The sun blazed overhead as the medicine caravan took a rest by the roadside.
Li Furong knelt before a wooden crate, lost in thought for a moment before adding a few more lines to her letter.
"Chu Yangzi, I’ll tell you a secret—sometimes I dream too. In my dreams, I see the silhouette of a young nobleman. In the dream, I call him 'brother,' but he’s nothing like my actual brother back in Miaojiang. I can only ever see his back—graceful, dignified, and noble. Do you think it’s because I’m getting older and starting to long for romance?"
"Time to move out!"
The caravan leader’s shout snapped her out of her reverie. Everyone packed up their belongings, and Li Furong decided to send the letter another time. She quickly stowed her ink, brush, and paper, then clumsily mounted her horse, following the caravan as it pressed onward.
A few members of the caravan tried to flirt with her, but her indifferent gaze made it clear she wasn’t interested. They soon gave up, realizing the young mistress had no patience for their advances.
Li Furong unfolded a map, circling the places she had already visited before glancing at the next destination. A faint smile touched her lips.
Far away in the watery landscapes of the south, a group of river pirates had been rounded up and dragged ashore. Bruised and battered, they groveled before a young man in blue robes, calling him "ancestor" and begging for mercy.
But the young man, Fang Songhe, remained unmoved by their pitiful cries, his expression stern and righteous.
The local constables arrived late as usual. Constable Li clasped his fists in respect the moment he saw Fang Songhe. "Hero Fang, we’re indebted to you!"
Fang Songhe shook his head with a faint smile. "It was nothing. No need for thanks."
Constable Li felt as though he had been bathed in spring breeze, his eyes filled with admiration.
Just then, a carrier pigeon arrived with a letter. Fang Songhe untied the message, his brow furrowing slightly.
Constable Li asked with concern, "Hero Fang, has something troubling happened?"
Fang Songhe replied, "My junior brother has fallen ill with the plague. Constable Li, lend me your fastest horse."
Constable Li hurriedly brought over his steed. As Fang Songhe swung himself onto the saddle, the constable asked, "Where are you headed, Hero Fang?"
"To the Northern Territories."
With a flick of the reins, horse and rider vanished in a blur of speed.
---
"So what happens next in the Northern Territories?"
Faced with her friend’s eager question, the ponytailed girl scratched her head. "Well… I haven’t figured that part out yet!"
In a quiet corner of a café, two girls huddled over a handwritten manuscript, whispering excitedly.
"But I’m really curious, Fang Xiaodou—why did you suddenly decide to write a novel?"
Fang Xiaodou rested her chin on her hands, murmuring, "It all started with a strange family heirloom. Apparently, one of my ancestors got hold of some kind of treasure and passed it down through the generations. Over time, everyone forgot about it. But this summer, when I went back to my hometown, I found a wooden box in the storage room. Inside was a book. My dad suddenly remembered an old family rule—only the 19th-generation descendant could open it. And guess what? That’s me!"
"So your family’s treasured heirloom… is just a book?"
"Yeah, but it’s incredible! The book tells this wild story about a man named Song Chunming and his love-hate relationship with Lan Yingying, all while facing off against a bloodthirsty Miaojiang villain… But the story’s a bit outdated, so I tweaked it a little—added some star-crossed lovers, a trendy love triangle, and polished it up."
Fang Xiaodou rubbed her arms. "But the weirdest part?"
"What?"
"There was a note inside the box that said, ‘This story is for the destined one. May they one day share it with the world.’" Fang Xiaodou shuddered. "It’s like the original owner was speaking directly to me!"
"You’re overthinking it! So, are you planning to publish this as a novel?"
Fang Xiaodou nodded. "Since they said it’s mine now, I can do whatever I want with it. I want to share it—let people read the story my ancestors protected. Though, should I modernize it even more? Maybe add a ‘system’ trope?"
Just then, her friend’s phone rang. "Xiaodou, I’ve got to run—my advisor’s waiting for my thesis draft. Let’s talk more next time!"
The girl grabbed her bag and dashed out. Fang Xiaodou watched through the café window and called after her, "Xue Yuemian, be careful on the road!"
"I will!"
Xue Yuemian smiled back through the glass before turning to cross the street. The pedestrian light was green—but at that moment, a car came speeding toward her.
