sense of “resurrection.” Yes, she needed to settle down first and then make a plan… After all, she had been an empress, finding someone should be a trivial matter.

Wang Cuihua dug out her home address from the muddle in her brain but got stuck at the front door.

She genuinely couldn’t remember the electronic lock password.

After three consecutive incorrect attempts, the lock emitted a sharp alarm and automatically locked itself. Standing at the door, Wang Cuihua thought for a moment and then called, “Mom, my door lock is broken. Can I stay at your place for the night?”

Her parents lived on the other side of the city. She had moved out to rent a place for the convenience of commuting.

The moment she saw her parents, tears burst from her eyes like a fountain, startling them. They frantically comforted her, “Who bullied our daughter? If you’re unhappy at that lousy job, just quit. We’ll take care of you.”

Wang Cuihua cried even harder, “I’m just a bit tired…” She looked at her mother with hopeful eyes, “Didn’t you say yesterday that you learned a new recipe?”

A hundred years lay between yesterday and today.

Half a lifetime had passed, but she was still their daughter upon her return.

“Wait a bit, it’ll be ready in ten minutes,” her mother went into the kitchen.

On an ordinary late night, a warm meal filled her stomach, and peace returned to the world.

Wang Cuihua sent her worried parents off to bed, took a hot shower, and began to clear her thoughts.

In the early hours, she lay on her bed holding her phone, opening the search bar.

It was now 2026, and there were still more than six thousand Zhang Sans nationwide. Some search results included photos. Wang Cuihua looked through those faces for a moment and sighed.

As expected, trying to find a needle in a haystack based solely on “intuition” was impractical, especially since the Zhang San she was looking for might not even be in the list.

She remembered some basic information, like his birth date and place of residence. Xiahou Dan had also mentioned his middle school’s name…

Wang Cuihua tried hard to recall, filling in all the information in the search bar and trying again, but her heart sank.

Still no results.

With no sleep in sight, she mechanically scrolled through her phone.

The only good news was that the middle school Xiahou Dan mentioned did indeed exist. This at least proved he wasn’t entirely a figment of her imagination.

However, the school didn’t seem to care much about online publicity; its website hadn’t been updated in at least five years. Only a few scattered news articles confirmed it hadn’t closed down.

Wang Cuihua booked the first flight to that city in the morning.

At 3 AM, she set her alarm to sleep for a few hours and recharge. Just before closing her eyes, she suddenly remembered she hadn’t asked for leave.

Half a lifetime away, but still a corporate slave upon return.

The next day, when the plane landed, it was already noon.

Her boss was furious about her sudden leave and demanded she work remotely, not falling behind on the project.

Wang Cuihua didn’t even remember what the project was, but she remained calm—after decades of hellish multitasking at high intensity, looking back at this work now seemed as simple as child’s play.

She quickly reviewed the project documents, typing responses to her colleagues while getting into a taxi, giving the name of Zhang San’s middle school.

She planned to visit the middle school—that was the simplest starting point. If he had attended, there would be records.

She could concoct a reason to look at the records, find his home address, or contact his parents, and then…

Wang Cuihua smiled wryly at herself.

She was acting like a stalker.

If Zhang San had indeed returned to 2016, he had a full ten years to find her. She had repeatedly mentioned key information during their conversations. If she could think of these methods, so could he. If he had put in the effort, he could probably even find her home address.

So why had there never been a Zhang San in her memory as Wang Cuihua in the past ten years?

From last night until now, she had hypothesized several reasons, none of them pleasant.

The taxi driver glanced at her several times through the rearview mirror, finally unable to hold back, “Miss, are you alright? You look terrible.”

Wang Cuihua was taken aback and also looked at herself in the rearview mirror. After crying last night and only sleeping a few hours, her eyelids were still swollen, and her eyes were bloodshot. Combined with her pale face, she looked like she had been through a great ordeal.

She took a deep breath and turned to look out the window. “I’m fine, maybe a bit carsick.”

“Oh, I’ll drive slower. Want me to open the window?” The driver was worried she might vomit in the car.

Wang Cuihua didn’t respond.

“Miss?” The driver panicked, “Find something to hold—”

“Driver,” Wang Cuihua stared intently out the window, “End the trip here. I need to get off urgently.”

The driver quickly pulled over, thinking this passenger was quite considerate.

Wang Cuihua got out of the car and jogged back along the road, stopping in front of an advertising billboard she had just glimpsed.

