Chapter 14: Nightmare

The thatched cottage looked somewhat dilapidated, as though it had been uninhabited for years. Its owner must have moved away long ago. Fortunately, the wooden stakes used to build the house had been burned and lacquered, so even after years of neglect, no weeds grew around it. Yet, every corner was coated with a thick layer of dust, and spider webs layered upon each other. Ying Shi was not afraid of the cottage’s humble state, but she dreaded snakes and insects. When she saw the webs in the corners of the roof, her fair face turned pale, fear stirring within her.

The house was small, divided into two rooms. The inner chamber was even smaller, furnished only with a bare wooden bed. In the main room, there were broken tables and chairs, nothing else. Luckily, being halfway up the mountain, the wind was strong and the air dry, so there were no traces of snakes or bugs. Liang Yun, a man who loved cleanliness, began to thoroughly sweep out the dust and webs, while Ying Shi, with her limited mobility, seemed like someone simply idling away.

Ying Shi felt embarrassed, reaching out several times to help, but recoiling at the dirt. In the end, with wide eyes and awkward silence, she watched as Liang Yun tidied the cottage until it was clean enough—at least, barely fit for living.

Once the house was clean, the mosquitoes became more noticeable. To ensure a restful night, Liang Yun said, “I’ll go nearby and gather some dry grass. We can burn it to keep the mosquitoes away tonight.”

By then, the sky was already dark, and every sound in the night seemed magnified. With the strange, terrifying event of her mysterious return to the past, Ying Shi believed in ghosts more than anyone. In this pitch-black, unfamiliar house, there was not a soul within ten miles; if not a demon, even a snake or centipede slipping through a crack would frighten her out of her wits.

Her lashes quivered like butterfly wings as she swallowed her unease, eyes glistening as she looked up and softly pleaded, “It’s just a few mosquitoes. It’s almost completely dark now—who knows what terrible things are lurking outside? Brother, can you please not go...”

Liang Yun lifted his gaze to her at her words, and for a moment, seemed to catch a fleeting, intriguing hint of her temperament.

The mountain wind swept through the broken windows, daylight fading away. After Liang Yun left, the cottage fell into complete silence.

Liang Yun returned just as the last streak of light slipped from the sky. He saw the figure in jade-colored robes, curled up at the doorway, her trailing skirt spread around her bent knees like a delicate blossom.

At first, Liang Yun thought she was awake. But only when he drew near did he see her closed eyes. Her lashes curled, her cheeks snow-white, and her hair at the temples looked like fine silk tinged with the hues of sunset. She seemed able to sleep anywhere; she had slept on his shoulder all day, and now, leaning against the door, she was dozing again.

He even heard her gentle snores.

A touch of awkwardness made Liang Yun avert his gaze, though in the corner of his eye he noticed a new pink mark on her fair cheek.

It was—yes, a mosquito bite.

Her delicate skin, untouched by sun or wind, was a favorite target for such pests.

Liang Yun did not disturb her, quietly lighting the dry grass and placing it in the four corners outside, letting the smoke drift in with the wind to drive away the mosquitoes lurking in the shadows.

Afterward, he went to the mountain again and soon returned with a skinned wild rabbit.

Ying Shi was awakened by the aroma of meat.

Her mind still half-asleep, her stomach already rumbling awake at the scent. She struggled to open her eyes, and saw, not far outside, a bonfire had been built.

The bonfire blazed bright and hot, wisps of blue smoke curling and dispersing in the air. With a single glance, Ying Shi found the source of the aroma: a sharpened wooden stick pierced the wild rabbit, propped beside the fire, sizzling as it roasted.

She hadn’t tasted meat in a long time. The only memory of anything savory was the bowl of lard noodle soup Aunt Gui made for her before she left.

That was so long ago, Ying Shi had forgotten the taste of meat. Now, just the aroma made her eyes glow, her gaze fixed hungrily on the rabbit roasting over the fire.

Her intense gaze was enough to scorch Liang Yun, who sat by the fire.

Liang Yun was remarkably patient, enduring her scrutiny until the rabbit was perfectly roasted, then tore off a flawless, golden-brown leg and handed it to her.