Fang Xiaodou froze for a split second before bolting outside. "Yuemian!"
But the scene before her was impossible. The black car had screeched to a halt—yet there was no trace of Xue Yuemian. The bright, beautiful girl had vanished without a trace.
A breeze slipped through the open café door, rustling the manuscript pages on the table.
One sheet fluttered to the ground, landing at the feet of a girl in a green floral dress, her long hair cascading down her back. She bent to pick it up, her frown deepening as she read:
"Chu'he was Song Chunming’s fiancée. When she learned he had lost his memory and fallen for Lan Yingying, jealousy consumed her. The once-noble young lady revealed her most venomous side, plotting to kill her rival…"
"What the—?"
"The villainess has the same name as me!"
The girl in green tossed the page aside, scanning the café for its owner. Her expression darkened, teeth grinding—until a sudden thought struck her.
They say sharing a name with a fictional character makes you prone to transmigration…
But that’s just superstition, right?
She shook her head, dismissing the idea, and headed upstairs. But as she stepped onto the landing, her foot slipped on a wet patch.
Her balance vanished.
Gasps erupted around her as the back of her head hit the floor. A deafening "Bzzzt—" filled her skull. Light shattered before her eyes like a shattered glass mosaic, too bright to bear.
Her vision blurred. Consciousness slipped away.
Ding-ling—
Chu'he woke with a start, staring into two pairs of crimson eyes—one large, one small.
"Ah’he, you’re awake!"
"Mom, you’re awake!"
The exaggerated tones made her head throb.
The six-year-old boy beside her bed had his dark hair tied in a ponytail, his ruby-red eyes gleaming like gemstones. His pale skin was flawless as jade. Even at his young age, he had inherited his father’s eerie beauty.
Chu Xiaobao mimicked his father’s posture, propping his chin on the bed as he stared at his drowsy mother. "Mom, it’s snowing outside."
Ninth, now the picture of a responsible adult, sighed in amusement. "Xiaobao’s being childish—he’s dying to go play in the snow."
Chu Xiaobao turned his head. "Dad, you’re the one who said you wanted to—"
With a smack to his head, Chu Xiaobao felt like he could hear the water sloshing in his brain. He pursed his lips and obediently raised his eyes. "Mom, I just wanted to play snowball fights."
Ninth put on a serious face. "Chu'he, see? Xiaobao is way too playful. By the time I was six, I’d already outgrown such childish games."
Chu'he sat bundled in the blankets, glancing back and forth between the two near-identical faces—one big, one small—and fell into a brief silence.
Ninth’s eyes gleamed mischievously.
Xiaobao’s gaze sparkled with excitement.
Finally, she sighed. "Fine, let’s go play snowball fights."
Ninth and Xiaobao brightened instantly, each grabbing one of Chu'he’s hands and "dragging" her lazy self out of bed.
They dashed into the snow-covered winter, the cold air rushing at them, yet the warmth of their intertwined hands burned startlingly hot.
What started as a simple snowball fight quickly devolved into something far more chaotic. Ninth and Chu Xiaobao darted around like phantoms, their movements swift and erratic. Before long, the sound of flutes and bells rang out—neither willing to back down, both resorting to Miaojiang’s arcane arts.
"Trying to ambush me? Kid, you’re still wet behind the ears."
"You old geezer, stand still if you dare!"
Chu'he clutched a snowball in her hand, her ordinary eyes struggling to keep up with their blurry figures. She listened to their bickering with a blank expression, feeling utterly out of place.
Eventually, she tossed the snowball aside and retreated to the porch, sitting down. A little green snake, carrying a big-eyed critter on its back, slithered onto her lap. Soon after, the snake drowsily lowered its head and dozed off.
The critter, sensing Chu'he’s loneliness, perked up its head, trying to cheer her.
She patted its head and chuckled. "I’m not lonely at all."
Sure enough, moments later, a boy dressed head-to-toe in red came barreling into her arms. His face was bruised purple and blue, and he sniffled pitifully.
"Mom, Dad’s so old already—why can’t he go easy on me?"
Chu'he tenderly touched Xiaobao’s battered cheek before glaring upward. "Ninth!"
The man hiding in the tree, peeking down, suddenly flinched. A cascade of snow shook loose from the branches.
And so, yet another lively winter day unfolded.