The billboard displayed a TV drama poster.

“The Devilish Consort.”

A long, long time ago, Xiahou Dan had once complained to her: “A 2016 story, and you’re still getting recommendations for it in 2026? How could such a lousy story be popular for ten years?”

Now she finally understood the reason.

The story hadn’t been popular for ten years; it had been adapted into a TV drama ten years later. So the platform had promoted the original work again, which she had then opened on the subway.

At the center of the poster, the most prominent figure was the original protagonist, Xie Yonger.

Wang Cuihua quietly gazed at this “Xie Yonger” face, her eyes warming slightly. By some coincidence, the new actress cast by the production team bore a striking resemblance to the Xie Yonger in her memory. Especially the stubborn look in her eyes, almost identical.

Too similar. Just by looking at her, those yellowed memories were vividly colored.

It had been so many years.

After a long while, Wang Cuihua shifted her gaze to the actor playing the role of Prince Duan.

She was taken aback.

Next to Xie Yonger, in the male lead’s position, was the character carrying a medical kit—clearly Xiao Tiancai. The original male lead, Xiahou Bo, had been pushed to the corner, along with Xiahou Dan and Yu Wanyin.

What was even stranger was that all these actors’ appearances and temperaments gave her a sense of familiarity.

Standing together, they looked like a reflection of that dream world in reality.

The ground beneath Wang Cuihua began to slowly rotate.

One or two could be coincidences, but this scene in front of her, could it really be explained by coincidence?

She stood still, took out her phone, and searched for this drama.

Online reviews were mixed. Most viewers watched it for fun, but a few die-hard fans of the original work criticized the drastic changes, complaining about the excessive focus on the villains Xiahou Dan and Yu Wanyin, and even splitting up the original main couple, inexplicably pairing Xie Yonger with the minor character Xiao Tiancai.

One comment ridiculed:

If it’s changed this much, won’t the original author sue them?

The original author did scold the scriptwriter, but after a few days suddenly went quiet. The reason given was absurd, something about the protagonist visiting her in a dream and saying she was very happy now.

What the hell???

The author must have been bribed by the production team and couldn’t say it outright, so she gave a sarcastic explanation.

But you know, the villain couple was actually quite good…

Wang Cuihua found a convenience store nearby, sat down, and quickly opened the cast list of “The Devilish Consort” drama, scanning from top to bottom.

Nothing.

She then looked up the production company and the distribution company, searching each name individually.

Nothing.

How could it be nothing?

Who else but the person she knew would adapt this ten-year-old mediocre novel into a drama, and who else would make such storyline changes?

Such handiwork was like hanging a gigantic banner that said: I’m back, I’m here, do you see me?

Wang Cuihua became anxious, randomly tapping the screen.

I see you, of course I see you, I’m not blind!

But where are you? Why can’t you just appear in front of me?

——The next second, her random tapping fingers froze.

Just now, it seemed she had tapped into the parent company’s link from the production company’s profile page.

With a sudden, intense premonition, she looked at the name of the legal representative of the parent company.

Parent company headquarters.

The beautiful receptionist, trained to perfection, smiled professionally at Wang Cuihua who seemed to be sleepwalking as she floated in. “Good afternoon, do you have an appointment?”

Wang Cuihua said, “…No.”

“Alright, who would you like to see?” The receptionist took out a registration form.

Wang Cuihua said, “Zhang San.”

The receptionist froze for half a second.

Wang Cuihua added, “He knows me and knows I would come.”

“Okay, let me contact Mr. Zhang’s secretary. May I have your name?” The receptionist picked up the phone.

“Wang Cuihua.”

The receptionist froze for another half second, unsure if this was a prank. Finally, under Wang Cuihua’s sincere gaze, she dialed the phone.

The secretary quickly arrived, respectfully saying, “Ms. Wang, Mr. Zhang asked me to take you to the lounge. He will be here shortly.”

Passing employees pricked up their ears with curiosity.

Wang Cuihua lowered her head and followed the secretary to the elevator. “Is he in a meeting?”

“No, no,” the secretary hurriedly denied, “He’s in the car, not yet at the office. Mr. Zhang had some personal matters yesterday and went out of town for a day. He only flew back this morning…”

Out of town?

Right. In her past life, she had often shared her stories during their chats, mentioning a lot of key information.

Among those key pieces of information…could they include the date she entered the book?