The firelight illuminated his features, making his sharp, cold looks even more pronounced.

Ying Shi, despite her hunger, managed to softly thank him as she took the rabbit leg.

She clutched it, unable to wait for it to cool, and bit eagerly into it—a large bite.

Predictably, she burned herself, frowning as tears welled up, but she couldn’t bear to spit out the precious meat.

She sucked in cool air through her crowded mouth, soon chewing away.

After a day of hunger, everything tasted delicious. Even without salt, the crisp-tender rabbit, infused with the unique scent of fruitwood smoke, exploded in layers across her palate.

The mountain night, absent the sun’s heat, brought a chill. Occasionally, a bleak night wind swept through from her direction.

Liang Yun looked up and saw, in the uncertain firelight, the usually proper and quiet girl eating so voraciously that her cheeks puffed round.

Her face, illuminated by the fire, seemed almost unreal.

After devouring her meal, Ying Shi wiped her greasy hands with fallen leaves, only then realizing what she had done.

Her late husband was not yet buried, and she had eaten meat before her uncle’s eyes.

Darkness swept over her; she brooded for a long time before realizing there was no excuse. She was silent, then gently explained to Liang Yun, “I really haven’t eaten in so long, I was so hungry I forgot myself...”

Bravely admitting mistakes—everyone forgets sometimes.

Besides, wasn’t it Liang Yun who handed her the meat?

Liang Yun remained impassive. “In an emergency, exceptions are made. I’m sure Shun Gong wouldn’t blame you.”

Ying Shi paused, nodded slowly, about to say more, but Liang Yun quickly extinguished the fire.

“You sleep inside tonight, I’ll keep watch outside.”

...

Another pitch-black night where one could not see their own hand.

Ying Shi curled up, her arm as a pillow, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Though exhausted from the day, she could not sleep.

She thought, perhaps the pain made it so.

She wondered if she had caught a chill at the stream. Her ankle throbbed painfully.

Outside, all was silent, not even the sound of breathing. Liang Yun must have fallen asleep. Ying Shi endured the pain in her leg, tossing and turning in agony.

Eventually, she dozed off, only to fall into a nightmare.

First, she dreamed of a skull with wild hair.

The skull, stripped of flesh, its jaw opening and closing, grinned sinisterly, its hollow eyes fixed intently on Ying Shi.

“Clack, clack, clack—you’ve slept in my bed, now you must stay... stay and keep me company.”

Ying Shi struggled desperately out of the dream, sweating all over. No sooner had she caught her breath than, closing her eyes again, she dreamt of her previous life.

The day Liang Ji returned.

She wore a new dress, full of joy, but saw Madam Fu arriving with him, cradling a crying baby—the perfect family of three.

Ying Shi looked to Liang Ji, but he did not look at her.

He dared not.

Of course he dared not!

The next day, Ying Shi packed her clothes and sought out Liang Ji, speaking of divorce.

Better to leave than stay and be mocked.

She suppressed her emotions, facing Liang Ji as if he were a stranger.

“You come with me to the clan and explain everything. We divorce today, and I will leave today.”

That day, Liang Ji seemed gloomy. He apologized to Ying Shi.

“I remembered. As soon as I remembered, I hurried back. Ying Shi, I am suffering too—I truly remembered nothing. As soon as I remembered, I came back to find you...”

But now, everything was too late. Words sounded ridiculous and desperate.

She was a stranger to him, and terrified...

She screamed wildly, telling him to leave.

But the mansion was Liang’s house, Liang Ji’s courtyard.

She had struggled here for years; the servants called her ‘young mistress’ only for Liang Ji’s sake. Once he returned, she was a woman who had to rely on him to live.

No matter how she cried, it was futile.

He was no longer the Liang Ji she once knew.

The young man she loved so dearly, whom she would have waited for all her life, had completely transformed into someone she now hated with every fiber of her being.

Outside, the moon slowly rose, its silver light streaming in through the window.

Liang Yun was awakened by a series of faint sobs from the next room.

The sound, starting as barely audible murmurs, grew into intermittent whimpers, terror-stricken yet unable to cry out fully, despairing in the darkness.