On the day of the Beginning of Winter, heavy snow suddenly fell across Sichuan.
Ever since she had seen Zhu Qingyu at the bus stop outside their home that day, Mei Tang had sat every day at the entrance of the Zhu family clinic, watching the people coming and going, watching the traffic stream along the streets, waiting for her daughter to come home.
Even Officer Zhang had said that she had most likely mistaken someone else for her daughter. After all, it was impossible for a person to simply vanish into thin air. But Mei Tang was certain that the person she had seen was her daughter.
Qingyu must have been held up by something, Mei Tang thought. If she had been able to come back once, then she would be able to come back a second time.
The last time, Mei Tang hadn’t noticed her in time. She hadn’t run fast enough, hadn’t reached her daughter quickly enough. This time, she would spot her at the very first moment, find her, and bring her home.
Mei Tang sat outside their house every day, waiting for her daughter. Summer passed into winter, and she never stopped—not even on days of wind, rain, or heavy snow.
Her husband, Zhu Lansheng, came outside with an umbrella and tried to persuade her.
“The snow’s coming down too hard. Come inside and wait.”
Mei Tang reached out toward him.
“Give me the umbrella. You go inside first. I’ll wait a little longer. What if Qingyu comes back in a moment?”
Mei Tang was fifty-eight that year. She had retired three years earlier. Before retiring, she had been the director of obstetrics and gynecology at a hospital in Sichuan, one of the most accomplished specialists in her field. Patients had to book her VIP specialist clinic, and even then, they often couldn’t get an appointment.
Zhu Lansheng held the umbrella over her head and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Mei Tang had once been full of energy and vitality every day. But over the years, worrying about her daughter had taken a toll on her.
Zhu Lansheng ran the Zhu family clinic and was the seventeenth-generation heir to the family’s medical tradition. He had prescribed countless remedies to help Mei Tang recover.
But a troubled heart needed a remedy of its own. Her hair, once thick and jet-black, was now threaded with gray.
“This is strange,” Zhu Lansheng said. “It’s only the Beginning of Winter, yet we’re already getting such a heavy snowfall. The last time it snowed this hard was…”
He stopped halfway through the sentence.
The last time it had snowed this heavily had been six years earlier, on the day their daughter disappeared.
Qingyu had been missing for six years already.
Just thinking about it sent wave after wave of pain through Zhu Lansheng’s heart—pain so intense that he could barely bring himself to finish the sentence.
Heavy snow was always accompanied by strong winds.
A gust suddenly swept over them, nearly wrenching the umbrella from Zhu Lansheng’s hands. He quickly lowered it to shield them both and urged her again, “The wind’s too strong. Come inside and wait. You can sit by the window. You’ll still be able to see her the moment she comes back.”
Just then, someone behind them called hesitantly,
“Mom? Dad?”
That familiar, long-lost voice!
Mei Tang sprang to her feet and shoved the umbrella aside.
There, beneath the eaves of the Zhu family clinic, stood Zhu Qingyu in the midst of the howling wind and snow. She was barefoot, dressed in a thin skirt whose hem was even stained with blood. Her face was filled with disbelief as she stared at them.
When Zhu Qingyu saw the familiar entrance to her home, saw her mother screaming her nickname and rushing toward her, and saw her father following close behind, she had no strength left. Relieved, she pitched forward and collapsed into her parents’ arms.
……
When Zhu Qingyu woke again, she stared blankly at the hospital ceiling and the IV drip hanging beside her. For a moment, her mind was completely empty, and she couldn’t even tell where she was.
She raised her hand and looked at the pink wristband around her wrist. The words “Sichuan Hospital” were printed on it.
This was the hospital where she worked.
Why was she in the hospital where she worked in the modern era?
Hadn’t she died?
Someone was speaking in hushed tones outside the door.
“Has she really not woken up in five days?”
Another voice answered,
“She still hasn’t woken up, Officer Zhang.”
It was her mother’s voice!
She wasn’t dead. She had come back!
Zhu Qingyu abruptly sat up and called out, “Mom!”
Her voice was weak and breathless. Half the sound seemed to vanish before it even left her throat.
But even that faint whisper was enough for Mei Tang to fling open the door and rush inside. She threw herself at the bedside.
“My baby girl! It’s Mom! How are you, baby?”
It really was her mother!
Zhu Qingyu wrapped her arms around Mei Tang. She had never been so happy in her life. Then, once the joy had passed, an overwhelming sense of grievance suddenly welled up inside her. Like a child who had suffered the greatest injustice in the world, she buried her face in Mei Tang’s shoulder and sobbed,
“Mom, I missed you so much!”
Mei Tang held her, and the mother and daughter cried together.
At that moment of reunion, a police officer walked in and asked, “Dr. Mei? Is the patient awake?”
Mei Tang released Zhu Qingyu and wiped away her tears. She said to her daughter, “This is Officer Zhang. He’s been very concerned about you and your whereabouts these past few years. He’d like to ask you a few questions. Do you feel up to talking now, or should he come back in a few days?”
Zhu Qingyu had disappeared without a trace for six years. Her mother must have reported her missing, and now that she had returned, the police naturally needed to investigate.
Sitting propped against the headboard, Zhu Qingyu nodded at Officer Zhang.
Officer Zhang appeared to be in his forties, with an affable, approachable manner. He sat on the stool at the foot of the bed and spoke as casually as if they were making small talk.
“You’re Zhu Qingyu, right? Don’t be nervous. Your mother reported you missing six years ago, and I’ve been handling the case ever since. I just want to ask you a few questions. Where have you been all these years? Did anyone deliberately restrict your freedom?”
Zhu Qingyu understood why Officer Zhang was asking.
She had disappeared for six years, only to return in a condition suggesting that she had just given birth and nearly died. Anyone would assume that something terrible must have happened to her.
Where had she been for the past six years?
There, five hundred years in the past, were her husband and her child.
At the thought of Gu Zhao and Gu Heng, the happiness and grievance she had felt upon seeing her mother faded, replaced by a wave of grief.
Five hundred years had passed. Gu Zhao, the man she had loved with all her heart, and Gu Heng, the child she had only just given birth to—by now, both had long since become nothing more than dust beneath the earth.
She didn’t even know where they had been buried, where she might search for that final handful of earth that remained of them.
Unable to contain herself, Zhu Qingyu covered her face and burst into tears.
Officer Zhang clearly misunderstood her reaction. His voice grew even gentler.
“If someone did hurt you, you don’t have to be afraid. This is a country governed by law. Tell me the truth. The police will catch whoever did this. Once he’s behind bars, he won’t be able to hurt you again.”
Mei Tang sat beside the bed. Watching Zhu Qingyu cry tore at her heart, but she still urged her firmly, “Baby, don’t be afraid. Tell the officer.”
Zhu Qingyu drew a deep breath and buried the unbearable grief that no one could ever understand deep within her.
“No one hurt me. I just traveled through time.”
When she saw the looks on Officer Zhang’s and Mei Tang’s faces grow even more troubled, Zhu Qingyu realized they must think she had developed a mental illness.
She gave a faint smile.
“I was joking. I don’t remember what happened during those six years. Yes… I must have amnesia.”