Could he have coincidentally remembered?

Wang Cuihua slowed her steps, trying to keep her voice calm, “Can you tell me where Mr. Zhang went yesterday?”

The secretary hesitated, “Well…”

“To your home,” someone answered behind her.

All the noise fell silent.

Like a silent hurricane swept through, the secretary, the passing employees, all disappeared. The buildings and streets gradually evaporated, leaving an endless expanse of pure white.

In the empty universe, someone walked towards her, smiling helplessly. “I sat outside your door all night. The flowers I brought are wilted.”

Hours later, at Mr. Zhang’s house.

“One more time?”

“Can’t do it, need a break…”

“Alright.” The young, healthy, and vigorous Mr. Zhang turned over and lay next to Wang Cuihua, playing with her hair.

Wang Cuihua closed her eyes and held his hand. “I have so many questions, let me organize my thoughts…”

“Funny, I have some questions too.”

“You go first.”

Zhang San chuckled. “Why didn’t you go home last night?”

“I did, but I forgot the password to the door lock, so I went to my parents’ house. Maybe you arrived after I left and we missed each other.” Wang Cuihua frowned and poked his hand, “Why did you wait there like a fool instead of calling me?”

“I wanted to surprise you in person. I had it all planned out, meet you and then take you on a vacation right away, showing off my CEO style.”

Wang Cuihua couldn’t help but laugh. “CEO, why can’t I find any information about you online?”

“Silent prosperity, you know? When I first returned to 2016, I thought about it. You had revealed the major events of the next ten years to me, like giving me a cheat code. But many business decisions couldn’t be explained. If anyone noticed I knew things in advance, it would be troublesome. So I kept a low profile and deleted any online traces.”

“Aren’t you afraid I wouldn’t find you?”

“I never intended for you to look for me… I said it before, as long as I have one breath left, I will stand before you.”

Wang Cuihua turned to look at him, almost greedily tracing his eyes with her gaze.

Zhang San seemed to sense something, his smile fading slightly. “How long has it been since you last saw me?”

“I died of old age.” She spoke with a tone of desolation.

“Ah…” He nodded, “Then it’s been a long time. Much longer than my ten years.”

She said nothing.

Zhang San’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

Suddenly, as if he couldn’t bear it anymore, he confessed. “I thought about it, about being with you earlier. In high school, or college, I could have gone to your school, struck up a conversation, and pursued you until you agreed to date me. We could have been an ordinary young couple, and by 2026, we would surely be married.

“I didn’t know how fate chose people. Maybe if your life path changed, you wouldn’t be sucked into that book, and you wouldn’t have to suffer, becoming an outlier like me.

“I even went to your city and watched you from afar a few times. Each time, I almost couldn’t resist speaking to you.

“But I thought about it for a long time. We never discussed this, Wanyin. I never asked you if, given the choice, you would abandon that world, those friends and family, those trials and tribulations, achievements, and grand passions…

“He looked at her, the warm light reflecting in his eyes, tender and sorrowful.

“I didn’t dare make that decision for you. Because I was only part of half your story. But I was so afraid of making the wrong choice, afraid that after I came out, you would have a bad life in that world, and I wouldn’t know…

“I wrestled with this for many years. Every year, I would reread ‘The Devilish Consort Reborn’ like a loyal reader. I watched it fade into obscurity on the internet, year after year, with no one mentioning it anymore.

“Then I began to wonder, since it had become so unpopular, how could you receive a recommendation for it in 2026? By then, I was already somewhat of a CEO, so I asked someone to inquire with the platform’s head about the book. They misunderstood, thinking I wanted to buy the rights, and they praised it to the skies, saying that if it were adapted for TV, the platform would certainly promote it with the best placement.

“At that moment, I don’t know why, but I suddenly understood.

“In the end, it was still me who brought you into that world.”

Time and space turned upside down, entangling all human fate into a stream of causality.

When she grew old alone in the book, he was growing up lonely outside of it.

It was as if all the waiting was for this moment, two old souls silently gazing at each other through young eyes.

Eight thousand meters above them, the wind had not yet stopped.

The drifting clouds dispersed, revealing a full moon.

Wang Cuihua wiped her eyes and smiled. “I’ll tell you the rest of the story slowly.”

“Okay.”

“Where should I start…”

“Did the peach tree by the window bloom later?”

“It did. It bloomed the next year and even bore fruit.”